6

 

Madeline cried out again as the beast’s fingers clamped her mouth. She forwent useless screams and bit him. She’d have to protect herself with no more Mrs. Wilkins to shield her. The bald man lunged and grabbed her shoulder. She willed her fatigued limbs to obey but fought with paper strength.

With ease, the tart-smelling monster overpowered her and pinned Madeline’s arms against the mattress. Her caged spirit awakened. Madeline wriggled, freed a hand, and slapped the beast’s face. “He’ll have your head. The duke—”

The door to the room crashed open. It was Lord Devonshire. Had he come to save her again?

“Miss St. James! Doctor, what the devil is going on in here?” The earl flung the animal away from the bed. “Doctor Gemmel, start explaining!”

“She’s gone mad. I tried to calm her down before she injured herself.” He tried to break away, but Lord Devonshire’s powerful arms held him at a distance.

“Keep him away from me.” Madeline turned her head as tears flooded her cheeks. She tried to move but found her leg too stiff to bend. “Keep them all away from me.”

The earl blocked the man from returning, and marched to the footboard. He opened his large palms in a defenceless manner. “Miss St. James, I won’t let anyone hurt you. You do recognize me?”

Madeline nodded.

“Gemmel, go get Dr. White. The maid will wait with me. Then, don’t show here again.”

The man slunk away.

The earl approached the empty chair. He stayed behind it. “Do you remember what happened? You remember that I didn’t hurt you.”

“No need to try to sway the patient.” A stout woman with coal-black eyes entered the room. “You’d never harm a lady.” She winked at the earl.

“Please tell her the truth.” Lord Devonshire’s chin held more than a day’s worth of shadow. His proud shoulders hunched as if in agony.

Madeline coughed. Her mouth felt dry.

An older gentleman entered the room. “Gemmel said she’s crazed.”

She clutched tight to her blankets. Too many people stood in this tiny room.

“Should we strap her to the bed, ’til she’s calm?” the woman asked. Evil must reside behind those dark eyes, just like Step-mother’s.

“No, Mrs. Blakeney. Miss St. James awoke and is frightened by the pile of strangers.” Lord Devonshire waited until he caught Madeline’s gaze. He held it as if in a trance and sauntered around the bedpost, almost on his tiptoes. He began to recite, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He…He. I need help finishing it. Is there a Good Book-bookworm who can help me?”

“Is he makin’ fun of such things?” Mrs. Blakeney asked before the old man motioned her to be silent.

“Look at me, Miss St. James. Your opportunity for ministry is over here.” The earl was close now. His voice, serene and true, lay etched in her mind, guiding her through another treacherous strait. “Help me show them you have your wits about you, lass. He leadeth.”

“He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul,” she rejoined and released the covers. Madeline pointed to a goblet by the bed. “Please.”

Lord Devonshire smiled even as he exhaled.

He’d fretted about her?

The earl poured water from a clay pitcher into a crystal cut glass. The oddity of clay and glass; Providence gave her, a young woman disappointed by men, a man as a friend.

“Maid, help Miss St. James sit,” Lord Devonshire adjusted his thin cravat.

The silent girl stacked pillows and helped her to rise. The servant resettled the blankets and returned to her corner. If she’d worn a lighter shade of green, she’d disappear into the walls.

The earl placed the goblet to Madeline’s lips. She drank as if it been years since her last. Maybe, it had been.

He refilled the cup and put it in her hands. His fingers slipped across hers, angling and supporting. His sandalwood fragrance fell upon her nose.

“Is the glass steady? Good.” He released it. “Miss St. James, let me introduce you to Dr. Samuel White. He’s my family’s doctor from Devonshire. He’ll make you better.” The earl motioned for the man to come forward.

“I’d like to help you, my dear.” The doctor’s snowy hair reminded her of her father’s.

Thank goodness, her father wasn’t standing before her. She didn’t have to return yet.

“May I help you?” the older man asked.

Madeline nodded. “Can you send word to my aunt, Lady Cecil Glaston of Cheshire?”

“Of course. I’ll need everyone out of the room but the maid. You too, Mrs. Blakeney.”

Madeline tightened her grip on the stem of the glass.

“Don’t be anxious, my dear,” the doctor said. “Lord Devonshire will remain outside your door. That’s where he’s been for the past fortnight, awaiting your improvement.”

“Fourteen days,” Madeline repeated. Now, she felt nauseous.

“Come, Mrs. Blakeney. We’ll be outside.” Lord Devonshire led the woman away.

“Let’s change the dressing on your leg, young lady. I’ll need you to tell me if there’s any sensation in it. Do you feel my thumb on your toe?”

Madeline’s breathing faltered. “No, sir. I do not.”