The Lords of Kendal Manor

Chapter 6

~ Gamekeepers Cottage, Kendal Manor, Sunday 6th February 1814 ~

Charlotte watched the Dowager Marchioness coddle her eldest son as the room fell into darkness. There was no use in the Dowager returning to the Manor tonight, for the weather had claimed the day.

She watched as her father assisted in propping Alex's upper body up so that his mother could push pillows beneath his shoulders, supporting him in an upright position and revealing his well-defined chest that her father then expertly covered with the blankets dallying around his waist without delay before storming out.

Following this, the Dowager gently lifted a cup of broth to his lips so that he may sip the liquid from it.

Alex's body was exhausted, but he no longer sported a grey complexion.

"You have attended him well." The Dowager praised Charlotte, turning on the tiny stool Charlotte had left beside the bed for her purposes.

"Thank you, my Lady." She replied from the doorway, "However, I apologise for the familiarity needed to attend him so." She offered contritely, focussing on the patterned rug upon Eleanor's floor.

The Dowager sighed.

"It is too late to be concerned about such things, Charlotte; your prompt responses have no doubt saved Alexander's life. Besides, I will not relay the truth of it to another soul." The older woman offered with a conspiratorial smile. "I know your heart has always belonged elsewhere in any case." She added wistfully.

Charlotte swallowed, failing to hide the effect the gentle rebuke and reminder held. Her response to Lachlan's death informed them all that she had high regard for the youngest Alford brother. And yet, she enjoyed the visual feast that was Alex, interposing the likely similarities between the brothers for her own base pleasure.

And so, she nodded in acknowledgement of that truth, all the while admitting that Alex was in his own rights a lovely specimen of a man, the first man she'd so intimately observed.

"May I arrange a more comfortable chair for you, my Lady?" She asked, lifting her eyes to the mantle, where Eleanor's steady presence remained, crafted into her needlework framed above it. The dainty flowers of their cottage garden presented in glorious colours alongside the cottage itself in perfect replica.

"It is not necessary, dear Charlotte. I shall stay for only another half hour before retiring." She promised, pushing Alex's hair from his forehead with the love only a mother could afford at this moment.

"I will prepare the master bedroom for your use then, my Lady." She offered, genuflecting as her station designated and turning to go.

"I will take a cot in your room with your aunt and yourself." She suggested before Charlotte could shoot away from the room.

"Nonsense," Charlotte announced. "If you do not take the master bedroom, then you will have my bed, and I will share a cot with my aunt." She brokered, turning once more to look upon the private moment.

The Dowager sighed and pulled her hand away from Alex's brow, prompting the man to open his eyes and look from his mother to Charlotte in a wearisome manner.

"As you wish, my dear." She replied, watching Alex, who was watching Charlotte.

His eyes, so much like the Dowager's and so much like Lachlan's. Except for the intent. Lachlan's, she recalled, were filled with sweet naivety and bright wonderment. In contrast, the Marchioness' held mischievous promise.

Such eyes would entice unsuspecting maidens to their demise.

Wishing she'd not witnessed such potential, she stepped back toward the landing, the room adjacent to the stairs', but her focus remained on the two of them.