“Trust his lordship, sir.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“None at all, sir. None at all. However, his current lordship, despite his lack of proper raising by the men of the house, does seem to know his duty and carry it out with a good deal of efficiency.”
“What duty?” Owen asked, but Coombe merely shook his head and looked wise.
Upstairs in the Pink Oval Room, Dr. Treath touched the bump with fingers so gentle and so knowledgeable he could probably tell her what she was thinking just by touching her head. He nodded to his sister, Bess, then looked at North. “Concussion, my lord. No laudanum as yet. Keep her awake. Now, Caroline, how many fingers do you see?”
“You’re waggling three fingers, Dr. Treath, and North is looking like a black thundercloud. Also, I’m here and still have most of my wits, so you can talk to me.”
“His lordship looks a bit disordered, Caroline, thus it’s better if I speak to him until he has himself together again. You scared the devil out of him when you vomited.”
“I know and I’m sorry for it. It was the motion of riding Treetop that made me sick. I meant to ask you to stop but there wasn’t time. Did I throw up on your boots, North?”
“No, you missed my boots by a good two inches. Just lie still. Would you like some barley water?”
“Oh yes.”
If Dr. Treath thought the viscount was uncommonly tender with the young lady, he didn’t remark upon it. No Viscount Chilton had been tender with a young lady in all the combined local memory, both present and historic, of folk hereabout. No, Nightingale men were a breed apart. He thought briefly of the young viscount’s late father and shuddered. Jesus, all of it was highly irregular. He saw her eyelashes flutter closed and said sharply, “Caroline, wake up. I’m sorry, my child, but you must fight falling asleep. How many fingers now?”
“Five. I’m very sleepy, Dr. Treath. And I’m not a child. I’m nineteen and my inheritance is mine if only Mr. Ffalkes would just admit it, or if he insists on marrying me for my money, then I’ll shoot him, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to be hanged, at least not for a long time.”
“Admirable,” North said. “I’ll see that she stays awake. Will you stay the night, sir?”
“I can’t, my lord. Mrs. Treboggan will be birthing a child tonight. It won’t be an easy birth. I must be with her and do what I can. If something happens, just send one of your men to me.”
Tregeagle appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat. “My lord.”
“Yes, man, what is it?”
“A villainous-looking young fellow is here demanding guineas.”
“Ah, Treffek. Please give him the six g
uineas, Tregeagle, but not one pence more, mind, else Caroline won’t be pleased with you. He’ll probably whine or claim that the young miss promised him at least a hundred guineas. Be firm. Six guineas.”
“He’s quite good, Tregeagle,” Caroline said, trying to focus her fading vision on the beautiful older housekeeper. “You’d best be on your toes.”
Tregeagle ignored her, saying to North, “Yes, my lord. Er, how is this Young Person feeling, this one who is again in the Pink Oval Room?”
“She will be fine.”
“If I may say, my lord, it is a pity she must needs be here so soon after she was here not a long enough time ago.”
Caroline moaned from the bed.
“Go away, Tregeagle.”
Dr. Treath called out, “Let’s talk to Polgrain, Tregeagle, about what he’s to make for her to eat.”
“Perhaps, Dr. Treath, the Young Person will be fit enough to return to Scrilady Hall before Mr. Polgrain must prepare nourishment.”
“Unlikely. Come, Tregeagle, be a sport.” Dr. Treath turned to Caroline, gently patted her cheek, and smiled. “I see much of your aunt Eleanor in you. She was a very fine lady, and so jolly and—” His eyes filmed with tears.
Caroline, who was simply trying to keep her eyes open, didn’t consider her words really, just said with such gentleness that it was nearly his undoing, “I’m sorry, sir. You must have loved her very much.”
“I still do,” Dr. Treath said.