The Lady Hellion Read Online Free PDF Page B

could only see his profile, but his lids were screwed shut, and it appeared he could not draw enough breath into his lungs. He gasped again and again, weaving on his feet, and her stomach clenched at the sight of his misery. What was happening? Was his heart giving out?
    Mesmerized, she debated whether to rush in and offer assistance or stay in the corridor. If he was anything like her father and younger brother, he would not appreciate a witness to his weakness. Men were remarkably prickly about illness. But what if Quint was in grave danger?
    “My lady.”
    Sophie straightened and leapt away from the door. The butler’s expression etched with disapproval, he marched forward and quietly closed the partition to the study.
    “Is he ill?” she whispered.
    “I really could not say, my lady. However, perhaps it is best if your ladyship returned to your own home.”
    “But should we not call a physician? Or at least wait to ensure he recovers?”
    “His lordship has asked that no physician be admitted to the house. Ever. And I do not believe he would appreciate one being sprung on him.” The butler did not seem overly concerned about the health of his employer. Was this not the first time Quint had fallen ill?
    He gestured toward the front door. “Now, I must insist, your ladyship, as I’d like to retain my post.”
    She clenched her fists, anxious to check on Quint but not wanting to get the staff in trouble. “I’d best go out the service door, Taylor.” With the cloak on her shoulders, she pulled the hood low over her face. They traveled silently through the house and down to the kitchens.
    Taylor opened the door. “Would you prefer a footman to see you home, my lady?”
    “No, that won’t be necessary.” She moved onto the stoop. “You’ll see to him, won’t you?”
    “Of course, my lady. However—” He closed his mouth abruptly, obviously thinking better of what he’d been about to say. Which would never do, of course.
    “Go on,” she prodded.
    He glanced over his shoulder, dropped his voice. “If you should care to return, simply send word and I shall ensure your ladyship need not pick the lock again.”
     
     
    By the time Quint recovered, Sophie had long departed.
    Good. He didn’t know how he could face her after tonight. Bad enough the staff remained in the house, that they were witness to the embarrassment of Quint’s failings. He kept removed from them as best he could but suspected Taylor had drawn his own conclusions after the last episode.
    He swiped perspiration off his brow. Began reciting Locke’s An Essay Concerning Human Understanding . It was one of his favorite passages, on how all human knowledge comes only from experience. Fine and good for Locke, of course, since he’d retained his sanity. What rational understanding could be deduced from these debilitating attacks of pure terror? Even the brightest of enlightenment thinkers would likely be baffled by Quint’s condition.
    After another moment, his respiration restored itself to its usual rate.
    He struggled up out of the chair, weaker than he wanted to admit. The fits, when they came, left him exhausted and with a blistering headache. Opening a window, he welcomed in the fresh air to remove the smell of gunpowder.
    She’d actually fired a pistol in his house. He rubbed his temples. Only Sophie would dare do something so reckless. It was part of what he admired about her. But that sound and smell had set off a waking nightmare for him, one he could never admit to her. One he could never admit to anyone.
    “My lord,” Taylor called through the partition. “Was a pistol fired?”
    “Yes, and you might as well come in, Taylor.”
    The door opened and the young butler appeared. Quint could read nothing in the lad’s placid expression, no disapproval or worry, which was something of a relief. “Is there anything I might bring you, my lord? Tea?”
    “Yes, that would be much appreciated. Also”—he gestured to the