the floor. And all the while, Will’s gaze seemed to float about the room as if unable to focus on anything. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, I touched Michael gently on the back and told him I would wait for him in the parlor.
Will’s head perked up at the sound of my voice and his gaze sought out mine. “You’ll return?”
Stunned by the request, I could only stare at Will’s earnest face flickering in and out of the amber light cast by the fire. His face was so gaunt, his eyes shadowed.
Michael paused in his tidying to stare first at his brother and then at me.
“Please,” Will added as the silence stretched.
“Of course,” I replied, feeling ashamed that my astonishment had forced him to utter such a word, so close to begging. “Yes. I’ll return. Soon,” I promised him, hoping he could sense my sincerity.
His gaze held mine another moment before sliding away. I took that as my cue to leave, exiting through the doorway just as the surly manservant returned with Will’s dinner. He glared at me as we passed, shutting the door to the bedchamber behind him.
I stared at the wooden barrier for a moment longer, unable yet to face Gage or Philip. My insides felt scoured and raw, and dark emotions bubbled too close to the surface.
“Do not take it personally,” Philip said to my back, forcing me to turn. He leaned awkwardly against the back of a Hepplewhite chair, his body still taut from the scene in the bedroom. “Ole Mac is always like that.”
I wondered if the man even remembered me. After all, if I hadn’t recognized him immediately, how much more must I have changed in the last ten years from age fifteen to twenty-five. “Is he really the best person to be looking after Will?” I questioned, unaccustomed to servants displaying such blatant aversion for those they served.
“Oh, aye. You won’t find a more loyal man to the Dalmays than Mac, particularly when it comes to William. He was his personal servant during the war,” Philip explained.
I knew that much, but loyalty wasn’t the only thing to be considered.
“And he’s not the only one Michael hired to assist his brother.” Gage’s voice was stiff, and I couldn’t tell whether it was because he was angry or merely uncomfortable with what we had just seen. “There’s another man, named Donovan. I met him the other day. He seems to have some kind of medical experience.”
I nodded. Perhaps a former surgeon’s assistant or an apothecary’s apprentice.
I worried my fingers and glanced back at the door to the bedchamber. I couldn’t help but wonder how many times similar events had played out in the last nine months since Will’s release. Michael had told us that he was improving, that these . . . lapses . . . were happening less and less often. But how many times had they occurred to begin with?
The memory of Will crouched in the corner scrabbling away at the wall with a stub of charcoal kept flashing before my eyes and made my chest ache. I wrapped my arms around myself against a sudden chill.
The bedchamber door opened and Michael reappeared. He was exhausted. Dark circles had formed under his eyes and his face was pale and drawn. How many nights had he lain awake, worrying about his brother? How many times had he been called from his bed to deal with a problem concerning Will?
He sighed and closed the door, but not before I saw Mac bending over Will, helping him manage the spoonful of soup he was ladling into his mouth. Will’s hand shook from the effort.
Michael crossed the room to lean over a sideboard that rested against the wall near the hall door. The emotional strain of the last few minutes seemed to tighten the muscles across his back, stretching the fine fabric of his evening coat. I tensed, uncertain if he was angry with me for approaching Will in the manner I had.
I knew he had every right to be upset with me. I had disregarded his warnings and walked straight into the lion’s den, so to speak. If Will
Will’s head perked up at the sound of my voice and his gaze sought out mine. “You’ll return?”
Stunned by the request, I could only stare at Will’s earnest face flickering in and out of the amber light cast by the fire. His face was so gaunt, his eyes shadowed.
Michael paused in his tidying to stare first at his brother and then at me.
“Please,” Will added as the silence stretched.
“Of course,” I replied, feeling ashamed that my astonishment had forced him to utter such a word, so close to begging. “Yes. I’ll return. Soon,” I promised him, hoping he could sense my sincerity.
His gaze held mine another moment before sliding away. I took that as my cue to leave, exiting through the doorway just as the surly manservant returned with Will’s dinner. He glared at me as we passed, shutting the door to the bedchamber behind him.
I stared at the wooden barrier for a moment longer, unable yet to face Gage or Philip. My insides felt scoured and raw, and dark emotions bubbled too close to the surface.
“Do not take it personally,” Philip said to my back, forcing me to turn. He leaned awkwardly against the back of a Hepplewhite chair, his body still taut from the scene in the bedroom. “Ole Mac is always like that.”
I wondered if the man even remembered me. After all, if I hadn’t recognized him immediately, how much more must I have changed in the last ten years from age fifteen to twenty-five. “Is he really the best person to be looking after Will?” I questioned, unaccustomed to servants displaying such blatant aversion for those they served.
“Oh, aye. You won’t find a more loyal man to the Dalmays than Mac, particularly when it comes to William. He was his personal servant during the war,” Philip explained.
I knew that much, but loyalty wasn’t the only thing to be considered.
“And he’s not the only one Michael hired to assist his brother.” Gage’s voice was stiff, and I couldn’t tell whether it was because he was angry or merely uncomfortable with what we had just seen. “There’s another man, named Donovan. I met him the other day. He seems to have some kind of medical experience.”
I nodded. Perhaps a former surgeon’s assistant or an apothecary’s apprentice.
I worried my fingers and glanced back at the door to the bedchamber. I couldn’t help but wonder how many times similar events had played out in the last nine months since Will’s release. Michael had told us that he was improving, that these . . . lapses . . . were happening less and less often. But how many times had they occurred to begin with?
The memory of Will crouched in the corner scrabbling away at the wall with a stub of charcoal kept flashing before my eyes and made my chest ache. I wrapped my arms around myself against a sudden chill.
The bedchamber door opened and Michael reappeared. He was exhausted. Dark circles had formed under his eyes and his face was pale and drawn. How many nights had he lain awake, worrying about his brother? How many times had he been called from his bed to deal with a problem concerning Will?
He sighed and closed the door, but not before I saw Mac bending over Will, helping him manage the spoonful of soup he was ladling into his mouth. Will’s hand shook from the effort.
Michael crossed the room to lean over a sideboard that rested against the wall near the hall door. The emotional strain of the last few minutes seemed to tighten the muscles across his back, stretching the fine fabric of his evening coat. I tensed, uncertain if he was angry with me for approaching Will in the manner I had.
I knew he had every right to be upset with me. I had disregarded his warnings and walked straight into the lion’s den, so to speak. If Will
Similar Books
