Duke of Midnight (Maiden Lane #6)(41)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

“Not as I understand it,” Scarborough said to her. “Apparently Miss Picklewood received news this morning of a friend in Bath who has been struck by a sudden illness. She’s already left to go to her side.”

“Then Lady Phoebe will simply have to make do with her lady’s maid on the trip to London,” Penelope said dismissively.

“A servant is hardly the same as a companion, especially for a lady in Lady Phoebe’s condition,” Scarborough mused. “As I said, it’s a pity that Wakefield found his business more urgent than his blind sister.”

Artemis winced at the blunt words. Yet, the duke’s insistence on the subject might be used to her advantage. Penelope usually only gave her a half day once a week to do as she pleased. Even if Apollo were gravely injured, Artemis very much doubted that Penelope would let her go to the Duke of Wakefield’s London home for more than a couple of hours. But if she thought it was her own idea…

Artemis cleared her throat. “I know that Wakefield is very fond of Lady Phoebe.”

“Of course, of course,” the duke rumbled.

“In fact, I suppose he would be very grateful if someone were to volunteer to travel with his sister.”

Penelope wasn’t a complete widgeon. She immediately understood Artemis’s hint—understood and didn’t much like it. “Oh, I couldn’t. Why, with you and my maids and all my luggage, we barely fit in the carriage on the way here. It’s simply impossible.”

“That is too bad,” Artemis murmured. “Of course, Phoebe could take her own carriage and only you could travel with her.”

Penelope looked horrified.

“… Or I could go.”

“You?” Penelope squinted, but it was a calculating squint. “But you’re my lady’s companion.”

“No, you’re right,” Artemis hastily demurred. “Such an extravagant gesture of kindness would be too much.”

Penelope frowned. “You really believe Wakefield would think me extravagantly kind?”

“Oh, yes,” Artemis said, wide-eyed with sincerity. “Because you will be. And if you lend me for the time that Miss Picklewood is away, why, Wakefield will hardly be able to thank you enough.”

“Oh, my,” Penelope breathed. “What a very good idea.”

“You are beneficence itself, my lady,” Scarborough announced as he bent over Penelope’s hand, and winked at Artemis.

Chapter Ten

At the peasant’s words, one of Herla’s men leaped from his horse, but when his feet touched the ground, he crumbled into a pile of dust. King Herla stared and remembered the Dwarf King’s warning: none of them could dismount before the little white dog or they, too, would turn to dust. He gave a terrible cry at the realization, and as he did so, both he and his men faded into ghostly forms. Then he spurred his horse and did the only thing left to him: he hunted.

Thus King Herla and his retinue were doomed to ride the moonlit sky, never quite of this world or the next.…

—from The Legend of the Herla King

“Will he awake?” Maximus stared down at the madman later that morning.

Viscount Kilbourne was hidden away in the cellar under Wakefield House, having been smuggled in along the secret tunnel. Maximus and Craven had set up a cot down here, close to a brazier of glowing coals to keep him warm.

Craven frowned at his motionless patient. “ ’Tis uncertain, Your Grace. Perhaps if we were able to take him to a more salubrious place above ground…”

Maximus shook his head impatiently. “You know we cannot risk Kilbourne being found.”

Craven nodded. “ ’Tis said on the streets that Bedlam’s governors have already sent for soldiers to hunt down the Ghost. Apparently they are quite embarrassed at the escape of one of their inmates.”

“They ought to be embarrassed by the entire place,” Maximus muttered.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Craven replied. “But I still fear for our patient. The noxious fumes from the brazier, not to mention the damp of the cellar—”

“Aren’t the best conditions for an invalid,” Maximus cut in, “but discovery and a return to Bedlam would be much worse. He wouldn’t survive another beating.”

“As you say, Your Grace, this is the best we can do, but I don’t like it very much. If we could but send for a physician more learned in the healing arts—”

“The same objection applies.” Maximus paced restlessly to the opposite wall of the cellar. Damn it, he needed Kilbourne to wake for Artemis’s sake. He remembered her shining, grateful face, and he couldn’t help but think she wouldn’t be so grateful now if she could see her brother’s condition.

“Besides,” Maximus continued, returning to Craven’s side, “you’re as good as if not better than most of the university-educated doctors I’ve seen. At least you haven’t a peculiar fondness for disgusting miracle draughts.”

“Hmm,” Craven murmured. “While I am of course gratified by Your Grace’s confidence in me, I must point out that most of my doctoring has consisted of tending to your gashes and bruises. I’ve never had to deal with a patient with a head wound and broken ribs.”

“Even so, I trust you.”

Craven’s face went completely blank. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Maximus gave him a look. “Don’t let’s get maudlin, Craven.”

Craven’s craggy face twitched. “Never, Your Grace.”

Maximus sighed. “I must make an appearance upstairs, else the servants will begin to wonder where I’ve gone. Come at once, though, should he regain his senses.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Craven hesitated, studying the unconscious man’s face. “I think, though, we will have to find another place to conceal Lord Kilbourne when he wakes.”

“Don’t imagine I haven’t already thought of that problem,” Maximus grunted. “Now if I only knew where to secrete him more permanently.”

With that dispiriting thought he turned and made his way to the upper floors. Craven would stay and nurse Kilbourne in the cellar while Maximus would return periodically as he was able throughout the day. He’d spoken only the truth: there was no one else to trust with the task save Craven.

As Maximus made the upper hall he was waylaid by his butler, Panders, who, fortunately, was too well trained to ever ask awkward questions. Panders was an imposing man of middling years with a round little belly who normally never had so much as a hair of his snowy white wig out of place, but today he was so perturbed his left eyebrow had shot up.