The Hope of Love Page 5

  She loved him so deeply, it hurt more than her physical injuries.

  Once he had her back in bed, he handed her a damp cloth and left to put the kettle on, but mostly it was an obvious attempt to allow her the privacy she needed to attend to herself as best as she could. He waited a few minutes before returning to her bedside. “I’ll give you some laudanum today. I was afraid to give it to you last night for fear you wouldn’t wake up again.”

  “Yes, um…” She knew she sounded flustered and her cheeks were still on fire, but now that the worst was over, she wasn’t crying any more. “I heard voices in my sleep, but I can’t recall what anyone was saying. It all sounded like a low hum.”

  “The vicar and I were talking about you.”

  She felt an aching pull to her heart. “I hope you’ve called off the wager.”

  “What wager?”

  “Isn’t this why you were both in my shop yesterday? To see who would get a kiss from me first? How much did you bet? A shilling? A pound? More? Or was it less? Did I come cheap?”

  “Blessed saints, no wonder you were suddenly so angry with us. There is no wager. There’s never been a wager. There will never be such a wager. Felicity, we are all your friends.” He ran a hand through his hair and groaned. “I hope you and I are more than friends, but we’ll have that conversation once you are on the mend.”

  “Don’t! Please don’t pretend you care for me. It doesn’t make me feel any better. It only makes everything hurt worse.” She closed her eyes and turned away from him so he wouldn’t see her tears. Yes, she had become a spinster watering pot.

  “Don’t cry, love.” She was surprised by the light caress of his knuckles against her cheek.

  “Why are you calling me that?”

  “Because I love you, Felicity Billings. I’ve never loved anyone but you. I should have told you sooner.”

  He spoke softly, his voice soothing and tender. How could she trust him? “Angus, stop. I don’t need you to lie to me.”

  “It isn’t a lie.”

  “Hah! If you felt this way, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “The reasons are complicated. I thought I was protecting you.”

  “From what?” She was still turned away from him, too overset to look at him.

  “From my family.” She heard the bitter ache in his voice. Ironic, she was desperate to have a family, and he obviously hated his own. “I’ll tell you more about them when you’re feeling better.”

  She gave a little huff which he could take any way he wished. As for her, she knew their conversation would never happen. He would later admit he was being gentle with her and pretending to love her in order to keep her spirits up while she was so badly injured. Perhaps he would later deny he had ever said the words.

  “I love you, Felicity,” he whispered again.

  She wanted him to stop.

  His admission only brought her more pain.

  She meant to insist he leave her alone, but couldn’t seem to form the words.

  *

  After calming Felicity down again, Angus stepped into the bookshop to peer out the front window. The blanket of low, gray clouds was now lifting, and only a few snowflakes were whirling in the air. The blizzard was ending, and the process of digging out would now start. “Adam, will you head over to the Golden Hart and ask Mrs. Cummings to prepare a broth for Felicity?” He drew a few coins from his pocket. “Bread, too. Lots of it. And some ale and stew for us. I’m starved.”

  Adam had just finished stoking the fire and now rose. “I’ll have one of their boys deliver it while I go to Sherbourne and let Lord Welles know what happened.” He set aside the poker and went to fetch his cloak, gloves, and scarf. He buttoned his jacket and donned his scarf. “What was she crying about? Her arm? The goose bump on her head?”

  “I told her I loved her.”

  Adam’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Finally. About time. And this made her cry anguished tears?”

  He sighed. “She didn’t believe me. She thought I was lying to her to make her feel better. She thinks you and I only stopped by to see her because we’d placed a wager on who could kiss the pathetic spinster first.”

  “Lord! Is this what she thinks of us?”

  “No, it’s what she thinks of herself. She knows her parents purposely abandoned her. She’s afraid that everyone she cares for will eventually abandon her. She’s feeling it particularly hard this year. We have to do something, Adam. Even though you claim to have lost your faith, you’re still Wellesford’s vicar. How do we convince her we care about her? That we’re her family?”

  “Words won’t do it. We’ll have to show her.”

  “But how? I’m no good at this sort of thing. I’ve lied to her and myself about my feelings for so many years. She passed up two offers of marriage while waiting for me to come to my senses.” He grunted in dismay. “Poppy loaned her that book about love the women all believe is magical. Felicity is skeptical. I think she’s lost all hope of ever finding love. This is my fault. How do I make her believe?”

  “I don’t know. We are two faithless, displaced Scots. Who ever thought we’d be having this conversation? Well, leave it to me. As you said, I’m the vicar. I had better come up with an idea.” He paused a moment and shrugged. “I think I know what to do. I just hope it works.” He glanced across the bookshop toward her bedchamber. “Put a robe on her. Make her as presentable as you can.”

  “Why? What are you planning?”

  He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Not quite sure. I’m supposed to be good at this piety business. We’ll see if I am. Maybe I’ll get you back into the church and believing again.”

  Angus snorted. “Just get on with it. Hurry back with the food.”

  “Right. I’m on it.” He opened the door to step out. The sun suddenly burst through the gray clouds. “See, the Lord is on my side. But send dogs out to search for me if I don’t return within the hour.”

  Angus merely shook his head as he watched his friend trudge off through the snow that was thigh deep in spots. Despite Adam’s glib remarks and casual demeanor, Angus knew he was firmly committed to doing good.

  Almost every man in Wellesford had seen war at one time or another, survived savage battles that could break a man’s faith. But everyone dealt with their experiences differently. Some men were able to absorb the pain and move forward with their heart and conscience intact. Others were broken by what they’d lived through.

  As for himself, he gone into the army a broken man. Turning to medicine had saved him, given him the ability to heal others even if he could not heal himself.

  Adam had turned to the church to seek his faith for similar reasons.

  He trusted Adam.

  But how could two men who’d lost faith bring about a miracle for Felicity?

  Angus shut the door before the icy wind blew in. He returned to Felicity’s bedchamber and went to her armoire to see what he could find for her to wear. He immediately noticed a robe neatly folded on one of the shelves. It was a pale gray, woolen robe and simple in design. No adornments. No silk ribbon at the sleeves, no embroidery. He’d get her something finer once they were married.

  Assuming she’d have him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, watching him dig through her shelves.

  “Making you presentable.”

  She gasped. “Oh, I must look awful!”

  “No, you look beautiful.” Bollocks, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t an idiot, yet he could not ever find the right words when talking to Felicity. “But you’re wearing only a nightgown, and we’ve just sent over to the Golden Hart for food. I doubt Mrs. Cummings will deliver it herself. She’ll probably send over her boys.”

  He took the robe and strode to her side. “Let me help you put it on.”

  When she nodded, he gently placed her good arm through the sleeve but left the other sleeve draped over her injured arm.

  He then poured a little water from the ewer on her night t
able onto a clean cloth. “Close your eyes, love.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “As you wish, Miss Billings. But it won’t change the fact that I love you. And don’t you dare burst into tears again. Get used to my saying it. I’m not going to stop loving you.” He dabbed the cloth over her eyes and along her lips. He ran it over her cheeks and then along her neck. “I’ll brush your hair next.”

  He retrieved her hairbrush and a black ribbon because he couldn’t find a gray one to match her robe. He returned to her side, sat on the bed beside her, and carefully lifted her into a sitting position. “I’ll prop more pillows behind you to make you more comfortable when I’m done.”

  He ran his fingers lightly through her wavy locks. Her hair felt soft as silk. “Let me know if I hurt you.” He was careful not to brush too near the lump on her brow. Thankfully, it hadn’t grown bigger, but he needed to apply more ice to the area. He’d do so once he finished with her hair.

  Uncertain what to do next, he swept the lush mane all to one side, leaving it long and loose so that it fell over her shoulder and curled around her breast.

  Well, that wasn’t going to work. Every man’s eyes would be drawn there immediately. His were. He couldn’t stop ogling her. “Bollocks,” he muttered, brushing back the glorious mane so that her rich, lustrous curls cascaded over her pillow instead. He tied it all back with the ribbon.

  She regarded him silently all the while, the hint of a smile on her face.

  Face of an angel.

  She looked incredibly beautiful.

  It didn’t matter that she had a broken arm or had a reddish-purple lump on her forehead that looked like the eye of a cyclops. Nor did it matter that she had a swollen ankle resting upraised under the covers.

  She was still the prettiest woman he’d ever set eyes upon.

  Once he’d made her suitably comfortable, he rose to fetch her a cup of tea and a plate of dry biscuits to nibble on until her broth arrived. He had just started reading to her from Mrs. Radcliffe’s novel, The Mysteries of Udolpho, when the bell above the bookshop door tinkled. “Ah, that must be our food.”

  He set the book aside and strode into the shop. “Come into the kitchen, lads,” he called to the Cummings boys as they tromped in. “Wait, what’s all this?”

  The boys were carrying pots he expected contained broth for Felicity and stew for him and Adam. The aroma was divine. Behind the boys came Mr. Cummings with a jug of lemonade and a basket filled with bread and apple tarts. Lord, even better.

  “Mornin’ Dr. Carmichael. The missus sends her regards to ye and Miss Billings. Vicar said she took a very bad tumble. Ye let us know what she needs, and we’ll send it right over.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cummings.”

  The boys looked up at him. “Can we pop our heads in?”

  Angus nodded. “But don’t get too close. She hurts everywhere.”

  “Good mornin’, Miss Billings,” the older boy said as Angus led them in. He cautioned them to remain beside the door.

  “Harry, how nice to see you.” She cast him a shimmering smile. “Thank you for bringing over the food.”

  “I helped, too,” the youngest, Sydney, said. “Caw, that’s a big lump on yer head. It’s bigger than my fist.”

  She laughed. “Yes, quite unsightly.”

  “Mum said to tell ye that we’ll bring over whatever ye want, and Da’s not to take any payment for it or she’ll box his ears. She says to thank ye for teaching me and Sydney to read and write. We’re going to be important men one day, she says. Because ye made us smart.”

  Little Sydney nodded earnestly. “Harry’s very smart. He counts better than Da does.”

  “I’m very proud of both of you. I wish you a very happy Christmas.” She cast them another beaming smile.

  “Off you go, lads,” Angus said, noticing the pain Felicity was hiding behind her smile. He thanked Mr. Cummings and asked him to convey his gratitude to his wife.

  “I will, Dr. Carmichael. Just pop over if ye need anything else.”

  Felicity’s smile faded as the tavern keeper and his boys left. “Christmas eve is the day after tomorrow. I’ll never be better in time for Christmas at Sherbourne Manor, will I?”

  “No.” He leaned over and caressed her cheek. “I won’t go either. I’ll stay right here with you. Perhaps the Sherbournes will send over a goose for us. Look on the bright side, we’ll get our drumsticks and won’t have to fight anyone for them.”

  “Oh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” But her smile was genuine, and the lovely sparkle had returned to her eyes.

  Angus had just finished getting some broth in her when the bell above the door tinkled again. Felicity stared at him. “Who could it be?”

  He shrugged. “A customer, perhaps. I’ll attend to them.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “A doctor turned bookseller. Is there no end to your talent?”

  He grinned. “I’m a marvel. Surely, you must realize this by now.” His cheer faded the moment he walked into the bookshop and saw who was standing there. “Lady Plimpton, what are you doing here?”

  She tried to sound casual, but he heard the motherly concern in her voice. “How is Miss Billings? I heard she was badly injured. I had to come… I… How is she?”

  “On the mend,” he said, not wishing to further overset her. “She’ll recover fully.”

  Lady Plimpton struggled to hold back tears as she nodded. “May I see her?”

  “Yes, if you wish. Are you going to tell her?”

  She paled. “Tell her what?”

  Angus led her to the table near the fireplace, hoping their voices would not carry into Felicity’s bedchamber. He doubted she could hear them, but he lowered his voice to a whisper to be sure. “She has your birthmark.”

  He’d seen the same mark on Lady Plimpton’s back when treating her for a bronchial infection last year.

  “Oh, dear heaven.” She sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands. “Have you told her?”

  “No. That’s for you to do.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I cannot. I won’t ever.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand, I have a family. A husband I love dearly. Married daughters. Position in Society. Felicity was…a mistake. But look at her. She’s wonderful, isn’t she? I’ve quietly been helping her out as best as I can with the assistance of Lavinia and her nephew.”

  Angus arched an eyebrow in surprise. “The Earl of Welles knows?”

  She nodded. “I think his wife knows as well. They haven’t specifically said so, but I can feel it. Not in any disdainful way. Dear, sweet Poppy could never…but she’s been tossing me these warm, supportive looks lately. She knows. They’ll keep the secret. You must keep it as well. I cannot lose my husband over this. He is my life. My joy. This secret will destroy him and our marriage.”

  “What about Felicity?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I? I will always be here for her.” She dabbed at her tears with her lace handkerchief. “But heaven forgive me, not as her mother.” She kept her head down, too ashamed to look him in the eyes. “Please, Dr. Carmichael. Keep my secret. You don’t have my permission to share it with her.”

  She rose. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  He stayed her hand. “No, don’t go. Sit with your daughter. She could use the female company.”

  “Thank you.” She hurried into Felicity’s bedchamber. “Miss Billings, how are you feeling?”

  Angus stepped outside into the cold, his gut roiling and his heart filled with ache. Felicity deserved better than all of them. How easy it was for them to come up with one excuse or another to hide the truth from her. He was perhaps the worst offender, although his family was truly vile. Straight out of a grand Shakespearean tragedy. Hubris, betrayal, lies, thievery, cruelty, jealousy, and a murder or two. Still, he should have told her, allowed her to decide for herself whether she wished to marry him and attach herself to his disgraced family.

  His disg
raced and disgraceful family.

  Although the sun was now out and the day had warmed, there was still a cold bite to the air. Lady Plimpton’s coach was standing in front of the shop, the bundled coachman taking a nip from a flask to keep himself warm.

  Angus waited several minutes before returning inside. He decided to put the kettle on for tea. He busied himself in the kitchen, out of the way of the ladies, but close enough to respond if Felicity needed assistance. It wasn’t necessary. Lady Plimpton emerged a few moments later and cast him a mirthless smile. “Please send word to me if Felicity requires anything. I think Lord Plimpton and I shall spend this Christmas with our daughter in London. She has invited us. We were going to decline, but I think it is best we leave first thing in the morning. You do understand, don’t you? I’ll send Lord and Lady Welles my apologies about the sudden change in plans.”

  No, he didn’t approve of her decision. But who was he to pass judgment?

  He returned to Felicity’s side. She looked so happy, he almost couldn’t bear it. “Angus, can you believe it? Isn’t Lady Plimpton the kindest woman you’ve ever met? First the Cummings family and now her. I’m quite taken aback by their generosity.” She laughed softly. “Do you think Lord Welles will send over a Christmas goose?”

  Angus curled his hands into fists to compose himself, but he managed a nod and a halfhearted smile. “Let’s hope so. I’m already salivating at the thought.”

  “But I do wish I could have worn my gown.” She glanced down at herself. “I’ll have to satisfy myself with setting a new style. Bedlam fashion, I shall call it. Old woolen robe, frayed nightgown, coarse woolen socks, and hair that looks like cats were brawling in it.”

  “Irresistible,” he teased. “That cyclops bump on your head adds to the allure.”

  He spent the rest of the afternoon reading Udolpho to her, apparently not doing a very good job of it. He’d barely gotten past chapter two before Felicity fell asleep. He closed the book and quietly left the room when she began to snore.

  Even her snores were light and sweet.

  Adam returned shortly afterward. “Did Felicity miss me?”

  “Not in the least.” But he grinned at his friend. “What took you so long? I was about to send off a search party. What did the earl have to say?”