So deeply grateful at that moment that this empathetic young doctor attended to her sister rather than Dr. Philcup, who wouldn’t have given Luther’s demise a second thought, Linette drew closer to Miss Biddle at the foot of the bed.
“All willbe well,” the housekeeper said in a whispered aside, perhaps sensing that Linette needed comforting, too. “I’m certain of it now. All will be well.”
***
“You did a fine thing, my lord, to save the young lady’s life, but I agree it’s wise that we leave here at once. We’ll find lodging in Porthleven and await the earliest ship to take us north. Yes, a very sound plan, indeed!”
ValentinChevalier said nothing as Robert Benoit, his long-time valet, hastily packed their belongings into a pair of leather satchels. Instead he sighed heavily and turned to stare out the rain-spattered window of their leased cottage, which was situated at the top of a bluff.
From this same vantage point he’d seen a sight earlier that day like no other, a young woman of unsurpassed beauty and high spiritsrunning along the beach below with her scruffy little dog.
He’d smiled at the pair of them, marveling that she seemed so oblivious to the drizzle and wind. Sixteen perhaps, or just barely? He’d marveled, too, at a few precious moments of lightheartedness amidst the grim reality that faced him: His father, Prince Renaud, imprisoned in a castle tower or perhaps dead for all Valentin knew; himselfa hunted fugitive; and the tiny principality of Bratavia, nestled between France and Belgium, now fallen under the traitorous rule of his uncle, Archduke Henri Chevalier.
Yet those precious moments had suddenly turned into alarm when the young woman had plunged into the pounding waves after her little dog and soon floundered, flailing her arms. Valentin had never sprinted so hard in his lifeas from the cottage and down the steep sandy bluff to reach her, the water so cold it had stopped his breath when he tore off his boots and dove into the sea.
She had disappeared, and for a terrifying instant he had thought her lost until he’d spied her bobbing upon a wave. He’d caught her and begun to swim with her to shore, while amazingly she’d fought him, thrashing and kicking and screamingher dog’s name.
Yet once he’d dragged her onto the beach, an ashen-faced Robert there to meet them with the horses, Valentin knew she’d struck her head from the ugly lump forming. He didn’t think, only acted, and within moments he had ridden with his near-unconscious charge back to the cottage.
He’d stripped her of her sodden clothing down to only her shift for modesty’s sake, and bundled herin blankets while Robert stoked a blazing fire in the hearth. Valentin had been forced to shout to ascertain her name, she’d stared at him so vacantly, her shivering response barely a whisper before she’d sunk into oblivion.
Estelle Easton. Her brother-in-law Donovan Trent, the Duke of Arundale.
When Valentin had leased the cottage along with the sturdy gelding a week ago, he’d been informedby the landlord, Squire Tanner, that his property bordered the Duke’s, a fortunate thing indeed when it had come time to take her home. He hadn’t dared to move her until he knew she wasn’t too badly injured, and he’d been ready to fetch a doctor if he had to, his own precarious predicament be damned.
He knew full well Uncle Henri had sent out his minions to track him down and bring him back toBratavia to imprison him…or perhaps murder him as the fiend might have done already to his father. Thank God his mother, Princess Simone, had not lived to see such an unhappy day—
“The packing’s done, my lord. Shall we depart?”
Valentin glanced at his valet and saw the anxious lines etched upon the older man’s face, Robert’s dark hair flecked with silver that he’d hardly noticed before.
Itseemed the terrible stress of these last several weeks—their narrow escape from Bratavia, a breakneck carriage ride across the north of France to Calais, and then passage aboard the first ship they’d found that had brought them to Cornwall—had taken its toll upon both of them. He felt older beyond years and sick at heart. Had he celebrated his nineteenth birthday only days before Uncle Henri’s treasonouscoup? It felt like a lifetime since then.
“Yes, time to go,” Valentin said quietly. He glanced one last time out the window as brilliant sunshine broke through the clouds and cast the beach below in a golden glow.
The waves had calmed, the rough wind subsided. If he hadn’t experienced it, he would never have imagined such a fearsome life and death struggle could have been fought on that beachonly hours before—
“By God, Robert, look down there! I don’t believe it.”
“My lord?” came the valet’s confused query as Valentin lunged past him, grabbed his cloak, and made for the door. “My lord!”
Valentin scarcely heard him but vaulted out of the cottage, his gaze riveted upon a tiny creature that had appeared shakily from the rocks at one end of the beach.
A tiny creature that shook himselffrom head to bony tail and then leaned back his scruffy head and howled piteously.
Luther!
Incredulous, Valentin raced down the bluff and along the shoreline to reach the little dog that he’d been convinced had been swept out to sea.
His amazement only heightened when Luther ran toward him, barking now and furiously wagging his tail as if he couldn’t believe he was no longer all alone on thebeach. Valentin sank into the sand to swipe away a briny-smelling strand of seaweed clinging to the little fellow and gather him into his arms. He paid no heed to the dampness soaking the knees of his trousers or that Luther frantically licked his face with a warm, pink tongue.
To Valentin’s relief, the bedraggled mutt didn’t appear injured at all, although his fur was stiff with salt and hewas shivering. He could only surmise that somehow Luther had swum back to shore and fallen asleep with exhaustion amidst the rocks. Valentin wrapped him snugly in his cloak and then rose to his feet, while Luther perked up his ears and glanced around him, clearly searching the beach with his keen brown eyes.
“She’s not here, boy, but I swear I’ll take you to her,” Valentin murmured, glad to seethat Robert had ridden the gelding down from the cottage to meet him.
As if reading his mind, the valet shook his head and stared in disbelief from Luther to Valentin. “My lord, surely you’re not thinking to—”
“How can I not?” Valentin cut him off, signaling for Robert to dismount. “You saw that Miss Easton was heartbroken. What greater joy could I bring her on Christmas Day to make up for whatshe’s suffered?”
“Take care, my lord, take care!” Robert beseeched him as Valentin mounted with Luther still snuggled in his cloak and thankfully, no longer shivering. “Promise me you’ll leave the dog at the front door and then ride back as fast as you can!”
Valentin nodded, ignoring that Robert continued to shake his head and look doubtful, and directed the gelding toward the bluff.
Nothingcould diminish his elation at that moment.
With a shout Valentin urged the gelding into a gallop, his only regret that he wouldn’t be able to personally deliver Luther to his lovely young mistress himself.
