“I haven’t...been...hungry,” the widow said.
Nicholas knew that feeling. For months after his injury, he hadn’t felt hungry. Nothing seemed to give him any pleasure—not food, not wine, not friends, not cards, not even his horses. Nicholas moved into the room. “You must eat to keep up your strength,” he said. The words echoed in his mind as people had said them to him many times.
“He’s right, Mama. You must eat.” She glanced at Nicholas. “Is the doctor on his way?”
“I should think so. Do you want me to ride out to fetch him?”
“No. Stay with me.” Amelia looked at her mother again. “I want you to sip some tea and broth. No arguing.”
Mrs. Blackstock nodded, seeming too tired to argue. Nicholas couldn’t keep his gaze from Amelia, though. She’d asked him to stay with her. She’d wanted him nearby. He’d forgotten what it was like to be needed by someone. Since he’d come home from the war, he’d had to rely on others. It was a dramatic shift for him. Hard to believe now, standing in this room supported by a cane and still breathing heavily from his trek up the stairs, that at one point he had been an integral part of an elite group of soldiers.
Draven’s troop had its own mission and orders—to do everything possible to sabotage the French war effort, to gather information for the British generals, and if possible, to assassinate Bonaparte himself.
Since the group was largely on its own, away from supply lines and the bulk of the British army, they had to find their own food and transportation. Aidan Sterling was the thief of the troop and could steal anything from a loaf of bread to a wagon. He had little experience with horses, though, so it took Nicholas’s skill with animals to steal cart horses or war horses. He’d been in the cavalry before being asked to join Draven’s troop, and he’d brought his own horse, Charlemagne, with him. In addition to playing horse thief, he was an accomplished equestrian who was a crack shot even at a gallop. He often rode in front of the others to scout ahead and assess the possibility of an ambush. And when there was a skirmish, he and Charlemagne charged into the middle of the fray without hesitation.
He’d been a warrior.
Now he could barely make it up a set of stairs.
The servant returned with a tray, which she set on a bedside table. Amelia immediately began to feed her mother with a practiced hand. She’d obviously done this many times, most likely for her father. She had managed to get a little broth and a sip or two of tea in the woman when the doctor arrived. Nicholas took himself out of the chamber then to give his mother-in-law privacy.
A few minutes later the doctor emerged. “May I speak with you, my lord?”
“Of course,” Nicholas said. “Should I ask Lady Nicholas to step out as well?”
The doctor looked over his shoulder at the bed chamber door, considering. He was an older man, perhaps sixty. He’d been the doctor in Hungerford for as long as Nicholas could remember and one of the reasons his mother had objected to him staying at Battle’s Peak. Doctor Evans was competent but certainly not educated in the latest medical techniques. His training had taken place forty or more years ago, before the French Revolution. Perhaps before the American Revolution. Much had changed, and the dowager had worried a country doctor would not be able to treat Nicholas effectively.
Nicholas had argued that he didn’t need further treatment. The specialists in London had done all they could, and what he needed was peace and quiet and to be left alone. Indeed, the only time he’d sent for Evans was when one of the servants or Florentia felt unwell. Nicholas had no need of the man.
“I think it best we speak man to man,” the doctor said.
Nicholas should have expected this answer. Of course, the doctor would not want to involve a woman in a matter he didn’t expect she would understand. But with her experience, Nicholas knew Amelia understood far more than he. Still, he would not force the issue and take her from her mother’s side.
“Go on,” Nicholas said.
“May I speak frankly, my lord?”
“I’d rather you did so we don’t waste time.”
The doctor nodded his white head, seeming to approve of this answer. “Mrs. Blackstock has been in a steady decline since the death of her husband. She seems to have fallen into a malaise. I have been here regularly the last four months, and in that time, she has lost weight and color and grown more and more listless. If I were a fanciful man, I would say she is sick from a broken heart. I am not a fanciful man,” the doctor said, unnecessarily. “And yet, something must be done or Mrs. Blackstock will follow her husband to the grave.”
“Lady Nicholas feels guilty that she has not come to call since our wedding. I do believe she intends to call more often.”
“That would help, but though a new bride might have time to visit her mother, there are other concerns. Have you considered the estate? If something is not done soon, it will fall into disrepair.”
Nicholas glanced at the bed chamber door again. “The estate is not mine to oversee. I believe it is entailed.”
“To Mr. Blackstock’s nephew, yes. But the man has been in India for years. Has he been notified that he now has property?”
Nicholas had no idea. He hadn’t known anything about the entail, he’d only briefly glanced at the marriage contract the lawyers had drawn up. Amelia had come with a small dowry and no land. He remembered seeing that the estate was entailed and had thought no more of it.
Perhaps he’d even been a little relieved that he would not have to trouble himself with the land and tenets.
Clearly, he’d been too quick to judge.
“I’ll have to look into that, sir. In the meantime, what do you suggest for Mrs. Blackstock?”
“I think she needs rest. For a decade she has been taxed with managing everything, and I believe that, in tandem with the understandable grief as a result of the loss of her husband, those responsibilities have overwhelmed her. The more that can be done to relieve her burdens, the better.”
“I see. Thank you for your opinion, Doctor.”
He nodded and started away. Then he paused and turned back. “May I say one thing more, my lord?”
Nicholas raised a brow. “Speak your mind, sir.”
“I have known Miss Blackstock since she was an infant. Lately there has been some less than congenial whispering about her and about the hastiness of your marriage.”
Nicholas had been in the army long enough to have perfected the art of keeping his feelings from showing on his face. He’d been coolly composed even when given the most asinine of orders. Now, his blood began to boil at the idea of gossip about his wife, but he didn’t blink at the mention of it.
“I don’t hold with any of it. Miss Blackstock—pardon me, Lady Nicholas, was always a good girl. She cared for her grandmother and then her father with a devotion I have rarely seen. Never once did I hear her complain. Never once could I fault the care she gave to either of her relatives. She was conscientious and kind and patient. If she wasn’t the daughter of a gentleman, I would have tried to convince her to work for me as a nurse.”
“That’s good to know, Doctor.”
“I thought you should know. I thought you should also know that if, after all those years of tending to others, she wanted to have bit of fun herself—to dance or meet friends at a pub—I hardly think she should be faulted for it.”