As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized he was an idiot. “I’m sorry. I’m a man. I don’t have a wife. This sort of thing simply hasn’t come my way before. Listen, let me give you some laudanum. There’s a bit left. You need to rest. All right?”
“Yes, all right,” she said, and he wanted to take her in his arms at that moment and tell her—what?
Phillip shook the few remaining drops of laudanum into a glass of water and handed it to her. She downed the entire glass of water without taking a breath. She leaned back against her pillow, closed her eyes, and waited for oblivion.
Phillip moved quietly about the bedchamber, straightening the disorder from the night before. He bent down and added several more logs to the sputtering fire, then turned slightly and looked toward the bed from the corner of his eye. To his dismay, Sabrina lay wide-eyed, staring blankly ahead of her.
He pulled the large chair closer to the fireplace and walked to her bed. “You’re exhausted. You’ve got to rest. Trust me now.” She didn’t fight him when he lifted her into his arms, blankets and all, and carried her to the chair. He eased himself down, and drew her close against his chest. She gazed up at him for one long moment and closed her eyes. A small sigh escaped her and she turned her face inward against his shoulder.
Phillip laced his fingers under her back to hold her steady, leaning his head back against the chair top. It was some time before he felt her ease, before he heard her breathing even into sleep.
One moment Phillip was sleeping, the next he was alert, his eyes fastened to the half-open door. He heard soft boot steps on the stairs. He was on the point of dumping Sabrina onto the floor and flinging himself toward the door when a very familiar face appeared.
It was Charles Askbridge.
17
Charles opened his mouth and closed it. He quite simply couldn’t believe his eyes. There was Phillip—long-lost Phillip—sitting in a large leather chair holding a sleeping female in his arms. At least he hoped she was sleeping and not unconscious or dead.
“Oh, my God,” he managed to say at long last. He didn’t move. He couldn’t. All he could do was stare.
“Be quiet, Charles, I don’t want you to awaken her. She had a hard night. Actually, I did as well.”
Charles nodded. It was just as well since he couldn’t think of anything to say in any case. He walked quietly toward Phillip and looked down into the half-hidden face of Sabrina Eversleigh. “My God,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sabrina stirred at the sound, but was too deep in sleep to awaken.
Phillip shook his head at Charles, then carefully rose. He carried Sabrina back to her bed and gently eased her down. He looked to the still openmouthed Charles and waved him from the room.
Phillip gazed down once more at her, lightly touched his palm to her forehead, and nodded to himself. She would be asleep for a good long time yet. He followed Charles from the room.
He was silent until they had reached the bottom of the stairs. “Well, Charlie,” he said, shaking his friend’s hand, “this is a surprise, I’ll admit it. Do you often break into houses and creep up stairs?”
“You’d think I was a thief, wouldn’t you? Actually, I’d think so myself. But you see, Phillip, this hunting box just happens to belong to me.”
Phillip laughed, he couldn’t help it. He felt unutterable relief, not to mention amusement at how the fates had worked this all out. “The devil you say. Well, Charlie, since the absentee landlord has decided to inspect his property, I don’t think it would be all that wise to boot him out. Am I ever lucky. What if you’d shown up with half a dozen guests for hunting? No, I won’t think about that. It’s too painful.
“Now, come into your cozy front parlor and I shall serve you up a glass of your own sherry.”
“Phillip, everyone has been frantic. What are you doing here? And not just you but Sabrina Eversleigh? Good God, man, the entire country is out scouring the forest for the both of you.”
“So you know Sabrina, do you, Charles? Why of course you do. It only makes sense, particularly since she must live not far away from here, as do you as well.” He handed Charles a full glass of sherry.
“I haven’t tried it, but I know you have a fine cellar. Why would you stint here?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Good. To your health, Charles.” Phillip clinked his glass to his old friend’s.
Charles downed the sherry in one long gulp, coughed, teared, then managed to get hold of himself.
“I do wish you would dispose of that gun, Charles. A lot of things have happened to me in the past week. I don’t want to crown the week with a bullet in my gut.” He poured Charles another glass of sherry.
Charles gulped it down, shook himself, and looked blankly down at the gun hanging out at an odd angle from his waistcoat pocket. He drew it out and laid it on top of a table. “You know, I did wonder if my intruder could be you, but to be honest, I didn’t really believe it. I was starting to believe you dead, Phillip. It’s good to see you well.”
“Thank you. I must say that I’m also delighted to see you. Better me here than a criminal, I suppose. A criminal wouldn’t have kept your house quite so clean and tidy as I have.”
Charles shook his head and grinned. “Poor Stimson—he and his wife keep this place in good order for me during the winter months—he was white in the mouth with fear when he came to see me this morning at Moreland. You see I was the only one there, all the others out searching for you. I would have been gone in another ten minutes. In any case, Stimson saw smoke coming from the chimney and thought that rogues had taken over the house and that he should inform me immediately.”