Roses and Flames

Chapter 32

 Lord Thorne would deem it an honor to have the man under his roof for a fortnight, whatever the condition. “Of course, your grace. I’ll visit you again in the morning.” Unable to stop himself, he gave a respectful bow of his head, took up his candle and then withdrew to leave the patient to sleep.

Standing in the hall, Patrick weighed his options. If it had been a normal patient, he would have woken the housekeeper had the medicine and instructions to find him should conditions change. There was really little to do, other than watch the man suffered through it and help him deal with any consequences that the disease left behind. But this was no mere mortal. He was treating a Duke. Even it had not been a saint, Patrick would have instead stayed on staying in the house, so that he might meet the man’s every need. It would be a waste of time. But it would be expected by all involved. And it was not just any Duke. It was his own brother. As family, he was probably expected to worry. Patrick could manage no feelings beyond concerned that that you could be in the same house as ambrosia for at least a fortnight. In no mood for romance. But with her interest in medicine, Ambrose would be a beautiful nurse and very sympathetic. She would station herself at the bedside and treat him like an invalid. By the time that you had healed, there would be no parting the two of them please stop it was no decision at all, really. Doctor Hastings was staying in the residence, until the patient improved.

On her way down to breakfast, Ambrose paused to listen at the door of her father study. It was unusual to have him up and working at such an hour. And even more strange that there was a visitor involving him in heated conversation. It was stranger still that visitor would be Patrick. They were arguing.

Please, do not let it be about me. The situation was difficult enough without dragging father into it. She had not been able to think about Patrick’s words in the carriage. Perhaps she does wish to continue her education after marriage. Her curiosity would not be as so easy as to kill as Samuel thought. He would adjust in time to her ways. At least, she hoped he would. In either way, it did not mean that she wished to run away with Patrick.

It might, of course. But she wouldn’t want him bothering father about it, until she had given the matter more thoughtful stop and with still asleep in the guest room, they dare not tried to settle anything today. She leaned close to the panel and caught snatches of the conversation.

“I simply think that it would be better to find another man for the job.” Her father was reasonable, but cross.

“I imagine you would. It makes you that uncomfortable, does it, to have me back in the house?” Patrick was truly angry and more sarcastic than even she had ever heard him.

“Of course not,” her father replied in a voice best described as uncomfortable.

“Well, it should. Everything you told me was a lie. If you have any conscience at all, I hope it is bothering you.”

“At the time, it seemed the easiest course.”

“Easy?” Patrick was not just angry. He was irate. “You deserve to suffer some small bit of the torment that I have known for the last six years. That you would allow me to believe-----”

No matter the current difficulties between them all, he had no right to speak to her father in such a way. Unable to contain herself, Ambrose burst through the door.

“Patrick!” She was angry at herself, as for well forever returning to him. She had known of his true parentage for less than a week and the man she thought she had known had become spiteful command grateful whelp to the man who had raised him. “Cease this argument going immediately. It can be heard in the hall.”

“What? What have you heard?” Her father went white.

She turned to Patrick, who was clearly the one at fault. “I’m shocked, Dr Hastings, that you would come here, even we have even breakfasted, to make a row about things that happened years ago.”

 The two men glanced at each other in silence. Then Patrick said, in a more moderate tone, “I did not come here of my own volition. I was summoned.”

 By whom? She laughed. “I did not call you, if that is what you have been claiming.”

Her father strode and came around the desk to take her by the hand. “It was the Duke, and  since last night his condition has worsened. He did not want to wake us and sent for the doctor.”

“Ill?” A hundred different possibilities flashed through her mind. And the most unworthy one shouted out the loudest. If he dies, I will not have to choose. It was horrid of her. The choice had already been made and she was happy with it. Samuel was a wonderful man and even a saint. What sort of woman was she, to even consider his death?

“You needn’t worry,” Patrick said. He will recover. His voice was soothing. It was his doctors voice, she was sure, mean to keep the family from body.

“If there is anything I can do, any medicine I can send for, other physicians who specialize…” her father was not common at all buy it.

“As I told you before, Lord Thorne, I’m quite capable of dealing with the case of mumps in my own brother.”

 This was what had upset Patrick. Her father had questioned his skill. but at least he had acknowledged that the duke was his brother.

“It will be fine, father,” Ambrosia said. But she did not feel so much calm, as numb. “Pat is right. He can handle this easily. And Samuel ask specifically for him.”

That was a good sign, wasn’t it? At least the two of them were not at odds.

“Very well, then,” Thorne responded, still sounding frosty. “You are here in my house again at the request of the Duke and there is nothing that I can do about it. What do you prescribe, doctor Hastings?”

“Keep the curtains drawn and the staff away from him. There is no one on that floor of the house, is there?”

“We have no other guests,” said her father.

“Then send Tom to the in for my chest and some fresh linen. I will occupy one of the empty rooms, since I have No Fear of contagion. But I recommend you keep your distance, Lord Thorne, just as you did win Ambrose and I suffered through this as children. If you cannot specifically remember having this illness as a child, you must not come in contact with the infected.”

“But surely, to…” her father was shaking his head in amazement, as though he believed there there’s something about a peerage that should render one impervious of the ills of the lesser man.

“Patrick is right. You needn’t worry, father. I will stay with the pair of them, day and night. Make sure their needs are met.”

 Both men started at her offer, as though she was not capable of helping.

“That will hardly be necessary,” Thorne said.

“I agree with your father,” Patrick said hurriedly.

“There is no risk to me, Patrick,” she reminded him. Just as he reminded father,” I had the disease as child, as same as you. And father, I would do the same for any other guests that fell under I do.”

“But, Ambrose,” Patrick said, using the calm voice again, “your presence will not heal him any faster.”

“He is my bethorthed,” Ambrose said, using the same calming tones that he was using on her, and he needs me. After their last conversation, she was sure that Patrick did not want to hear that. But it was the truth. Even if it might change in the future, she would not argue it in front offer father. Nor she could abandon Samuel as he lay ill.

Thorne was now looking at Patrick, leaving the decision to him. He was clearly against the idea, but did not want to be the one responsible for refusing her. And Patrick just looked tired. Of course, he had been up in the middle of the night to care for Samuel. Perhaps it had nothing to do with her. She will take no harm in staying with him. And it is better than having a series of maids trailing in and out of the room, cutting up the peaceful stop having her as his side my study him, and alleviate the discomfort.

“But it is hardly proper,” her father argued.

“Oh please father. Samuel is in no condition to compromise me.” It occurred to her that Patrick was another matter entirely. But surely he would not trouble her in her own home with her future husband just down the hall. She put her doubts aside. ”You know I will be a help, for this is hardly different from what I accomplished when we are in the country.”

“That is with women and children,” her father said, aghast. “The Duke is a grown man.”

 Patrick cleared his throat to indicate the delicacy of the subject. “I will tend to the more personal needs of the patient myself. There is no dishonor intending the ill.”

“Very well, then,” Thorne said with a sigh. “You have my permission Ambrosia.” As if his permission was what she had been requesting. She would do it with or without their consent. But it made him feel better to think that he could control her, so be it.

“She will be of aid to me,” Patrick confirmed. “And we will limit his contact with other, more susceptible members of the household, by caring for him ourselves. We will also limit gossip, for I doubt he will wish to be seen by others in his corporation.”

“That is true,” her father said, obviously encouraged. “It is better to keep such things in the family and are we from prying eyes.”

“Then it is settled,” Ambrose said with a smile. “I shall tell Mrs. Abott to close off the third floor until such time as Patrick deems it safe. Meals may be brought to the head of the stairs and I’ll see to it that they had eaten. I mean the maid can come in once then can change the linen and that will be that.”

Now her father was nodding along with the scheme, as though he had thought of it himself. And perhaps, at the end of it, she would have to approve to Samuel that her use in sickroom was far more important pastime than remaining quiet in the dining room.

Once Ambrose had gotten to make arrangements for the sick ward, Patrick had no desire to continue the conversation that he had been having with Lord Thorne. His efforts to remain calm while notifying the man of his day guest had quickly degenerated into a shouting match. It had all he could do to be polite before he had learned of the truth to be of his parentage. But now that he could not stand the man. If Ambrose had arrived a moment later, she would have heard him bring forth a very sordid detail of his parting, for he had meant to confront throne with the effects of his casual eyes and make him see what they had done to his daughter’s happiness. With a warning glare to let the man knew their business was not finished, stupid he left to pay another visit to his patient.