Free Venetia by Georgette Heyer Page A

bonnet with all the air of  one determined to remain at his side whatever might be the consequences. He uttered thickly:  “Oh,   no,   my God—! How   could   you, Venetia? Take her away! I‟m damned if I‟ll have her  fussing and fuming over me as if I were a baby!”
    “Ungrateful brat!” remarked Damerel. “You‟d be well-served if your nurse took you at  your word, and left you to my mercies! I should certainly beat you.”
    Considerably to Venetia‟s surprise this intervention, so far from offending him, made  Aubrey give a tiny spurt of laughter. Turning his head on the pillow so that he could look at  Damerel, he said: “Well, how would   you   like it, sir?”
    “Very much indeed! You are more fortunate than you know.”
    Aubrey pulled a face; but when Damerel had left the room he said: “I like him, don‟t  you? You‟ll say everything that‟s proper, won‟t you? I don‟t think I did, and I ought.”

    She replied soothingly, and he  shut his eyes again. He was soon asleep, so that there was nothing for Venetia to do but to sit down to await the arrival of Dr. Bentworth, while Nurse unpacked the portmanteau, her lips tightly folded in disapproval, except when she opened them to whisper warnings to Venetia against falling into the snares of the wicked. She was presently drawn into the adjoining dressing-room by Mrs. Imber, and Venetia was left to while away the time as best she might. There was nothing to occupy her save her thoughts, and nothing to be seen from the window but a neglected garden bathed in autumn sunshine. Having mentally weeded this, stocked its flower-beds with her favourite plants, and set a couple of men to scythe the lawn, she wondered how long she would be obliged to sit idle. She feared it might be for a considerable period, for York was twelve miles distant, and it was more than probable that a busy practitioner might cot be found at liberty to come immediately to Aubrey‟s bedside.
    When Nurse came back into the room Venetia was glad to see that her countenance had slightly relaxed its expression of uncompromising severity. Her opinion of Damerel‟s morals, and her conviction that his end would be a lesson to other sinners, remained unchanged, but she was to some degree mollified by the discovery that he had ordered Mrs. Imber not only to make up a bed for her in the dressing-room, but to obey whatever injunctions she might see fit to lay upon her. Furthermore, his valet was not, as might have been supposed, a saucy jackanapes, but a very respectable man who had behaved with great civility to her, deferring to her superior judgment, and begging, as a favour, to be allowed to share with her the duties of waiting on the invalid. It appeared that Nurse had graciously conferred this honour upon him, but whether she had done so because she was won over by his tact, or because she knew that Aubrey would strenuously resist any attempt to reduce him to nursery status, remained undisclosed. She was representing to Venetia in persuasive terms how unnecessary it was for her to remain at the
    Priory another instant when Aubrey woke up, rather cross, and complaining that he was hot, thirsty, and uncomfortable. Nurse thought this an excellent opportunity to change Damerel‟s contaminating nightshirt for one of his own, so she summoned Marston to her assistance, and was pretty well occupied when Damerel walked into the room to invite Venetia to partake of dinner in his company. Before Nurse had grasped the scandalous nature of his errand the invitation had been accepted, and Damerel was bowing Venetia out of the room.
    “Thank you!” Venetia said, as he shut the door. “You came in at precisely the right moment, you know, when poor Nurse was too much taken up with scolding Aubrey for being so tiresome to think what   I   might be doing!”
    “Yes, I didn‟t think I should clear that fence without a check,” he agreed. “Would you have attended to her