“Um. I suppose.” And that would be a welcome change for a while, Amalie thought. “He saved Michael’s life, so they’d said, so I do owe him for that.”
“Ja. Young sir is home safe.” Magda rotated the ankle.
“There’s nothing I can do to repay him but try to be pleasant,” Amalie said, deciding she might as well try. How long that would last was anyone’s guess, but she would make the effort.
“He does not want this marriage, but he’s stuck with it now.”
“Marriage is good,” Magda commented.
“What a sad state of affairs that I welcome any change at all, good or ill, just to relieve the sameness of the days.”
“Change is good.”
Amalie ignored Magda as best she could, since she wasn’t really talking to her.
“He mentioned a son. Perhaps it would be entertaining to have a child about the place. Someone to run and fetch and to watch play, if nothing else. I’ve never really known any children other than Michael when he was small. What a little demon he was, but funny all the same.”
“You will be the mama.” She lifted the right leg, eliciting a groan.
Amalie forced the pain from her mind though her words still emerged in small puffs. “It not as if…I shall become a real mother…to the child. Or a real wife to…the father.”
“Hmph. We shall see. I like to get these hands on him!” Magda declared.
Amalie imagined she would. “No chance of that, Mags.”
The memory of his hands upon her bared legs surfaced and gave Amalie a lilting little feeling in the pit of her stomach. His touch had been meant as impersonal, she knew, as efficient and medically inquisitive as Dr. Raine’s or Magda’s. Yet it had affected her in an entirely different way.
Captain Napier was no stodgy old Londoner with more than fifty years to his credit, nor was he a great strapping woman with hands like giant claws. He was somewhere near thirty, terrifically attractive, and had wonderfully agile hands.
Also, he could make her laugh. How long had it been since her laughter had not reeked with sarcasm or self-deprecation? Lord, she’d become a regular martinet, a thoroughly unpleasant companion to one and all.
Perhaps that was the reason everyone left her alone in the library so much of the time. She must somehow work harder to get past her anger at what had happened to her. Acceptance was the key, she knew. She had to accept her fate and be gracious.
Alex dressed himself. Not the easy task he had always taken for granted before he had been wounded. Except for removing his boots, he had refused the assistance of the footman early last evening after being rolled into the bedchamber prepared for him. Thankfully the room was located on the ground floor, a vacant room meant to house a servant, of course, as all downstairs sleeping accommodations were.
Hopping on one foot, he nearly toppled before he managed to make it to the Bath chair. Maneuvering around the small front wheel and guidance lever took some doing, but he finally got into the damned thing.
He was just wondering what he would do about his boots when Michael entered. “Good morning, Alex,” he said, sounding a bit stiff.
“You’re here to talk things out.”
Michael sniffed, looking out the window, anywhere but at him. “I cannot believe you would abuse my hospitality in such a manner. I was so angry last evening, I could not bring myself to speak with you at supper.” He flopped down on the unmade bed and clasped his hands between his knees. “Is it really true you’re a doctor?”
“I was,” Alex admitted. “And I swear to you, Michael, I had no intention of giving insult to you or your sister. We had been discussing our injuries and I thought perhaps—”
Michael’s head jerked up and his eyes were bright. “Well, what? What do you think? Could she walk if she wanted?”
“I can’t say. You should speak with her physician about it. He’s coming today?”
“Yes. You still have to marry her, you know,” Michael warned him. Idly he reached down, picked up one of Alex’s Hessians and looked around for the other. “Father is adamant about it.”
“As are you, I see.”
Michael nodded emphatically and brought the pair of boots to him. “And you cannot take her off to Scotland. She must stay here.” He crouched in front of Alex and acted the valet, as he had done many times on the journey from Spain.
Alex smiled. “Michael, your outrage isn’t necessary. I’m perfectly willing to marry her.” He sat forward in the Bath chair, leaning toward his friend. “And you needn’t worry she’ll be saddled with me permanently. If she does recover and wishes to make a better match, an annulment can be quite easily obtained. I want you or your father to call your solicitor and have papers drawn up to the effect that I require nothing in the way of a dowry. Everything hers, remains hers.”
“But that’s not how things are done.”
“This time it is. However,” he said, hoping to divert Michael to another topic, “I would ask a favor. Can you arrange transportation for me to Maidstone in a week or so?”
“To see a friend there?” Michael asked, frowning. “Is this friend a woman?”
How like Michael. He was jealous on behalf of his sister. “My mother-in-law. She is English. When her husband passed on last year, she went to live with her sister in Kent. She has the care of my son and I should like to see him.”
Michael shook his head. “I swear I thought I knew you well, Alex, but you never said a word about a wife or child in all the time I’ve known you. I believed your only relative was the old uncle in Edinburgh. And you only mentioned him the once.”
“My past is no pleasant subject.”
Michael shrugged, then scurried around behind Alex and pushed him toward the open door. “Let’s have breakfast. Father’s waiting.”
Alex wondered whether he would see Amalie this morning and what her frame of mind might be after mulling over their conundrum. She’d likely feel better once he assured her she would have a way out of the marriage whenever she wanted.
He felt a bit better about things himself, actually, after reassessing his finances. If he planned carefully, he could pay his way here at Balmsley so he wouldn’t be a burden on Amalie’s family. And he would be near enough Maidstone to visit his son now and again. It would also give him time to overcome his own injury while he decided what to do with the rest of his life.
If this Dr. Raine was of the firm opinion Amalie could walk again unassisted, then Alex meant to make it happen. She needed a firm hand and a bit of prodding to get her up and going. Leaving her to the tender mercies of a family that loved her too much would be doing her no favor. She’d remain just as she was.
Well over an hour passed as he and Michael and Lord Harlowe ate a hearty meal and retreated to the library. They discussed the newspaper reports of Wellington’s retreat from Burgos, the progress of the campaign in general, and carefully avoided any further exchanges about the coming nuptials. If banns were to be cried the following Sunday, no one mentioned it.
The doctor arrived around eleven o’clock and was immediately shown upstairs. Alex had not yet met the man, but was anxious to speak with him about Amalie. He folded the newspaper and laid it aside when he heard voices on the stairs.
Michael made the introductions when Lady Harlowe herself brought Dr. Raine into the library where they were waiting. As might be expected, Amalie’s mother cut up stiff, just as she had done the night before, after she’d recovered from her