Page 41 of Silence of Deceit
Mrs. Derry inhaled deeply, attempting to ignore the teasing song. “Doctor Warwick took a new position at Bethlam Royal Hospital about five years ago.”
Audrey glanced up at Hugh, and though he kept his expression bland, she recognized the twitch at the corner of one eye as that of interest. Bethlam Hospital, better known as Bedlam, was in London.
“Warwick so wicked, wicked so Warwick,” Lady Gladdington tittered.
“Beatrice, that is quite enough of that nonsense,” Mrs. Derry snapped. With a plaintive look at Hugh, the matron added, “Never mind this one, sir. One learns to ignore her mutterings.”
Audrey glared, ready to tell her to mind her tongue.That one.As if the countess were not a person but a thing. Hugh entered the space between Audrey and the matron, and with a shake of his head, held out an arm to indicate she join him.
“Thank you, Mrs. Derry, you’ve been most helpful,” he said, his reserved tone holding a trace of disdain.
With a last look at Lady Gladdington, Audrey bid her a good day, and fell into step with Hugh. His hand brushed the small of her back briefly, as if to guide her along. Warmth and a sense of protection enveloped her. He remained close, even after lowering his hand, and soon, they left the wretched building. Outside, the air warmed a few degrees, highlighting how cold it had been inside. The dull skies sprinkled rain. Audrey rushed toward the carriage, where Greer and Carrigan had patiently waited.
“Let’s be gone from this place,” she said to Hugh, her voice shaking, her limbs suddenly jittery and weak.
“We can stop at the posting inn where we stayed last night for something to eat—”
“No, let’s keep going,” she said curtly.
She needed to be as far away from Shadewell as she could get. The last few hours she’d worked hard to maintain her composure and focus on the task at hand, but now… Now, she felt as she had the day her mother had sent a footman and maid to fetch her at long last. Like she was being tricked into believing freedom was nigh and at any moment it would be taken away from her.
Hugh’s hand circled her wrist, and Audrey realized how quickly she’d been walking—at practically a run. She inhaled and focused on him.
“We’ll drive as far as you like,” he said.
Her heartbeat slowed, and again, the fog of fear cleared. Just as Hugh promised earlier, she was leaving this place, with him at her side. No one was going to detain her. His fingers loosened from around her wrist, though they were hesitant to release entirely. It was reminiscent of the other night at the posting inn. She rotated her wrist and caught his fingers between hers.
They stood outside the carriage, rain dampening their shoulders. Hugh’s attention dropped to their joined hands. “We need to discuss what happened,” he said softly.
The kiss. Audrey had known they could not ignore it forever. “Not now. Please.” She did not want to have this discussion here.
He lifted his eyes to Carrigan, who was waiting a few strides away at the open carriage door. “No. Of course not.” He stepped toward the driver and raised his voice. “You’ll let us know when you’d like to stop, Your Grace?”
Audrey gave him a confident nod, and he handed her up into the carriage. Before he released her, Hugh flexed his hand around hers, and she met his gaze. She’d looked into his dark brown eyes many times but had never seen what she did now: compassion, brimming with stymied anger. He was furious for what she had been made to go through at Shadewell, and the appropriate person to blame was not here on which to vent his frustration. She had never loved her uncle and no longer held much love for her mother, but she did not envy them the next time they encountered Hugh Marsden.
ChapterThirteen
Anticipation and dread tumbled Hugh’s gut as he entered the front doors to London Hospital. The last time he’d crossed the threshold, worry over the extent of Sir’s injuries had filled his stomach like hot grease. Now, he felt the same ill sensation, wondering how the lad had fared over the last handful of days. No messenger had found him along the post road as he and Carrigan had maintained a grueling pace south. Sir either hadn’t woken up yet, or he had and he’d already been released, or Basil was waiting until Hugh’s return to give him unhappy news.
Several pounds of weight dissipated from his shoulders when he entered the ward and saw his valet seated next to Sir’s bed. The boy’s eyes were closed, his hands folded over his stomach, a blanket tucked up around his chest. He appeared to be sleeping. Basil sat primly, reading with his spectacles in place. He spotted Hugh, closed his book, and stood to meet him.
“He woke yesterday, briefly,” Basil said before Hugh could speak. “His fever kept him mostly delirious, but the doctor says the fever has now gone.”
“Why is he still unconscious?” Hugh asked.
“They fear the fever might have…” Basil exhaled and turned toward Sir. “Damaged his brain.”
Hugh gritted his teeth and tempered his frustration. The boy had already faced more challenges and unfairness in his short life than many grown men; he didn’t deserve this. Other than tracking down Winnie and questioning her, there was nothing Hugh could do to find Sir’s attacker than wait. When the boy woke, he could give an account.Ifhe woke.
“He murmured a few things,” Basil said after a moment. “I don’t know if they’re important.”
“I’ll take anything at this point,” he replied.
“Lady,pie, andMister Hugh.”
The trio of words couldn’t have been less illuminating. The fact that he’d called for Hugh, though, gave him a sharp pinch, right in the chest. He wished he’d been there when Sir woke, however briefly. Then again, he was grateful he’d gone north. They had not unearthed any startling information at Shadewell, but he’d at least managed to dismiss George Harding as a possible suspect or victim.
He’d stopped in Grantham after fetching his phaeton and found the Harding family farm in good health. A middle-aged woman, Mrs. Kemp, had greeted him and after a few guarded questions, allowed Hugh to meet her brother, George. Though older than Hugh, the man was childlike in his manner. His infirmities extended far beyond a lisp, as Audrey had mentioned.
