Page 13 of The Marquess of Secrets

Harrison nodded. “I will. Only family in attendance. Spence insisted.”

“I surmised as much.” Sam continued to eat heartily. In between bites, he said, “Are you going to terminus tonight?”

“Yes. Only for a couple of hours.”

More than anything, he wished to see the mysterious young lady again. Hear her story. Assist her in any way he could.

No woman had caught his attention like this before.

She even invaded his dreams last night, erotic doings to be sure, but also invaded the deeper parts of his heart, stoking his protective instincts to unknown levels. Damned unsettling, but also caused him to feel more alive than in years.

Caution was in order.

He had a plan worked out for his future, and it didn’t include a downtrodden woman no matter how she appealed.

Chapter 5

After a humiliating inspection for “crawlers,” as Sister Monica called them, her meal, and sleeping on and off throughout the day, Lydia could claim to feel marginally better, Except the rattle in her chest still remained. Her muscles and joints ached terribly, and the fever lingered, though, at the end of the five days, she would be past the worst of it.

Then what to do? Where to go? How much to reveal to the well-meaning nun and the mysterious Doctor Damian? How could she place her trust in anyone ever again?

Sitting upright on her pallet, the blanket about her shoulders, she opened her bundle. Within were a few personal items she managed to gather before her late-night flight from the shabby rooms she shared with Huntsford. A silver hairbrush, originally her mother’s, along with a silver butterfly hair comb. Lydia ran her fingers across her treasures.

In truth, she may have to sell them in order to start over, but what would they be worth? A couple of pounds if she was lucky.

Also, inside the bundle were a couple of starched blouses, a scarf, and a chemise, which she refused to wear as long as she was homeless.

As soon as she pulled out the book, Republic by Plato, tears welled up. It belonged to her schoolmaster father. He’d encouraged her to pursue a career in nursing.

“My dear girl, you must make your own way in the world. I will not be here forever, then what will become of you? Learn all you can, read, absorb knowledge, only then will you gain wisdom.”

A lot of good it did her. Where was the wisdom when she needed it the most? Her father’s lessons, gentle guidance, and sage advice were all for naught. She hugged the book tight to her chest, allowing the indulgence of a few tears.

“Miss Best?”

Oh, Lord. It’s him.

No mistaking the smooth-as-silk, masculine tones. Quickly wiping away the tears, Lydia stuffed the book and other items in her bundle and pushed them behind her.

“Doctor Damian.”

He lowered to his haunches. “Are you in distress?”

Having him this close afforded her a better look at his stunning eyes. Long black lashes spiked out from his lids. It could mean his hair was black, but not necessarily. The dark lashes only enhanced the silver-gray of the pupil. How unique and attractive.

“No more than anyone else here.”

It was then Lydia realized he spoke the name she gave the nun. Which also meant the woman told him everything.

“All is not lost, Miss Best. In seeking out help, you have taken the first step on the road to recovery. I’m not only speaking of your health. Would you mind if we sat on this nearby bench?” He stood and held out a gloved hand.

With a huff, she slipped her hand in his and was immediately engulfed with a bolt of comforting warmth. He assisted her in getting to her feet, and when he released her hand, she immediately missed his touch.

Once seated, he turned slightly to face her. “I wish to examine the needle marks on your arm. Would you permit me?”

Blast it all.

Ashamed, she tore off her wool coat and jacket and pushed up the sleeve of her blouse. Holding her arm face up, she looked away, not wanting to see the look of censure in his eyes.