Page 20 of To Heal a Broken Earl
“How awful,” exclaimed Emma, her heartstrings immediately ensnared by Finn’s sad story. “Of course, he would want to run.”
“I had tall fences installed at this property as well as the London townhouse, so he can do so without causing anyone angst.”
“Auntie, he’s pretty. Can I pet him?” Katie asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she crouched down to get a closer look at the playful dog.
Emma glanced at Michael, who gave her an encouraging nod. “He’s friendly—just energetic,” he said, chuckling as the dog bounced excitedly around them. “I have a feeling he’s found just the friend he needed in Katie,” he added, a warm smile spreading across his face.
Giggles burst from Katie as she and Finn ran around each other on the front lawn. She was able to truly stretch her legs for the first time in two days, and Finn easily related to being pent up too long. For the first time since Emma’s sister and brother-in-law had gone, things seemedright.
~*~
Chapter Eight
The next day
Michael sighed, tilting his head back slightly, allowing Hastings to get a better measure of the scruffy beard that had accumulated during his days on the road. The scraping sound of the blade against his skin was soothing, especially after his sleepless night.
“How did you sleep last night, my lord?” Hastings asked as he rinsed the blade full of whiskers mixed with frothy, sandalwood-scented soap in a bowl of warm water.
Michael grunted a reply. Hastings had an uncanny ability to read his thoughts.
“I take it youdidn’tsleep?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, the fact that you’ve been favoring your leg. You could barely bend it when you got into your bath this morning, and you winced a few minutes ago when you sat in this chair. And there’s the fact that I heard you pacing back and forth most of the night.”
“Next time, plug your ears with cotton.”
“If you would only allow me to apply the salve that Dr. Bianchi prepared—”
“The answer is no.” Michael refused to walk through his home smelling like a dead fish or dog excrement, especially around Emma.
Hastings muttered something about vanity and pride.
Yes, dammit. Michaeldidhave his pride. He wasn’t a dandy by any means, but he’d be damned if he’d walk around his own home smelling like a rotting animal carcass. Most of the time, he could put up with the chronic pain of his injury. It was a setback that made him hyperaware he was not invincible—something that every young man who went away to war believed in the beginning.
After witnessing the death of so many good men, so many friends in battle, he had changed. The pain in his leg was proof that he’d survived, that he was still alive to fight another day. Over time, he’d learned to push aside his physical pain. But sometimes, it became sharper and more intense. The journey from London to his estate over the past days had been designed to throw off anyone who might be following them. But it had taken a toll on his ability to ignore the pain in his leg.
Hastings gave a beleaguered sigh. “Very well, but we have received word from Dr. Bianchi that he will be in the area in the next few days. He will insist on examining your leg.”
“He can insist all he wants.”
“My lord, I only want to remind you that your leg can be helped.”
Michael opened his eyes and saw the flash of anger on the younger man’s face. Behind that anger was concern. Now it was his turn to sigh. It had been Hastings who’d dragged him from the battlefield and fought the surgeon who wanted to cut off his leg, Hastings who had nursed him through the fever and infection that followed. Hastings, who was practically a boy when he’d enlisted in the war. Hastings had saved his life. He would never question the man’s loyalty.
“Very well, we’ll see what Bianchi has to say when the time comes.”
Hastings nodded as his deft hands smoothly slid along Michael’s jaw, scraping the rough beard off. “You certainly needed a shave, my lord, even if I do say so myself. Now, please try to remain still.”
Michael gave a nod and closed his eyes once more, even as his mind continued to sift through troubling details about the recent spate of arsons in London over the last severalmonths. While only two people had died, it was clear the arsonist had intensified his heinous attacks. At first, the fires had been sporadic, but in the past month, they had become more frequent.
A sense of frustration gnawed at him as a haunting realization settled in—despite how careful they had been executing their plan to get Emma and Katie to his estate, he couldn’t help but suspect that the arsonist was searching for them. He figured they were a day or two ahead of the arsonist, at best. The question was, would they be able to figure out the criminal’s identity and capture him before he discovered their whereabouts?
Michael knew little for certain, but expected to receive a missive from Armstrong soon, an update on the investigation in London. But in the meantime, he would continue to prepare for all possibilities—hiring more footmen and seeing to the fortification of the crumbling stone wall that bordered the estate.
As he thought about the arsonist, he shifted restlessly in the chair.
