Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
" I must get to Olivia at once!" John called over his shoulder to Frederick as they arrived at Dewsbury Manor.
As he ran across the lawn, in spite of his friend's shouting back, John knew he was in a dreadful state. From his mud-splattered boots to his sopping wet clothing, he looked nearly as bad as he felt. For even though Frederick had tried to cheer him and encouraged him to take heart, John could not think of anything other than how he was to blame for all Olivia's troubles.
His horse had done an admirable job, but now, the weary animal could take John no further. He needed to use the power of his own locomotion to propel himself forward, and it felt good to stretch his legs, pump his arms, and run with his all his might.
When he reached the steps leading to the front door, Frederick met him there. He had already handed the reins of their horses off to a manservant who was stationed out front. He took off his top hat, gave it a quick pat, then sent John an annoyed look.
"That seemed wholly unnecessary, my friend," he lectured. "We arrived just at the same time, and I am not standing here panting and gasping for breath as you are."
John bent forward, sucking in deep gulps of air, but he paid his friend's rebuke very little attention. He was too consumed with finding Olivia to mind some mild ribbing, and so, without delay, he opened the door to the house and stepped inside. Hurriedly, a butler appeared and began immediately making his apologies.
"My lord…uh…My lords…" The man fiddled with his mustache nervously. "Forgive me. I would have answered the door if I knew either of you had arrived, but I was with Lord Dewsbury and…"
"Show me to him," John demanded, speaking brusquely over the top of the servant. "Or direct me to my wife's chambers."
Without uttering another word, the butler turned and led the way down the hall. John heard the squelching of his boots with each step he took, and as he walked down the narrow hall, a shiver made his spine tingle.
"Cold, is it not?" Frederick said as he began rubbing his arms. "I saw you just now and…"
"I am not cold," John countered. "I am…perturbed. I have got a feeling that all is not well here and…"
"This way, my lords." The butler gestured toward Benedict's study then stepped aside, so they could troop forward.
"Ah," Benedict said as he rose from his seat and walked toward them. "Do join me, gentlemen. I have got chairs aplenty to circle round the hearth, and I shall pour us all a good drink of…"
"I need nor deserve such comforts," John barked. "I have come to see my wife." He glanced slowly around the study, knowing she was not there but hoping for the best. "Where is she?"
Benedict shot a quick look at Frederick, and whatever passed between them, John did not understand.
"What happened to her?" he asked. "Why do you not speak?"
"I will," Benedict replied gently in a tone that John recognized as the one he reserved for usage only when he was delivering bad news. "I shall take you to Lady Frontershire's bedside. Rose is with her now and…"
"Where?" John insisted.
"My library."
"Yes," John grumbled. "That makes perfect sense."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized that it did not make sense at all. If Olivia were well and was just in need of some rest, she would have been shown to one of the guest rooms upstairs, and perhaps she might even be seeking to warm her insides by taking a hot bath. But because Benedict and Rose had decided to usher her into the library, that could only mean one thing…
Her injuries were so severe, they did not dare move her further.
Moving as fast as he could manage, John ran down the hall. He knew his way around Dewsbury Manor well and did not need to wait for Benedict or pause and open the closed doors along the way while seeking his quarry. He dashed directly to the library, then flung the door wide.
"John!" Rose stood sentinel right beside the door. Had she been any closer, she might have been walloped when he slung it open.
"Rose!" He looked wildly about the room. "Where is Olivia?"
His eyes went directly to the center of the space where someone lay on a desk with a sheet covering them. A man sat next to the person, but from this angle, John could see very little other than that.
"Over there." Rose nodded her head at the patient.
"I will go to her." John took a single step forward but stopped abruptly when Rose placed a hand on his forearm.
"You cannot," she whispered. "Not yet. The physician needs time to speak with her…to examine her condition. He tried once before, but she was unable to answer his questions because…because…"
"Tell me what has happened?" John commanded.
Before Rose could answer, they were joined by the physician. John did not know this man, but he was well-dressed in a smart black coat and a pair of polished boots. He wore round spectacles which he took off and dropped into his breast pocket as he answered, "I shall tell you what I suspect, Lord Frontershire."
"How…how did you know my name?"
The physician gifted him with a kindly smile. "I suspect you are the lady's husband, and that must make you the marquess."
"But how did you know I am not just a concerned party?"
"You are concerned, my lord. That much is evident," the physician replied. "But I know from the look on your face that your worries for her run deeper. You love that lady over there, and no man except her husband could wear his affections for her so plainly on his countenance."
John gaped at the man openly. "You can tell all that by looking at my face?"
"It is my job to read people, my lord," the physician responded. "And I have quite the knack for doing my work." His smile widened. "Now, if you would like, I can discuss what I have found with you, or you can speak to the lady yourself, for she is awake just now."
"Olivia." John needed not say more.
He rushed to his wife's side and dropped into the chair the physician had just vacated. She looked up at him with a baffled expression stamped clearly onto her face.
"John?"
The way she rasped his name stung his heart anew, and John reached carefully for her hand, not wanting to cause her even one more ounce of pain. He could see the bandage wound tightly around her head. And even though the candlelight and fire burned low, he could discern the way bumps and bruises covered her cheeks and chin. She winced when he held her hand tightly, moving it because he wanted to place her fingertips over his heart. But when he saw what such movements did to her, he was forced to slacken his grip and allow her hand to rest where it had been before, right there by her side.
"Olivia, my darling, I owe you an apology."
"Just the one?" she croaked which made John smile.
"Mayhap you have spent too much time with my friend, Frederick, because only he would make jokes like that at a time like this."
Olivia's eyelashes fluttered. "Is Lord Newley here? Is he well? Are you…?"
"Do not concern yourself with me or Frederick," John interjected. "We came after you once the storm started in earnest, but by the time we found your carriage, it was too late. The thing overturned and…"
Olivia groaned.
"What is it?" he asked, leaning closer and looking deeply into her eyes. "Tell me where it hurts? How can I provide you relief for your pain?"
"There is nothing you can do," Olivia murmured.
"No!" John cried, feeling a fountain of anguish well within his very soul. "There must be something. The physician…he was…he did not seem…he did not say this was the last time we should speak, and I…I am not prepared to lose you yet. I want you by my side, Olivia, for now and always and…"
"That is a very good thing to know," she said softly, causing him to give up on his speech and lean closer, so he might hear her gently spoken words. "Because I am not going anywhere anytime soon."
"But…" he faltered. "You just said…I just thought…"
"You have misread the situation," she mumbled. "I am injured. That much is true. But Doctor Stuart seems to think if I am given the proper time to recover, I will…"
"Come back to me?" John's heart ached. For a fleeting second, he thought he had been on the verge of losing Olivia altogether. But now that that fear was assuaged, a new one rose to take its place. "Once the physician allows for it, will you wish to return to Frontershire Manor with me or will you want to stay here with your friends?"
Olivia gulped. "I do not want to debate this matter with you, John. I remember how you wanted to stay at home and…"
"What I want is to be with you," he said gently but insistently. "Here, with Rose and Benedict…at our manor…in town…wherever you may roam…I will follow in your footsteps and…"
"I think I would prefer it…" Olivia said slowly, "If you walked right alongside me, my lord."
"John," he whispered. "Now…right now…I should like it very much if you called me by my name."
"John," she breathed. "If you are sincere and you wish to be with me always, tell me something."
"Anything."
"Why did you want me gone?" Olivia's blue eyes searched his face. "And how have you come so quickly to change your mind?" She squeezed her eyes shut, winced, then opened them once more and looked at him skeptically again. "I saw you but yesterday…or I think it was yesterday…and you told me that a husband and wife did not need to spend all their time together. You said in a marriage like ours…one of convenience…"
John could not help himself when a bubble of laughter burst from his lips. "We both know nothing about our marriage has ever been convenient, Olivia."
She smiled feebly, but the questioning look did not leave her eyes. "I wish to know the truth, John." She paused and inhaled deeply. "Before I stepped foot into the Dowager Countess of Langford's drawing room, my mama told me I should wed myself to a man I could trust. She did not think love was essential…but trust…honesty…those were the traits I should seek in my match." Her eyes flitted back and forth as she stared at him. "So, tell me now, John, truly…can I trust you?"
"I am not sure how to answer that," he admitted.
Her fingers wiggled in his grasp, so he loosened his hold on her further but refused to let go. Her voice took on a dismayed tone. "I do not want you to have to think about the answer. If your heart and head do not automatically tell you what to say, then…"
"I want you to trust me," he interrupted. "I want to say I will be the rock on which you can lean and the fortress that will keep you safe, but I cannot lie to you…not now."
Her breath hitched. Because of the way she was laying, he could see it when she sucked in the sharp inhale and held it.
It took Olivia a moment to reply. "I see," she whispered, "and I suppose I should be grateful that you are not looking to deceive me." Her hand twitched in his again, and John got the distinct feeling that she was trying to wriggle away, not because he was inflicting physical pain upon her, but instead, he was causing mental anguish. "Because you have said your piece, I will now…"
"But wait," he interposed. "I have said some things, perhaps a great deal too many already, but I have not told you all."
"All?"
He swallowed the bundle of nerves that had gathered in his throat. "When I lost Percy that night…when his love for Violet became so great he could see nothing else except the darkness of her failings, I swore I would never expose myself to a feeling that was so fickle and could turn cruel. I dallied with ladies and took more than my fair share of lovers, but I never led them astray. I never pretended to feel love when there was none and…"
"Yes," Olivia rasped. "I understand. There is no need to explain why you do not love me."
"But you are missing my point," John rushed to add, feeling as if he was making a mess of righting the situation once again.
"What is your point?" she prompted.
"I look upon you now, Olivia, at this moment, and I find myself reeling. The love that consumed my brother—it was awful…dreadful even—but that is because it was unrequited. Percy gave his love away to a lady who was undeserving of his affections. He suffered because he made a mistake…a simple one…that one day." He paused. "Had he persevered, all could have been remedied."
"John," Olivia whispered in a breathy voice. "I am not…not following you exactly."
"Ah, yes." He smiled affectionately down at her. "I did promise I would get to my point."
He lowered his head, so she would not have to strain to lift her arm again, and slowly, he placed gentle kisses on her fingertips. Her gloves were gone, and as he touched his mouth to the pads of her fingers, he was pleasantly surprised to feel a warmth flowing there, a warmth he had come to associate with Olivia, his lady, his love.
"You are making my head spin," she murmured.
"I do not mean to," he countered, "but you have changed my way of thinking, my lady, and I would be remiss if I did not take the time to explain myself properly."
"Could you please get on with it then?" she croaked as her eyelashes fluttered sleepily. "The physician said I should try to get more sleep, and I can feel it coming for me."
His smile broadened as he leaned forward and kissed her gently, placing his lips sweetly on top of hers.
"What did I do to deserve that?" she asked groggily. "I have been saucy just now, ordering you about, interrupting your speech, and…"
He kissed her once more, reminding himself to keep things gentle and light so as not to aggravate her condition. But he did allow the kiss to last longer this time and only pulled back when her fingertips squeezed his.
"It seems that I have rendered you speechless, and so, I will delay matters no longer," John whispered. "I wish to give my heart to you, Olivia, as well as my body and soul. All that I have…everything I possess…I give it to you. If you will have me, I shall love you deeply until the last drop of life is wrung from my body and…"
"Do you love me?" She blinked at him wide-eyed.
He ducked his head sheepishly. "I know when I asked you the same question, you did not give me a straight answer, but…"
"But I showed you the depths of my love."
"You did," John breathed.
She wriggled then lifted her head a very little so that she narrowed the distance between them slightly. "But I do not want you to show me how you feel, John. I want to hear you say it." She looked at him imploringly. "Say my name."
"Olivia," he whispered.
"Louder," she coaxed.
He smiled at her. "Olivia."
"Scream it as you are overcome with ecstasy," she jested.
"Soon enough," John returned. "But for now, I hope it will suffice if I tell you that I love you, and I will seek to honor you going forward by always being honest with you about my feelings."
"And I love you," she said softly. "I love you in this moment, and I will love you still in the morning after you finally allow me to take a little nap."
He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across the tip of her nose. "Rest well, my love," he murmured. "And know that I will be here…right by your side…when you awaken."