“I will certainly do that, my lady.”
“Furthermore...” she continued, “do you happen to know the whereabouts of Edith? She's my stepsister.” When she saw the butler's creased brow, she added, “she's a bit taller than me, with auburn hair, hazel eyes, a--”
“A young lady who fits your description was here, my lady,” the butler informed her. “I believe she is in the company of his lordship.”
“Wonderful! Thank you.” Cynthia grabbed Robert's elbow and dragged him outside, back to the horses.
When he saw her climbing onto her horse, Robert asked, “Would it be more sensible to wait for his return? If he's searching for you, and you're searching for him, you might end up searching for each other for the rest of the night!”
“He's worried about me!” Cynthia exclaimed. “If there is any chance I can find him and assuage his fears, I must look for him!”
“So you say.” With a sigh, Robert mounted his finicky nag. “But it seems like a bad idea to me.”
“You'll accompany me, won't you?”
“If I let you ride into the great unknown on your own, what sort of man would I be?” Robert flashed a dimple-ridden smile. “Anywhere you go, Princess, I will surely follow.”
“I am in your debt, Robert.”
Cynthia led him into the surrounding woodland, where she was plagued by memories of the previous night. The cold. The rain. The chill. The heartache. As she recalled her misery, Cynthia's body shuddered.
“Are you alright?” Robert asked.
“I am well enough,” Cynthia said. “I was thinking about last night... and how grateful I am that you came to my rescue.”
“I didn't really come to your rescue. You stumbled in my path. I got lucky.”
Cynthia rolled her eyes as he downplayed his role. “Be that as it may, you are my savior. Do you think I might have died out there? When you found me, I could have sworn I was seconds away from freezing to death!”
“I doubt it was as dire as that. Nevertheless, I am glad I found you when I did. I...” She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “I never want anything bad to happen to you, Cynthia. There is nothing I wouldn't do to keep you out of harm's way.”
“That is very kind of you, Robert. You're such a wonderful...” Her tongue was temporarily frozen, rebelling against the word. “Friend.”
As they followed the woodland path, Cynthia's horse was halted by the sound of an animal rustling in the brush. Spooked, the white mare let out a tiny whinny.
Cynthia leaned close to her horse's ear and whispered, “What is it, girl?” She gave her mane a scratch, hoping the affection would ease the animal's worries, but it only got worse. When a starling flitted from the bush, the horse reared up on his hind legs.
And Cynthia was thrown from her saddle.
Chapter Twenty Six
The three thieves were almost identical, which made Edith wonder if they were brothers. Tanned skin. Dark, overlong hair. Piercing eyes. They were dressed like gypsies, in dingy caps, scarves, and billowy white shirts. The one standing closest to them raised his pistol and pointed it at Lord Charmington's head.
“Your belongings, if you please.”
James exchanged a nervous glance with Edith, who was chewing on her lip. “I have nothing,” he said.
“Nonsense!” The armed gypsy man laughed at his claim. “A man dressed as fancy as you is bound to have something. Hand me your coat.”
“I don't think—”
“Hand me your coat!” The thief shook his pistol as he restated his command. He watched intently as Lord Charmington shrugged off his greatcoat and tossed it at the assailant's feet. The pistol-wielding gypsy whistled at one of his companions, who grabbed James' coat and fished a hand into the pockets. He pulled out a handkerchief, but nothing else.
“See? I wasn't lying,” James said. “I have nothing.”
The thief pointed his pistol at Edith, and the sight of the close-range barrel made her gasp. “The lady, then? Hand over everything you've got!”
“There is really no need for this, gentlemen,” Lord Charmington attempted to reason with them. “Leave the lady alone.”
“Gentlemen?!” laughed one of the thief's cronies. “Did 'e jes say we was gentlemen? That was polite of 'im!”
“Is that a necklace I see?” As he leaned toward Edith, the thief grinned, which put his rotting teeth on display. He held out his free hand and uncurled his dirty fingers. “Hand it over, and we won't hurt no one.”
Edith unfastened her necklace, an onyx pendant, and held it out to the thieves. The man with the pistol snatched the necklace and gave it a sniff, as if the scent would somehow determine its quality. “Looks fancy enough,” he said.
“Robbing from a lady...” James shook his head with disbelief. “There really is no honor among thieves, is there?”
“Ey? You be quiet!” Once again, the thief pointed the pistol between Lord Charmington's eyes. As he tossed Edith's pendant to one of his accomplices, he said, “Turn out your pockets, gent.”
“But I already--”
“Your pockets, milord, on the double!” the gypsy demanded. “And if I find out youse been lyin, I won't take kindly to it!”
James' hand was trembling as he dipped into his pocket. When he turned out his pockets, a gold pocket watch tumbled to the ground. As soon as Edith saw it, she winced. She hoped the thief would not deliver on his threat.
“Ooo, and whaddo we have here, men?” Keeping the pistol on James, the thief squatted to get a better look at the pocket watch. “Is that something of value I see?”
“It is practically worthless,” James said.
“It don't look worthless to me.” He snatched the pocket watch from the ground and observed the quality. “This is real gold, innit?”
“It...”
“You lied to me, ey, guvnor? About not having nuffing? Was this little trinket more important than your life, guvnor?!”
When he saw the thief shaking his pistol, James stepped in front of Edith, shielding her with his body. “You have her necklace and my pocket watch. Is that not enough?”
Apparently, it wasn't. The pistol was fired, and James fell to his knees. When she saw the blood soaking his shirtsleeves, Edith gasped. As the thieves fled into the woods with their stolen possessions, Edith dropped to the ground beside the fallen earl.
“I'm... fine,” he grumbled.
“Oh, James...” She watched him grip his stomach, where the blood was seeping through his shirt. “You're not fine! What am I supposed to do?!”
“I--”
“I need to get back to Ridgeley Manor. I need to get help!”
“No!” When he saw her rise, James grabbed her arm. “Don't leave me! Help me to my feet!”
“I don't know if that's wise.”
“I don't want to be alone in the woods, by myself, bleeding to death,” James said. “What if you never find me again? No... I have to go with you!”
“V-v-v...” As panicked as she was, Edith could no longer string together a lucid thought. She wrapped the earl's arm around her shoulders, and with a grunt, she hoisted him aloft. When she saw his pained expression, she asked, “Is there nothing I can do to help!?”
“Just get me back to Ridgeley Manor...”
“Of course.”
“What about Cynthia?!” He kept his arm around Edith as they made their way forward.
“Please, James... right now, your health is our primary concern.”
“But Cynthia might be dying!”
You might be dying! That's what Edith wanted to say, but she didn't want to discourage him. The front of his shirt was soaked with blood, and the color had drained from his face.
All of a sudden, Lord Charmington's footmen came rushing toward them, having been summoned by the sound of the discharged pistol. Without warning, they brushed Edith aside and took hold of the earl's body.
“What happened?!” bellowed one of the stockier footmen.
> Edith followed the footmen, all four of them, as they headed back to Ridgeley Manor with Lord Charmington. “We were accosted by thieves,” Edith explained. While her ankle was still throbbing, it was suddenly the furthest thing from her mind. “They took our possessions, then they shot him.”
The footmen murmured something amongst themselves, but Edith could not make out what they were saying. Something about “sending someone after the thieves,” but she could not be sure. The footmen moved quickly, and with her sore foot, Edith had a hard time keeping their pace.
When they returned to Ridgeley Manor, they carried James to his bedchamber and sent for a doctor. James, who was quickly losing consciousness, tore off his shirt and fell into the bed. “I want to see it...” he murmured. “I want to see the wound.”
Edith followed them into James' bedchamber. It might have been improper, but given the circumstances, she did not care. She sat beside him on the bed and stared at his wound, where dark blood had amassed around an undulating hole.
“It looks terrible, doesn't it?” James whimpered. “I'm going to die, aren't I?”
“No. No, of course not.” Edith gently stroked his forehead, where his wavy locks were matted to his perspiring skin.
One of the footmen tried to press a cloth against the earl's wound, in an attempt to halt the bleeding. James' face was twisted in agony.
“I'm in... a great deal of pain,” he grunted.
“I know. I'm terribly sorry... I wish there was something I could do to ease your pain.” Edith ran her fingers through his hair as he whimpered. As she continued to caress him, her thoughts wandered. If only Cynthia were here! She knew her stepsister would want to be at her fiance's bedside.
“Is my mother here?!” James asked the footman.
“No, my lord... she left for London yesterday.” The footman exchanged worried glances with Edith. “Do you not remember?”
“Oh...” James pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to recall that detail. “I can't remember. Why can't I remember?! Am I delirious!?”
Edith continued to brush her fingers across his forehead, hoping some gentle human contact would console him. For a few seconds, his eyes were glassy and lifeless, which made her heart stop. “James? James?!” When she saw him blink, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“I'm... alright,” he tried to assure her. “Where is Cynthia?”
“She's missing, James.”
“Then you need to find her. Find her, and bring her to me...”
“James, I--”
Before Edith could respond, a white-haired doctor with a tremendous moustache rushed into the room with one of the footmen. Edith thought it was best to leave the room while they treated him, so she rose from the bed and went to the door.
When he saw her leaving, James shouted, “Edith!” which made her pause in the doorway.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Will you come back?” he whispered, in a voice so low she could barely hear him. “Come back and sit with me when the doctor is finished with me? I need you with me.”
“Of course, my lord.” Edith bobbed a curtsy as she slipped from the room. “Of course.”
* * *
“He has a terrible fever,” the doctor told her, “but I've closed the wound and stopped the bleeding. This night will be the worst of it. If he makes it through the night, I am sure he will pull through.”
Edith's lips were pulled into a tense smile. “Thank you, doctor. And thank you for coming as quickly as you did.”
“Are you his fiance?”
“Goodness, no.” The doctor's question made Edith chuckle. “My stepsister is his fiance.”
“Are you Cynthia or Edith?” the doctor asked. “When he was in the throes of delirium, he was calling out for both of you.”
“Was he?” Edith could feel the warmth flooding her cheeks. “I am Edith.”
“Edith... I see. Well then, take care of him, Edith. It would be best if someone sat with him through the night... to monitor his condition,” the doctor said. “If he takes a turn for the worse, don't hesitate to send for me, for I am never too far away.”
“Of course, Doctor Hodge, thank you. You have my gratitude.”
As soon as the doctor excused himself, Edith returned to James' bedchamber, and she was a bit surprised to find him awake and conscious. When he saw her standing in the doorway, James smiled at her.
“You look beautiful, Cynthia,” he said.
“I'm not Cynthia.”
“Oh...” James squinted his eyes, then he took another look at her. “Edith. I'm sorry. I'm--”
“There is no need for an apology,” Edith said. She sat in a chair at his bedside and reached for his hand, which was cold and slightly damp. “You have been through so much.”
“Where is Cynthia?”
“I have no idea, my lord, but I will resume my search as soon as I am able.” Edith looked down at her foot, which was still encased in a pain-inducing prison. She did not know when she would be able to resume her search, but Cynthia was never far from her mind. It seemed she was destined to spend her days worrying about the people she cared about most. “Is there anything I can do for you, James? Anything to make you more comfortable?”
James' eyelids fluttered weakly, then he whispered, “Cynthia?”
“No, my lord,” she gently corrected him. “It is Edith.”
“Edith...” He smiled again. “Edith, my heart's desire.”
Even though he was feverish, and likely still delirious, his bizarre claim made Edith smile.
“Come closer, Edith,” James whispered.
Edith leaned toward him, hovering over his body. “What is it, my lord?”
“Cynthia...”
“Edith,” she corrected him again. She laid a hand on his forehead, and was disheartened to discover he was still burning up.
“Edith...” His dark blue eyes were frantically searching hers. “I need something from you, Edith.”
“What is it, my lord?”
All of a sudden, he coiled a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down for a kiss. When their lips touched, Edith gasped. He held her close to him, deepening the kiss, and tickled her lips with his tongue. Despite the strangeness of it, Edith found that she rather enjoyed being kissed.
As soon his mouth departed, James closed his eyes and whispered, “Thank you, Cynthia. I needed that.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
“Cynthia!” Robert flew from his horse as soon as he saw her fall. “Oh no no no no no no no!” He ran to her side and grabbed her hand.
Cynthia was lying on her back, pursing her lips, trying to suppress a moan. “It... isn't so bad,” she lied.
“What should I do?!” Robert clutched his head in panic, snaking his fingers through his errant brown curls. “Should I fetch a doctor? Can you sit up? Can you move your arms?! Where are you hurt?”
At present, Cynthia was in too much pain to make sense of Robert's barrage of questions. She sat up, winced, and said, “I think I am alright.”
Without thinking, he pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I didn't see it happen until it was too late. What happened?”
“My horse got spooked... and she threw me.”
“How did you land?”
“On my back,” Cynthia grunted. “On my shoulders, mostly. Which would explain the soreness...”
“What about your neck?”
“I am fine, Robert. I promise.” When she tried to scramble to her feet, her knees gave out, and she landed on her rear end.
“You are not fine!” Robert slipped an arm under her knees, and his other arm coiled around her back. “Put your arms around me.”
“What?! Why?”
“I'll carry you,” Robert explained. “Just to the horse. I don't think you should be walking around right now.”
“It is hardly necessary that you carry me everywhere, Robert. I am perfectly capable of making it on my own!”
But Robert kept hi
s arms around her; he wasn't going to give up that easily. “Come on now! No protests!”
“Very well... if I must.” As soon as Cynthia coiled her arms around him, Robert lifted her off her feet and carried her to his horse: the old nag. When she realized her horse was nowhere to be found, she asked, “What happened to my horse?”
“The white one? After she threw you, she kept running.” Robert lifted Cynthia into the saddle and mounted the horse behind her. “I guess I was wrong to think this horse was the troublesome one.”
The brown nag turned her neck and snorted at him, as if she could hear his insult.
“It was your uncle's horse,” Cynthia noted. “I'll get you in trouble with him...”
“It was hardly your fault, Cynthia!” Robert said. “Besides, my uncle is very forgiving.”
“I've been a burden on you.”
“Nonsense.” Robert buried his lips in her hair and gave her a gentle kiss—hoping she would not notice.
“Why am I so prone to accidents?! Right now, I think I might be the unluckiest person in the world!” Cynthia complained. “Georgiana harasses me, Jemima destroys my letter, I nearly freeze to death, then I am thrown from my horse! I must have spent all my luck when Lord Charmington proposed to me.”
“Perhaps...” Robert said with a sigh.
“Maybe you are the unlucky one!” Cynthia said. “You're always coming to my aid. I must be so troublesome!”
“I already told you...” Robert resisted the temptation to kiss her again, because too much affection would make her suspicious. “You are not a burden. Silly girl.”
“Do you think James is worried about me?”
“James? Lord Magnificent? Of course he is. He is looking for you as we speak, isn't he?” With a frown, Robert added, “It sounds like he would go to the ends of the earth for you.”
Cynthia tried to steal a glimpse of Robert over her shoulder, but when she realized she had tears in her eyes, she quickly looked away. “Do you think so?”
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