Page 40 of While You Were Spying

“Was she—” Ethan began, then glanced at her mother. “Are there any other injuries?”

The doctor raised his eyebrows in understanding.

“No. She was not harmed in any other way.”

The cord holding him prisoner slackened. His darkest fears hadn’t been realized. She’d been lucky.

The doctor withdrew his hand from Francesca’s forehead and turned to his medical bag, lying open beside Lady Brigham. Francesca’s eyes fluttered open.

“Mamma?” Her voice was faint, but it drew every eye in the room.

Lord Brigham sat up and Lady Brigham ceased her soundless sobbing for a moment. She grasped her daughter’s hand to her heart. “I’m here,dolce.”

“Would you do something for me?” Her face was half-turned from him, and Ethan could not see her clearly, but at that moment, if she’d asked the question of him, no matter the request, he’d have gone to the ends of the earth to grant it. This attack was his fault. After Skerrit’s murder and the smugglers he’d seen nearby, Ethan could not believe Francesca’s attack unrelated. If he’d caught the leader of the smugglers by now, she wouldn’t have been in danger, wouldn’t have been attacked. He and Alex had done their best to investigate quickly and thoroughly, but they hadn’t been fast enough.

“Of course,dolce.”

“Would you have Cagnolino brought to me?” Francesca sounded almost embarrassed to be asking a favor. Ethan stared at her, willing her to look at him, acknowledge him, but her heavy eyes closed again.

“Your puppy?”

“Yes.” The word came out slow and slurred.

Lady Brigham glanced at the doctor who looked uncertain. “Francesca—”

“Please,Mamma.” She grasped her mother’s hand tighter, and Ethan felt the cord tense again at this sign of weakness. “I have to know he’s safe and well. Everyone tells me Lino’s fine, but”—her voice broke off for a moment—“he—” She put a hand to her forehead.

Ethan leaned forward.

“Lino tried to protect me. He—themanthrew him, and I couldn’t see what happened.”

Something in her voice sent a warning jolt through Ethan. For a moment, he’d been almost certain she would say the man’s name.

“Please let me see Lino,” Francesca went on. “And then I’ll sleep, I promise.”

Lady Brigham turned back to the doctor, now holding a blue opaque bottle suspended above his bag, his eyes riveted, as all their eyes were, to this small, injured girl.

“Dr. Dawson?”

“If it eases her mind, I see no reason not to.”

“I’ll send Mr. Shepherd.” She began to rise, but Francesca reached out, misjudging the distance and missing her mother’s arm. The failed gesture stopped Lady Brigham all the more completely. “Mamma, send Daddy to do it.” Her eyes turned to Lord Brigham. “He’s so upset,” she whispered. “Alfred will know what to do.”

Ethan closed his eyes, shaking his head. She thought of everyone but herself. And they allowed it.

Hot anger pulsed through him. Lady Brigham rose and went to her husband, kneeling beside him and speaking in whispered tones. At first Brigham seemed to object, but finally he stood. On tottering legs, he went to his daughter and kissed her forehead. When he looked up, his gaze met Ethan’s. But the viscount’s eyes no longer held any fire. They were hollow and empty, beaten by the same feelings of helplessness Ethan felt. Brigham turned and shuffled from the room.

“Lord Brigham.” The doctor closed his bag and followed. “A word with you.”

With Brigham and the doctor gone, the room seemed empty. Francesca closed her eyes when her mother resumed her seat, then seemed to make an effort to open them again when Ethan took a step toward her. She stared at him blankly, almost as though she thought him an apparition.

“Oh, Lord Winterbourne.”

Ethan winced at the harsh intrusion of Lady Brigham’s voice.

“What are we ever to do? My poor, poor baby!”

“I’ll take care of it,” Ethan heard himself say.

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