A Lady to Heal the Wounded Duke (Preview)

Prologue

It wasn’t until he was at the line of trees that Edmund realized he had taken a wrong turn in the dark. He slowed his horse to a stop and looked back, but the darkness swallowed up the path behind him, and he couldn’t see anything.

Maybe he should have taken the lantern so he could actually see his way. This was where he grew up, where he knew every inch of the land, and he was still getting lost.

Then again, given the situation he had just been through, Edmund was surprised he hadn’t been knocked off from a low-hanging branch already. He had felt something brush his head while he rode, and he didn’t know if it was a branch or a bat.

There was no point in turning back now, since it would mean getting even more turned around. The only option was to go straight ahead. Edmund listened closely and could hear the distant roar of the sea. At least he was close to the coastline. Perhaps he could get to the cliffs, and head along them as a guide. His home wasn’t too far from the cliff edge, and it would appear out of the dark once he got close.

It was better than following a path he didn’t recognize in the middle of the night.

Exhaustion hitting him, Edmund urged his horse through the trees, hearing the twigs crunching underneath its hooves. With the branches hanging down and the hooting of owls overhead, it was eerie. Edmund shivered and did his best to ignore it. He didn’t want to get nervous because he would start believing in things that didn’t exist. The woods around the estate were rather scary at night, even at his age of seven-and-twenty years.

He was a grown man who jumped at shadows. Edmund was glad nobody was around to see how stupid he was being.

Then again, he couldn’t help but feel stupid after what had happened earlier in the evening. How could he have gotten it all so wrong? Especially after all those months? He felt the stirring of anger that he hadn’t noticed any of it.

Edith had turned him down. Edmund couldn’t believe it. After courting her for several months, thinking that it was the two of them and nobody else, she had turned down his proposal of marriage. This was after they had professed love for each other! She refused to become his wife. Edmund felt cheated.

He felt even worse when Edith told him she had accepted a proposal from someone else—his cousin, Timothy of all people. Apparently, they had been courting each other in secret for some time and were madly in love. Edmund couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed. When they were in mixed company, Edith and Timothy hadn’t interacted beyond a superficial level, and yet all the while they were having a secret courtship. And Edith had chosen him instead.

How was that possible? Edmund would have thought that being a duchess would be more enticing than a squire’s wife, but then Edith had scolded him for thinking she was that shallow. It was because she would rather have a comfortable life with the local society and her horses with Timothy instead of going to London every year with Edmund to interact with the ton. She didn’t think she was cut out to be a duchess.

Edmund could understand her reasoning, but it didn’t hurt any less. He was still upset that it was happening. He had been in love with Edith and thought they would be together for the rest of their lives. In his mind, he had already started mapping out their future. Every part of it had Edith there, smiling happily at him. Now all he could think about was how she was sneaking around with Timothy the entire time.

If she didn’t want anything to do with him romantically, she should have ended it long ago. She shouldn’t have allowed him to court her for that long without saying something. It was madness that Edith had two men vying for her affection, and she lapped it up. Edmund never would have thought she was like that.

Yet she was. Plus, she wanted to be a squire’s wife rather than a duke’s wife. Edmund had tried to persuade her otherwise, but Edith wouldn’t budge. It hurt when she did that, preferring Timothy instead.

Edmund would have given up what she didn’t like to be with her. He would have pulled away from the ton and stayed in Yorkshire where Edith could do what she wanted with her horses. She had four and adored all of them. Edmund couldn’t imagine having four personal horses, but this was the woman he loved.

He didn’t think he could love someone who would manipulate him and then turn him down when he was vulnerable and opening his heart to her. Or maybe that was because he was angry, and it was going to be a driving force right now.

Timothy was going to love it. Their relationship was strained at times, and the fact he had gotten the girl instead of Edmund would have caused him a lot of hilarity. Edmund was sure they would end up in a physical fight if they interacted with each other again.

That would not be good for anyone. He would simply be seen as a jealous, bitter, former suitor who didn’t like being rejected, and Edmund would not have that following him around.

All he wanted to do at that moment was get home and lock himself away in his study. His mother wouldn’t bother him if he was in there—for the most part. At least in the solitude of his study, he would get a slight reprieve until he got better control of his emotions.

It wasn’t long before the horse broke through the tree line and came out alongside the cliff edge. Even in the dark he could see the sea, hear the sound of the waves and feel the wind as it whipped around him. It made his ears ring.

When he was a child, Edmund had come down to the coast to just sit and listen to the sound of the sea. It helped him settle his thoughts when he was upset and frustrated. It was the place he came to when his father died and left his responsibilities on Edmund’s shoulders. His mother always worried he was going to fall over the edge, but Edmund always waved away her concerns. The childlike part of him knew that wouldn’t happen to him.

As he made his way along the cliff, he spotted a couple of dancing lights down on the rocks. Edmund slowed his horse to a stop to look. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that the lights were coming from lanterns being waved around by people holding them while moving around a docked boat. He could hear voices on the wind, though he couldn’t decipher what they were saying. He did notice the people moving something from the boat.

He didn’t need to guess what was going on; there was a problem with smugglers along the Yorkshire coastline, especially under the cover of darkness. Robin Hood’s Bay further up the coast had a big problem with it. There were riding officers, but the most recent one had been killed after the smugglers shot him, and Edmund hadn’t replaced him yet.

That was something he needed to do even though it was practically impossible to get a riding officer to guard the coastline given the danger and the wage. Edmund agreed with those who were hired to do the job, but there was only so much he could do.

Part of him wanted to confront the smugglers, but that would be dangerous. He was outnumbered, and it would make things worse than they already were. Edmund didn’t want it to escalate.

He heard some shouting off to his left, and Edmund snapped his head around. It sounded too close for comfort, and urgent in the darkness. Had someone noticed him? As much as Edmund hated to do leave, he needed to get away before he was caught. Anyone who knew Edmund would know that he was the local magistrate, which made him an easy target.

He urged his horse toward the tree, only for a loud crack of a gunshot to echo in the air. It made him jump, and his horse neighed, rearing up on its hind legs.

“Trojan, easy!” Edmund clung onto the reins as he tightened his thighs against the horse’s sides. “Trojan!”

But Trojan wasn’t listening. As another gunshot sounded, he took off toward the trees. Edmund tried to get him to slow down, but he found himself slipping as Trojan veered to the left suddenly. He saw the tree coming toward him, but he wasn’t able to get out of the way in time.

Letting go of the reins, he raised his arms, which hit the tree trunk first and knocked him off the saddle. Edmund could feel himself spiraling through the air, unable to stop it from happening. Everything went around and around until pain slammed into him and stopped him abruptly. More pain exploded in his legs and chest, and Edmund had to gasp when he had a moment where he couldn’t breathe. He lay on the ground, face down, staring at the retreating legs of his horse.

He needed to get up, but he couldn’t. Edmund tried to move his hands, but his fingers barely twitched. A mental fog was descending over him. One he couldn’t fight off.

As he tried to gather the strength to get up, he could hear shouting and running close by. People were getting close to him. Would they be helping him? Even if they were smugglers, they wouldn’t be so callous as to leave him alone.

“Is he dead?” someone asked.

Then Edmund heard a second voice, this one sounded a bit more refined, and his heart sank at the response.

“More than likely. We’ll leave him here. I don’t see him getting up from this. Even then, he won’t be able to stop us.”

“But what about his horse? Shouldn’t we take it with us?”

“Have you seen who it is who’s injured?” the second voice snapped. “We’ll be hanged for horse stealing if we’re caught with a thoroughbred like that.”

“You mean we won’t get hung for smuggling?” came the reply.

“Enough. We leave him. He’s probably out for the count. If anyone finds him, they’ll see it was an accident. It’s best to leave him here.”

“But…”

“Come on! We can’t be late putting this away. We can’t do anything for him seeing as we’ll get arrested either way.”

Edmund could hear their voices fading, the first voice complaining and protesting. Then again, he was slipping into a sea of unconsciousness, so he didn’t know if they were physically walking away or if he was passing out.

Either way, he was succumbing to the fall.

Chapter One

Lydia entered her father’s surgery and smiled at him as she walked over to the desk. Standing by the huge bookcase up against one wall, her father turned and did a double-take when he saw his daughter.

“Lydia?”

“Good morning, Father.”

“What are you doing here? I thought I said you wouldn’t be needed here this morning.”

Lydia sighed and looked at the pile of paperwork and letters on the desk. They had certainly not been there the day before when she left the surgery. It must have accumulated since breakfast that morning when her father, Doctor James Ashworth, arrived to open up.

“I think you definitely need me,” she said, gesturing at the mess. “What happened to the tidiness?”

“What? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Lydia shook her head and walked around the desk, picking up the first letter.

“I don’t know why you keep telling me to not help you nowadays. I always do this, and you know things run more smoothly when I’m helping you.”

Ashworth sighed.

“There is a good reason for that. You were unwell not too long ago, and you’ve not had a proper rest. I want you to take some of the pressure off your shoulders and for you to stay home and recover.”

“But I’m perfectly fine. It wasn’t that bad.”

Her father snorted.

“It was that bad; you were confined to your bed for a week. It would have been longer if you hadn’t been so stubborn about getting up and doing the household duties. I had someone come in to do that for us, and you decided to do it instead.”

Lydia frowned.

“You hired a woman who was rumored to steal from people’s homes when she went to work for them. That’s why I got up to do things myself.”

“She was in need of the money! And she’s a patient. How could I turn down an offer of kindness?”

“You can turn her down any time of the day. I know you want to help, Father, but you’re far too naive for your own good.”

Ashworth looked like he was going to argue, and Lydia could understand why. She had been very unwell after working herself to exhaustion, and he had been hovering over her instead of going to work. She could take care of herself, but her father had thought otherwise. Naturally, he was concerned about her welfare, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly when he hired the thief to clean for them.

If Lydia hadn’t come downstairs and seen the woman in question trying to take some of their more expensive pieces of crockery, then they wouldn’t have been any the wiser. It was so brazen that it was stunning. Lydia chased the woman out with a broom.

The audacity of some people to try and steal when they were meant to be helping. It was madness.

“All right,” Ashworth sighed, putting the book on the shelf and selecting the one beside it. “But just do the paperwork. I’ll look over the patients and take care of them myself.”

“You’ll just exhaust yourself as well,” Lydia pointed out. “Remember when you did that last year?”

“I can bounce back. I want to be sure you’re fully rested.”

Lydia wanted to say that he couldn’t return back to full health, not as he was before, but decided against it. Ashworth’s stamina was not as good as it had been when Lydia was a little girl. While he wasn’t too bad, it was clear at times he was burning the candle at both ends. It was not something he could keep up with for the rest of his life. She was scared he would end up collapsing and taking early retirement, especially with everything surrounding their patients. Everyone seemed to want him for something.

She had suggested getting another doctor or having the doctor in Roxton come over and help out instead, but Ashworth was reluctant to do that. He was like a dog, possessive of his own territory, and Lydia couldn’t get him to change his mind.

It was a conversation for another time. She had a lot to do, and she wasn’t going to get anywhere arguing with him.

Sitting down at the desk, Lydia brushed her hair behind her ears and opened the top letter. Unfolding it, she saw simple but loopy handwriting in immaculate lines. She read it over quickly to see who it was from before going back to it.

“Father?”

“Yes, dear?” Ashworth was looking at something in the open book in his hands. “What is it?”

“Do you know a Dowager Duchess of Suffield? Her name is Eleanor Radcliffe.”

That made her father look up in surprise.

“Of course, I remember her. I knew her husband from when we were younger.”

Lydia blinked.

“I didn’t know you knew a duke. You never said anything about it.”

“Lydia, I know plenty of people with this job. You should see the list of those I came across when I was in the army.” He put the book aside and approached the desk. “What is she writing to me about?”

“Something about her son. He’s been hurt and she’s asking for your help.” Lydia handed the letter to him. “That’s basically the gist of it.”

Ashworth paced away with the letter, his brow furrowing as he read it. Lydia wished he would put his spectacles on; he was going to hurt his eyes further if he kept doing that.

“Her son, the current Duke of Suffield, has had a fall from his horse. Apparently, he hit a tree before he fell, and he broke several bones in his legs and hip, as well as his ribs and a dislocated shoulder.”

“Ouch!” Lydia shuddered. “That sounds pretty bad.”

“I think the fact it happened in the middle of the night and the horse was spooked didn’t help matters.” Ashworth stopped pacing. “He wasn’t found until dawn the next morning, unconscious with his horse grazing nearby, not far from the cliff down to the sea.”

Lydia couldn’t begin to imagine how scary that must have been. To have a riding accident was bad enough, but to have it happen that close to pure danger must have been terrifying for the poor mother, not to mention the duke.

“How long ago was this?”

“About two months ago.”

Lydia gasped. Her father must have misspoken.

“Two months?”

“And he’s still bedridden. Their local doctor is doing what he can to get him back to full health, and his bones should have knitted back together by now, but he’s still weak and struggling to walk. His mother is very worried about him.”

“I can imagine.” Lydia stood and walked over to her father. “Why is she writing to you, though?”

“Because she wants me to come up to their estate to help him recover.”

That made Lydia stop short.

“I beg your pardon?”

“She wants me to travel to Yorkshire and help her son walk again. She will be sending a carriage to me as soon as she gets my answer, so I don’t have to worry about transport.”

Lydia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Yorkshire was more than a day’s ride away from where they were. Even if it was for a short space of time, it would take a long time to return if he was needed back in their town. Bedford was manageable with the two of them, but she wouldn’t be able to cope on her own, especially if a lot of their patients were reluctant to let her treat them as she wasn’t a doctor. It didn’t matter that she had the same experience as her father and had worked alongside him for years, they didn’t want a woman to be in charge of their diagnosis.

“You’re not going, are you?” she asked, staring at him. “You can’t possibly leave your patients.”

“They’re not going to be alone if you’re here.”

“You know what these patients are like. Do you think I’ll be able to get on with life while you’re absent without any problems?” Lydia folded her arms. “Why would you consider going, anyway? She has a personal doctor of her own, doesn’t she? They could use that doctor instead.”

Ashworth didn’t answer for a moment, and Lydia sensed that he had something important to tell. She waited as he moved away, rubbing a hand over his face as he read the letter again. What was it about this woman that made him want to go across the country to her?

“She’s not a former lover of yours, is she?” she asked.

“No, of course not.” He turned to her in surprise. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of the way you’re behaving right now, Father. You’re actually contemplating it.”

Sighing heavily, her father slumped against the desk.

“Her husband saved my life once.”

This was news to Lydia. She hadn’t heard about that before.

“What?” she squeaked. “When?”

“When we were in the army as young men. We’d joined up about the same time, and when we were in battle, he saved me from getting shot; he took it for me. After that, I told him his family could ask anything of me, and I would give it to them. It was the least I could do for him saving my life.”

Lydia hadn’t heard about this before. She stared at him.

“You actually said that to him?”

“When you’re twenty years old and you’ve barely got anything to your name, you give your word to help if they need it. I even went to David’s funeral when he passed eighteen months ago.”

“I remember you going to Yorkshire some time back,” Lydia murmured. “And does the dowager duchess know about your promise?”

“Of course she does. That’s why she wants me to go. She trusts me to help her son recover from a dangerous riding accident as she’s almost given up hope. She doesn’t want to give up on him, but it’s really hard for her at the moment.”

“And what about payment? You better get paid for this.”

“She’ll pay me whatever I ask.”

That was something. Lydia would have been furious if he wasn’t getting paid for doing this. It was the least they could do if her father had to travel north.

“I should go to Yorkshire,” her father said quietly, staring at the letter.

But Lydia was already shaking her head.

“Father, you know that will worsen your health. Plus, your patients here…”

“My friend’s widow asked for my help, Lydia. I can’t say no.” Then he straightened up. “Unless…”

“What?” Lydia wasn’t sure she liked what was going on. “What’s the matter? Why are you reacting like that?”

“You can go in my place.”

Lydia thought she had misheard him. She stared at him in bewilderment.

“What? Did you just say… that I should go instead?”

“Why not?”

“For one, I don’t have the skills for that,” she protested. “I may have helped you over the years, but I don’t have the necessary skills to look after a duke who’s been through a traumatic event!”

“I disagree there, Lydia.” Ashworth pushed himself off the desk. “I think you would be more than fine to manage this on your own.”

“To go to Yorkshire, though? Isn’t the dowager duchess going to get upset that she asked for you and you sent me instead? What if she wants you specifically?”

“It says here I can write back by express letter to let her know whether I can help her or not. All I have to say is you are going in my place, and I have absolute faith in your abilities.”

Lydia snorted.

“I’m glad you do, because I don’t.”

Her father reached toward her, one hand resting on her shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry about any of that, darling. I know you’ll be absolutely fine. And Eleanor will think the same thing.”

“I don’t know…”

“All I need to do is find you a traveling companion, or you can suggest someone who can go with you so you’re not traveling alone. That’s all we have to really worry about.” Her father squeezed her shoulder and moved away. “From the look of it, it’s just going to be helping the Duke of Suffield to walk again. It’s not life-threatening surgery.”

“But…”

“I’ll write back to Her Grace about it, and you think about who you want accompanying you. You’ll need to be quick, as we need to move fast on this.” He opened the door to his office. “I’ll start writing the letter now.”

“Father…”

But Lydia didn’t get any further before the door closed behind her father.

#

Edmund snarled and pulled his head away as Doctor Mitchell leaned in to look closely at his eyes. The older man sighed.

“You need to stay still, Your Grace. I can’t do my examination if you keep moving around.”

“You don’t need to be so close to me, though,” Edmund snapped.

“How do you think I’m going to find out if you’re recovering or not?” Utterly unperturbed, the doctor began to run his fingers over Edmund’s head, his bony fingers making him wince. “How’s the head? Is it feeling better?”

“Much better, apart from the headache.”

“That can happen if you’ve been in bed for several days not doing anything.”

Edmund frowned.

“How does that work? I thought the idea of being in bed was that I was supposed to get better.”

“You are better, aren’t you? You said you could feel sensations in your legs again.” Doctor Mitchell nodded approvingly as he pulled back and scribbled something in the notepad on the bedside table. “At least you’ll be able to walk again. I think you could start doing that soon. Maybe just a few steps across the room…”

“No,” Edmund snapped. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Do you think your legs are going to magically have their strength when you haven’t used them for two months?”

Scowling, he watched as the doctor went through his checks, feeling down Edmund’s knees and shins. He could feel that very clearly, and it was making him wince. He wanted to wriggle away, but he couldn’t. His legs refused to cooperate.

This felt like a nightmare. Edmund liked to think of himself as an active person who was always up and about; it was what he needed to make him feel good about himself. Now he had broken legs and had barely gotten up in the last few weeks because he was scared of his ankle snapping on him if he attempted to get up on his own. It was a horrible thought when normally he would be forcing himself to get through it.

He didn’t like being still for more than a few minutes.

But his mood wasn’t helping. Aside from the fact that his head was pounding, and he felt nauseous, the room seemed to tilt every so often when he wasn’t focusing. Not to mention, his headaches were more frequent. It didn’t help it was daylight. Even with the curtains closed, it could shine right in his face, and it led to Edmund retching and trying to hide under the covers.

He wished that he could get his head switched with another one. The one he had was damaged and making him feel horrible.

With that and his mood, Edmund didn’t want to get out of bed. He just wanted to stay there until he crumbled to dust. His mother called him dramatic, but he didn’t care.

“And are you sure you can’t remember anything further about what happened that night?” Doctor Mitchell asked. “You’re not able to recall what caused Trojan to bolt?”

“I… not really…” Edmund frowned, which didn’t help his headache. “I recall voices, someone suggesting they take my horse, and a loud bang, but that’s about it.”

“And you can’t recognize the voice?”

He shook his head. That had been coming back over and over again in his thoughts, making it hard for Edmund to sleep properly. But he couldn’t place the voice. It had to be someone he knew, surely. Everyone in the immediate area was known to him, either as friends or mere acquaintances. He liked to think he knew everyone in the town nearby and those in the neighboring farms, but it wasn’t coming to him.

Maybe it would, or maybe it was wishful thinking to hope it was someone he knew.

But if it was, then why didn’t they help him? They had to know who he was. Why wouldn’t they get help instead of leaving him there all night?

“How long is my memory going to remain absent, Doctor?” he asked, adjusting the pillows behind his head. “It feels like my head is being squeezed.”

“That’s perfectly normal with a head injury. It will take time, but you get used to it.”

“No one should ever have to get used to it.”

Doctor Mitchell grunted. Then he peered at Edmund over the top of his spectacles with a piercing stare that made Edmund uncomfortable.

“You know, I would have thought you would be better by now. You’re a healthy young man, Your Grace, and I would have expected you to get up and walk around within a few weeks, albeit a little slower than you would. And yet you’ve barely gotten up, and you’re not doing your exercises.”

“Why bother?”

“Because you are going to cause yourself more damage if you don’t do them. Do you want to be walking with a cane for the rest of your life?” Doctor Mitchell arched an eyebrow. “Do you even want to get out of your bed?”

Edmund glared at him, wishing that the man would disappear. He was fed up with him now. But before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door, and it opened. Denton, his valet, stuck his head into the room.

“Your mother wants to come in, Your Grace.”

Edmund wanted to send both of them away, but he knew his mother wasn’t about to leave. She barely listened to him nowadays, and that included getting the doctor when Edmund didn’t want to see him. Sighing, he beckoned Denton to enter, and his valet came in with his mother. She looked like she needed some proper sleep, her face pale with dark shadows under her eyes. He felt a moment of worry for her, hoping that she wasn’t going to make herself ill over him.

“How is he, Doctor?” she asked. “Is there any progress?”

“There won’t be progress until he gets up and starts doing his exercises.” Doctor Mitchell put his things into his bag and snapped it shut. “You need to get him to start moving, Your Grace. The duke isn’t going to get better if he doesn’t look after himself.”

“I’m fine,” Edmund growled. “Everyone needs to stop worrying about me.”

The dowager duchess sighed and gave him a look filled with sadness. Edmund hated it when she did that, it was almost as if she was disappointed in him. She nodded at Denton.

“Would you show Doctor Mitchell out, Denton? You’ll be paid in due course, Doctor.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The doctor bowed to her. “You don’t need to worry yourself too much. I’m sure His Grace will be up and walking around in no time.”

Edmund rolled his eyes, watching as his valet and the doctor left the room. As the door closed behind them, his mother turned to him.

“Honestly, Edmund, do you have to be so rude?”

“I don’t think I was rude.”

“You were short and dismissive to Doctor Mitchell. I can’t begin to imagine what you said to him while I was out of the room.”

Edmund snorted.

“You needn’t worry. I’m absolutely fine.”

“No, you’re not. You were never this short-tempered, and you certainly didn’t treat people like rubbish. I don’t recognize the man in front of me.” She bit her lip, and Edmund saw tears in her eyes. “I just want my son back. You need to do your exercises and get your strength back. You can’t be in bed for the rest of your life.”

“Why not? I’m allowed to do what I want, aren’t I?”

“But think of the future,” his mother pleaded.

Edmund sighed.

“What future? Who’s going to care about someone who is disabled like me.”

“You wouldn’t be if you did the exercises!” she protested. “You need to…”

“Just stop it, Mother! I don’t want to hear it!” Edmund’s bellow made her jump. “Just… just get out. I don’t want to listen to you talking about what I should and shouldn’t do.”

His mother faltered, and he saw tears in her eyes. That momentarily made Edmund feel guilty; he didn’t like shouting at his mother, but he was so fed up with everything. He didn’t want any of this to happen to him, and yet he was the one battered and broken.

Rolling over awkwardly, flinching as pain shot through his legs, he pulled the covers up to his chin and glared at the wall. After a while, his mother got the message, and she let herself out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

That was when Edmund squeezed his eyes shut, his head tightening so much he thought it was going to explode. No, he was not going to cry.

He wouldn’t allow himself to do that.