Chapter Six
DOMINIC STOOD AT THE window in his bedroom watching the coach moving along the winding road in the distance. Sweat beaded his brow and dampened his hair. His whole body ached so it was hard to distinguish if his wound did. He’d been informed last night that a Whitworth had stopped at an inn only hours away. The message had passed through four people before it reached him, so which Whitworth it was didn’t survive the repeating. He hoped it was Robert Whitworth, come to finish this, but he doubted it. The man Prince George had sent had assured him that the Whitworths would comply with the Regent’s suggestion. Suggestion!
His blood still boiled at the manner in which that suggestion had been relayed and the blatant threats that had followed it. Yet the Regent’s emissary had been so disinterested. He didn’t seem to care how his words were received or what disastrous outcome would follow them; he was only doing his duty.
Gabriel Biscane stood beside him, not watching the coach approach, but frowning at Dominic instead. Not quite as tall as Dominic’s six feet, Gabriel, blond and blue eyed, was more than a servant and often took advantage of his status.
The viscount and the butler’s son had grown up together in this house. They were the same age and enjoyed the same things. No one was surprised that they became friends before their disparate social stations prevented it from happening. Dominic’s father might have broken up that friendship if he had lived beyond Dominic’s fifth year. His mother didn’t care. And Gabriel’s father didn’t dare. So Dominic and Gabriel now had a unique relationship that defied class distinctions.
“You need to get back in bed,” Gabriel was bold enough to mention.
“You need to stop giving me orders because you think I am presently weak. Did you send that letter off to my mother? I’d prefer that she hear about the Regent’s abominable demand from me and not the gossips, should word of it leak out.”
“Of course. This very morning.” Gabriel was supposed to be the valet, yet he had audaciously hired another valet for Dominic, leaving himself underfoot with no specific duties. Dominic had offered his friend other jobs that he might prefer, but Gabriel had done none of those, either. Gabriel finally said he would be a jack-of-all-trades, a servant of none. He didn’t actually give his current job a name, but he promised to be available for anything Dominic needed and expected a wage for that. And got one. Though Dominic had fired Gabe a number of times, Dominic knew he would have missed him if his friend had actually taken him seriously and left.
Gabriel shook his head. “I give good advice, not orders, so it wouldn’t hurt you to pay heed from time to time. Just don’t expect me to get your naked body back to bed if you collapse. I’ll fetch footmen to do it—”
“I’m not so weak I can’t cuff you.”
Gabriel sidestepped before he replied, “You are, but I won’t say another word, so don’t feel you need to prove otherwise—though truly, when you can’t get your own pants on . . .”
Sometimes it was just easier to ignore his friend, Dominic decided. Gabriel usually kept him in top form, with verbal and physical sparring, and Dominic usually welcomed both, just not since he’d come home with this particular wound. The last one had been a scratch. This one was going from bad to worse.
He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that. He knew very well he wasn’t healing as he should be. He’d just regained some strength after losing a lot of blood when the fever started and was steadily sapping it again.
He had been a fool to come home to Yorkshire this time. He should have stayed at his London town house to recover after the last duel with Robert Whitworth. But he hadn’t wanted his mother to know how seriously wounded he was or for word to spread of how close Robert had come to killing him. He didn’t want Whitworth to know. He’d rather die than give him that satisfaction. Which could still happen. He still felt half-dead, but only because of the damned fever that he couldn’t shake off.
The anger wasn’t helping. Having to deal with the Regent’s threat and the enemy’s showing up at his door when he wasn’t at his best just infuriated him more.
Dominic told his friend, “Put her in one of the towers when she gets here, until I decide what to do with her.”
“I believe the decree given you was—marry her,” Gabriel said drily.
“Like hell I will.”
Gabriel lifted a golden brow. “So you’re going to refuse her?”
“I won’t have to. She will go running back to her family posthaste. The Whitworths can deal with the consequences of her doing that.”
“And how are you going to make that happen?”
“There are ways to scare off virgins,” Dominic assured him with a dark look.
Gabriel raised a brow. “Very well, but do I need to remind you that you only have one tower left that is even remotely habitable?”
“Then you won’t have trouble finding it, will you,” Dominic managed just as drily.
Gabriel started to walk away, but swung back around to say in earnest this time, “I must point out that your war is not with this girl, but with her brother. Treating her ill will serve no purpose.”
“Actually, it serves a very important purpose. It will cause Robert Whitworth and his family to lose their lands and title.”
Gabriel’s eyes flared. “I’m reassured that there is method to your madness. Pardon me, I meant—logic.”
“This is not a good time to test my patience, Gabe,” Dominic warned, then yelled for his valet. “Andrew, bring my riding clothes. I’m not going to be in this house when the enemy knocks.”
Gabriel sighed in exasperation. “Dr. Bates ordered bed rest.”
“I’ll rest when I get back from riding off this rage.”
“You will need Bates again if you persist in doing that! Damnit, Dom, be reasonable. You’ll rip out your stitches if you ride. Royal won’t like the smell of blood.”
“My horse doesn’t like a lot of things, you included. How he will react to blood remains to be seen. Now enough dire predictions. For once, just do as you are told.”
Gabriel made a sound of pure frustration before he grumbled, “I’ll fetch Bates back here, then deal with your bride.”
Dominic started walking slowly toward his dressing room to meet Andrew halfway. “She’s not going to be my bride.”
Already heading to the door, Gabriel didn’t look back as he promised, “I will put her in the most inhospitable room you have.”
“The tower,” Dominic stressed.
“Certainly, even though it doesn’t have a bed.”
“She can sleep on the bloody floor!”
The door closed on that order.