“Not at all.”
He pulled her closer and looked to Josie.
“I am alright too.”
The driver opened the window and stuck his head inside. “My apologies, sir. We hit a rather rough patch of road. Allow me a minute to inspect the underside.”
Felton nodded, then the driver closed the window.
Josie fidgeted on the velvet bench seat, her nerves overset. If the carriage were damaged it would delay their arrival. Nearly a full day had already passed since Devon left Faversham Abbey. More than twenty-four hours had lapsed since she'd last checked his wound.
Panic gripped her and she began to sweat. If the pink she’d observed had been infection setting in, he could be delirious with fever by now. What if she reached him too late?
The carriage door opened and Josie turned her attention to the driver who now filled the open space.
His face was drawn; eyes squinted as he sought Felton’s attention. “It seems we have cracked a wheel, sir.”
Terrible news, indeed. Josie locked gazes with Georgie, her stomach turning. She simply had to reach Devon, and sooner rather than later.
Georgie reached out and squeezed her hand, giving a reassuring grin.
“How bad is the damage?” Felton asked.
“We should be able to make it to the next inn if in we take it nice and slow.”
Then what? How long would it take to get a new wheel? Would Felton hire a carriage, or wait for his to be repaired? Josie pressed her lips together and rocked back on the seat. Perhaps it was a sign that she wasn’t meant to see Devon.
Nonsense!
She’d get to him even if she had to hire her own horse and ride every bit of the way. If she had to, she’d travel straight through the night. It would be well worth it to find him asleep in his bed, dark hair rumpled and bare chest exposed for her pleasure.
“Let us be on our way, then.” Felton said.
The driver disappeared, closing the door in his wake and a moment later the carriage lurched into motion. It creaked and ground as they made their way farther down the road. Josie swallowed as she turned to Felton. “What do you intend to do?”
“The wheel will have to be repaired before we can continue.”
“Can we not get a fresh carriage?” Georgie sidled closer to him. “Time is of the essence.”
Felton patted her hand. “Of course, Lady Bug. Just so long as the inn has one available.”
Josie breathed a sigh of relief and settled back against the seat.
It seemed as though minutes lapsed into hours as they made their way to the inn. Once there, Felton helped Georgie and Josie from the carriage, then ordered his driver to see about another carriage as well as the needed repairs to his. Turning to the ladies, he said, “It will take a bit of time to have a carriage ready if there is one available. Let us have a bit of food while we wait.”
Georgie took his arm, smiling. “I am famished.”
Food was the farthest thing from Josie’s mind. All the same she nodded, accepting Felton’s other arm.
He led them into the inn’s dining room and ordered tea and sandwiches. Not long after, the driver approached, requesting an audience with Felton. He obliged, leaving Georgie and Josie to enjoy the repast alone.
Georgie sipped from her teacup. “Please stop fretting. All will be well.”
“How can you be so certain?” Josie sat her tea aside, then china cup clanking upon the table top. “Infection can set in fast and with little warning. Once it takes hold…” She shook her head unwilling to continue.
“You don’t even know if he needs medical care. For that matter he could have his personal physician treating him.” Georgie lifted a sandwich from the platter. “All I am saying is that you will do yourself no good at all by worrying. We will get you to the duke’s estate as soon as possible.”
Josie found little comfort in the words, though she knew Georgie meant well. Her mistake was in thinking that Josie had no choice but to sit back and wait. The Josie of bygone days certainly would have, but now, she was a different woman. Her friends had taught her to be brave and strong. Self-assured and capable.
Felton strolled across the dining room then dropped into his chair. “I am afraid we will have to wait for a new wheel. There are no carriages available.”
“Then I will procure a mount and ride the remaining distance.” Josie stood, here chair wobbling with the force she’d exerted.
“You will do no such thing.” Felton said as Georgie rose to her feet, reaching out to take hold of Josie’s arm.
“If she so desires, she will.” Georgie notched her chin in a show of support.
“I have been assured that our carriage will be ready at first light. Now do be reasonable.” Felton stared at them. “You cannot ride out into the night…certainly not alone.”
“I intend to do just that.” Josie started toward the exit.
“And she won’t be alone.” Georgie said.
“Very well, Lady Bug, I cannot fight you both.” He caught unto them then came around them blocking their exit. “If I can secure the mounts, we will leave at once.”
Georgie rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I knew we could count on you.”
CHAPTER 7
Devon tugged at his cravat desperate to remove the blasted thing. His skin burned, and a sheen of sweat covered his brow. “It’s bloody hot in here, Stalworth. Open a window.”
“Right away, Your Grace.” The valet strode across the room then through open a window, allowing the night air in.
Devon pulled his cravat free then shrugged from his coat. “I won’t require a fire this evening.”
“Very well,” Stalworth said as he helped Devon out of his remaining garments. “Is there anything else you require?”
“No, thank you.” Devon slid into his bed as a knock sounded on his door. What the devil? He nodded at Stalworth then watched as he went to answer it.
“Visitors have arrived,” his butler’s voice drifted in from the hall.
Devon whipped sweat from his brow. “Who?”
“His Grace wishes to know who they are,” Stalworth repeated.
“A gentleman and two ladies. Mr. Felton Crawford—”
“Come in here. The both of you.” Devon’s heart raced as he sat up, pinning the butler with his gaze. “Go on.”
“Mr. Crawford, along with his wife and Lady Josephine.”
“Josie…” Excitement course through him. She’d followed him. His angel was here, under his roof. Excitement gave way to dread. “Where is mother?”
“Asleep in her room, Your Grace.”
Devon rubbed a hand across his jaw. As much as he longed to, he could not allow them to stay. What the devil were they doing here anyway? He took a deep breath. “Tell them I am not in residence.”
The butler failed. “Surely you do not mean for me to turn them away.”
“That is exactly what you are to do.”
The butler stammered, “F-forgive my insolence, Your Grace, but the hour is late. They came on horseback without the protection of a carriage.”
The damn fools! What was he to do now? He could not risk them discovering mother any more than he could toss them out into the night.
“Might I suggest putting them up in the east wing for the night?” Stalworth asked.
Devon detested the idea, but what other choice did he have? He could loan them a traveling coach and send them on their way, but that would give away the fact that he was in residence for servants did not hold such authority. At least in the east wing they would be far removed from mother’s suit of rooms. “Very well. See them settled for the night, but I want them gone at first light.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.” The butler bowed then, backing out of the room.
Devon settled back against his pillows. “Stalworth, there is one more thing.”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Instruct Sally not to leave mother’s side. Tell he
r we have guests and she is to keep mother safely out of sight until they have gone. Make Miss Harrington aware as well.”
“Straight away.” Stalworth extinguished the lamp beside Devon’s bed then took his leave.
Devon lay awake in the dark thinking about Josie on the other side of his house. Had she been dismayed to find him not at home? Did she believe that he was out? Did she lay awake too? Perhaps she longed to join him as he did her. If only things were different…
* * * *
Josie awoke in the middle of the night, her thoughts going right to Devon. Where could he be? His butler had informed him that the duke would be away for an extended time. Surly his wound must be healing nicely if he were traveling. Or he could have overestimated his resilience. At this very moment, he could be God knows where and suffering. If so, it was all her fault.
After finding it impossible to fall back asleep, she put on her wrapper, lit the lamp beside her bed, and stepped out into the hall. A small walk might help her relax and at this hour, no-one else was likely to be about. She started down the long corridor, her footfalls padded by the thick carpeting.
Along the way, she occasionally stopped to study a portrait hanging on the cream and gold papered walls or inspect a piece of art. Before long, she neared the end of the corridor. She started to turn back toward her room, then froze. Soft voices carried to her and she moved closer to hear them better.
“He is delirious with fever. I’ve bled him and will return at first light.”
“What are we to do in the meantime?”
“Pray.”
Josie strode around the corner and raced down the stairs toward the two men. The first she recognized as the butler, but the second was a stranger and most certainly a physician based on the conversation.
They stared at her, the butler wide-eyed, as she came to stand before them, her hands on her hips. “Did you use cups or leaches on His Grace?”
“Leaches.” The physician met her gaze through spectacle covered eyes.
“My lady, you must return to bed.” The butler’s face flamed red.
She’d been deceived. But why? It mattered not. Right now Devon needed her. She leveled her gaze on the butler, paying no mind to his words. “Take me to him straight away.”
“I am afraid I cannot.”
“You most certainly can,” Josie said.
“I-it would be most improper.”
“I am not leaving until I have seen His Grace with my own eyes.” She planted her feet firmly beneath her ready to stand there as long as necessary.
“He is not fit company for visitors,” the physician said.
Josie peered at him, her anger growing by the minute. “I will not be turned away.” She took a breath, her heart pounding. “You will take me to him or I will find him myself.”
She pivoted toward the stairs and began marching toward them. “I’ll wager his rooms are in the opposite wing from mine,” she tossed the words over her shoulder as she mounted the stairs. Determination and guilt warred within her, driving her to find Devon come what may.
“My lady,” the butler called after her. “You cannot mean to wonder about the house casting open every door you pass.”
“I most certainly will.” She did not pause in her ascent of the grand staircase, only hastened her steps.
“Do be reasonable. His Grace is asleep and well cared for by his physician.”
Josie notched her chin and rounded the landing to march down the west corridor. The prattle of the butlers footfalls grew louder as she pushed the first door she encountered open and peered into the dark room.
“Stop this at once,” the butler called after her.
She rounded on him, her shoulders squared. “I will cease my search once you agree to show me to Devon’s room.” Drat, she’d used his given name! Her face warmed but she did not relent. She pressed her lips together and stared at him in challenge.
When he did not comply, she moved to the next closed door and threw it open. Another dark room. Likely a parlor based on the outlines of the furniture. With a sigh, she moved farther down the corridor.
As she reached for yet another door handle the butler called out, “I will do as you wish.”
Josie dropped her hand to her side and turned to him. “Straight away, mind you.”
“Yes, follow me.”
She walked beside the butler, neither speaking a word until they reached the end of the hallway. There, the butler paused outside of a door and turned to her. “His Grace is within.”
Josie did not spare as much as a nod before flinging the door open and marching into the candle lit room. Her breath hitched when she found Devon sprawled on the bed. A sheet covered his torso, his skin was flushed, and hair damp with sweat. This was not at all what she’d imagined when she fantasized about finding him abed.
With her heart in her throat she reached out and placed her hand to his chest. His heart beat rapidly and the heat coming off of him near burned her. His wound was puckered, red, and full of puss. She trailed her gaze over his limp body until she found the place where the leaches drank greedily from his muscular thigh. This could not stand! She’d not allow it.
A quick glance revealed the butler standing in the doorway, staring at her. “Have hot water, clean rags, cool water, a knife, and scissors sent up at once. A bottle of whisky too. And wake Mr. and Lady Crawford. I will require their assistance.”
“Are you mad? I will do no such thing.”
“I am skilled with medicine, not madness.” Josie could not say what possessed her to do it, but she reached down, plucked a leach from Devon's thigh and cast it at the insolent butler. “Do as I said, now.”
She positioned herself beside Devon and began removing the remaining leaches as the butler stalked from the room. There was a chance he would send footman to remove her rather than sending her the required supplies. What the devil would she do then? There was but one thing to do, and she had to work fast.
With all of the vile creatures removed, she marched to the fire place and tossed them in. After retrieving the bedside lantern, she returned to the fire place and cast it in with all her strength. The lantern shattered, it oil and flame spreading across the fire place, igniting the old logs within. Next she reached for the poker and held it over the flames. She would have to reopen the wound to drain away the infection.
Josie returned the bed with the fire poker in hand and sat beside Devon. She ran one hand through his damp hair and whispered, “I won’t do it unless I am forced. If it comes to that, please forgive me. It is for your own wellbeing. We cannot allow the infection to remain.”
She sat there playing with his hair, stroking his cheek, and murmuring encouragement until the door opened once again. She released the breath she’d been holding and dropped the poker to the floor as maids entered caring the supplies she’d ordered. Georgie and Felton trailed in behind them. Thank God. All would be well now. Josie had to believe it would for she could not live with the guilt of his blood on her hands.
If she were being honest with herself, she would admit that she could not live without him. She spared one more glance at Devon before turning her attention to the others. “He is burning with fever. The wound is badly infected. I have to clean it at once.” She angled her head to the maids. “Place the supplies here, beside the bed. And bring me another lantern.”
“What do you require of us?” Georgie asked.
“Hold him down in case he should wake. What I must do will cause him a great deal of pain but it cannot be avoided.” Josie reached for the knife as Felton and Georgie moved to hold Devon in place.
Once the maid set a lantern on the table, Josie brought the blade to Devon’s shoulder. With a steady hand, she began slicing through the stitches. Blood and puss oozed from the cut as she worked to reopen the wound. One of the maids screamed and then both scurried from the room, but Josie did not pause in her work.
Mercifully, Devon remained unconscious. With the stitches removed,
Josie retrieved a clean rag and dipped in it the hot water. “I must drain the infection now. I will one as gentle as possible,” she spoke to Devon as she worked. “There now, it will only take a minute.” She played her fingers on either side of the cut and began to squeeze the remaining puss from his shoulder.
Devon’s body jerked, a low moan emitting from deep within him. He began to thrash, his feet flailing, arms swinging.
“Hold him,” Josie called to Georgie and Felton. She placed a hand on Devon’s forehead and spoke to him in a soothing tone. “You are burning with fever. I must tend your wound. Relax, Devon. I will see you well.”
He settled under her ministrations and she began to squeeze again. This time when he began moaning and resisting, she ignored him and continued. The pain soon became too much and he went limp once more. Josie’s heart ached for him and the suffering he’d endured, but there was no other way.
She washed the wound with hot water then rinsed it with whiskey before closing it once more. With his shoulder properly cared for, she reached for a fresh rag and dipped it in the cool water before running it over his face, neck, and chest.
At last, she turned to Georgie and Felton who had moved to stand near the window. “I will be alright by myself now. You can return to bed.”
“Are you certain?” Georgie stared at her with something akin to awe shining in her cat like eyes.
“Absolutely. The hard part is behind us. Now we just keep him comfortable and wait for the fever to break.” Josie continued bathing him with the cool rag.
Felton wrapped his arm around Georgie’s shoulder and began guiding her toward the door. “Send for us if the need arises.”
Josie nodded, she and Georgie exchanging a knowing glance before they disappeared into the corridor.
A yawn raked her body and she lay down next to Devon. She needed rest, but would not leave his side. She snuggled against his hot skin, one arm resting on his chest, the cool rag clutched in her hand and let sleep take her.
CHAPTER 8
J osie had not left Devon’s side. For two nights and three day’s she remained in his room, praying and bathing him with cool rags while rinsing his wound with whiskey. A couple of times he’d woken, but never for long. He’d spoken to her as well, but nothing he said made much sense. She supposed the fever had made him delirious.
Josephine (Lady Archer's Creed Book 4) Page 5
