Allison Lane by A Bird in Hand Read Free Book Online Page B

that she could leave him.  And using her second name would protect her from exposure.  If she could coax him back to sleep, he might not remember her at all.
    “Rest, Mr. Randolph,” she crooned.  “Sadie will return shortly.”
    * * * *
    Randolph gingerly opened his eyes.  The room was unfamiliar, its ceiling so low that he could probably touch it if he were standing.  Heat beat uncomfortably against his right side.  He tossed away the rug someone had tucked close about him, then winced as pain stabbed through his left shoulder.
    “Damn,” he muttered as memory returned.  Forcing himself to sit up, he took in his state of undress, the clothing hanging over benches near the fire, and the bandages wrapping his shoulder and head.
    He remembered jumping into the river.  The lady had been valiant, but her riding habit had made rescue nearly impossible.  He recalled grabbing a tree, but little after that.  His impulse might easily have killed him.  The current had been far stronger than he had anticipated, and the water had chilled him until every movement required Herculean effort.  All in all, he had been a prime fool, as Whitfield would say.
    Had his mission been successful, or had someone else fished him out?
    Sedge.  Dear God, he hoped Sedge had followed orders!
    But Sedge was no fool.  He would already be leading a search party along the riverbank.  Surely they would check any dwellings, which meant that they had not yet reached this point.
    Struggling to his feet, he began the painful process of forcing his battered body into the remains of his clothes.  He was buttoning his waistcoat when a lady emerged from the next room.
    “You shouldn’t be up, Mr. Randolph,” she scolded.  “I already told you that Sadie will see after your wounds.”
    Now that she mentioned it, he vaguely recalled speaking with her.  “Who are you?” he demanded, reaching for his boots.  Linden would shudder when he saw them.
    “You may call me Anne.”
    “Are you all right?”  He was fairly certain that she was the lady from the river – she was wearing a mud-stained habit.  But her brown hair was dry, the scratch on her face was scabbed over, and she looked remarkably alert for someone who had nearly drowned.
    “Of course, and I appreciate your assistance, though it is unfortunate you were injured.  I will always remember you kindly.”
    He touched the bandage around his head.  “What happened?”
    “Don’t you recall?”
    He shook his head.
    “A branch struck you just as we reached the riverbank.  You managed to stagger this far before you collapsed.”
    “Is Sadie in there?” he nodded toward the room she had just emerged from.
    “She’s in the village, but should return shortly.”  Her face had taken on a haunted expression.
    “What time is it?”  He had a gnawing feeling that it had been much longer than he’d thought.  Even his boots were dry.  His premonitions surged back.  This trip had been a disaster from the beginning, every day worse than the last.  Would the Ides of March deal him a death blow as it had done to Caesar?
    “Morning, sir.”
    “We’ve been here all night?  Alone?”  She was at least gentry, if not higher.  No one else in the country could afford a riding habit or a dedicated saddle horse.  Most did not even ride aside, if they rode at all.  So she was a lady.  And he had badly compromised her.
    “You were unconscious.  I fell asleep waiting for my clothes to dry, but there is nothing to fear.  No one will ever learn of this.”
    “And just how will you keep it a secret?  Sadie knows we were here.  Your family will have missed you.  You are naïve to believe they won’t notice your condition.”  He nodded toward her disheveled habit.
    “No one will miss me because they did not expect me to return yesterday.  The storm will adequately explain the state of my clothing.  Sadie remained in the village last night, so she will know nothing of this.