“Yes, told me not to venture far.”
All colour left Stone’s face. “Then you shouldn’t. And you’re right, if there is a heavy snowfall, I will not be able to get here easily myself. They will freeze; we will have to move tonight.”
Lucas was amazed. It was as if Rosalind’s words had spurred him into action.
“Please can you put more coal on the fire, Mrs Reynolds.” The woman nodded and scurried over to the burning grate as Rosalind moved the bed warming pan beneath the blankets to a cold corner. They were expecting Lady Webster at any moment and with only an hour’s warning of her arrival from Benedict, both she and the housekeeper had busied themselves with preparing the room.
“Do we know how ill the lady is, Miss?”
Benedict had asked that only select servants be privy to Lady Webster’s imminent arrival under the cover of darkness. The housekeeper had let it be known in no uncertain terms that it was about time, and Cooper had taken command like a seasoned soldier, setting the fire himself.
“I fear not. But before the men left they requested an armful of blankets, cloak and mittens so I am presuming some type of fever. They have also only taken two horses, so I believe she is to be carried.”
“Terrible, that poor child.” And the housekeeper poured on more coal, enough to heat the blacksmith’s furnace.
At the sound of footfall in the hallway and low male murmurs, Rosalind opened the door, quickly ushering the men in before the cold draught could enter the warmed chamber.
Lucas strode in first, bringing a cloud of fresh air with him, it clung to his coat and he made the room look small and hot. Benedict followed, carrying a heap of blankets from which a tangle of chestnut-brown hair trailed.
The heap was laid down on the bed and the blankets pulled away. A small face emerged, but she seemed slightly delirious and her head moved restlessly to the side so that all could fully see her bruised features.
The housekeeper let out a gasp and stuffed an apron to her mouth to halt further sobs, even Cooper bit his lip.
“Mrs Reynolds, did you mix the sleeping draught I requested?” Lucas asked.
“Yes, Doctor… Major….”
“It’s only a light herbal concoction to reduce the fever and ease the cough, so administer it every few hours. Keep her warm and send for me immediately if she worsens.”
The woman nodded, pulled her shoulders back, straightened her apron, and bustled over to the bed. The housekeeper had looked after Rosalind when she’d first arrived from the asylum, so she knew Lady Webster was in good hands.
Rosalind caught Lucas’s arm. He looked tired. “I’m going to stay as well,” she said softly. “We can take turns so she’s never alone. Clary needs to rest as she’s hardly slept since Benedict took her to the cottage.”
He nodded, before all the men were hustled out of the room by a stern Mrs Reynolds.
“Thank you, Mainwaring. Not just for the treatments but for your silence,” Stone said, handing over a stiff whisky.
Lucas felt weary. When Rosalind had touched his arm in the bedchamber, he’d yearned to hold her close, let all his anger at man’s violence flood away in her compassion. He’d wanted to hunt her through the woods in that red cape, sink into her warmth and let her chase away his fury.
Instead, he knocked back the whisky. “No need to thank me; I cannot abide men like Sir Hector. People often think soldiers are naturally violent, but I have found it to be the opposite. There are all sorts of course, but I, and men like O’Carroll, fought for peace. Did you let me see you with that shovel, knowing I would follow you?”
Grinning, Stone ignored the question. “Once she is well, we may go to Scotland. I have distant family in the Highlands, and the bastard would be welcome to search there. It can be a dangerous place for the unwary.”
“Oh,nowI see. I always thought you had too fine a taste in whisky to be purely English.”
“Ach, laddie, you’ve found me out.”
Lucas couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s the worst Scottish accent I’ve ever heard. What will happen to Rosalind? If you move?”
“She is welcome to come with us. Or stay here and manage the estate. Or go to London and cause a stir.” Stone raised a brow. “Or marry a soldier and live happily ever after,” he said with a wink. “Whatever she wants. But I warn you, you will have a struggle.”
“Because of her past?”
“Yes.”
“And you won’t tell me.” A statement not a question.
“No,” he answered anyway.
