Chapter 101

"Me?" She edged one eye open.
"You."
He couldn't mean anyone else, or his mud-caked boots and the flaps of his charcoal greatcoat wouldn't be inches from her nose. She passed her tongue along her lips, stared at his hand, the one now hovering before her. "Well ... I-"
"If your friend is as sick as she says she is?"
Her throat dried. If he had shouted at her, or berated her for her folly, or laughed at her, it wouldn't have been half as bad, but this? This left her no option but to grasp his hand, and pull herself out of the mud because Topaz was as sick as she said and every second here, being mercilessly spattered by the drizzling rain, only made it worse. and her look like a selfish, uncaring idiot. The selfish, uncaring idiot who was responsible.
"Ow ... there you are Splen." Topaz whispered. "I wondered where you'd got to."
Somehow she found her voice. "I didn't get anywhere, I was just-just seeing to-"
"We will talk about that after," Stillmore said. "For now I think we should get your family out of that cart. Let's start with this lady here."
"Ow? Me? A lady, kind sir? Do yer hear that Splen? I'm a lady."
She had heard. She only wished the mud smearing her face had found its way into her ears. Her eyes too. Anything rather than see how Topaz's eyes lit when he undid the side of the cart and drew her carefully toward him. How Topaz slipped her stick-thin arms around his neck and held tight, the ease with which he lifted Topaz down, as if she were a princess. Holding a woman with consumption, who others would not touch.
"That's it. I've got you," he murmured.
It left her wondering if Gabe was just naturally incapable of moving Topaz without having the grandfather of all fusses.
"I just ...Me foot ...I just can't stand on it, your lordship, I'm so sorry. But I broke it, some months ago."
"I see."
"It's proper awful."
"I'm sure it must be."
"Oh, it is."
How was it Stillmore was more patient than a saint? In all this pouring rain too. And after she had run from him. "Well then, perhaps your sister here-"
"She's not my sister." It was churlish to say so. But she wouldn't let Stillmore believe she'd lug a family member about in this weather in a cart. It was bad enough she'd brought a friend. Although really, did it matter what he thought? Wearily she put out her hand. "What I mean is she's my good friend. Here ...Put your foot down, I've got you."
She had Stillmore too--my God--the breast of his great coat, anyway. Damp. Soft. Horribly comfortable about it, him too, with his eyes like dark pools in the moonlight, silver drops beading his hair.
"Ouch! Splen, quit-quit tugging, will yer?"
"Sorry." She cleared her throat. This must stop or she'd regret when she was right to run. That the damned, salacious devil had come after her showed just how right she'd been to fly.
And yet he did not look very salacious. A handsome devil, yes, which was why she wished his eyes were salacious, lewd. Anything rather than watchful, pitying. Be pitied? By him? She'd sooner die.
Water squelched over his boots as he let Topaz go and stepped down into the ditch. "You two stand here," he said. "While I get your other friend here out of the cart."
"That'll be a miracle."
"Pardon?"
She sighed. "I mean ... Even if you do, even if you unharness Clitherow you're unlikely to move that wheel. In case you hadn't noticed, it's stuck fast. And that old beggar, I mean, O'Taggart, is out cold. In fact he's more than. He's drunk in case you haven't noticed that either. Do you think I'd still be standing here if he wasn't?"
Topaz sagged against her, her face specter-pale, her bones soft as a kitten's and she fought not to run her hand through her soaking wet hair in exasperation.
If Topaz expired whose fault would that be? Damn Gabe. Damn him to hell. At least Stillmore had come along and been quite helpful about it too. So helpful, he'd done everything except harness himself to the cart.
"I tell you what." His voice cut across her thoughts. "Can your friend sit a horse?"
"I ... think so, your lordship," Topaz murmured.
Stillmore took out his handkerchief and wiped his palms-not from touching Topaz, from trying to work the wheel out of the ditch. A black lock of hair licked his forehead. His voice dwindled against the howling wind. "There's an inn about half a mile to the right at the crossroads. I really think the best we can do is try to get you both there."
O'Taggart snapped to. "Get them there and what about me? And my art'ritis?"
"What about you?" Stillmore wiped the back of his hand across his nose. "You seem perfectly fine there. But if you feel able to stagger the distance, we'll see you there. Just don't expect me to help you."
"And top of the morning to you too, sor."
"No doubt. If it ever comes. Now then ..."
Splendor steadied herself. An inn? She couldn't very well argue, although the thought certainly occurred.
"Sir, Your Grace." She pushed a soaking tendril of hair back from her forehead.
"Oh, don't worry." He swung his gaze over her like a beam. "I'm hardly interested in doing more than taking you there. I mean ... getting you and your friend there. Unless you want to stand here all night in the freezing cold?"
She didn't. But her relief that he corrected himself was tempered by a prickling indignation. Stillmore didn't want her any more than Gabe did. When the right move on the board was all it would have taken to have kept Gabe.
Was she insane?