Page 56 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
Alexander allowed himself a small smile.
“It is not because I need protection,” Arabella told him sternly, trying to shake off the fondness she was feeling for him. “But because you are petulant, and I know if I leave from here on my independent mission, you would only follow me.”
Alexander grinned indulgently. “I would.”
“Therefore, you may follow as my servant, but keep your head bowed low and do not speak.”
Alexander blinked in acceptance of this condition.
“I could not bear you to be captured,” she added in a softer voice, and as she reached out with a demonstrative gesture, her hand incidentally brushed against his.
They both took a sharp intake of breath at the connection, and their eyes flashed once at each other before Arabella looked quickly away.
“We must proceed at speed,” Arabella harried. “Joseph Evans is not a well man, and it would be catastrophic if he passed before we have a chance to speak with him …”
“We will visit tomorrow morning, before dawn. Go and sleep now. Rise early,” Alexander advised.
Arabella nodded. “The address is on the note. Will you remember where it is?”
“I know the area. But we should arrive together.”
“Well plotted. Where will you stay tonight?”
Alexander’s eyes roved around, as if he might be considering this for the first time, and Arabella correctly guessed that he was yet to source a safe location.
“You will stay here. Sleep in the boathouse tonight. Nobody will venture to this part of the estate in darkness, and by the time anybody attends, we will already be gone.”
Alexander smiled with a nod.
“I will return to collect you before dawn.” Arabella headed for the door, pulled it open a few inches, and looked both ways before opening it fully and whispering back over her shoulder. “Sleep well, Alexander.”
Alexander doubted he would sleep at all, desperate as he was to reach the dying man before it was too late.
Chapter 19
“Lord Thomas Carrington arranged your visit; is that correct?” The broadly set matron pursed her lips as she regarded Arabella on the doorstep of the workhouse infirmary.
“Indeed, he did. He emphasized the necessity for haste in the case of Joseph Evans, hence my early call …” Arabella nodded, ensuring she stood in front of Alexander, whose head was bowed in servility beneath his brown cap, tucking his chin into his rough labourer’s clothes.
“It’s fortuitous you have come now; he is not long for this world, I fear. And Lord Carrington is such a generous benefactor of the infirmary, we are, of course, happy to accommodate his request.” The matron ushered Arabella and her apparent servant inside the hallway. “This way …” and led them along draughty hallways.
As they walked briskly through the corridors, Arabella tried not to breathe in the stale tang of illness that hung in the air.
They passed poor people lying on makeshift mattresses and some on the floor under blankets, coughing, sleeping loudly with labored breaths, or vomiting. Arabella respectfully averted her eyes and hoped they would reach Joseph Evans promptly, as shedoubted anybody condemned to such a place would survive for long.
When the matron directed them towards the recumbent man lying on a cot-bed in the corner of a room filled with deathly pale people in various states of wakefulness, Arabella found that she recognized him, despite his having lost any flesh about his face and his skeleton protruding tightly against his greyish skin.
“Mr Evans?” Arabella asked softly as she approached. His eyes drifted around the room in a struggle to find focus before eventually finding her face, and a shift of recognition passed over his pained expression.
“Lady Spencer–” He heaved as a cough assaulted his chest. Joseph attempted to move himself into a sitting position.
“Please! Do not move. Remain where you are comfortable. There is no need for you to move,” she comforted him, kneeling next to where he lay.
He breathed out a rattling sigh of relief.
“I am so sorry to find you in such bad health, Joseph.”
“Thank you for coming–” he wheezed.
