Read Online Nightingale by Sharon Ervin - Free Book Online Page B

own way. They were none of the three alike, not in looks or dispositions or talents.
    After Roth’s death and before the old duke’s passing, Devlin dedicated himself to enjoying life. He bought and raced horses, invested in and worked aboard cargo ships, dallied with well-bred ladies, all riskier than putting money on a gaming table. No chance was too great, no stakes too high.
    He had been lucky, his every enterprise charmed … until now. He turned his head to press the side of his face against the pillow to hide an unexpected tear that seeped from the corner of his unbandaged eye.
    Had fate at last been tempted beyond enduring? Was his blindness a summons, calling in payment for his recklessness?
    Devlin swiped at the tear and rocked his head from one side to the other, trying to get comfortable, annoyed that Dr. Brussel, who had poked and prodded, hadn’t been able to restore his eyesight or even to say with any conviction whether the loss was temporary or permanent.
    Hot, he shoved his bed linens to one side. He wanted someone to come bathe his face and throat with the cool cloth. No, not someone. He wanted his Nightingale.
    Devlin’s restless movement stopped when he heard laughter in the hallway and voices. It was Jessica and one of the upstairs maids giggling about something young females giggle about.
    Instead of annoying him, their laughter lifted his spirit. His Nightingale was sensitive. Obviously she was not concerned about his condition. She would not be laughing if his situation were dire.
    Her laughter gave him a sense of well-being that came from having her in the house.
    He clung to her spirit, a buoy in a rough sea; his good-luck piece, a tiny sprite who weighed less than seven stone, yet who had been clever enough to find and recover him, and strong and ingenious enough to transport him safely home.
    • • •
    Acceding to the dowager’s request that she remain nearby until Devlin awoke, Jessica wandered outside, absorbing the early spring sunlight.
    The gardens at Gull’s Way were magnificent, and she wondered how they looked when the bountiful buds bloomed. Of course, she would be in Welter then, spending golden summer mornings in the dank scullery. If she remembered, she might imagine standing here, enjoying the feeling and fragrances of clean body, clean hair, clean clothing, and flowers about.
    A horse’s nickering called her from her reverie, and she turned to find Sweetness stretching his neck over a wooden fence near a wooded area.
    “Hello,” she called, happy to see a familiar face, even if it belonged to a horse.
    As she approached his paddock, he wheeled and ran to the far side, kicking, propelling clumps of dirt her way.
    “I am happy to see you, too,” she said, laughing at his antics. “You appear to have suffered no ill effects from your night’s burden.” She lowered her voice. “Are you well rested, my hero? My Sweetness?”
    The horse ambled closer in what appeared an attempt to hear her better.
    “Silly. I know you cannot understand my words.”
    As if answering, he whickered softly, trotted to the fence and stretched his neck across, putting his head within her reach.
    Rather than simply petting him, she climbed up two rails on the fence, wrapped her arms about his head, and pressed her nose to his warm, smooth neck.
    Her mother recommended Jessica adopt a kitten to learn affection. Truly she loved Behavior, the cat, and the hens. After last night, however, Jessica knew the enchantment of true love, for she was bedazzled by her dark, compassionate hero; a horse of unconquerable spirit.
    Behavior, the kitten, had grown into a cuddling cat. Jessica smiled. Her new pet probably would snuggle just as cozily in her lap, if his size would allow it.
    Giggling softly at that image, she kissed the horse’s long face as she scratched behind his ears, beneath his chin, and rubbed his velvety nose. Sweetness was the first true love of her life. Their meeting had aroused raw,