Page 10 of Lady of Charade
After that, there was not much more she could do but hope he soon woke up. In the morning, she would have to find a way to contact his family — she was sure they would be sick with worry over his whereabouts. Sarah found her one extra blanket in the cabinet near her bed, stretching it over him, tucking the edges around him. She hated to leave him on the floor, but she currently didn’t have much choice. In the morning, if he was awake and allowed it, she could ask just who she should contact in order to return him home. If not, she supposed she would send a messenger to Elizabeth or Phoebe, for they would surely know to whom to reach out.
She wondered what had happened to him. He must have been attacked, perhaps by thieves in the street. She tiptoed back over to him, feeling as though she were violating him as she reached into the pocket of his jacket, only to find that he still carried coins on him. Strange. What kind of attack was this, that he hadn’t been robbed, and, in fact, had been left on her doorstep? Many of her neighbors were aware that she was a healer of sorts, but why bring David, the son of an earl, to her? She had no idea, but it worried her.
Sarah sighed and, looking out the window to find no hint of sun on the horizon, she decided she had better sleep a couple of more hours herself before she would wake up and see to her patient once more.
* * *
David slowly awokeas light began to filter through his eyelids. He was never much of an early riser, but something tugged at him, something he couldn’t ignore. He began to sit up but nearly bellowed aloud as pain sliced through his brain, particularly when he attempted to open his eyes. And then his chest began to ache something fierce. As slowly as he could, he pushed himself up on his elbows and opened his eyes a crack to determine exactly where he was.
He was within a boarding room of some type, and though not a particularly extravagant one, it was clean, at least. His heart hammered hard beneath the ache in his chest as he wondered just exactly whose room he was in. His mind searched the past frantically as he tried to recall just what had happened that would cause him to be here.
Before anything came to him, however, he heard a soft rustle from across the room, and his eyes came to rest on the bed — upon which lay a form. The small, dirty window didn’t emit much light, so it was difficult to tell who was upon it, and David wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Perhaps he could leave before the person awoke. He swore to himself he wouldn’t have another drink for the longest time. Clarence had told him to keep his wits about him, and currently, last night remained blurred in his mind.
He tried to stand but found he couldn’t make it to much more than a crawl, not with the way his head pounded and his chest burned. He put a hand upon it, finding that it had been wrapped — which meant that, at least, whoever was with him had cared enough to see that he didn’t expire from his injuries.
David tried to move to the door, but it seemed the more he moved, the farther away it became. Finally, he collapsed to the floor, his efforts useless.
He heard movement behind him but couldn’t look, his eyes seemingly sewn shut as his head pounded with his exertion.
He forced himself to move to his back and crack open his eyes, an involuntary groan escaping as he did so. But if he was going to encounter whoever approached, he refused to do so with his back to the person.
A face appeared, blurred, the back of it surrounded by a halo of light. Despite the fact he could hardly see, somehow he sensed that there was no threat to him, that he had nothing to fear.
And then everything went dark once more.
* * *
Washe attempting to run from her? Sarah had no idea just what threat he assumed she posed, but then, she wasn’t entirely sure of his current state of mind after the injury he had sustained. Now the fool was once again passed out at her feet, and she simply left him where he was, in the entryway of the room, as she inspected the bandages upon his bare chest, though she did place a pillow behind his head and returned the blanket to him.
The deep wound was rather ghastly, and Sarah wished she had aromatic vinegar, which would be much more effective in preventing it from festering. She supposed his family would likely call a physician once he returned home, which somewhat worried her. There were some physicians who were knowledgeable and she had seen produce effective results, but in her experience, most treatments they performed actually led to further distress of the patient.
Her task complete, she sat back on her heels and stared down at Mr. Redmond, for he actually looked quite peaceful in repose, the lines of his face smoothed, his nose slightly crooked, she realized with a smile, his full lips ever so slightly parted. His sandy hair had a small smattering of blood within it, and she stood to wet a cloth to wash some of it out.
As she returned, she attempted to keep herself from staring down at his chest. She should only be assessing him as someone who required treatment from her. And yet, she couldn’t help what seemed to be a few extra beats of her heart as she stared at the smooth chest in front of her, now marred by the bandages. He had the slightest dusting of blond hair upon the top of it, and her fingers itched to trace it.
Then there was his abdomen, in which were finely cut muscles that tapered down to a vee where the top of his breeches rested. He was not the first man she had seen in such a state of undress, for she had previously tended patients with similarly placed wounds, but she could admit that never before had she felt such emotions stirred within her at seeing a half-naked body before her.
As she wiped the dried blood from his hair, Sarah supposed this was why he had the reputation he did — and, if she were to guess, what had led to his current state of injury. She shook her head at both her thoughts and her reaction to him, and was just about to stand to wash out her cloth when his hand shot up as his eyes opened, and he gripped her wrist tightly.
“Just what,” he said, his words guttural, as though it took great effort to speak them, “do you think you are doing?”
CHAPTER5
David shouldn’t be here. As far as he could tell, he and this woman were alone in what appeared to be rented rooms a far cry from his own, and if he could rely on his own sight, then it seemed it was the lovely and apparently innocent Sarah Jones crouching beside him. But perhaps it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, for she couldn’t actually be here with him — could she?
And how the hell had he gotten here?
“I am seeing to your injuries,” she said crisply, “And I would appreciate it if you would release me.”
He nodded, though the effort caused pain to shoot through his temple and begin to throb within his skull once more.
“My apologies,” he muttered as he did as she asked, and she blessedly returned moments later with a glass of water, which he took eagerly, as it seemed that someone had stabbed his throat as well as his body.
He closed his eyes for a moment at the thought as finally, the events of the previous evening came rushing back to him, and he cringed as he felt the pain anew. When he eventually opened his eyes once more, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the contrast of the scene last night with what appeared before him now.
Miss Jones sat upon a bed in front of him. Despite the fact she wore nothing but a wrapper over what he assumed was a nightrail, she looked nothing but proper, her legs crossed at the ankles and her hands folded within her lap. The only true sign of dishabille was her bare toes peeking out from beneath the bottom hem of her blue wrapper, which looked as though it had once been a rather brilliant color but had now faded.
“How did I get here? And where are we?” He asked aloud, and she regarded him calmly as she answered his questions in her gentle, flat voice.
