“Yes.” He swallowed more water, but each sip scratched his throat. “Miss, I thank you for your help, but if you need to go to your mother, I understand.” He’d rather be weak and sick without a witness. Thank you.
“My mother is all right.” She paused before whispering, “You came back for me.”
“What was I supposed to do? Let you die? Besides, to be honest, I wasn’t thinking at that moment. All I knew was that I wasn’t injured and that I could help.” He rubbed his eyes. Bad choice. They burned tenfold.
“Don’t rub. You’ll make it worse.”
He jolted when she took his injured hand and cleaned the cut with another cloth. His first instinct was to protest, but her soft fingers on his skin had a calming effect. There was something enchanting in the way she held his big hand in hers.
“How do you know my family name is Alexander?”
“Lord Havisham told me. He’s here. A doctor is visiting him. My mother is here as well. She keeps coughing, but aside from that, she’s fine.”
“His Lordship will need me. Where is he?”
Her grip on his hand hardened. “His Lordship is all right. You’re definitely in a more serious condition.”
Sod his duty. She was right. He would sit there and enjoy the moment of calm as Miss Haywood tended to his wound.
“The earl is coming,” she said, releasing his hand.
“Royston.” A big black spot that had to be Lord Havisham stood in front of him.
“My lord.” Royston rose.
Lord Havisham put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down. “No need to stand up. You need to take care of yourself. You did something extraordinary tonight.” There was too much excitement in his voice for a man who had risked his life an hour ago. “The young man you saved before the theatre collapsed is the queen’s grandson,” he added in a whisper.
“Good gracious,” Miss Haywood said. “Is he all right?”
“He’ll stay here for the night because he can’t breathe properly, but he should recover well.” Lord Havisham dipped hishead, or at least that was what Royston saw. “You’re the man of the hour.”
He’d saved a royal lad. And? When he’d snatched the half-unconscious young man from a box filled with smoke, he hadn’t had any idea who the lad might have been. The small group of people surrounding him should have been a clue, though. Surely, the lad’s servants had been with him. If anything, if the royal grandson died, Royston would be blamed.
Having saved a royal didn’t seem something he should be happy about. He was glad the royal grandson was alive, but he couldn’t care less about who the lad was.
Again, he chose to stay silent.
“Miss Haywood,” Lord Havisham said, “thank you for taking care of my footman. Royston is a loyal servant, and loyalty is always repaid.”
Royston had no idea what His Lordship meant by that.
He bowed his head. “Thank you, my lord.”
“I’ll have my personal physician visit you.” Lord Havisham took his arm and helped him up. “If you can walk, we’ll go home and make sure you are well cared for. I want this hero to receive the treatment he deserves.”
“Have a speedy recovery, Mr. Alexander,” Miss Haywood said.
Royston wanted to say something, but an ache pounded in his head and a sudden exhaustion caught him. He bowed his head and followed Lord Havisham.
The waterin the bathtub was the colour of ink by the time Angeline had finished taking a bath.
So much ash had blackened her hair and skin that she was surprised she hadn’t burned. She wiggled the fingers of her injured arm and grimaced. The poultice the nurse had applied helped, but her whole arm throbbed. As the physician had said, the burn would leave a big scar. She wasn’t looking forward to changing the bandage every day. The wound was going to hurt.
“Are you all right, love?” Mama helped her out of the bathtub.
“Sore and tired.”
“I know. I know.” Mama shook. “I’ll braid your hair.”
