Stranger in My Arms(73)

A servant came to tell him that the doctor was ready to leave, and Hunter set aside his brandy. He reached the central hall just as Lara and Dr. Slade did. The old doctor’s face was grave and dark with displeasure, his wrinkles more prominent than usual, giving him the look of a surly bulldog. Lara seemed composed but brittle, her facade concealing a welter of emotion.

Hunter looked from one of them to the other, waiting for the news.

“Well?” he asked impatiently.

“Lady Lonsdale had a miscarriage,” Dr. Slade replied. “It seems she wasn’t aware of her condition until the bleeding began.”

“How did it happen?”

“Lonsdale pushed her down the stairs,” Lara said quietly, her eyes filled with fire. “He’d been drinking again, and he was in a temper.

Rachel claims he didn’t know what he was doing.”

Dr. Slade frowned heavily. “A nasty business, this,” he commented.

“I never thought I would say this, but it’s a blessing old Lord Lonsdale isn’t alive to see what’s become of his son. I remember the pride he used to take in that boy-” “Will she be all right?” Hunter interrupted, sensing that a long reminiscence was about to begin.

“I believe Lady Lonsdale will recover fully,” the doctor replied, “provided she receives adequate rest and care. I would suggest that no one disturb her, as she is in a fragile state. As for her husband…” He hesitated and shook his head, silently acknowledging the matter was beyond him. “One hopes he can be persuaded that this sort of behavior is not acceptable.”

“He will be,” Lara said steadily, before Hunter could reply. She turned without looking at either of them, and went back up the stairs to her sister’s sickroom.

Something about the rigidity of her spine and the regal tilt of her head made Hunter feel vaguely guilty, as if he and the doctor had been tarnished by Lonsdale’s actions. As if they both had been judged and convicted of participating in some great male conspiracy against women.

“Damn Lonsdale,” he muttered, scowling.

The doctor reached up and patted the side of his shoulder gently. “I understand, my lad. I’m well aware of the affection you bear for your friend. But if an old man’s opinion means anything to you, I am pleased that you took Lady Lonsdale under your protection. It shows a compassion that has sometimes been in short supply in the Crossland family. No offense intended.”

Hunter’s mouth twisted ironically. “I can’t take offense at the truth,” he said, and sent for a carriage to take the old man home.

Lara held vigil at Rachel’s bedside through the night, until she began to doze in the chair while still sitting upright. She jerked awake as she sensed a large shape moving through the room. “What-” “It’s me,” Hunter murmured, finding her in the darkness, his hands settling on her shoulders. “Come to bed, Lara. Your sister is sleeping-you can attend to her in the morning.”

Lara yawned and shook her head, wincing at the knifelike pain of her strained neck muscles. “No. If she awakens… if she needs something… I want to be here.” She couldn’t explain the irrational feeling that she must not leave her sister alone, that Rachel needed constant protection from monsters both real and invisible.

His fingertips swept along her throat in a tender stroke. “You won’t do her any good by exhausting yourself,” he said.

Lara turned the side of her face in to his hand and sighed. “I want to do something, even if it’s only watching her sleep.”

His thumb caressed her temple, and he leaned over to press his mouth on her head. “Go to bed, sweetheart,” he said, his voice muffled in her hair. “I’ll watch over her now.” Despite her reluctance, he pulled her from the chair and urged her from the room, and Lara made her way to her own bed like a sleepwalker.

Lonsdale came to Hawksworth Hall the next afternoon. At first Lara was unaware of his arrival, having secluded herself in Rachel’s room for most of the day.

She had managed to coax Rachel into taking some soup and a spoonful of blancmange, and administered a dose of the medicine Dr. Slade had left. Silent and exhausted, Rachel seemed to welcome the oblivion the medicine offered. She fell asleep quickly, holding Lara’s hand with a childish trust that broke her heart.

Carefully Lara disengaged her hand and smoothed her sister’s long brown hair. “Sleep well, dear,” she whispered. “Everything will be fine.”

She left the room, silently debating how and when to tell her parents about what had happened to Rachel. It would be unpleasant, to say the least. She expected them to deny everything. Lonsdale was a fine man, they would say, and perhaps he had made a mistake that required everyone’s understanding and forgiveness.

Lara knew that Hunter’s support was essential if she was to keep Lonsdale away from Rachel. She would have no recourse if Hunter changed his mind.

He was all that prevented Lonsdale from taking his wife back and doing exactly as he wished with her.

Lara was grateful for what Hunter had done so far, but she couldn’t help fearing that his long friendship with Lonsdale would ultimately prevail. She couldn’t quite imagine her husband denying Lonsdale access to his own wife. And if Hunter gave in to his friend’s demands.. Lara wasn’t certain what she would do.

As increasingly despondent thoughts ran through her mind, she neared the top of the stairs leading down to the great hall. The sound of masculine voices drifted to her, laced with alarming intensity.