Part 20 (2/2)
For a moment the countess looked ready to explode. Then her expression changed. ”You're in love with Grey.”
Throat tight, Ca.s.sie turned and pulled the bell to summon Hazel, which would end this painful conversation. ”That is between Grey and me. But I a.s.sure you that I'm not here to cause trouble for the Sommers family.”
”I shall take you at your word.” The countess turned to leave. ”And ... thank you for bringing my son back to me.”
Ca.s.sie closed her eyes in exhaustion. She didn't need Lady Costain's thanks. Everything she'd done had been for Grey.
After the family and his father's valet left, Grey settled down in the chair his sister had occupied. His father's still face showed more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and there were silver strands visible in the Sommers blond hair. But the strong features hadn't changed. Lord Costain looked ready to wake at any moment.
Grey took his father's hand. It was limp, neither warm nor cold. ”I've come home, Father,” he said softly. ”I'm sorry for all the worry I caused you. You did your best to train me to be a strong, compa.s.sionate earl who knew about farming and law and everything else a peer of the realm should know. You were a good teacher so I couldn't help learning, but I know I'm responsible for a good number of those white hairs.”
He thought he felt the barest squeeze of his father's hand, though it was probably his imagination. ”Let me tell you about how I came to be imprisoned in France. If I'd had a whit of sense, I would have come home before the Truce of Amiens ended, but no, I was the golden boy to whom nothing bad could happen.”
He continued talking, his words sometimes halting and painful as he described the imprisonment, the near madness, the blessed company of Pere Laurent. Everything he'd been unable to say to the rest of his family. ”Pere Laurent was my second father. You would like each other if you ever met.”
Grey smiled as he tried to imagine such a meeting. ”Though he's a Catholic, he didn't seem at all disposed to invade England and convert all us heretics by the sword.” That ambition belonged to Napoleon, and there was nothing religious about it.
Several times he halted until he regained his composure, but he needed to say all this to his father even if he was too late for a real conversation. When he finally ran out of words, he said softly, ”I really wish you wouldn't die, Father. I'm nowhere near ready to become the next Lord Costain. I need you. We all need you.”
His words choked off. Trying for a lighter note, he said, ”But I've done one thing right. You wanted me to marry and secure the succession, so I've brought my fiancee to Summerhill.”
”Is she pretty?”
The whisper was so thin that Grey was sure he'd imagined it. Bending over his father, he asked in a hushed voice, ”Did you say something?”
The pale eyelids fluttered open. ”Is she pretty?”
Stunned, Grey choked out, ”She's beautiful. A redhead.”
”Redheaded grandchildren?” The earl sounded disapproving. ”Tell ... more.”
”Her father was Lord St. Ives. She's the most incredible woman I've ever met, and she saved my life several times.”
His father blinked. ”Sounds ... too good for you.”
”She is.” Grey wanted to stand up and shout his exhilaration at his father's improvement, but that seemed disrespectful for a sickroom. ”You'll get to meet Ca.s.sie, but now you should rest.”
”Tired of resting.” The earl's eyes closed. ”Could hear people talk, but couldn't answer. Till you came. Had to tell you you're a d.a.m.ned young fool.”
”Yes, Father. I have been. I'll try to do better.” Silent tears were sliding down Grey's cheeks. ”I'll get Mother. She'll want to talk to you.”
A faint smile softened the earl's face. ”Need my Janey.”
Jubilant, Grey squeezed his father's hand. ”She'll be here soon.”
Outside the room, he was unsurprised to find Baker quietly waiting to return to his master's bedside. ”Good news! He woke up and was talking to me. Entirely coherent, too.” Grey grinned. ”Called me a d.a.m.ned young fool.”
”Sounds like he's in his right mind,” the valet said with a glimmer of humor. ”Shall I go in?”
Grey nodded. ”He wants to see her ladys.h.i.+p. I'll tell her.”
Despite the late hour, he found his mother in the morning room. She was sitting by the fire, neglected needlework in her lap as she gazed into the flames. Looking up at Grey's entrance, she asked, ”Did you make your peace with your father?”
”I hope so, but if not, I'll have other chances later. Mother, he woke up! He's weak, but he spoke clearly. He wants to see you. I think he's going to be all right.”
The countess stood, her face luminous as her embroidery fell to the floor. ”Thank G.o.d!” She hugged Grey, clinging to him as she struggled to control herself. ”What a day of miracles this has been!”
”It has indeed.” He held her a moment longer, remembering how she held him and sang lullabies when he was very small. He'd given up hope that he'd hold her again like this. ”I'm sorry for all the trouble and grief I caused you.”
”Children exist to cause their parents trouble and grief,” she said wryly. Releasing him, she added, ”But they also give life's greatest joys. You were sometimes too heedless, but there was no malice in you. Being caught in France when the truce ended ...” She shrugged. ”It was abominable luck, but not a sin on your part.”
He didn't agree, but he was too tired to discuss that. ”What did Ca.s.sie tell you about my time in France?”
”Very little. She said the story was yours to tell.”
That was his Ca.s.sie. Discreet to the bone. He wasn't sure himself how much he wanted to say, but knew he'd avoid details. He hoped his father didn't remember them.
His mother said, ”Why do you call her Ca.s.sie? Is it a nickname for Catherine?”
He nodded, since the real reason was too private to reveal. ”I think it suits her.”
”What an extraordinary young woman she is.” His mother's voice was neutral. ”Formidable, even.”
Formidable. A perfect description. ”She is, isn't she?” Grey agreed. ”Now go to Father. He'll be looking for you, if he hasn't drifted off again.”
”He was in his right wits?” she asked, looking younger than when he'd arrived.
”Yes. I think he was on the verge of waking up on his own, and hearing my voice made him curious.”
”I prefer to call it a miracle.” She gave him a radiant smile. ”I half expect to wake up in the morning and find you're a dream.”
”If I were to appear in your dreams, I probably wouldn't be as thin and eccentric,” he said wryly.
She studied him more critically. ”Definitely thin, but your usual elegant self.”
”Thanks for the elegance are owed to Kirkland, who lent me decent clothing.”
”I hope you start patronizing his tailor!” Her face sobered. ”Have you become eccentric, Grey?”
”That might not be the right word.” He studied her beloved face and knew that she could never really understand. ”I just ... I'll need time to become used to normal life. I require more peace and quiet than when I was younger.”
She laughed and patted his arm. ”We all do when we grow up. Good night, my darling. Sleep as late as you like in the morning.”
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