Chapter Twenty-Six
Cedric opened his eyes to sunny weather three days later. The birds were chirping as this neighbourhood was too nice to have too many hawkers about at first light. A maid had already been in to open the window to let in a fresh breeze, and Cedric relished the scent of England in spring, even if it was London and not the countryside.
As he’d slept, he’d hoped to hear Lucy come in. She hadn’t. And a quick glance about the room showed him a ginger-haired footman named Scottie.
‘How is Lucy?’ he asked as he had every time he’d woken.
‘Miss Richards is still sleeping.’
Was there a bit of censure in his tone? As if he didn’t like Cedric referring to Lucy by her given name. Well, he wasn’t. Lu-Jing was the girl’s given name. Lucy was what he called her now, and the lovesick footman could bloody well accept it. Yes, that was the primary thing he’d noticed about the boy. He seemed completely lovesick for Lucy.
‘She was here in the middle of the night,’ the man continued. ‘Checked in on you and we chatted for a moment.’
Ah. He’d thought that was a dream. ‘You slept here last night?’
‘Right on the floor beside you. I promised Miss Richards I wouldn’t leave your side, and I didn’t.’ Oh, such pride in the boy’s tone.
‘Scottie,’ Cedric said as the boy helped him sit up. ‘Tonight, you will sleep in your own bed.’
‘I’ll let Miss Richards decide that,’ was his response. ‘And now, it’s time to choke down—’
‘The tea.’ He held out his hands and was pleased to see they didn’t shake. And when he received a half-full cup, he took a tentative sniff. Not as bad as yesterday.
‘No honey?’ Cedric asked.
‘Not in the tea, my lord.’
Of course not. He did as he was bid, choking down the stuff as if it tasted palatable. It did not. But then, he needed the liquid, so he did not argue when Scottie poured him another half cup.
‘I’ve got toast for you this morning,’ he said. ‘With a thin bit of jam. You’ll love it.’
He likely would. Even a thin covering of jam was more than he’d had in months.
‘What I’d love more, Scottie,’ he said as set down his teacup, ‘is information. What have I missed?’
‘Missed? Shall I get you a newspaper?’
‘That would be excellent.’ Assuming he could stay awake to read it. ‘But I mean about, um, my family. I haven’t seen Declan since I got here.’ Or had he? He’d been unconscious so much of the time, it was hard to know.
‘His Grace has gone north. It’s spring planting and with the duchess feeling so poorly, he agreed to do the visit alone.’
Cedric straightened as much as he could manage. ‘Does Declan leave her alone often?’ Their marriage was still young. Had it had grown cold already?
The boy snorted. ‘The Duke dotes on his wife. So much so that some people say it’s unnatural. And the cook, Mrs. Timley,was beside herself. Bad enough that Her Grace couldn’t keep any food down, but the moment she got sick, the Duke was put off his own food, as well. The two of them were wearing each other out, and Mrs. Timley couldn’t help but cook everything all the time just in the hopes that one of them would eat.’
‘What? Why wasn’t the duchess eating?’
‘Oh! Well, that’s because she’s in a family way, my lord. Feeling poorly because of it. But she’s getting better now. Miss Phoebe has a right talent for herbs.’
‘Grace is pregnant,’ he said, startled to feel no rancor at that. Two years ago, he had believed Declan had stolen her away from him. But he now realised it had been his pride that was hurt by her defection. And his bank account. ‘Is she happy?’
‘Happy, my lord? She’s smiling all the time when she’s not getting sick. She looks right eerie sometimes, the way she’s pleased. And the smells don’t bother her anymore so Mrs. Timley says the babe will grow proper now that she’s eating. And the Duke will be back by Monday, what with the government in session.’
Ah. Good. He’d get a chance to talk plainly with his cousin soon. ‘So Grace is happy and Declan’s returning on Monday. Good.’ And wasn’t that a surprise? He looked forward to seeing Declan when he’d spent most of his life dreaming of punching his cousin in the face.
‘And what of Lucy?’ he asked, trying to be casual. ‘I assume she’ll return to her father’s home soon. Still, you must know how she’s faring. Is there a suitor?’
‘Her father, my lord?’ There was a stiffness to the man’s face that made Cedric focus more sharply. He’d been doing his best to be casual, but now he frowned.