Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels #7) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,49
was so familiar … and yet so full of mystery.
“Let me stay with him,” she whispered. “Take me with you.”
Those light, piercing eyes stared into hers, kindly but not without calculation. Appearing to come to a decision, Kingston said slowly, “I’ll send for Phoebe to stay with us at Heron’s Point. Her presence will satisfy the proprieties, and I daresay you’ll want to chat with her about … recent developments.”
“Thank you,” Merritt said, and let out an unsteady sigh of relief.
Their gazes held as they settled on an unspoken pact: When it came to the issue of Keir MacRae, Uncle Sebastian would be her ally, just as she would be his.
“I’d like a brief word with Dr. Gibson,” the duke commented, “before I leave to make arrangements.”
“I’ll go up with you,” Merritt said. She turned to Luke, who looked surly and exhausted. With a pang of affection, she went to him, stood on her toes, and kissed his cheek. “Will you stay in London to take care of Sterling Enterprises?”
Luke accepted the kiss but didn’t return it. “Do I have a choice?”
“Thank you. If there’s anything you need to ask, you know where I’ll be.”
“What I need is for you not to behave like a resident of the local madhouse,” he muttered. “Tell me, Merritt, if someone you knew were carrying on like this over a stranger—one of our sisters, God forbid—what would you say to her?”
At the moment, Merritt didn’t feel like justifying her actions to anyone, least of all a younger sibling. But during the past year, she and Luke had formed a working partnership and friendship that made their bond unique. She would tolerate more from him than from nearly anyone else in her life. “I would probably caution her that she was acting impulsively,” she admitted, “and advise her to rely on the counsel of those who love her.”
“All right, then. I’m counseling you to stay in London and let Ransom and Uncle Sebastian decide what to do with MacRae. Whatever it is you feel for him, it’s not real. It happened too fast.”
In her weariness and strain, Merritt’s temper had a lower flashpoint than usual. She could feel it beginning to ignite, but she grimly tamped it back down and managed a calm reply. “You may be right,” she said. “But someday, Luke … you’ll meet someone. And from one breath to the next, everything will change. You won’t care whether it makes sense. All you’ll know is that a stranger owns your every heartbeat.”
Luke’s mouth twisted. “God, I hope not.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m going home for a few hours of rest. Tomorrow’s going to be busy.”
Merritt felt a strong twinge of guilt, leaving him to manage the company on his own at the worst possible time. “I’m sorry for abandoning you in the middle of a crisis,” she said.
Luke looked down at her with a hint of reluctant amusement. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I can handle this. If I can’t, I have no business running the company.”
After her brother had collected his hat and coat and departed, Merritt went upstairs with Kingston.
As they ascended the staircase, the duke remarked, “You handled that well. I doubt Phoebe would have been able to summon as much restraint in the face of a younger brother’s criticism.”
“Well, you see,” Merritt said ruefully, “Luke wasn’t wrong. I … I think I have gone a bit mad.”
The duke gave a soft huff of amusement. “I wouldn’t worry. If you can say you’ve gone mad, or at least allow for the possibility, you’re not.”
They reached the guest room, and Merritt tapped on the door before opening it cautiously. In the dim light shed by a small lamp, Keir lay on his side, eyes closed, while Garrett stood at the bedside and talked quietly to Ethan.
Upon seeing Merritt and Kingston, Garrett came to the doorway and curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“Dr. Gibson,” the duke said. “A pleasure to see you, as always.” His gaze went to the shadowed figure on the bed. “What is his condition?”
Garrett described Keir’s injuries succinctly, and added with a frown, “I understand the necessity of moving him, but I certainly wouldn’t recommend it. He’s in considerable pain, and he needs rest and quiet.”
“Can’t you give him something?” Merritt asked.
“Not while his breathing is so labored. Morphine tends to depress lung function.”
Kingston’s attention seemed riveted on the injured man. “I’d be obliged, Doctor, if you would make a list of what he’ll require on the trip down to Sussex.