The Fontainebleau Fan by Victoria Hinshaw

Author:Victoria Hinshaw [Victoria Hinshaw]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nov. Rom
Published: 2012-10-25T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Nicholas estimated they had covered about half of the distance to Wakefield when Jonathan awoke from a restless sleep. "How are you feeling, Jon?"

The answer was little more than a grunt. Jonathan's sunken eyes remained half open.

"Your mother needs a rest."

No response.

"She is beside herself with worry."

At last, Jon stirred. "She should let me die. All I want is to be left alone."

"Why?" Nicholas leaned forward on the seat and put his face close to Jon's. "Why do you want to die?"

"Stubble it, Nick! Get away. You are not helping me. No one is helping, just making things worse."

Nicholas forced himself to give a little laugh. "I'm no angel of mercy, far from it. I have a thoroughly selfish reason for wanting you at Wakefield."

"Ha! You don't have to pretend."

"You'll laugh when you hear what I am doing at the Home Farm. I'm turning my father's championship racing stud into a home for draught horses."

"At least I am not the only demented soul in the realm."

"Demented, but ever practical, Jon. William's fine racehorses ate enough to feed several entire villages. But once they were gone, I had empty stalls and a dozen grooms who need employment. So I have acquired some heavy stock and I need you to help me find more."

"Don't make me laugh." Jon's pallid face shone with sweat, yet he pulled a rug more closely about his shoulders.

"I want to breed for strength, so I need horses like the ones you found to pull the cannons and the supply wagons, good, sturdy..."

"Where are my drops?" Jon clutched at Nick's arm. "Don't try to humor me. Just forget about trying to make me useful."

"I will give you the laudanum only if you agree to help."

"You bastard!" Jon spit out the words, and fell shivering back against the cushions.

"You know this stuff is no good for you."

"Just give me the bottle."

Nick held up the vial. "You can see there are only a few drops left. Why not hold out for another hour or so?"

Jon seized the bottle and upended it into his mouth. When he had drained the small amount of liquid, he let it drop to the floor.

"You don't know anything about pain, Nick. Nothing at all." He slumped back and closed his eyes. "Nothing at all."

Nicholas watched Jon's haggard face and uncontrollable trembling. He reached down and picked up the vial, replaced the stopper and dropped it in his pocket. Before he had left Waylands, he and Lady Fenton carefully prepared half a dozen vials with a drop or two of laudanum each in a few drops of water. He knew Jon would suffer even more if he was cut off from the drug completely, but a diluted dose might gradually lessen his physical dependence.

His mental state was something else altogether. Whatever Jon needed, Nick was determined to provide, enough to recover every bit of Jon's once-cheerful address.

* * *

In the morning room, Meg paged through the folio of engravings of garden scenes, her attention only half on the pictures.

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