The Outcast Earl Read Online Free PDF Page A

to keep her sleeping well into tomorrow. Otherwise, she would feel the pain and be exceedingly difficult as a patient. If we could speak downstairs?”
    “Of course,” Abigail murmured, turning.
    Frowning, she thought she ought to lead, but had no idea where to go. Upon entering the house, she’d followed the footmen bearing her aunt up the stairs. From there, she’d briefly seen her own room while one of the Meriden chambermaids had assisted her in removing her bloodied and torn clothing. The girl had brushed her hair and dressed her in simple garments that belonged, she had said, to Meriden’s seamstress, Mrs Grady, the butler’s wife.
    After she had been dressed, footmen had carried in her travelling trunk. The exterior was damaged and the contents disordered, but Abigail had been grateful to see that nearly everything seemed to be intact. The trunk contained clothing sufficient for a week or so, and the carters were on their way with the remainder of Abigail’s belongings. After digging out a pair of slippers for her feet, Abigail had limped back across the hall to find the doctor examining her aunt, assisted by Grady and a matronly housekeeper who had been introduced as Mrs Carlton.
    Despite her hesitancy now, she led them to the door. Her own chamber was directly across the upper gallery from her aunt’s large room. She expected the earl’s private apartment would be at the far end of the long gallery, at the opposite end of the house. She remembered a large, high, bay-windowed anteroom with long windows at the head of the stairs. The drapes had not been drawn, but the lamps had been lit. There had been a lounging chaise and a few chairs with small tables scattered about.
    At least she knew where it was.
    They exited the room together and the doctor said in a kindly way, “And how are you? You are limping.”
    Abigail summoned a smile and trudged on. “My ankle is simply a bit bruised, somewhat twisted, nothing more. I will be fine.”
    “I’d like to examine it, Lady Abigail, if only to ensure it isn’t any more seriously injured. You’ll need to rest so that it can heal properly.”
    “I cannot be confined to a bed,” Abigail objected. “Aunt Betsy will need my time and attention, and indulging a silly twisted ankle while she is in so much pain is selfish and somewhat cowardly.”
    Just as she finished they reached the stairs, and she turned to the bay, motioning the doctor in that direction.
    It was only after they’d clearly entered the space that she saw the earl standing at the dark window, glowering at her.
    “Ah, there you are, Meriden.” The doctor spoke before Abigail could think up a single word, even an inappropriate one. “I must say I am glad to see you, though the circumstances leave something to be desired.”
    Meriden’s infuriated gaze shifted over to the middle-aged physician and his face relaxed a bit. With a wave to the chaise in Abigail’s direction, he spoke instead to the doctor. “I have to say, I’m happy to not have seen you recently, at least not in a professional capacity. But it has been too long since you’ve visited, James. Why don’t you plan on coming to stay for a few days? Surely this is a good time, what with an unfortunate patient—excuse me, three patients—in the house?” He turned his gaze to Abigail, who was sitting obediently on the chaise while fuming over his obvious lack of manners. He met her eyes for two seconds, then said softly, “I believe Lady Abigail was about to ask you to look at her ankle. I, too, would feel much relieved to have her diagnosis of a twist confirmed by your expertise.”
    Abigail watched the third man confidently set his bag on one of the accent tables and approach her, clearly judging the earl’s instructions to supercede her own wishes. Reluctantly, her feet already up on the chaise, she shifted so that he could lift her skirt out of the way and remove her slipper.
    She’d not donned stockings, being in a rush to