Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

Tobias examined the man he had rescued. Save for his ridiculous name, Seventeen, and the ribbon he’d pocketed, he had no clue about the fellow. He’d had the key to his own chamber so he must not have been an inmate.

Mrs. Drake bustled over, her hands holding a bucket of water and a mug. Tobias took the mug and hunkered down beside Seventeen. “Here, drink this.”

Seventeen sipped feebly, appearing too weak to swallow. Tobias encouraged him to drink more when he tried to stop. When he refused, Tobias filled the mug and drank deeply. Another section of the house collapsed and they all stared as the sun lifted over the horizon, bathing them in bright light. Tobias covered his face with both hands. Poor bloody Oliver. The day of his death would be fair.

Twenty Six

Blythe reluctantly left Tobias alone, sensing he’d rather have privacy for his grief. She knelt beside the man he had rescued and dabbed her handkerchief in the bucket of water. “Are you hurt, sir?”

The man opened his eyes and then squeezed them shut again. “I’m outside.”

She forced a smile to her lips, but her heart broke at the terror in his voice. “Well, we’ll get you into a bed soon enough. Mr. Drake, will you take him to your inn? He should rest after his ordeal.”

Mr. and Mrs. Drake exchanged an anxious glance. “We’ve got no more rooms to put him in, Mrs. Randall. We’re full up and there’s no doctor to attend him.”

“I’m sure we’ll muddle through without a doctor. He doesn’t seem injured.” Blythe smiled. “Please have him taken to our bedchamber at the inn. I’m sure my husband won’t object after the trouble he went through to save him.”

Blythe glanced at Tobias, but he was still upset and had withdrawn from everyone. She stood as Mr. Drake and another man hefted the poor fellow between them and carried him toward the inn. “Tobias, we should go.”

His arm slid slowly down to reveal his face was coated with tears. She put her arm about his shoulders and touched his face gently. “You did everything you could. No one else even bothered to approach the house.” She looked over her shoulder and shuddered. Those poor people. Poor Oliver, if he’d truly been there. They might never know for certain now. She would pray that Oliver rested safely elsewhere.

Tobias sat up slowly.

His expression bleak, a single tear slid down his cheek and she wiped it away for him. “Let’s go back to the inn and see to it that your efforts were not in vain. I must see that the man you saved is taken good care of. Did he by any chance tell you his name?”

Tobias pressed his head to her shoulder. “He said his name was Seventeen, and he’s not made much sense beyond that.”

“Well, when he is recovered sufficiently, we will see him safely on his way to his family. If he has no one, we will decide what to do with him together. Lord Merrow will help, I’m sure.” Blythe climbed to her feet and held out her hand.

After a long moment, Tobias stood, curled his arm about her shoulders and allowed her to lead him back to the village. As they entered the inn yard arm in arm, the grooms cheered Tobias’ feat, commenting on his bravery and daring. Some had seen his efforts to gain entry to the burning building and wondered where he’d learned the trick.

Tobias merely smiled and refused to comment.

Mrs. Drake bustled past, a steaming bowl of soup in her hands. “Thought a bit of food might perk him up. He’s ever so pale and listless.”

“A very good idea, Mrs. Drake.”

Blythe tugged Tobias with her, anxious about his silence. She’d be keeping an eye on him. It wasn’t his fault. They’d come as soon as they’d learned of Skepington.

Their bedchamber was awash with light, the fire blazing again, but that hussy of a housemaid who’d flirted with Tobias yesterday lingered in the room. Blythe shooed her out. She had no patience for time wasters.

Tobias trudged to the washbasin and threw water over his face. When he was done, he moved to the small settee and collapsed upon it. He closed his eyes and leaned back, clearly unwilling to become further involved with the object of his rescue. She’d let him grieve alone for a little while and take care of Seventeen herself.

Blythe wet a cloth and approached the bed. Seventeen’s eyes were closed, his breathing raspy. She lifted his hand and attempted to wipe the ash from his skin.

When she looked at his face again, he stared, a frown marring his brow. “Who are you? An angel?”

“My name is Blythe. My husband rescued you. Don’t you remember?”

He nodded slowly, gaze flickering to where Tobias reclined and back again. “Am I in heaven? By my calculations, there is no other explanation for my being here.”

Blythe smiled for the poor fellow’s sake. He indeed appeared to be deranged. “You are in Whitsbury. You said your name was Seventeen, but I am sure you go by another?”

His gaze grew shuttered. “I’m tired.”

She patted his hand. “I’m sure you must be. Rest now, we’ll talk more when you awaken.”

Seventeen closed his eyes and Blythe moved away before she burst into tears.