Heartless Lord Harry Page 3

“Once more, lad, and I’ll be finished.”

  Another cough on demand. This time Harry was lucky and it ended with that.

  “I don’t hear any signs of inflammation. It is obvious the lung was weakened permanently by your injury, but although I am sure the cough is irritating, there seems to be nothing to worry about. It will subside in a few days. You were very lucky, sir. Another few hours in the snow, and my diagnosis might well have been pneumonia.”

  “Another few hours in the snow and your diagnosis would more likely have been ‘frozen to death,’ ” Harry joked. “When can I get up?”

  “You may get up for tea today, if you feel like it. But I would not plan any strenuous activity for at least a week.”

  “Well, that ends our walking tour, James.”

  James didn’t answer because James was still asleep. He had slept through the doctor’s visit, and it looked as though he was going to sleep the day away.

  “I will leave you a cough syrup that should give you some relief. Keep off the knee as much as you can. Luckily I leave you in good hands here.”

  “The Richmonds have been more than kind,” agreed Harry. “And it should not be too hard to stay quiet if I can have that blond angel attending me.”

  “Miss Richmond? Oh, aye, she is beautiful, but you had better wish that Miss Kate has the care of you. Miss Richmond is more likely to let the tea stew and the toast burn while she is finishing up a chapter,” the doctor said and laughed.

  “That ethereal creature, a bluestocking?”

  “A scholar, yes.”

  “And Miss Kate Richmond?”

  “She is the practical one—keeps the accounts. Manages the household. Now, she would make a wonderful helpmate for a man,” teased the doctor.

  “For a man who is looking for one.”

  “You had better not be looking for anything else,” warned the doctor. “The Richmonds are a respected family here in Wensleydale.”

  Harry yawned. “No need to warn me. I am a gentleman, and moreover, I am too tired for anything but a mild flirtation with the angel.”

  “Aye, I thought you might both be gentlemen. Well, take the medicine I leave you and my advice on the knee. I will stop in again tomorrow.” As he closed the door behind him, Dr. Crowe chuckled to himself. He would like to be there when Mr. Harry Lifton tried to flirt with Miss Richmond. Most likely, she would not even notice! And his patient seemed like a man unused to having his charms ignored.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  Neither man made it down to tea, but James awoke shortly after, and having splashed some water on his face and brushed his hair as best he could with his fingers, left Harry to sleep the clock around and made his way downstairs.

  He heard voices in the parlor and gently knocked on the door as he opened it slowly and peered in.

  “Come in and meet our parents, Mr. Otley,” said Kate with a welcoming smile. “We have just had our tea, but I will get you something if you are hungry.”

  James did not want to trouble her, but on the other hand, had not eaten since early morning. “I hate to be a bother,” he said hesitantly, “but I am a bit hungry.”

  “Of course. Lynette, you do the introductions, and I will bring Mr. Otley a tray.”

  Lynette coolly introduced James to her father, Edward Richmond, and her mother, Lady Elizabeth. Edward Richmond was a short, stocky man with a receding hairline. Lady Elizabeth was a tall, thin, gray-haired woman with the same violet-blue eyes as her eldest daughter. It was clear that Miss Kate took after her father, and Lynette after her mother. When Kate returned with the tea, and they began to converse, it became clearer however, that the resemblances were only physical. Although Lady Elizabeth was blunter, she and Kate had a practical air about them and tended to dominate the conversation. Miss Richmond, on the other hand, seemed more like her father, quiet, indeed a trifle distracted, as though both their thoughts and energy were only partially engaged in the conversation.

  “I understand from Dr. Crowe that you are a scholar, Miss Richmond,” commented James after there was a lull in the conversation.

  “I am my father’s assistant, if that is what you mean, Mr. Otley.”

  James would have expected any woman accused of bluestocking tendencies to blush and downplay her interests, but Miss Richmond only announced them quite matter-of-factly.

  “He is writing an investigation of the pagan religions in Britain and the way they have survived even after the arrival of Christianity. I aid him with his research and help edit his book.”

  “You are far too modest, my dear. She is an excellent writer and scholar in her own right, and has contributed two chapters,” announced Mr. Richmond proudly.

  Kate watched with amusement as Mr. Otley obviously struggled to find the right compliment and almost laughed aloud as he made the obvious one.

  “Your daughter is so very lovely that one would never guess she was also intelligent.” Immediately as he said the words, James realized how they had come out. “Not,” he stammered, making it even worse,” that I would have thought her…”

  “Dull, Mr. Otley?” Kate immediately regretted her impulse to tease, for Mr. James Otley was blushing as hotly as one would have expected Lynette to do.

  “Uh, no, that is not at all what I meant.”

  Kate took pity on him. “Forgive me, Mr. Otley. You are not the first man to be surprised that beauty and intelligence can exist simultaneously in a woman.”

  James had avoided looking at Miss Richmond all this time. He turned to apologize for the clumsiness of his compliment, expecting her to be at least a little bit flustered. But she was sitting there calmly, as though she were merely an observer and not the one being spoken of. She merely nodded at James as he brought his apology to a somewhat incoherent conclusion and poured him another cup of tea.

  “And what are your chapters about, Miss Richmond?” asked James, after a few gulps of tea.

  “I am particularly interested in the surviving customs that have to do with ensuring fertility.”

  Luckily James had swallowed his tea, for otherwise he would have disgraced himself further and choked on it.

  “How very, uh, interesting,” was all he could manage. What he was thinking was, how very odd for an angelic-looking young woman to be investigating crude country customs. His mother would have been horrified had either of his sisters even used the word “fertility.”

  “It is fascinating,” continued Lynette, oblivious to James’s discomfort. “Most people think the customs have only to do with ensuring the harvest, but there is a definite link between celebrating the earth’s fecundity and the union of men and women, or so some scholars believe.”

  Miss Richmond sounded just like one of his Oxford tutors in the lecture hall, conveying some dry bit of history. From the expression on his face, her father was quite proud of her.

  “Tell me, Mr. Otley,” said Lady Elizabeth, changing the subject, to James’s great relief, “were both you and your friend in the military?”

  “No, Lady Elizabeth. I had family obligations. I suppose I should introduce myself more accurately,” he added diffidently. “I am James Otley, but I am also the Viscount Clitheroe.”

  “So we should be calling you Lord Clitheroe?” said Kate.

  “And your friend, is he plain Mr. Lifton?” asked Lady Elizabeth.

  “Actually, he is Harry Lifton, Marquess of Sidmouth.”

  “I think I might have known his mother. Was she Maria Radnor?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “She was a lovely girl. Married the marquess, to the despair of her family. He was very wild in those days. But he had great charm. I am sorry to hear he is dead.”

  “Yes, Harry inherited the title five years ago.”

  “And went off to the Continent anyway?” Kate asked.

  “It was very upsetting to his mother,” admitted James.

  “But he takes after his father, perhaps?”

  “Harry has always bee
n a bit on the wild side.”

  “And you are not,” observed Lady Elizabeth, who, impatient with conventional politeness, always spoke her mind. “You are a dutiful son.”

  James was going to protest, but then, why protest what must be construed as a compliment. Only, somehow, dutifulness and steadiness seemed dull compared with Harry’s inherited wildness and charm.

  “It is admirable, Lord Clitheroe,” added Kate, “when after weighing one duty against another, a man chooses the less glamorous of the two.”

  James appreciated her obviously sincere compliment, but wished that it had come from the lips of Miss Richmond. But given her unorthodox interests, she would more likely respond to Harry’s devil-may-care brand of courage.

  “Thank you, Miss Kate.”

  After tea the family went their separate ways: Mr. Richmond and Lynette to his study, Kate and her mother to go over the week’s accounts. James was invited to take advantage of the library or to stay in front of the parlor fire as long as he wanted.

  He did find a book that interested him and managed to read for an hour before dozing off again. He got himself upstairs and let himself into their room quietly. He walked over to where Harry lay fast asleep and gently felt his friend’s forehead. It felt cool, thank God, and the doctor’s syrup must have worked, for he was not coughing.

  “You’ll be up and about tomorrow, charming the Misses Richmond, no doubt,” whispered James, much relieved that Harry’s health had only been weakened, not seriously damaged by his wounds.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  The next morning Harry was awake at sunrise. He stretched his legs carefully, but aside from a slight twinge in his bad knee, he felt fine. He took a deep breath, which caused a few coughs, but nothing more than he usually did early in the morning. James stirred at the noise but did not wake, and Harry quietly got out of bed and limped over to the chair where his clothes lay. They smelled smoky from the night in Gabriel’s hut, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he pulled them on. Grasping his walking staff, which made him feel ridiculous, but which did, he had to admit, keep weight off his knee, he went downstairs.

  He heard noise from the back of the house and went toward what he guessed was the kitchen. He had guessed correctly and opened the door on a small, plump, gray-haired woman who was stirring a large pot of porridge on the stove.

  “Good morning,” Harry said.

  “Good morning to tha, lad. Tha must be the military gentleman that Dr. Crowe told George about.”

  “George?”

  “My husband. He was in t’pub for a pint when t’doctor came in.”

  “Word spreads fast in Yorkshire,” said Harry with a smile.

  “Aye, in a small place like Hawes it does indeed. Now, tha should sit down and rest thaself, lad.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Mrs.…?”

  “Pratt. But tha can call me Janie.”

  “Janie. But I need to walk a little or the knee will stiffen up. I thought I would go out for a short stroll. Is there time before breakfast?”

  “Aye, tha has ten minutes or so.”

  Harry gave her his most charming smile and slipped out the back door into the yard, leaving Janie wondering if she were twenty years younger, would she have followed right behind.

  The snow was gone except for a few small patches up on the scar, and it was obviously going to be a glorious spring day. Harry took a deep breath of the clear air, but did not cough at all, only feeling the familiar pull from the bayonet scar. He hated the feeling, hated anything that reminded him of the day he was wounded, and so he moved on, keeping his memories behind the locked door he refused to open. As he rounded the corner of the house, he saw a tall, gray-haired woman coming down the path. She was dressed in an old wool gown with a cloak thrown over her shoulders to keep off the early morning chill. He took her to be a local farmer’s wife.

  “Good morning, Lord Sidmouth,” she called out, and Harry started in surprise.

  “Good morning, Mrs.…?”

  “Richmond. Lady Elizabeth Richmond,” the woman replied, holding out her hand. “You look very like your mother.”

  “Are you some sort of witch that you know both my name and my mother?” Harry asked quizzically.

  “Lord Clitheroe revealed your identity to us last night.”

  “Ah, James. I should have guessed. And you knew my mother?”

  “We were presented the same Season. A lovely girl, Maria. Is she well? But enough of ancient history,” continued Lady Elizabeth, not waiting for an answer. “Let me see you walk.”

  “I feel ridiculous with this staff, but the doctor prescribed it for a few days,” said Harry as they walked up the path together.

  “And your fever?”

  “Gone.”

  “You were lucky Gabriel found you, my lord. Even Yorkshiremen who should know better have died up in the Pennines.”

  “And thank God for James’s strong back.”

  “A good friend, Lord Clitheroe.”

  “From my school days.”

  “And yet you seem very different.”

  “As unlike as chalk and cheese,” admitted Harry. “James’s family is very sober and conventional, and he is a devoted son and heir. While my family…well, you know that my mother ran off with the wild Marquess of Sidmouth and scandalized society.”

  “And are you as wild as your father, my lord?”

  “I have managed to avoid some of his excesses, Lady Elizabeth. I have fought no duels. Instead, I went to the Peninsula to fight the French.”

  “And women?”

  “I am very discreet—both in my dealings with the ladies and in conversations like this one.”

  “A neat sidestep, lad. Come, we had better turn back. I am sure Janie has breakfast ready.”

  Breakfast was indeed ready and everyone, including James, was seated when they went in.

  “Harry, I was wondering where you were and how you were,” his friend cried.

  “Feeling almost normal, James. Except for a bit more stiffness in the knee and an occasional cough, I feel completely recovered.”

  James’s face was beaming, and Kate, who had been observing the two men, thought what a nice man Lord Clitheroe seemed to be. A nice man and a courageous one. What Lord Sidmouth was remained to be seen. But she suspected she had his measure. He was likely a handsome charmer who broke hearts right and left.

  Harry was introduced to Mr. Richmond and then turned to Lynette. “I believe I need a proper introduction to your daughter, sir. Daughters,” he corrected himself, with barely a glance in Kate’s direction.

  Introductions were made, and after a cool smile, Miss Lynette Richmond went right back to her breakfast. Harry found her lack of response challenging, and determined to get a blush out of her, if not a kiss, before they left. Of course, he’d clearly have to get by her watchdog sister. A not unattractive girl, but bossy and officious, he’d wager.

  “Miss Richmond and her father are scholars, Harry,” James informed him.

  Harry turned to Kate and politely congratulated her, thinking to himself that it made sense that she was a bluestocking.

  “Oh, no, not me, Lord Sidmouth,” said Kate, with a twinkle in her eye. “Lynette is the scholar in the family. I merely have a good head for mathematics.”

  Harry turned to Lynette. He found it hard to believe that such an ethereally beautiful woman would spend her time grubbing around with books. He decided it made her a more interesting challenge, however. Could he distract her from her studies long enough to start a mild flirtation, he would not mind being holed up on a sheep farm for a few days.

  “Tell me, sir,” asked Harry, addressing his host, “do you by any chance have a cousin or nephew who served with Wellington? I was in Portugal with a Captain Gareth Richmond.”

  Before her father had a chance to answer, Kate broke in. “You knew my brother? What an amazing coincidence.”

  “Yes.” With the enthusiastic look on
her face, Harry thought, Miss Kate Richmond was really quite attractive. “I believe he sold out shortly thereafter?”

  “He was obliged to come home for two reasons,” Kate’s mother answered. “To run the farm for us while we were in Wales on a research trip of my husband’s. And to assume his title. Gareth is now the Marquess of Thorne.”

  “Then you must have been the Lady Elizabeth Tremayne before you wed Mr. Richmond?”

  “Yes, I ran off with him just as your mother ran off with her marquess,” replied Lady Elizabeth with a smile. “My brother had no children, and so he designated Gareth his heir.”

  “Your son was an excellent officer. We were sorry to lose him.”

  “Well, we were overjoyed to get him back unharmed,” said Kate without thinking. “Oh, I am sorry. That sounds as though we only care about our own.”

  “Nothing to apologize for, Miss Kate. After all, I am also one of the lucky ones who made it home.”

  “Well,” said Lady Elizabeth briskly, “I must be off. Perhaps if you feel up to it, Lords Clitheroe and Sidmouth, you might want to walk into Hawes. Kate was planning to go in, weren’t you, dear?”

  “Yes, Mother. I do have some errands.”

  “And Lynette, why don’t you take a holiday and go with your sister,” added Mr. Richmond, to his wife’s surprise and secret approval. Her girls met very few men in the dales, and she did not want to let an opportunity go to waste. But Edward was usually aware only of what was going on in his books, not at his breakfast table!

  Lynette looked up in surprise. “Are you sure, Father? I thought you wanted me to edit those last few pages.”

  “I, er, have a few changes I decided to make, my dear. No, you go on and enjoy yourself.”

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  The four of them gathered at the front of the house an hour after breakfast.

  “It is only a mile, my lord,” Kate said to Harry, “but I hope that is not too much for you.”

  “I assure you, although the staff looks a bit odd, it gives me adequate support. And the whole purpose of this walking trip was to strengthen my leg, not pamper it. I would hate to lose through inactivity what I have gained over the past week.”