Read Online Through the Smoke by Brenda Novak - Free Book Online

lad.”
    The pain in Rachel’s chest intensified. This man had caused her to break her promise, and for what? For nothing! Because of him, she had left her mother, and her mother had died in her absence. The physician Lord Druridge had held out as a carrot in front of her nose hadn’t been worth her time in fetching him.
    Her throat constricted, her eyes burned, and her hands began to shake with the effort of holding her emotions inside. “Go. The last thing I need from you is your pity.”
    He acknowledged her words with a slight nod. Then he reached behind his saddle to retrieve the cloak she had left at Blackmoor Hall. “Later, if there is anything I can do—”
    “I’m sorry, my lord,” she broke in, grabbing it. “Our business is done. You see, I have nothing left to trade.”
    He blanched but made no reply. Climbing back onto his horse, he dipped his head in farewell, wheeled around, and galloped toward the man who waited for him.
    Rachel collapsed to her knees, at last letting the tears run, unheeded, down her cheeks.
    “What is it, child? Was that Lord Druridge?” Mrs. Tate’s breathless voice rose behind her as she trudged back into the cemetery.
    Turning, Rachel saw that Geordie accompanied her and had quit crying, his surprise and interest in what had just occurred momentarily supplanting his grief.
    “Was that really the earl?” he asked, sounding more than a trifle awestruck.
    Rachel nodded. Draping her old cloak over one arm, she stifled her sobs and gazed down at the flower Lord Druridge had brought to her mother’s grave. The bloom, a perfect yellow bud, was in its first blush of life. All thorns had been stripped from its stem.
    “Where would ’e have gotten a fresh rose at this time of year?” Mrs. Tate asked.
    “From his greenhouse,” Rachel answered absently. “He could have brought her an entire spring garden, but all she needed was a doctor.”
    “’E brought the doctor, didn’t ’e? Which reminds me, lass. ’E left ye some money yesterday, just before ’e took that doctor fellow ’ome. ’E asked me to wait until after the funeral and then see that ye got what ye needed.” She reached inside her skirt and handed Rachel a ten-pound note.
    Fresh anger made Rachel’s blood boil. Ten pounds was more than most miners made in two months. She could never accept such a sum, especially from him. She refused to owe him anything but her monthly rent, not even a kind thought or a thank-you. Neither would she let Lord Druridge make her feel as though she had sold her own mother out for money. She had traded information for a physician, nothing more, nothing less.
    “—kind of’im, wouldn’t you agree?” Mrs. Tate was saying. “To be so generous? I think the villagers are wrong about ’im. ’E ’as a sober appearance perhaps, but there must be a soft ’eart beneath that ’ard shell. Only a good man would trouble ’imself to bring a doctor to the bed of a dyin’ stranger in the middle of—”
    “That was no favor,” Rachel interrupted.
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” She handed the rose to her neighbor because she could no longer bear the sight of it. “Mrs. Tate?”
    “Aye?”
    “Can I borrow Gilly?”
    Her neighbor’s face creased into a worried frown. “Aye. A man brought ’im ’ome from Blackmoor Hall just this mornin’ lookin’ fat as butter. But what’s the matter, lass? Don’t ye feel well? Of course ye don’t. Who would, at their dear mother’s funeral? Forgive me for prattlin’ on. We need to get ye ’ome, like ye said. Ye don’t need to go anywhere on old Gilly. I will take care of ye. Come on.”
    “Gilly! You’re not going to leave me, are you, Rachel?” Geordie gaped at her. The donkey’s name had managed to draw his attention away from the departing earl. “I’m sorry I was bad,” he said, his hands clutching at her skirt. “I’ll be a good lad now, I promise. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t leave me, Rachel.”
    “I won’t leave you,