A Dangerous Man (23 page)

"I see" The doctor pulled his spectacles down to the tip of
his nose, then looked up at her over the rims. "Would you
please describe his symptoms?"

Mrs. Bristoll could not speak past her tears. She dabbed
her eyes with a handkerchief clutched in her fist.

Using the back of her hand, Leah brushed the damp hair
off her brow. "His first attack occurred four weeks ago" On the
day she first met Richard and learned of her father's perfidy.

Good heavens, how much her life had changed in these few short weeks. "At first, it seemed a bout of influenza with accompanying aches and pains, followed by many days of perfect health. Over the last week, Mrs. Bristoll said the fevers
have come with increasing frequency. I, myself, was too ill to
attend him in his duress"

"He shivers with cold," Mrs. Bristoll finally managed, her
voice hoarse from smothering her sobs. "Then he burns, for
long hours. Finally, he sweats through his bedding. Then he
wakes, cool as can be. Next day, it all starts again."

"He has been purged from top to bottom," Leah added, "as
per the first doctor's direction, but that treatment has had no
effect, save to leave the boy weaker than the fever it was meant
to fight."

The doctor nodded. "Tertian fever, from the sounds. It is
often thought a common grippe, even by the most experienced of physicians, as the patient seems fine in between recurrences"

Leah wrapped her arm around Mrs. Bristoll's shoulders
and gave her a reassuring squeeze. She hoped the woman
took some comfort from the doctor's words, as Mrs. Bristoll
was nearly overcome, blaming herself for failing to recognize
the seriousness of the situation sooner than she had.

"Until the intermissions become more perfect," the doctor
said, "more predictable, one can never be quite certain. Even
then, only time and his response to treatment will tell the tale.
Would you be so kind as to show me to my patient?"

"Certainly." Leah gestured toward the pantry.

The house was eerily silent, save for the squeaking floorboards above them as Mrs. Bristoll climbed the stairs and
tucked the other children into their beds.

While the doctor pushed his fingers into Tommy's stomach,
Leah stroked her hand over the boy's brow. It was cool and
soft, no sign of the fever that was eating away his will to survive. In a few hours, did he not gain relief, he would be soaked
with sweat and shivering as if he slept atop a bed of snow.

"I will need warm water," the doctor finally said.

Leah retrieved a bowl from the shelf, then shuffled into the
kitchen to fill it from the kettle hanging over the hearth. She
added enough cold water from the ewer on the wooden table
to cool the liquid to a tepid base.

The doctor took off his spectacles, rubbed them with the
ends of his cravat, before putting them back on. "He needs
bleeding for the excess fluids in his lungs."

"Bleeding?" Leah clutched her hand to her throat. "But
he is so weak"

Dr. Ashcroft offered her a gentle smile. "I would treat him
no differently, were he your own child, Your Grace. As you
can see, he is laboring to breathe. Bleeding will balance the
humors and ease his distress. The cinchona bark will treat the
fever. He will need several doses over the next few days.
Though I must inform you, this substance brings no guarantees, save the cost. It is very dear"

"You need not worry about your fee," Leah said, sitting on
a stool beside the bed.

The doctor pulled three phials from his valise. He spooned
a powder into a cup, then added two different liquids. Slipping
his arm beneath Tommy's shoulders, he dripped the decoction
into the boy's mouth. "Now, I do not want you to worry when
he does not awaken. Cinchona bark is quite bitter, so I have
mixed in several drops of laudanum to keep his stomach from
convulsing."

She closed her eyes. "How will we know if it is working?"

"If he remains cool when the time comes round for his next
fever, then we will know." The doctor made a tiny nick between the first two knuckles of the boy's left hand, then submerged his fingers into the bowl to let the warm water draw
off the blood.

Leah took Tommy's right hand in hers. It felt so small, so lifeless, her vision blurred beneath her tears. She had told herself
not to get too attached. The chances that any of these children would live a year, two at the most, were never very good, better
now that they dwelled under Mrs. Bristoll's roof, but still not
good. When they arrived, they were under-fed. Under-grown.
Under-loved. Withered stalks, never likely to bloom.

Of course, it was easier to tell oneself not to care, than it
was to turn off one's heart. She tried not to think of her sister's
child, but once unleashed, the thoughts made a never-ending
circle through her mind. Was he fed? Was he clothed?

Did someone hold his hand as his blood filled a bowl?

Pile blankets atop him? Soothe his brow?

She closed her eyes as the room swirled around her. Someone called her name. It sounded like Richard, but that couldn't
be. He belonged in another world, another place, where life
was clean and tidy, and little children didn't die from hunger
and neglect.

Through the buzzing in her ears, she heard the distant
sound of boot heels scraping over the wooden floorboards in
the kitchen. She turned her gaze to the door. It was Richard.

He pulled up another stool. His dark eyes held no hint of his
earlier wrath, nor condemnation or disgust for the wretched
soul huddling in the tiny bed. He did not speak. He simply
stroked her hand as he sat beside her.

She turned her palm up, seeking the warmth of his skin to
ease the chill in her heart. He laced his fingers through hers,
and side-by-side, they waited through the night.

When the first feeble rays of dawn spilled gray light
through the kitchen window, the doctor smiled. "I believe we
can safely assume the boy is out of danger now."

As if she did not believe his words, Leah ran her fingers
over Tommy's brow. He still drew breath, his skin did not burn.

She buried her face in her hands. Her thoughts seemed
strangely detached, slightly disoriented, as if she were moving
through a dream. She heard Richard speak, felt his resonant voice tremble over her skin, but she could not discern
his words.

When he swung her into his arms, she wrapped her hands
around his neck, pulled herself closer to his solid chest and
the strength he offered. She was vaguely aware of Mrs. Bristoll tucking her cloak beneath her chin, of whispered words
that made no sense, then Richard carried her to the carriage
awaiting them.

He cradled her across his lap through the seemingly endless ride through the streets, his warm hands stroking gentle
circles on her back, his murmured words, soft and soothing
near her ear.

When they arrived home, he carried her to her room,
swiftly stripped off her clothing, slipped her nightgown over
her head, then wrapped her in his arms as he sat in a chair by
the windows.

The morning sun burned against her skin and still, violent
shivers wracked her body. She burrowed against his chest,
seeking his warmth, his strength, his silent reassurance. He
kissed her brow, rubbed his hands over her back and held
her secure in his arms as her tears soaked his shirt.

She could not say what made her weep, the joy that Tommy
still drew breath, or the grief for her lost sister, once unleashed, now trembling through her with penetrating horror.

When her tears dwindled to a final sob, the urge to hide
from her shameful lack of control set her legs to trembling,
but she tilted her head to meet his gaze. His midnight eyes
peered back at her, their smoky depths filled with an emotion
she dared not contemplate in her unsteady state.

He offered her a grim smile. "How do you feel?"

"About the same as the day I crashed into the rock" She
did not recognize her own throaty voice.

His lips twitched, but his smile did not hide the concern in
his eyes. "I daresay you looked better when you bashed your head" The rhythmic beat of his heart beneath her ear soothed
her with its soft cadence. "Talk to me."

His deep voice rumbled in his chest. It was a comforting
sound. Leah drew a shaky breath. "I have a sister. Her name is
Catherine. She is sweet and kind and beautiful, and I haven't
seen her in nearly five years"

Richard stroked her arm. "What happened to her?"

"The usual, sad tale. . "Her throat tightened. A clenching
pain burned within her breast. She closed her eyes. "A dashing rogue seduced her, promised her love and fidelity, then
abandoned her when she found herself with child. My father
banished her from our lives and forbade the mention of her
name"

Richard clamped his arms around her, protective bands of
steel to keep her safe as she waded through the pain of her
past and her father's treachery. She smoothed her hand over
his cravat, wrinkled now beyond repair. "I do not know where
she is. I do not know if I have a niece or a nephew. Or they
could both be dead and I would never know."

"How old were you at the time?"

"Fourteen" She curled into his shoulder, seeking his heat
to banish the cold seeping through her bones. The chirping of
birds nesting in the trees outside her window seemed an incongruous sound to the turmoil swirling within her mind.

"Catherine was seventeen. I do not understand. Why did
she never contact me? Didn't she know that I would worry?
That I loved her? That I would never condemn her? I would
have found some way to help her, if only I had known where
she was"

"I understand your anger at her-"

"I'm not angry at her. I am angry at my father."

"Of course you are." Framing her face with his hands,
Richard stroked his thumbs over her cheeks in a soothing
caress. His morning beard covered his chiseled jaw. He smiled
tenderly, his eyes dark and mesmerizing in their intensity. "She abandoned you to wonder and worry about her fate. You have
every right to feel angry. And hurt. But you have no reason to
feel any guilt. There was nothing you could have done"

Leah started to protest, then collapsed in his arms. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I am angry at her. I do not know
any more. Everything is such a muddle."

"Tell me about the foundling home"

"When I think of Catherine and her child, I cannot help but
wonder, are they treated well? Or is her child scorned because
he is a bastard?" Leah twisted her hands in his shirt. "Bastard!
What a vicious word. As if a babe has any choice in when or
where he comes into the world, or who his parents are"

Some dark emotion flared in his eyes before he pulled her
tightly against his chest until no space was left between them.
His familiar scent of jasmine and amber soothed her as surely
as his warm breath fluttering over her brow.

"So many children in this world suffer for their birth," she
said, her lips touching his neck, tasting the salt of his skin.
"Especially amongst the poor. Back home, I thought their
lives were bleak, but nothing compares to the wretchedness
of this city. The filth, the squalor. It is bad for the adults,
worse for the children because no one loves them, and they
do not understand. Every child should have someone who
loves him."

Her unspoken words hung in the air. Did someone love her
sister's child? Care for him when he was ill? Comfort and
hold him when he wept? What was his name? What color
were his eyes?

Had her sister ever married? Did she have enough to eat?

Does she ever think of me?

Leah shuddered, as if from a sudden fever.

She forced her thoughts back into the darkness where they
could not cause her pain. "Mrs. Bristoll is a kind soul. She
spends her money on food and housing, but what about clothing? A visit from the doctor is very dear. Who pays for that?"

"How did you choose this particular establishment?"

"Mrs. Bristoll is sister to the vicar in my home parish.
When he learned I was travelling to Town, he asked me to deliver a parcel for him. Once I met her and learned of her good
work, how could I not support her?"

"I understand your desire to help, but can you not confine
your charitable deeds to a better part of Town?"

Leah almost laughed, but the ache in her chest was still too
tight. "Oh, I don't know. Do you suppose Mayfair has many
homeless children who need my help?"

He chuckled grimly. "I suppose not. But what about the
Foundling Hospital? They would welcome your support"

Leah shook her head. "Do not misunderstand me. The
Foundling Hospital is a wonderful institution, but those children have numerous people attending to their needs. There
are thousands more with nowhere to turn. Those are the children who need my help. Those are the children-"

Richard pressed his fingertips to her lips. "Enough. I am
convinced and converted. At least now I understand why it is
so important to you. You may continue your visits provided
you always take the Town coach and travel with four outriders of my choosing." Her sulky nod made him grin, as if he
did not quite expect her to give in so easily. "I find it hard to
fathom your father allowed you traipse around St. Giles."

Leah shrugged. "He did not know. He did not care, as long
as I did not mention Catherine or her child or the poor or anything else he found disagreeable." She fingered the collar of
his shirt, peeked at him from beneath her lashes. "Richard,
I ... I am dreadfully sorry for the hideous things I said to you
yesterday. It seems I have a bit of a temper."

He laughed. "So I noticed. Unlike me, of course, who is possessed of the most even temperament. And that, my dear, is the
closest to an apology you will ever wring from me. We men
have rules, you see. Never apologize. Never admit defeat. And
never discuss anything when we can issue orders instead."