Colin hadn't rejected her after all.


Chapter 11


Colin shook Alesandra awake early the next morning. "Sweetheart, open your eyes. I want to talk to you before I leave."

She struggled to sit up. "Where are you going?"

"To work," he answered.

She started to sink back down under the covers. Colin leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed hold of her shoulders. He couldn't tell if her eyes were open or not, for her curly hair hung over her face, blocking his view. He held on to her with one hand and brushed her hair back over her shoulders with his other. He was both exasperated and amused. "Are you awake yet?"

"I believe I am."

"I want you to stay inside until I return home. I've already given Stefan and Raymond their orders."

"Why do I have to stay inside?"

"Have you already forgotten about the policy in effect for thirty days?"

She let out a loud yawn. She guessed she had forgotten. "Do you mean to tell me I have to stay under lock and key for a full month?"

"We'll take it one day at a time, wife."

"Colin, what time is it?"

"A few minutes past dawn.

"Good God."

"Have you heard my instructions?" he demanded.

She didn't answer him. She got out of bed, put her robe on, and walked into his bedroom. Her husband followed her.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting in your bed."

"Why?"

"I belong here."

She buried herself under his covers and was sound asleep a minute later. He pulled the covers back, leaned down, and kissed her brow.

Flannaghan waited in the hall. Colin went over his instructions with the butler. The town house was going to become a fortress for the next thirty days, and no one other than immediate family was going to be allowed entrance.

"Keeping company out will be easy, milord, but keeping your princess inside is going to be most difficult."

Flannaghan's prediction proved accurate. The battle began late that morning. The butler found his new mistress sitting on the floor in Colin's bedroom. She was surrounded by a stack of her husband's shoes. "What are you doing, Princess?"

"Colin needs new boots," she replied. "But he has at least five pairs now he never wears. He's partial to the old Hessians even though the Wellingtons have become more fashionable."

Alesandra was looking at the soles of the boots. "Flannaghan, do you notice the heel on the left boot is barely worn?"

The butler knelt down beside his mistress and looked at the boot she held up for him. "It looks brand-new," he remarked. "But I know he's worn…"

"Yes, he has worn these boots," she interrupted. She held up the right-footed boot. "This one's well worn, isn't it?"

"What do you make of it, Princess?"

"We're speaking in confidence now, Flannaghan. I don't want a word of this discussion to reach Colin. He's sensitive about his leg."

"I won't say a word."

She nodded. "It appears Colin's injured leg is just a bit shorter than the other one. I would like a bootmaker to look at these shoes and make a few adjustments."

"Do you mean to make one heel thicker? Colin will notice, Princess."

She shook her head. "I was thinking along the lines of an insert of some kind-perhaps a soft leather pad running the length. Who makes Colin's boots now?"

"Hoby made that pair," Flannaghan answered. "Every fashionable gentleman gives him his business."

"Then he won't do," she countered. "I don't want anyone to know about this experiment. We must find someone else."

"There's Curtis," Flannaghan remarked after a moment's consideration. "He used to make Colin's father's shoes. The man's retired now, but he lives in London and he might be persuaded to help you."

"I shall go and see him at once. I'll take only one pair of Colin's shoes with me. If luck is on our side, my husband won't even notice they're gone."

Flannaghan was vehemently shaking his head at her. "You cannot leave the town house. I would be happy to go on this errand," he added in a rush when she looked like she was about to argue with him. "If you'll write down what you wish Curtis to do…"

"Yes," she agreed. "I'll make a list of suggestions. What a fine idea. Could you go this afternoon?"

The butler immediately agreed. Alesandra handed him the pair of boots and then stood up. "If this plan works, I'll have Curtis make a pair of half Wellingtons for Colin. Then he'll have a pair to wear under his trousers. Now then, Flannaghan, I have one more request to ask of you."

"Yes, Princess?"

"Would you please take a note to Sir Winters? I would like him to call late this afternoon."

"Yes, of course," the butler agreed. "May I be bold and ask you why you wish to see the physician?"

"I'm going to be ill this afternoon."

Flannaghan did a double take. "You are? How can you know…"

She let out a sigh. "If I give you the full explanation and beg your confidence, you'll have to lie to your employer. We can't have that, now can we?"

"No, of course not."

"So you see, Flannaghan, it's best you not know."

"This has something to do with Colin, doesn't it?"

She smiled. "Perhaps," she replied.

She left Flannaghan to the task of putting the other shoes back in the wardrobe and went back to her room to make her list for the bootmaker. The boots she was sending were made of soft black calfskin and she added in her note the hope that Curtis would be able to stretch the bridge across the top of the boot enough to accommodate the insert she was certain he could make.

Alesandra then sent a note to Sir Winters requesting an audience. She set the time at four o'clock.

The physician was punctual. Stefan escorted him into the salon. He dared to frown at his mistress for insisting he let the man inside. She smiled at the guard.

"Your husband gave us specific orders that no one outside of immediate family be given admittance," he whispered. "Sir Winters is like family," she countered. "And I'm not feeling at all well, Stefan. I have need of his services."

The guard was immediately contrite. Alesandra felt a bit guilty for telling the blatant lie. She got past the feeling quickly, however, when she reminded herself she only had Colin's best interests at heart.

She closed the guard out by pulling the French doors to the salon closed. Sir Winters stood by her side. He held a brown leather bag under one arm. She ushered him over to the settee.

"If you're indisposed, shouldn't you be in bed, Princess?" She smiled at the physician. "I'm not that ill," she announced. "I have a little tickle in my throat. That's all."

"Hot tea is just the ticket, then," Sir Winters returned. "A spot of brandy would also do the trick."

Because the white-haired man was being so sincere and looking so concerned, she couldn't continue with the lie any longer. "I had another purpose for asking you to come here," she admitted. "I would like to talk to you about Colin."

Alesandra sat down in the chair across from the physician and folded her hands in her lap. "I used trickery to get you to come here," she admitted. She acted as though she had just confessed a dark sin. "My throat really isn't paining me. 'Tis the truth, the only time it hurts is when I want to shout at my stubborn husband and I know I can't." Sir Winters smiled. "Colin can be stubborn, can't he?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"He's ill, then?" the physician asked, trying to understand the real motive behind his summons.

She shook her head. "It's his leg," she explained in a whisper. "He won't talk about his injury. He's sensitive about it, you see, but I know he's in terrible pain. I was wondering if something could be done to ease his discomfort."

The physician leaned back against the cushions. The worry on the princess's face told him her concern was genuine. "He hasn't told you how he came by the affliction, has he?"

"No."

"A shark took a bite out of his leg, Princess. I tended him, and there was a time when I considered taking the leg off. Colin's partner, Nathan, wouldn't let me. Your husband, you see, wasn't in any condition to give me his opinion. He blessedly slept through the worst of it."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Flannaghan came inside carrying a silver tray. Neither Alesandra nor Sir Winters said another word until the butler had served both of them cups of hot tea and left the salon again.

Sir Winters pushed his bag out of his way and leaned forward to help himself to the assortment of sweet biscuits from the tray. He popped one into his mouth and then took a long swallow of the tea.

"Colin would be extremely upset if he knew we were discussing his condition," she admitted. "And I do feel guilty because I know he'll be displeased with me."

"Nonsense," Sir Winters countered. "You have his best interests at heart. I won't be telling him about our talk. Now, then, as to your question. How do you help him? I would suggest laudanum or brandy when the pain becomes insistent, but I know Colin won't take either."

"Is pride the reason?" she asked, trying to understand.

Winters shook his head. "Dependency," he countered. "Laudanum is addictive, Princess, and some say spirits can be addictive as well. Regardless, Colin won't take the chance."

"I see," she replied when the physician didn't immediately continue.

"I also suggested a brace of steel be made to fit from the knee to the ankle. Your husband was appalled by that suggestion."

"He's a proud man."

Winters nodded. "He's a sight more clever than I am too," he remarked. "I didn't believe he'd ever walk again without assistance. He's proven me wrong. What muscle is left has strengthened enough to support him. He barely limps now."

"At night, when he's weary, then he limps."

"Hot towels should be applied then. It won't make the leg stronger, of course, but it will ease his discomfort. A soothing massage would also help."

She wondered how in heaven's name Colin would ever allow her to follow those suggestions. That was her problem, however, not Sir Winters', and she would worry about it after he'd left.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"He should get off his feet when the pain intensifies," Sir Winters announced. "He shouldn't wait until it's agonizing."

Alesandra nodded agreement. She was thoroughly discouraged, but she kept her expression serene so the physician wouldn't know how disappointed she was feeling. His suggestions were superficial at best.

"You give me recommendations meant to deal with the symptoms, Sir Winters, but I was hoping you might have an idea or two regarding the cause."

"You're hoping for a miracle," Sir Winters replied. "Nothing can be done to make the leg fit again, Princess." His voice was filled with kindness.

"Yes," she whispered. "I was hoping for a miracle, I suppose. Still, your suggestions will prove helpful. If you think of anything more to add, will you pen me a note? I could use all the advice you can give."

Sir Winters took the last biscuit from the tray. His mind was fully occupied with Colin's condition and he didn't realize he'd eaten all of the treats. Alesandra filled his cup with more tea.

"Are all husbands stubborn?" she asked the physician.

Sir Winters smiled. "It seems to be a trait most husbands share."

He told her several amusing stories concerning titled men who refused to acknowledge they were in need of a physician. His favorite was the tale about the Marquess of Ackerman. The gentleman had been involved in a duel. He'd been shot in the shoulder and wouldn't allow anyone to see to the injury. Winters had been called by his brother to tend to the man.

"We found him at White's at one of the gaming tables," he told her. "It took three of his friends to drag him away. When we got his jacket off, why, there was blood everywhere."

"Did the marquess recover?"

Winters nodded. "He was too stubborn to die," he remarked. "Kept referring to the injury as a paltry nick until he passed out. I advised his wife to tie him to the bed until he recovered."

Alesandra smiled over that picture. "Colin's every bit as stubborn," she announced. She let out a sigh. "I would appreciate it if you would keep this conference secret, please. As I said before, Colin is quite sensitive about his leg."

Sir Winters placed his teacup and saucer back on the tray, picked up his satchel, and stood up to take his leave. "You needn't worry, Princess. I won't say a word about this visitation. You'd be surprised if you knew how many wives seek my advice concerning their husbands' welfare."