M Is for Marquess by Grace Callaway Read Free Book Online

“You have spells too?”
    “I do. Not the same sort, precisely, but I’ve had a respiratory ailment since I was a little girl. My lungs are prone to spasms—and often at the most inopportune times.” Flashing to the inopportune attack the night before, she felt her cheeks heat. “My episodes, like yours, can be unpredictable. That is nature’s fault, not ours.”
    “Even if that were true, I’d give anything to be like other boys.” Freddy’s shoulders slumped. “To be able to ride with Papa and play sports and have friends. To be… normal.”
    You can do anything you put your heart to, Freddy, she thought fiercely. Anything at all.
    Yet she understood from the boy’s resigned expression that words would do little to alter his opinion of himself. After all, she struggled with her own self-doubts. In her own situation, what had helped most was being around her family. They’d brought normalcy into her confinement, entertaining her with conversation and games when she was too weak to leave her bed. Their loving, rambunctious presence had buoyed her through her darkest moments. Perhaps Freddy’s spirits would be lifted by being with children his own age. And she knew just the companion for him.
    On impulse, she said, “When you’re up to it, would you like to meet my nephew? Edward is around your age, and I think the two of you would rub along famously.”
    “I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “The doctor said I mustn’t leave the bed. And I haven’t much experience with friends—”
    “Friends?” Tremont’s deep voice cut in.
    Thea swung around in her chair. Once again, he’d approached as soundlessly as a shadow, and this morning she found the habit irritating. That and the fact that he was so dashed attractive. Why couldn’t he be missing a few teeth or losing his hair? But, oh no, he had to look perfect. Like a sculpture, his angelic features were schooled to an impeccable sternness. His hair, the same tawny shade as his son’s, lay neatly against his head. His eyes were as somber as the charcoal coat and buff trousers that fit like a glove over his lean muscularity.
    “Good morning, Papa,” Freddy said tentatively. “I’m feeling so much better today.”
    “I’m relieved to hear it. Now what is this about friends?”
    The boy bit his lip, so Thea said, “That was my idea, my lord.”
    At Tremont’s inquiring look, she repeated her proposal.
    “That is not possible,” he said. “My son is not well enough for a social call.”
    Freddy’s face fell like a soufflé.
    “We could consult Dr. Abernathy,” she said swiftly. “I am sure he will approve of the distraction. In addition, I could make sure my nephew knows not to overtire Freddy. Edward is a quiet boy by nature and much prefers games like chess to Oranges and Lemons or Hide the Slipper.”
    At length, Tremont said, “I will consider it—if the doctor approves.”
    “Thank you, Papa,” Freddy said tremulously.
    Tremont’s gaze remained on hers, the grey depths turbulent, disconcertingly warm. Thea told herself that she was glad for the boy’s sake alone. She didn’t care what his father thought.
    She rose to leave—and remembered the book in her hands. Holding out the leather volume, she said, “I almost forgot. I brought this for you.”
    “For me?” Freddy took it, his eyes as big as dinner plates.
    “A belated birthday gift. My papa gave it to me when I was bedbound, and Captain Gulliver’s adventures made the time pass more quickly.” She smiled at the fervent way the boy opened the cover. “I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I have.”
    She almost made it to the door when Tremont blocked her path. She ignored the jolt that his gentle touch on her arm elicited. Lifting her chin, she said, “My lord?”
    “I wanted to inquire after your health.” His high cheekbones turned ruddy. “After, ahem, yesterday’s events.”
    His solicitous tone made her grind her teeth.
    “I’m no porcelain doll,” she