All About Seduction(93)

She gave him another sideways look and then reached around to pull a few jars and crocks off the shelf. Hell, would she remember this conversation if Caroline eventually delivered his child? Jack squeezed his eyes shut and hoped he hadn’t let the cat out of the bag.

“Do you have something for pain besides laudanum? I don’t want to keep taking that. I need to be more aware.” He would be going back into a situation where he didn’t trust his host; not at all.

She turned, pulled a bottle from a shelf and poured a small amount in a metal cup and brought it to him. “You look exhausted.”

Jack was more than exhausted; he was bone-tired and world-weary. Everything he had worked to achieve had gone up in smoke. He’d saved for a decade to have enough funds to move to London and see his ideas into fruition. His family had stolen his life savings. Caroline had offered him the one thing he might have stayed here for and turned it into a nightmare, and the mill machinery had crushed his leg. It was as if the entire world and all the stars in the heavens were lining up against him.

After downing the bitter liquid, he loosened the pack he had made from a burlap bag. Setting the sack on the floor at his feet, he scooted the stool closer to the wall and leaned against it. Crossing his arms, he closed his eyes. He would damn near give his right arm to lie down and rest.

Mrs. Goode hadn’t moved.

He opened his eyes. Her faded eyes bored into his.

“Do you know what you’re doing, Jack?”

He blinked at her. “It’s for my leg, really.”

The corners of her lips pulled back—not a smile—but more a rueful acceptance. “Come, there is a cot in my workroom. You can rest there while I get the ointment made up for you.”

“That sounds heavenly,” he said, reaching for his crutches. Much as Mrs. Goode might disapprove of him, he wouldn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

One of the footmen leaned close and whispered in Caroline’s ear. “You said to tell you if Mr. Applegate returns. He is coming up the drive.”

Knowing Jack was safe sent a rush of relief through her.

Where had he been? Caroline fisted her napkin in her lap. She needed to see him to ease her mind. “Thank you. Please tell Mrs. Burns to see me in my sitting room.”

Dinner was only half served, but she had no appetite. She looked around the glum faces of the gentlemen at the table and pushed back her chair. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen. There is a matter I must see to.”

They stood and half of them refused to meet her eyes. The other half glared in her direction as if she had ordered Whitton murdered. She was numb. Her heart refused to believe that Whitton’s death had anything to do with her or the hunting party, but doubts kept niggling at her. And she’d been so afraid that a similar fate had befallen Jack.

“A problem, my dear?” Mr. Broadhurst’s eyes narrowed.

“Just a domestic issue I must address. Nothing of concern.”

He watched her as she made her way into the hall. She couldn’t linger or she would raise his suspicions. But until she saw Jack with her own eyes, she couldn’t be easy.

Once in her sitting room she peeked out through the drapes and saw the figure on crutches at the far end of the drive. He seemed to be moving ever so slowly, but there was no doubt, even at this distance, the figure was Jack. Her stomach danced and it was all she could do not to run out to him.

The housekeeper entered the room. “You wished to see me, ma’am?”

Caroline reluctantly turned around. “It seems our patient has returned after all.”

Mrs. Burns pressed her lips into a thin line, but she didn’t bat an eye as she asked, “Would you like the bed returned to the breakfast room?”

The breakfast room, while segregated from the rest of the sleeping area, had no locks on the doors. “No, he is capable of managing stairs, so I think it best we put him in one of the far bedchambers. Out of the way of the guests.” One of the rooms had an escritoire where Jack could practice his writing and arithmetic. “Perhaps the northernmost chamber of the east el. The one attached to the nursery.” It was a room designated for a tutor, should there ever be a need for one.

The housekeeper sniffed.

“I would put him in one of the servant rooms, but I think it is best he has a fire for now.” Caroline felt her face heating and turned to look out the window, lest her expression betray her. She didn’t know why she was explaining to the housekeeper, except the woman seemed to disapprove. “In spite of his jaunt today, Mr. Applegate still has a long journey to recovery.”