Read Barbara Metzger for Free Online

his eyes. She did not come to his chin, and she still wore a frock his sister would have been embarrassed to put in the poor bag, topped now with a dreadful bonnet. At least she made him a creditable curtsy before she went off with Mrs. Birchfield, so someone was teaching the chit a few ladylike graces. Someone would have to see that she stopped chasing after dogs, stopped interrupting her elders, and stopped dressing like a ragamuffin. He could only pray that the uncle returned home soon. If not…
    Lud, let the Renslow children not be his concern!
    Ian’s appetite was gone.
    *
    He was so pale, so quiet. But Troy was not fevered. Athena tore off her gloves to feel his cheeks. She dropped her bonnet on the floor so she could lean closer, listening to his breathing. “His lungs do not sound congested,” she told the hovering Mrs. Birchfield. “That is a good sign, isn’t it?”
    “A fine sign, miss.”
    Roma was on the bed, licking Troy’s face beneath the bandages on his head. “He was shot in the head?” That was the worst possible place.
    “Oh, no, miss. He was shot in the chest.”
    Athena tapped the dog on the nose and pointed to the end of the bed. Roma went and curled up by Troy’s feet, ready to stay until Doomsday, it appeared, or dinner. Athena pulled back the covers, and then the neck of a fine lawn nightshirt, but all she could see was more bandages. At least there was no blood seeping anywhere.
    “His lordship never mentioned anything about a head wound,” she said after replacing the blankets.
    “He must not have wanted to worry you unnecessarily, Miss Renslow,” a man who had introduced himself as Hopkins, Lord Marden’s valet, answered before the housekeeper could reply. “It seems the young gentleman fell off his horse onto a large boulder.”
    “And his lordship did not think to tell me?” Athena’s estimation of the earl slipped a notch. “I think it decidedly necessary.” She would not have bothered with her hair or packing at all if she knew how badly her brother was injured. She would have run all the way here, if she had to, or made his lordship take her up on his horse. Why, she would have stolen his horse and ridden it herself, if the man had not assured her that Troy was simply resting after his ordeal.
    “I suppose Lord Marden was merely being kind,” she told the worried looking servants. But now she had to worry about the earl’s confidence in Troy’s recovery. If he could sugarcoat her brother’s condition, what else was he not telling her? “My own physician will be calling shortly. Please have him brought up at once. And I shall need a cot brought in here, and the fire kept higher, so my brother does not take a chill. He will require beef broth and lemonade. Troy does not like barley water. No one has given him laudanum, have they? Not with a head injury, I hope. Or spirits. He’ll have enough of a headache as is. Did your doctor leave anything for the pain or—”
    “There’s my Attie,” Troy whispered hoarsely. His eyes were open and his lips twitched. “Knew you’d come, old girl. Knew you’d take over, too. No matter if it is a nobleman’s mansion. Suppose you’d try to run Carlton House if the prince let you.”
    Athena started crying again. Troy was awake, and he knew her. The housekeeper was mumbling a prayer of thankfulness, while setting a glass—lemonade, Athena noted—to Troy’s dry lips. The valet handed her a handkerchief, one with a coat of arms embroidered in the corner. Athena blew her nose on a different corner.
    “Hush up, bantling,” she chided. “You had me worried for nothing, it seems. We will speak of your being so far from home later, after you have had a good rest.”
    “Yes.… Need to rest.” His eyes drifted closed.
    Then they opened again, and Troy reached for her hand. “Not his fault.”
    Athena was dismayed at the weakness in his grip, but she said, “Alfie’s? He should never have let you ride so long. And he