Page 58 of A Stormy Season

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In all the excitement and her fear that the man would escape into the nursery and harm Jeffrey, Jane was just now becoming aware of the pain in her throat. She could still feel where the man’s fingers had gouged into her flesh.

“I am well,” Jane rasped, wincing at how painful it was to speak. She kept swallowing, but that didn’t help.

“What can I do?” Luke looked up. “Mrs. Gilchrist.” He motioned Penelope over to them.

“Oh, my dear,” Penelope said. “They told me what happened. Let me take care of you.”

“Wait.” Jane grabbed Luke’s arm. “Another man. He went in my room.”

Luke said, “Stay here.”

He stepped away, motioned to the two footmen and a groom who were coming up the stairs with the rope, and leaned in to speak to the men in a low voice. One of them took the rope to the men who were holding Jane’s assailant, while Luke and the other two went toward Jane’s room.

Penelope was saying, “Darling, are you all right? What a horrible fright. How badly are you hurt?”

“Just my throat.” She strained to see what Luke and the servants would find in her room and started walking that way.

“Luke said to stay here.” Penelope laid a gentle hand on Jane’s arm.

Jane wanted to say, “Don’t worry,” but her throat hurt so much and her voice sounded so hoarse that she only nodded at Penelope and motioned to her in a way she hoped would reassure her as she moved slowly toward her bedroom door.

The men had gone inside. All was quiet as Jane moved closer to peer into her open door.

The curtain at the window was fluttering from a slight breeze, so the window must be open. She could see shadowy figures moving around.

Finally Luke came out and said, “He must have gone, probably out the window.” He took her gently by the arm. “I will send for the apothecary.”

“Thank you.”

“Truly, you sound very bad.” Luke frowned.

“I’ll go for the apothecary,” a young man said, one of the ones Jane had danced with when she was angry with Luke.

Luke said nothing for a moment, then, “Tell him Miss Gilchrist has a sore throat but that it’s from an injury to the front of her neck. Her voice is hoarse and she is in pain.”

The young man nodded and bolted away.

Luke was still staring down at her as everyone else seemed to be rushing to and fro or scolding the man they were tying up. His hand was warm and gentle on her upper arm, a familiarity that he would not be allowed if he were not her supposed fiancé.

“I know you to be very brave,” Luke said quietly so no one else could hear, “but even you must feel a bit shaken. What happened?” His voice was low and gruff as he brought his face even with hers.

Her heart skittered and skipped at his concern. No one seemed to notice them standing alone outside her room, having a private conversation. Even Penelope seemed to have wandered away.

“You shouldn’t talk,” he said. “I don’t want you to hurt your throat by talking. But you were trying to prevent that man from going into the nursery, weren’t you?”

She nodded.

“Jane.” He said her name on a burst of air, a cross between a whisper and a groan. “You saved my son.” His voice sounded as if he were holding back tears. But men didn’t cry, did they? But then she remembered what Henry had said about Luke after his wife was killed, about how he had never seen a man more affected.

The poor man. He had been through more than his share of troubles. Thanks be to God, she had been there to stop his son from being kidnapped.

He put a hand up to his mouth and closed his eyes for a moment, but it was too dark in the hallway for her to see his expression clearly. Then she heard him take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Thank you, Jane. Thank you for saving Jeffrey.”

Jane said haltingly, “I would do . . . anything . . . for him.”