Michael.”
But that wasn’t the worst of the matter. “Captain Napier, I do apologize for abusing your good nature in such an abominable way.”
Her father’s color returned. He rocked heel to toe for a few seconds, then hesitantly asked the captain, “Did she make up that part about the children and your…The mothers?”
The Scot lowered his face to his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head slowly as if at a loss in dealing with Bedlamites. “A fabrication, to be sure,” he said. “I do have one son, but he’s quite legitimate.”
“Legitimate?” Michael croaked, clutching his chest. “Never say it! You’re married?”
Captain Napier glanced up swiftly, still shaking his head. “No. My wife…passed away.”
Widowed. Amalie felt terrible. “Do say you forgive me, sir. This was a horribly thoughtless thing for me to do. I had no idea…”
“I know,” the captain said, not looking at her, but at the floor. “I’ll have a brandy now if it’s convenient.”
They’d forgotten to offer him a drink! Michael and her father almost collided in their haste to reach the decanter.
Napier graced her with a dangerous look of warning as he spoke in a dark whisper, “If I were not confined to this chair, I would take you over my knee.”
She bobbed her head up and down, noting how his deep green eyes glinted and his expressive lips turned up just a bit at the corners. It was in no way a smile. More like exasperation.
“I’ve confessed, sir,” she told him earnestly. “What more could you ask of me?”
His lips firmed. His nostrils flared ever so slightly with an indrawn breath. Then he spoke. “I’d ask if you’re lying about everything. I happened to notice you just moved your feet.”
Alex had felt an overpowering need to lash out, to hurt someone, just because he’d been humiliated. Now, brandy in hand, his temper cooled somewhat, he hated whatever had possessed him.
She hadn’t answered his cruel question, but he had not expected she would. If she was pretending, it was certainly no business of his. And if she wasn’t, he had gained her enmity for life.
Just because she had moved her feet did not mean she was capable of walking. What had he been thinking? He could move his, too, but still could not depend on that left leg to support him.
Michael had taken a chair across from him and now appeared to be searching his mind for a way to explain his sister’s strange behavior.
The baron had left the room—glad to get away, Alex imagined—and had gone to fetch the baroness. He wondered if she were as daft as the rest of the family.
“Has Dr. Raine been down from London recently, Amie? Is there any improvement in your condition?” Michael asked his sister.
“No change,” she said, her tone defensive. “He should be here the day after tomorrow for his monthly visit.”
Michael gave a resigned nod, then addressed Alex. “I should like him to see you, too, when he comes. See what he thinks. Raine is the best available. Father saw to that when Amie was injured.”
That was all Alex needed, another opinion, when he was clinging so desperately to the only positive one thus far. His own. “Thank you, but—”
“Don’t bother refusing,” Michael warned. “You know I shall only wear you down.”
Alex gave it up. He would talk to the doctor to placate Michael. Nothing more than a conversation. No examinations. No arguments.
“If you insist, I’ll see him.”
Michael jumped up and headed for the door. “Wonderful! I’ll bring his letters of recommendation from Father’s study.”
“What’s the worst Raine could tell you, hmm?” Amalie asked.
Alex turned on her, his anger flaring anew. “You’ve the devil of a tongue on you, you know that? If you’ve any feeling in that backside of yours, it ought to be made use of!”
“That’s the second time you’ve suggested such,” she retorted with a moue of feigned fright. “You’d cane a poor cripple?”
“Leave off,” he growled. “This sniping serves no purpose.”
She tossed him an insincere smile. “Oh, but it does, Captain. It serves to distract us.”
He leveled her with a glare. “You are a spoiled, self-indulgent excuse for a lady if I ever met one. Is that all you do all day? Sit around throwing verbal darts at anyone who wanders by?”
She inclined her head as if considering the question in new light. “I suppose I do. It passes the time. That’s bad of me, I know.”
“Have you even tried to stand?” he asked, surprising himself with his own directness.
Her humor, black as it was, fled on the instant. “Yes, of course I have.” Her voice sounded so small.
“You make me want to kick myself,” he muttered.
“Now there’s a picture!”
Alex smiled in spite of himself. He just didn’t know what to make of this person. He began to suspect she harbored exactly the same frustrations he did, only she had endured them longer. And she seemed to have lost her hope, something he was terribly afraid of doing himself. He suddenly realized a deep-seated need to help this girl despite the fact that she nettled him so mercilessly.
“So, tell me of this doctor of yours,” he said by way of turning the subject.
“Oh, Raine’s pleasant enough when you say what he wants to hear, I suppose. He’s not overly fond of me, as you might imagine.”
“He expects too much of you, eh?” Alex guessed.
She slipped into a thoughtful mood, laying her brittleness aside for the nonce. “Yes, he does. He brought this Amazon with him not long after he began treating me. Magda, she’s called. Frightful woman. She pummels and stretches my limbs unmercifully each day. Twice! It’s quite painful.”
“I see. Then you do have feeling in your…limbs.” He smiled again. Legs were not mentioned in polite company. He should have remembered that earlier. Neither were backsides.
“Tremendous feeling,” she admitted with a grimace. “Though no action at all.” Her curiosity got the better of her. “You?”
“I work the muscles as often as I can now that the bone’s healed. Hurts less now than it did.”
“Truly?” Her interest aroused, she queried further. “How can you do that alone?”
“Have to,” he explained patiently. “You see, if the muscles atrophy—and I suspect that’s why your Amazon is so avid in her task—there’s no chance you’ll ever regain the strength to use them.”
