Isabelle Goddard

Reprobate Lord, Runaway Lady


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no darkness.

      After the doctor had visited his new patient and made his examination, she crept quietly back into Gareth’s room.

      ‘What’s the verdict?’ she asked anxiously.

      He looked up slowly and smiled. It was the warm smile she’d seen in the London inn. That seemed a million miles away now.

      ‘I haven’t broken the ankle, thank the lord, but I’ve sprained it badly and I’m likely to be laid up for a good few days. The doctor’s left me a draught for the pain and he’ll come back the day after tomorrow to change the bandages.’

      She could only smile in response. She felt tongue tied, badly shaken by how intense her relief had been when Gareth was carried into the inn courtyard and how sharp her distress at seeing him in pain. Powerful feelings had surfaced despite her effort to control them. There was an awkward silence. The painkilling draught was already having its effects and Gareth lay dozing. She was about to tiptoe out of the room, when his voice stopped her in her tracks.

      ‘I should say thank-you.’

      ‘There’s no need,’ she said quickly.

      ‘You could have taken your revenge by leaving me to my fate.’

      ‘I am not dishonest,’ she said squarely, ‘and neither am I heartless. You’d suffered a misfortune and needed help. I would have done the same for anyone.’

      ‘You could have told them here of the accident and then gone on your way. You need not have stayed.’

      His smile had vanished and his voice was almost brusque. It was as if he resented her help, resented being put in a situation where he was beholden.

      ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be staying long,’ she said in a cool voice, ‘just tonight and then I’ll be gone.’

      ‘Where will you sleep? This seems to be the only spare room.’

      ‘I’m to share a chamber with Betsy—the kitchen maid.’

      ‘Good,’ he said mysteriously.

      She couldn’t see anything good about it. She’d never shared a bedroom in her life and a kitchen maid would not have been her chosen companion. A more worldly-wise Gareth was satisfied. If she were indeed the innocent young woman she claimed to be, then Betsy’s chaperonage would be invaluable.

      ‘No doubt I’ll see you in the morning before you leave?’ His tone was indifferent; it was clear that he was dismissing her and preferred to be alone.

      ‘If you wish,’ she replied distantly.

      He closed his eyes in weariness, looking so ill and worn that she instantly regretted her coldness. She would have to leave on the morrow as she’d promised, but a small inner voice was urging her to stay and make sure that he recovered fully. The thought was dismissed even as it occurred. It was impossible to remain at the inn; she’d spent the entire day evading his unwelcome attentions, so what on earth would he think if she continued by his bedside?

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