Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand by Carla Kelly

Author:Carla Kelly
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: 0
Published: 2012-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

There was a great roaring in her ears, blocking out what Lord Winn was saying to her, even when he grasped her by the shoulders and spoke right into her face. She noticed finally that she was sitting on the sofa, and that someone—it must have been Lord Winn—had placed her hands in her lap.

She sat there, and finally heard someone, his voice urgent, saying, "For God's sake, make a wreath in the kitchen and keep the girls out of here! Meggie, do you have any brandy?"

As her vision cleared, she saw Lord Winn holding out a glass to her. She tried to reach for it, but it seemed miles away and her hand was shaking too badly. In another moment, Lord Winn gripped her shoulder, put the cup to her lips, and made her drink.

"You were saying something," she managed to gasp, after the brandy began its work.

He sat beside her, his arm tight around her shoulders, as though to stop her trembling. "You simply must get hold of yourself, Roxie," he ordered softly. "The girls cannot know what is going on. It would destroy them."

She nodded, clenching her jaw closed to keep her teeth from chattering. She knew she should remonstrate with him for calling her Roxie, but it suddenly seemed so unimportant. He could call her anything, and it would not matter. Marshall Drew was coming for her children. She closed her eyes and leaned against the marquess.

Her senses on edge, she jumped and opened her eyes at the rustling of paper. Lord Winn had spread out the pages on his lap, reading them quickly, turning the pages. "Damn," he said several times softly, but with great venom.

"Tell me," she said, wishing that he would put more coal on the fire. She was numb with cold. But how could that be? A fire roared in the grate.

He shook his head. "No time now." He looked at his watch. "Roxie, we have to decorate this room with greenery and help hang a wreath. Then we'll eat dinner. What do you do then on Christmas Eve? Roxie? Come on, my dear. Speak to me."

"We read something," she said, her voice dull to her ears. "I wish-I could remember what. Something."

"The Bible?" he suggested gently.

"Bible?" she repeated. "Oh, yes, the Bible. Something in St. Luke. I can't remember what. Why would we read Luke? I wish I knew."

She stared at the marquess. He put his hands gently on her neck and gave her a little shake and then spoke distinctly, as though to someone deaf.

"Roxie, you've been dealt a dreadful hand by your brother-in-law," he said. "Are you going to play it?"

Am I going to play it? she asked herself and thought of her brothers, teasing her when she threw down a bad hand and ran from the room. "Of course I am going to play it," she replied automatically, and took his hands from her neck. "Of course I am."

She sat still a moment, and gradually began to feel warm.

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