Damsel In Distress?. Kristina O'Grady

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СКАЧАТЬ snapped. This gathering had gone on long enough.

      Charlie wasn’t done yet. “How did you get the saddle? Surely someone saw you.”

      “I bought it. The Bow Street runner there wasn’t concerned about evidence. In fact, he assumed some gent broke his horse’s leg and then shot it before high-tailing it home so he wouldn’t have to dispose of the creature. All I had to do was offer money for the saddle. I love London. They make this all too easy.”

      Charlie stroked the beard on his chin. “Except for our witness. Have you found out who he is?”

      “That’s exactly what we are doing here.” Peter wondered why he surrounded himself with idiots. “You and Harry make some inquires about who he is. He’ll know what happened to our Princess.”

      Charlie looked over towards the far end of the room. “Are you sure about Harry, boss?”

      Peter turned to look at the man in question just in time to see him sniff his handkerchief. “On second thought, maybe you and I should go out there by ourselves. Go home, Harry.”

      Harry nodded and waited for the other men to leave the room before he snuck out the back door of the house, a smile on his lips.

       Chapter 9

       Dear Readers, it is with great concern I write this to you today. It has recently been brought to my attention that Lord Eaglestone was seen in the company of a particular lady two mornings past. Unfortunately this author has been unable to procure the identity of the young lady in question, however I am of the understanding that all is not as well as it seems at No. 7 Park Street. Not long after the lady and gentleman (if one could call him that) arrived at the door, so too did a doctor and it was some time before he departed. No one other than Lady C has left the residence and I am assured that Lady C is not the lady in question. So who is this mystery woman was in need of a physician and why, oh why did Lord Eaglestone kiss her?

      “It’s bloody well in the papers!” Philip stormed across the room with a newspaper in his hand. He flung the paper down on the table in front of his sister. “Who saw us? You didn’t tell anyone she was here did you?”

      Cressandra adjusted the surplice sleeve of her white morning dress. “No of course not, brother,” she said and calmly moved the paper away from her breakfast plate. “I know all too well what state she was in when she arrived. It was clear to me someone wishes to see her dead. It would be most irresponsible of me to say she was under our roof.” She bit into a pastry with relish. She did love her breakfast.

      “It wouldn’t be the staff.” He was certain of that. He knew where their loyalties lay.

      “Oh no, Philip, you know they would not say a word.” Cressandra tipped her head at him and asked, “Did you really kiss her?”

      “I did no such thing. Whoever saw us obviously thought they saw something they didn’t or this writer,” he pointed to the offending the paper lying discarded near the poached eggs, “is trying to sell more copies.” Philip ignored the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he might be lying. He had wanted to kiss Harriet, her lips begged him to, but he would’ve been a cad to take advantage when she was in the state she was the night she was attacked.

      They looked at each other for a moment. “Mrs Barrett,” they said at the same time.

      It would be just like her to spread something like this. Mrs Barrett lived next door and she had a lot to do with the reason Philip’s reputation was what it was. She loved to put her own twist on any gossip she could lay her hands on and if she had indeed been up early enough to see Philip bring Harriet into the house, she wouldn’t have been able to keep such a juicy gem to herself.

      “If anyone is looking for Harriet, it won’t take them long to find her now. I will call on Lord Harrison this morning and see what kind of measures we should put in place. In the meantime call for Dr Brown to see if she can be moved and ask Murdock to stand guard outside her room. No one in their right mind would try to get past that brute.”

      “Are you sure he’s the best? He’s so gentle.”

      “Be that as it may, he looks the part. I for one wouldn’t want to meet a man that looks like him in a dark alley.” Philip slumped into a chair. “No, anyone that comes looking for Harriet will think twice about trying to get past him.”

      ***

      When Harriet next opened her eyes she was alone in her room. A quick glance at the chair showed her a rumpled blanket and discarded pillow, but no Lord Eaglestone. More’s the pity. She wanted to know if she’d imagined how good looking he was.

      The sheets crinkled as she shimmied her way closer to the edge of the bed. The coolness of the sheets away from the centre of the bed was refreshing on her heated skin. The windows were no longer open and she longed to once more feel the cool breeze she had enjoyed earlier. The water on the table beckoned her. But even teetering on the very edge of the bed she was unable to reach the pitcher to pour herself a glass.

      She moaned in frustration. All she wanted was a drink. There was a bell resting on the table next to the water, presumably so she could ring for assistance. A fat lot of good it did her though, as she was unable to reach the bell either.

      Harriet gritted her teeth and wiggled into a sitting position. Her head swam and she grasped the headboard to stop herself from tumbling onto the floor. Her body couldn’t take another fall. She stared at the pitcher of water and willed it closer, but no such luck, it stubbornly stayed where it was. She was going to have to get it herself.

      She took a deep breath, released the headboard and grabbed the bed post closest to her while swinging her feet over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. She swayed dangerously, black spots flashing in front of her eyes and bile rising up her throat. She forced her eyes from the red swirling carpet on the floor back up to the pitcher. Thankfully the bile remained down where it should be and her surroundings stopped moving of their own accord. Gradually the black spots faded and her vision cleared.

      Where earlier she was wishing for a breeze through the window, now she was glad they remained closed. Her body was drenched in a cold sweat and she shivered uncontrollably and she still didn’t have the water. If anything she was even more desperate to feel moisture on her tongue than before. Powerless to stop the shaking, she reached for the pitcher anyway.

      She almost knocked it over twice but somehow she managed to pour some water into the glass on the table. Her whole arm shook with the effort and by the time she finally brought the glass to her lips, she was almost too exhausted to drink any of it.

      The tepid water unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth and relieved her dry lips. When she lowered to glass, she was amazed to find it empty. She reached over to place it back on the table but she misjudged the distance and set it on the edge of the table. Her reactions were too slow to catch it before it fell. It hit the drawer handle on the way down and exploded into thousands of tiny fragments of crystal, one of which lodged itself in her shin. She watched as a drop of blood trickled down her leg and onto the priceless carpet at her feet.

      Slowly, slowly she moved her legs back up onto the bed and reached down to pluck the shard loose. It stung as she pulled it out and started to bleed again, but she was too tired to stem the flow. Placing the shard on the table she wiggled back down the bed until she was lying flat once more. Seconds later she was fast asleep.

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