Page 39 of Once a Scoundrel

Chapter Nine

Faith heard the long case clock in the entryway strike the hour, its dull chimes echoing through the silent house. Midnight. The second one she’d spent here. Fighting back an exhausted yawn, she rose from the chair and stretched out her cramped legs and stiff back.

She looked down at the woman in the bed. Mary was better than when they’d arrived last night, but she was still in the throes of illness. After continually covering her in wet sheets, and once going so far as to cover her in a thin layer of ice when Mama feared the worst just before dawn, her temperature had finally eased.

By sunset, her condition had improved enough that Faith insisted Mama go the manor house so that she could have a good night’s rest in comfort and send Papa a message that they were going to be away longer than expected. Even in her fatigue, though, Mama had initially refused. It was only when Faith insisted that she check on Jeremy and the others at the house that Mama finally relented, promising to return first thing in the morning. Then Faith sent Polly to bed in the room across the hall to catch her own much-needed sleep and sat down for a long night’s vigil.

Yet Mary was still insensible, never becoming completely lucid, and in her feverish confusion, she’d mumbled Stephen’s name and asked for her son. Whenever she did, Faith held her hand and spoke to her softly, reassuring her that Jeremy was safe and that Stephen was on his way.

“Daniel...” Mary murmured across parched lips. “Daniel...”

Not knowing what to say to bring her comfort, Faith silently squeezed her hand, holding it until Mary fell back to sleep.

That name, spoken with so much grief and utter desolation even in her delirium, sent an icy chill spiraling down Faith’s spine. To have so desperately loved him, yet every day seeing his son and being reminded of the love she’d lost...Faith didn’t think she could have borne it.

But wasn’t that exactly what was happening with her and Stephen, losing the love and future she could have had with him? Except that Stephen hadn’t been ripped away from her; she’d pushed him away herself. And for what—to save her heart from being broken again? Yet every hour that ticked past brought with it an ache of loss so intense that she was certain her heart had once more shattered, this time at her own cowardly hands.

Oh, she was a fool! One who was desperately trying to convince herself that she’d made the right decision in rejecting his proposal. Except that she wasn’t certain at all anymore. Being here at Elmhurst Park, seeing with her own eyes the changes he’d made in his life, and hearing from Polly story after story about the good man he’d become, it all made her doubt her conviction that he was still the same scoundrel he’d always been.

Mencouldchange, couldn’t they? Papa said they did, and that war changed them most of all. Could Stephen have changed enough to no longer be the man who had so deeply wounded her before? No longer a heartless rake who bedded every willing woman he came across but now a man who would give his heart and body only to her?

Unable to sit still another moment, she rose to her feet and paced the room. She was exhausted— No, she was past exhaustion, unable to rest even while Mary slept. Doing her best to fight down both the physical fatigue and the emotions clawing at her insides, she decided to keep herself busy by making up another mug of red vapor, carefully measuring the ingredients as Mama had shown her—

The clamor of heavy footsteps broke the silence.

“Mary!” Stephen’s voice boomed through the house as he raced up the stairs and down the hall.

The cup fell from her hand and spilled onto the floor as Faith’s heart leapt into her throat.

He stopped in the doorway, and his eyes landed on the woman’s limp figure in the bed for only a moment before darting to Faith. Bewilderment clouded his face to find her there, then vanished beneath an expression of deep worry as he slowly entered the room. Crossing stiffly to the bed, he sat on the wooden chair and reached for Mary’s hand. With a frown, he touched her cheek, and Faith was certain he could feel the fever that still gripped her.

“Mary...Mary, it’s Stephen,” he said gently. He moved his hand to her forehead and frowned with deep concern. “I’m here. Can you hear me? I’m going to take care of you, I promise. Mary?”

There was no response from her. He blew out a deep breath and released her hand to sit back in the chair.

Then he turned in the chair, lifting his exhausted gaze to Faith. “How is she?” His eyes were grim. “The truth.”

“Better,” Faith answered, remaining on the far side of the room when what she wanted to do was rush into his arms and beg his forgiveness. “She’s resting more quietly now, but the fever hasn’t yet broken.”

He nodded with bleak understanding. “Is the physician here?”

“No.” She picked up the mug, then set it aside and nervously wiped her hands on a towel. “But Mama’s been attending her since last night.”

“Where’s Jeremy?” Dread laced his voice. “Is he ill, too?”

Her chest tightened at his concern for the boy. If he could care this much about a child who wasn’t even his...“He’s well.” She twisted her hands in the towel to keep from reaching for him. “He’s at the manor house with Mama.”

His shoulders drooped with relief, and he rubbed at his forehead. “I came straight here as soon as I received the message. I didn’t stop at the house.” Fatigue showed in every inch of him as he heaved out a tired breath. “I was afraid that I might have already been too late.”

“I know,” she said softly, hot tears blurring her eyes at his compassion. How could she have ever doubted him? “But you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

She looked away so he couldn’t see the guilty self-recrimination playing across her face. She’d been such a goose! She knew now how much he’d changed, had seen it with her own eyes in what he’d done with the estate...in the weariness and worry she saw in him now for Mary and her son. He wasn’t that same boy who had once shattered her heart.

He was now the man she loved and always would.

And she’d ruined it all by refusing him. She wouldn’t blame him if he hated her for it.

“But that’s not all.” he said quietly. He stood and walked slowly toward her, then rested his palm against her cheek and lifted her face until she looked at him. “Why areyouhere?”