Angel's Touch by Elizabeth Bailey Page B

hero’s
activities would be calculated to amuse. The idea of the
Necromancer might attract her, but she knew from past experience
that it would only set her imagination working, and there were far
too many daily engagements here at the Wells for her to have time
to spare for her little hobby. No, Peregrine Pickle let it
be.
    Taking the volumes,
she gave her name to the librarian, who had a word to say about her
choice as he always did to all who came there. Verity stayed
chatting a moment or two until she noticed by the clock on the
mantelpiece that she had overstayed her time.
    ‘ Gracious, I must fly! Lady Crossens may need me to help her
across to the Assembly Rooms.’
    She sped to the door
and dashed out, only to collide on the threshold with someone who
was about to enter. The impact was severe, knocking the breath from
her body and causing her to drop her books and grab at the
door-jamb to prevent herself from falling.
    The other party was
less fortunate. He staggered back, shoved a leg behind him to save
himself, and threw out a hand to clutch at air. The cane flew from
his grasp and clattered to the pavings, and his bad leg, unable to
take the unbalanced weight, crumpled under him. He crashed to the
floor in an ungainly heap, losing his hat in the process.
    ‘ Oh, no,’ gasped Verity as, with a sudden
lurch of the stomach, she recognised the pale features. ‘Not you!’
    A
servant in livery, who happened to be passing at that moment,
started forward to the gentleman’s aid. At the same time, the
librarian, who had witnessed the accident, came running out. But
Verity was before them both, crouching down and seizing the
gentleman’s arm.
    ‘ Oh,
I am so very sorry,’ she uttered contritely. ‘Have I hurt you very
badly?’
    It was evident from
the way the poor man was gripping his underlip between his teeth
that he was in a good deal of pain, but he managed a faint
laugh.
    ‘ You
are determined—to see me—humbled, are you not? I trust this may
be—lowly enough for you?’
    ‘ Oh,
pray do not! I did not mean it!’ Verity cried, distressed. ‘Let me
help you, sir.’
    But it was in fact the
two men who lifted him to his feet, while Verity scurried to catch
up his cane and hat. He took them from her with a word of thanks,
but visibly winced as he put his weight on the injured leg.
    ‘ You are hurt,’ Verity said anxiously. ‘You must sit down
at once.’
    Without hesitation, she moved to his side and slipped an arm
about him. ‘Lean on me, sir. We will go back into the
library.’
    ‘ No,
no,’ he said at once, reddening and trying to shake her off. ‘I
will be perfectly well in a moment.’
    ‘ You
will be nothing of the sort,’ argued Verity firmly. ‘Why, you are
looking absolutely white!’
    He
grinned slightly, and his tone was faintly apologetic. ‘I always
do, you know.’
    ‘ You are
much paler than before,’ Verity assured
him, and looked at the other two men who were hovering about them.
‘Please help the gentleman into a chair.’
    She
stood back to allow them access. In their zeal to be of service,
they crowded either side and half carried him, protesting, into the
library, where they placed him tenderly in an easy-chair. Verity,
belatedly recalling the volumes she had dropped, collected them and
dusted them off, relieved that they also were undamaged. Ever
helpful, once in the library she took away the gentleman’s cane and
hat and laid them aside, and then directed the servant to go in
search of a doctor. An easy task in this town where physicians were
two a penny.
    ‘ Good God, no,’ exclaimed the victim with some vehemence. ‘I
assure you I do not need a doctor. If I may just rest here a
moment, I shall be quite well presently.’
    ‘ Are
you certain?’ Verity asked worriedly. ‘You may have damaged
something, and I could never forgive myself if you were to be
disabled all through my fault.’
    ‘ My dear girl,’ he said, in a tone somewhere
between amusement and