Read Online A Wicked Pursuit by Isabella Bradford - Free Book Online

reinforcement—reinforcement that did not come.
    “Please, if Miss Augusta would be so kind as to assist,” Sir Randolph said, swallowing his pride for the sake of his fashionable practice. “While my first concern is for his lordship’s health, I wouldn’t wish to offend either his lordship or His Grace. I desire only to be amenable to his lordship’s wishes.”
    Reluctantly Mrs. Patton handed the cup with the draft to Gus. Harry had won again, but even this minor drama had exhausted him, and laudanum or not, he was already struggling to stay awake.
    “Wait,” he said, shaking his head as Gus held the draft for him. He reached for her free hand, linking his fingers into hers so she couldn’t escape.
    “I—I want you to know that I am happy you are here,” he said, exhaustion turning the words clumsy on his tongue. Damnation, why did this keep happening when he’d important things to tell her? Why couldn’t he focus? “I’m—I’m glad you came back, and I do not wish you to leave. There .”
    She smiled, a quirky, tight-lipped little smile. “There, my lord?”
    Could she really be teasing him as he’d teased her earlier, or were his fever-addled wits playing tricks on him?
    “Here,” he said as firmly as he could. “Stay here. You bring me luck, and I—I need luck.”
    “Then luck you shall have,” she said softly, holding the glass to his lips. “Because when you wake again, I’ll be here still.”
    “Miss Augusta?”
    Gus hung on the edge of her dreams, not yet ready to wake, and burrowed back against the pillow and away from the gentleman’s voice that was rudely trying to wake her.
    “Miss Augusta, if you please,” the gentleman said again, and reluctantly Gus turned toward him and opened her eyes. It took her a moment to remember that she wasn’t in her own bed, but sleeping curled beneath a shawl in an old-fashioned wing chair that had been pulled beside Lord Hargreave’s bed. The gentleman’s voice belonged to his lordship’s surgeon, and when she opened her eyes Sir Randolph’s long, serious face beneath his elaborate wig was gazing directly at her.
    “Miss Augusta,” he said softly as soon as he was certain she was awake. “There has been a change in Lord Hargreave’s condition, and I thought you would wish to know of it.”
    Her heart racing, Gus threw off the shawl at once and rushed to the side of the bed. He’d been so sick already that she dreaded the thought of him having worsened.
    But as soon as she leaned over him, she saw that the change was only for the good. His face was relaxed, his forehead dry and no longer sheened with sweat, his breathing deep and regular.
    “His lordship’s fever broke during the night,” Sir Randolph said, keeping his voice low. “I believe when he wakes and we dress his leg, we shall see an improvement there as well.”
    “Do you believe him out of danger?” she asked anxiously.
    Sir Randolph smiled. “If his lordship continues in this state through this evening, then I will be willing to pronounce him so, Miss Augusta.”
    Gus pressed her hands to her cheeks, overwhelmed. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been fearing the worst until this moment. The earl wasn’t out of danger yet, and he’d have a long recovery before he could hope to regain even a fraction of the use of his leg. He’d lost a great deal of weight while he’d been ill, and his face beneath his dark beard was gaunt, his cheeks hollowed. Gus suspected he’d lost much of his strength with it, more than he likely realized. In her experience, gentlemen made particularly poor convalescents, and she pitied whomever would be overseeing the earl for the next months.
    “If he progresses today as I expect,” Sir Randolph continued, “then I shall cease my imposition on your hospitality, Miss Augusta, and return to London. Mr. Leslie can look after him from here on, and I’ve already summoned him for a final consultation before I leave. I’ve other patients