General Shepherd had sent.
He dismounted and greeted the newcomers, whom he did not recognize. He didn’t know if they were like Garfield and had transferred into his unit or if he had simply never met the pair.
“Good morning. I am the Earl of Sheffington, formerly Colonel Armistead. Welcome to Sheffield Park.”
“Wharton,” the first man barked as he leaned upon his crutches for support. “Bullet in my thigh. They say it’s healing but it hurts like the dickens.” He nodded to his companion. “This is Hensley. His right arm got blown off just below the elbow. He’s complained of a fever.”
Rhys looked at Hensley, who stared out morosely, not making eye contact. His skin and eyes spoke of jaundice.
“Go with Callow. He’ll see that you are assigned a room. The local doctor should be here the day after tomorrow to look over you both.”
Wharton sighed noisily and shrugged. He placed his crutches and good leg in front of him and swung his body up to meet them. Hensley followed wordlessly.
Callow looked at him. “Something must be done, my lord. I never thought I would be a man to give an ultimatum to my employer but I am issuing one to you now. Either get me help—or I shall resign my post—both as your valet and . . . whatever I am the rest of the time.”
Callow hurried after the latest arrivals before Rhys could reply. He couldn’t lose the valet. The servant’s words gave him the needed push and he determined to ride to Laurelwood tomorrow and beg Dalinda for her help. Mounting his horse again, he rode to the stables and handed the horse off to Morrison, who met him.
“I will need my carriage tomorrow morning after breakfast,” he informed the groom, hoping Dalinda would choose to return with him for a few days. “I would like you to drive me to see the Duchess of Gilford. Rather, the dowager duchess, that is,” he said, knowing enough about Polite Society to realize Dalinda had been replaced by the new Duke of Gilford’s bride.
“About time you came to your senses,” Morrison grumbled. “You’ve been a first class idiot, my lord, if I say so myself.”
Surprise filled Rhys. No one had spoken to him this way in some time and annoyance flickered through him. Perhaps he was becoming more of a peer than he thought.
“What do you mean?” he challenged.
“Her Grace can solve all your problems. Have this mess organized and running like a fine timepiece in no time. As for you?” Morrison eyed him.
“What?”
“You know,” his groom said mysteriously.
“No, I do not. Know what?” he demanded.
“She’s for you, my lord. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
Anger filled him at the servant’s brash declaration. “You have overstepped your place, Morrison,” he ground out.
Morrison gazed at Rhys in defiance. “And what if I did? Will you fire me, my lord?” He snorted. “No, you wouldn’t have the heart, knowing what I would suffer if I was forced to leave Sheffield Park. I see you suffering, Colonel. You need Her Grace in your life. No one else will do for you.”
Rhys’ rage dissolved instantly. He sighed. “No one could feel more inferior than I do, Morrison.”
The groom grunted. “What with how I look now? Yet Her Grace told me that I am the same man I was before that shell exploded and ruined my face. She made me believe that I am still capable. Intelligent. And that I can tell a mean story. Yes, it takes a while for others to get used to my horrendous face but then they see me—the inside, real me—not the ugly shell I am now.”
Morrison’s gaze bored into him. “You are the same, Colonel. You still see the little boy who lost his father and had to fight to keep his family alive and a place in the world without being swallowed whole. Well, you’re not that lad now. You are a titled peer with a lovely estate and I’ve heard a fine townhouse in London, as well. You’ve high standards. You’re caring. Just see how you’re trying to help these wounded veterans arriving here each week.”
The groom placed a hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “If Her Grace wasn’t interested in you, then she wouldn’t be interested. There’s no artifice to her, Colonel. For a duchess, she is as grounded and practical as anyone I’ve ever met.” He grinned. “Fine to look at, as well. If I were you, I’d stake my claim before it’s too late.”
Had he been a