Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I cursed Barnett as I watched the color drain from Miss Smythe’s face. It was plain that she feared her father.
And the truth was, I wanted to return to Wheaton today. To the quiet order my life had there. Away from all the excesses of the life someone of my station was forced to live with. I was weary. Tired of this journey and the constant twists and turns it had taken.
“Fine,” I ground out. “We leave as soon as the horses are ready.”
I settled into the soft leather of the carriage with a grateful sigh as we began to move. Across from me, Miss Smythe was once again pressed against the farthest corner, her face pale, her gloved hands fisted on her lap. I noticed how thick the gloves appeared to be—not the delicate type I was used to seeing ladies wear, but these appeared more protective. I briefly contemplated why that would be, then dismissed my thoughts. It was not my concern. Yet the words were out of my lips before I could stop them.
“Are your hands not warm in those gloves? It is a hot day.”
She startled at my voice, lifting her head to meet my eyes. I saw the worry and dismay in hers, and once again, it hit me fully in my chest, making me want to ease that distress.
“I am used to them,” she whispered, her fingers moving restlessly over her skirts.
“Fear me not, my lady. You are safe with me.”
“I am not a lady. Not any longer. I am simply a maid. You may call me Madeleine if you desire.”
I tilted my head in acknowledgment. The carriage went over a large bump, causing my foot to jump on the seat. I bit back a groan, shutting my eyes. The pain was growing in its intensity. Edward had wanted to fetch a physician, but I refused, knowing it would delay my departure. I would see my own physician, Dr. Atwood, when we arrived at Wheaton.
“You are in pain, my lord.”
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Might you allow me to help you?”
I frowned in confusion. “May I ask how you propose to do that?”
She bit her lip and slid forward. “I spent a great deal of time in the stable watching the grooms work on the horses when he—my father—still had many. When an animal was hurt, they rubbed down the leg with liniment and bandaged it. I tried it once when I fell down the steps and injured my foot. It helped greatly. I practiced wrapping limbs on Lydia and Geraldine and the other servants if they were injured. Perhaps you would allow me to try to ease your discomfort?”
“You wish to rub horse liniment on my skin?” I asked, askance. It was strong and effective for animals—but humans?
“No,” she assured me. “It is not for animals. It will not harm you, I assure you, my lord.”
I paused. That meant she would touch me—a wildly inappropriate occurrence between an unmarried maiden and someone like me. I weighed the consequences.
“Perhaps if you thought of me as a ward and yourself my guardian, you would feel at ease?” she questioned, somehow knowing exactly my worries.
“Yes,” I answered promptly. “Until I decide your future, I am your guardian.” I indicated my foot. “Please begin.”
CHAPTER 7
ALEXANDER
Ihad never known a touch as tender and gentle. Or as comforting. From a battered bandbox, Madeleine produced some rags and a tin of liniment. The box was the only item she brought with her, and she had refused to part with it, sliding it under her skirts as she sat. I didn’t argue with her, already feeling dismay that her entire cache of worldly goods was in a case of such disrepair.
She turned her back, removing her gloves, not allowing her hands to be visible. She carefully set my leg on the seat beside her, pulling off my boot and inspecting my foot. I was shocked at the size of it and the large discoloration on the ankle.
“You are fortunate this did not break the bone, my lord,” she murmured, running her fingers over the hot skin.
I only grunted in response, unable to form words as she applied some of the ointment and began kneading it into the skin. I could smell the liniment, the aroma of herbs not unpleasant. Her touch was so light it didn’t bother me, and to my surprise, the pain eased slightly. There was a slight feeling of roughness to her skin, but I did not comment, assuming it was from years of toiling, and I did not wish to embarrass her further. I watched from under narrowed eyes as she worked. She had a small wrinkle between her eyes as she concentrated, and she hummed under her breath, a welcome sound in the carriage. I was certain she did not realize she was doing so, and I chose not to remark on it. There was none of her nervousness, or qualms about touching a strange man—she was determined and calm.