Edenbrooke Read Online Free PDF

carriage and wobbled a bit. I wrapped my arm around her waist, steadying her as we walked inside and followed the innkeeper up the stairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that arrogant gentleman standing nearby, but I ignored him.
    The stairs seemed almost too much to ask of my tired, trembling body. The innkeeper reached the landing ahead of us and turned to a room on the left. I just wanted to find a bed for Betsy and then see to James. But a robust woman planted herself in front of us as soon as we reached the landing.
    “What is all the to-do about?” she asked, hands on her ample hips. “This is a respectable inn, it is, and I’m not one to put up with any strange goings-on.”
    I lifted my chin. “My coachman was injured and my maid is on the verge of collapse. Please be so good as to show us to a room.”
    She snapped her mouth shut with a startled look, bobbed a curtsy, and said, “Pardon me, miss. I was not aware . . . yes, of course.” Then she waved me to a room on the right of the landing. I gathered from her reaction that she had not recognized me as a lady until I spoke. The thought rankled.
    It was only after I helped Betsy sit on the bed that I noticed how stricken she looked. She had suffered quite a shock, what with firing a pistol and then holding a bleeding man while I drove.
    “Lie down,” I said. I was relieved that she felt no need to talk about it, but merely collapsed across the bed, one arm thrown across her face. I watched her with some concern until the innkeeper’s wife (for so I assumed she was) bustled in with a basin, a piece of soap, and a towel.
    “In case you want to wash up,” she said with a pointed look at my hands. I glanced down at them. Yes, they looked nearly as ghastly as Betsy’s. She hesitated at the door and said, “You look like you could do with a nice hot meal. Come down to the parlor, and I’ll have something prepared for you. It’s mighty hard to withstand such things on an empty stomach.”
    I nodded and thanked her quietly, relieved to find that she was helpful after all.
    When I submerged my palms in the basin of water, I felt every red welt and raw scrape. I hissed at the sting as I soaped my hands, washing all the way up to my elbows. The water in the bowl turned red, and my empty stomach heaved at the sight. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, fighting off the wave of nausea that washed over me.
    I left Betsy snoring on the bed, her mouth hanging open like a hinged gate, and crossed the hall to the room I had seen the innkeeper enter with James.
    James lay on the bed, eyes closed, while the innkeeper cut away his shirt. He moved deftly as he cleaned the wound, his face quiet and composed, his hands roughened by work but clean. I felt infinitely better knowing that James was in this man’s large, capable hands.
    “Doctor will be here shortly, miss,” he said. “I’ve seen worse wounds than this—looks like he might have been clipped—can’t even see a bullet lodged in there.”
    At the sound of his kind, gruff voice, relief flooded through me with such force that my knees went weak. “Thank you,” I said, my words choked by emotion.
    The innkeeper looked sharply at me. “You’d best sit down, miss. You look none too good.”
    “No, no, I’m fine,” I said, but I did notice that the ground seemed unsteady and my knees were shaking.
    “Go warm yourself by the fire. There’s nothing for you to do in here.”
    I nodded, feeling my head float in a strange, detached way. A chair by the fire sounded heavenly. I turned from the room and started down the stairs just fine. But somewhere halfway down, my legs trembled and my knees buckled underneath me. I sat down hard on a step, willing myself not to tumble down the staircase. The walls started to waver, the floor heaving up. I covered my eyes with one hand, my other hand braced against the wall, and struggled to keep my sense of balance.
    A strong hand suddenly grasped my arm above the elbow.