Page 60 of An Unwitting Alliance
“Quite advanced, they say.”
He needed to sit down. Before he could make it to the edge of his bed, a memory flashed through his mind—one of Charley coughing long into the night, too tired to cry even though he was racked with pain. An ache from deep in his chest reared its head and clawed at Tom’s insides as his suppressed memories battled to be relived. He put both hands down on the bed and leaned forward, breathing deeply.
“Sir?”
“How many are sick?” He had to know.
“Several are ill, and they are quarantined from the others. My source tells me a surgeon by the name of Mr. Morse, who occasionally comes to the workhouse, is reluctant to treat them, for fear of catching the illness himself. The overseer makes no effort to press for other help.”
Tom sat on the mattress and met Joseph’s troubled gaze. “It’s leprosy.”
“Pardon?” Joseph laid out a butter-yellow waistcoat for him.
“Leprosy is known as the living death, but I would say the same for consumption. In this one aspect, I might rejoice that Alan is secluded from his mother.” Tom drew his gaze to the window, his fragile memories overcome by concern for Alan and the future he would never have with his mother.
“Mr. Morse was hesitant to release any information. I finally convinced Dr. Adams to speak with him, but I had to drop your name, sir.”
“I am glad you did.” Tom dragged his hand through his hair. “What about the boy? Did you learn anything?”
“I had difficulty securing the information, but I finally discovered a source at the White Horse pub—an employee from the workhouse. All he could tell me was that the young Mr. Kelby is not a favorite of the overseer, a Mr. Longbottom, partly because of his origins and partly because of the boy’s persistence in trying to be with his mother.”
Tom slipped into his waistcoat and mulled over the situation. “Thank you, Joseph, my righteous friend. You did well.” But now that Tom had the information, what was to be done? He wanted to rescue Alan and his mother from their unfortunate situation, but there was no cure for consumption. The worry stayed in the back of his mind throughout the rest of the morning.
Auntie Evans relieved him and Cassie from teaching by taking Michelangelo and Robin to spend a few days with the little girls at their cousins’ house. With the Pollards’ ball that night, an older widow stopped in to stay with Mrs. Vail so Auntie Evans could chaperone Cassie and Nutmeg.
With Tom’s mind consumed with alternating thoughts of Alan and floundering on what he should do about his feelings for Cassie, the time flew. Before he knew it, the hour had arrived to leave for the ball, and he found himself at the bottom of the staircase, waiting for the women to join him.
Auntie Evans came down first in a brownish-green gown with puffy sleeves. Or, at least, he thought it was green.
“Don’t you look a picture,” Tom said. “You will put all the young debutantesto shame.”
“Save your flattery for my niece, Mr. Harwood.” Though her words brushed off the compliment, a pretty blush settled on her cheeks.
Movement stole Tom’s attention, and his breath snagged in his chest as Cassie came into view at the top of the stairs. Immediately his distracted mind was captured by her appearance. The flounce on the bottom of her dress made her skirt bounce as she descended, and the gown itself was an eye-catching blue—his favorite color, as it was not only the same as Cassie’s eyes but also harder to mistake for something else. His gaze settled on her face, her countenance radiant. It had been two days since he had embraced her, but tonight she would be harder to resist than ever. Especially with the way she was smiling at him.
Auntie Evans called up to her, “Where is your sister? Is she not ready?”
“I am here, Aunt.” Nutmeg took the stairs much more quickly than Cassie. She linked arms with her sister before he could, effectively stealing her from him. “I hope the Pollards can live up to my expectation for the night. I am both a ball of nerves and all excitement.”
Auntie Evans led the way through the door, followed by Cassie and Nutmeg. But Tom was frozen in place. In an instant, all his indecision fled. The old Tom and the life he had once wanted were gone. No longer would his agenda be about besting his betrothed and tricking her into spinsterhood. More than anything, he desired to win her heart. He suddenly wanted to thank his parents—to thank the Matchmaking Mamas and even the Vails.
Cassie looked over her shoulder, gave him a curious look, and motioned him to follow. Wouldn’t she be surprised to know that his throat was growing thick with moisture? For a man who never cried, he found the moment to be quite sentimental. It was not every day a person realized he wanted to marry at the same time he realizedwhohe wanted to marry. Someone somewhere had better be celebrating this truly monumental occasion. It was all he could do not to chase after Cassie and confess his heart on the steps of the carriage.
He stepped out into the warm evening, and Mr. Buttars shut the door behind him.
“Prepare yourself, Charley,” he said into the soft breeze. “You will never believe it. I am in love with my betrothed. May heaven help me fight my demons.”
Chapter 21
Tom kept looking at Cassandrain a funny way, and she was not sure what to think of it. What was he plotting? He seemed quite proud of himself about something, much like when he had given her the mobcap. But he was different too—a decidedly settled air about him that lent a seriousness to his person. Their arrival at the Pollards’ momentarily distracted her from her curiosity.
Patricia and her parents stood in a short line outside the ballroom, receiving their guests. When Cassandra’s group approached, Patricia noticed Tom just behind her, and hereyes nearly bulged from their sockets when she did.
Mr. and Mrs. Pollard asked after Mama, and thankfully, Aunt Evans was able to give a favorable report. She also managed to expertly gloss over Papa’s trip to London as a father-son opportunity with Peter.
Patricia, however, was impatient with the details. “I had heard Mother extended an invitation to your guest.”
Aunt Evans did the honors of introducing them all to the Honorable Mr. Harwood. If Tom’s wide smile and handsome features did not do the trick, his title did.
