The Outcast Earl Read Online Free PDF

check on her aunt, and now she wished she had.
    Perhaps this was less humiliating, she reconsidered, watching him inspect the joint carefully. It felt odd—and somehow illicit—to have her foot bare before a man other than the physician. It would have been more than unnerving to think of removing her stockings in the gallery, with Meriden watching.
    She jerked when Dr Franklin twisted the foot slightly, and sat back in relief when he returned it to the chaise.
    “You have no other injuries, then?” he asked kindly, looking intently at her face.
    Abigail smiled, a bit tiredly, and shook her head. “I’m very tired, of course, what with the shock wearing off now, but I’ll be much improved come morning.” She refused to mention her bruised back, or the persistent shivers that were threatening. Those she could manage privately, after all.
    “We can’t have you sitting up all night with your aunt, then,” the doctor insisted, seeming to read her intentions. “I know you asked for a cot to be brought up to your aunt’s room but I do think a maid shall be sufficient. Your aunt will sleep all night, and your ankle—not to mention the bruises on your shins—will heal best if you sleep well. We shall need you tomorrow, preferably on your feet.”
    Grimacing, Abigail nodded, privately protesting that the cot would be perfectly restful. No maid—certainly no maid who had not met Aunt Betsy before the carriage accident—would be able to replace a beloved niece. The only suitable candidate was Abigail’s own maid, Jenna, who was also in a drugged sleep in the service wing, having been diagnosed with a broken arm and serious wrenching of her spine and shoulder. She’d been thrown from the top of the carriage, but luckily had not landed underneath it.
    “How is Lady Arlington?” the earl inquired evenly. He had withdrawn to the shadows a bit, making it difficult for Abigail to see him, but his voice carried easily in the gloom.
    “She’ll need some time to recover—she’s had a nasty knock, certainly a concussion in addition to the wound itself. We won’t know how serious it is until she wakes, but in my judgement she needs to be asleep until it heals a bit. She could experience memory loss, migraines or a loss of articulate speech, or wake up in perfect health.” The doctor’s voice was easy, and as he spoke Abigail watched him wrap her ankle in a tight bandage, then tie the end expertly. “I’ll return tomorrow just after lunch, as her laudanum won’t wear off until then.”
    Abigail wouldn’t be able to put her slipper back on, but she’d be able to hobble back to her room for better footwear. “As for Lady Abigail, she’s correct. It is a twist. She’ll be perfectly normal in a day or two, as long as she doesn’t overdo it. And no dancing until two in the morning, young lady,” he added, raising an informal eyebrow in her direction.
    Abigail had to smile at the jest. “Why, then,” she returned smartly, “let us hope his lordship has not planned a Grand Ball to be held before my dancing slippers arrive and are unpacked.”
    The doctor’s eyebrows lifted and he laughed. “Why, I’m not sure his lordship even knows where his own ballroom is located in this great monstrosity of a house,” he assured her.
    “Directly beneath the earl’s apartments,” Meriden supplied brusquely. “James, what do you say, can’t you stay?”
    If he stayed, the doctor would likely sit up in her aunt’s room. Abigail waited, quite still. At least, she thought, he was a doctor, but then he shook his head. “Not tonight. I need to be near the bell. Mrs Silverthorn and Mrs Manwaring are likely to need me anytime, and the baker’s mother is near her last day. But I do appreciate the offer, Charles.”
    Abigail blinked, but Meriden strolled from the shadows, seemingly unaffected by the casual use of his given name. “I’ll see you out then.” He laid a hand on the doctor’s back. “I’m sure Lady Abigail will