Page 3 of Mistress of Misfortune

Harshad gave him a quick bow and went to attend to the mare. Alistair carried the young woman across the road and through the lionsgate to the cart Harshad had left on the drive. After carefully placing her in the back with the sacks of feed his steward had bought in town, he climbed up and drove the cart horses to the front of the house.

Alistair discovered his passenger stirring as he lifted her out of the cart and took her inside the house. The sepoys Harshad has trained to serve as his footmen remained at their posts, but both gave the young woman wary looks. Since Alistair had taken up residence at Dredthorne no outsider had crossed the threshold, and he had resolved to keep it that way.

“I beg your pardon,” a soft voice said, and Alistair looked down into jade-colored eyes. “Who are you, and where am I?”

“Colonel Alistair Thorne, at your service.” He carried her into his morning room, and carefully placed her in his favorite armchair. As he straightened and took a step back to give her a polite bow, he felt the inexplicable urge to scoop her up and hold her again. “You are at my home, Dredthorne Hall.”

“Dredthorne? But I was only just…” The young woman went very still. “Bessie.” She sat up and regarded him with visible panic. “My rig… I had an accident, and my horse–”

“She lost a shoe, but I believe otherwise she is fine,” Alistair assured her. “I had my steward take her to my stablemaster. He will attend her.”

“Thank you, sir.” She sank back, a little color returning to her cheeks. “I feel so dreadful for imposing on you like this. If you will give me a few moments to collect myself, I will leave you in peace.”

“You are not going anywhere like that, young woman.” He nodded at her injured limb. “Do I have your permission to examine the arm?”

“You need not, sir,” she said quickly. “I think it is only a bad wrench.”

“Oh, you are a doctor?” he asked, pretending surprise. “That is quite providential. My right shoulder has been paining me of late. Perhaps, when you are recovered, you would be good enough to look at it?”

“You know I am not a doctor,” she chided. “If my arm were broken, it should hurt a great deal more than it does.”

The fact that she would know such a thing troubled Alistair, and he knelt beside the chair.

“What is your name?” When she hesitated, he added, “I know it is not proper to ask so directly, but I must call you something other than 'young woman'.”

“Of course, forgive me. I am Miss Meredith Starling.” She offered him her good hand. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Colonel.”

“The pleasure is mine.” He clasped her hand briefly. “Now, Miss Starling, please allow me to ascertain that your arm is not seriously injured. Broken bones are nothing to trifle with, and I have much experience with such injuries from my years in the Army.”

She gave a reluctant nod and winced as she held out her arm.

Alistair supported the limb with one hand and carefully felt along the length of it with the other. She caught her breath when he touched her wrist but made no other sound. He then bent the limb up from the elbow to establish her range of function, at which point he saw the red stain on the underside of her sleeve.

“It is not broken, but your wrist is badly sprained, and you are bleeding,” he said, gently lowering her arm. “I will send to the village for the doctor.”

“He is not there,” she told him. “Doctor Mallory’s father fell ill, and he traveled to London last week to visit him. But he should return by week-end.”

That left Alistair with no choice. “Then with your permission, I will cut open your sleeve and treat the wound.”

She paled but nodded quickly.

“I must fetch my medical case.” He stood. “Do not move from this chair while I am gone.”

* * *

Meredith maintainedher façade of serenity until the colonel left the room, at which point she collapsed back against the chair with a groan. The bad luck of the rig accident didn't surprise her, but she had never fainted in such a ridiculous fashion. Waking up to find herself the guest of the stern-face colonel had completely bewildered her, too. As reclusive as he was, why would he trouble himself to look after a stranger who had been silly enough to ditch her rig by the road?

He is simply being polite, Meredith thought. Though he may be terse and abrupt, he is still a gentleman.

While the means had been rather drastic, her dearest wish to see the inside of the house had been granted. It was more beautiful than she had ever imagined. The room in which the colonel had brought her appeared to be a morning salon, abundantly furnished with several chairs, lounges and one particularly sumptuous velvet and whitewood settee. In contrast to their surroundings everything looked new, suggesting the colonel had brought them with him to Dredthorne. The soft silvery fabrics went well with the Grecian design of the faded embossed wallpapers, and the old yet intricate Persian rugs. Meredith thought the rough gray quarry stone used to frame the fireplace exceptionally suitable, given the portrait of the iron-haired gentleman hanging above it.

The style of that painting, and the fact that its subject wore a jacket that had been fashionable a century past, made Meredith wonder if she was looking upon the original owner of Dredthorne. His long face and lantern-shaped jaw seemed quite severe, but the artist had captured something softer in his eyes. Sorrow, perhaps, or an intense longing.

“You have a delightful home, sir,” she murmured, and then jumped a little as Colonel Thorne came in with a large leather case under his arm and a tea tray in his hands. On the tray was not the makings of any tea, but some folded linen, a pair of shears and a rather large open decanter of dark amber liquid. “Pray, what are those spirits for, Colonel?”

“You,” he said as he set down the case and tray, and then saw her face. “More precisely, your arm, Miss Starling. Untreated wounds can easily fester.”

“Yes, of course.” She heard a booming sound and the rattling of windows, which had grown puzzlingly dark. “Oh my, have the French invaded Renwick?”