it!"
His demand jerked her mind from that chilling image. Caitlin licked lips suddenly gone dry, trying to gather her wits. "I ... I'm the new—"
"M'lord, is it true?" The butler's excited voice rang from the doorway. "Is his lordship awake?"
Adam tore his eyes from the red-haired girl and darted an irritated glance over his shoulder. Jepson hovered in the doorway, backed by several murmuring servants clad in nightclothes. All were straining for a glimpse of the bed. Swearing softly, Adam swung his gaze to it... .
He wanted to sob and shout for joy at the same time.
He'd done it! He'd saved his son. Andrew's eyes ... his own eyes ... looked back at him from his son's small face, their gentian depths lucid and focused.
"Andrew...," he murmured thickly, "I—" His voice cracked, and he fell silent, trying to master his emotions.
"Papa," the boy whimpered, "it h-hurts! My leg ..."
A sudden movement beside him drew Adam's attention. The stranger he'd surprised at the bedside was reaching for his son.
"Keep your bloody hands off him!" he snarled, shoving her away.
"Your lordship!" Jepson rushed into the room as Caitlin recoiled from the marquis's angry hands. "Please don't blame the girl, your lordship," the butler implored. "She's the one who worked this miracle. She's—"
"Explain yourself, man." Adam wanted to laugh at the biting irony of Jepson's words. No miracle had brought his son's cure. Far from it! But he worried the red-haired chit was somehow tied to Appleby. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the creature try to withdraw. He clamped a hand on her shoulder and speared his butler with an angry gaze. "Now, Jepson! Or I'll let the magistrate deal with this intruder."
Mrs. Hodgkins hurried forward. "B-begging your pardon, your 1-lordship, but she's no intruder. She—she's the Irish Angel, and she—"
"She's what?"
Jepson coughed discreetly and set a hand on the housekeeper's arm. "Ahem, actually, your lordship, she's a new housemaid we've hired." He glanced at Hodgkins. "But those who ... where she was formerly employed, ah, sometimes called her the Irish Angel." The staid butler looked almost comical as he tried to summon an explanation that would satisfy his employer.
"Ah ... for her extraordinary healing skills, your lordship."
"Indeed." Adam offered the word coolly, running his eyes over the trembling girl in the silence that followed. Satisfied Appleby had kept his word regarding Andrew, he considered the odd coincidence of the girl's appearance.
His gaze moved to a poultice applied to his son's brow. That hadn't been there before. Someone had made a clumsy attempt of some kind ....
His eyes returned to the girl, and he gazed at her thoughtfully. The servants' claims were all rot, of course. But he all at once saw the advantage in letting them stand. He'd be saved unwelcome speculation about Andrew's otherworldly recovery.
"What's your name, girl?" It was a command, though he tried to soften the tone somewhat. With a growing awareness, he noted the chit was young ... and inordinately pretty.
"C-Caitlin, sorr—I mean, yer lordship." Caitlin was still dealing with the shock of recognition. And the fact that he still had her pinned by the shoulder wasn't helping her composure. "Caitlin O'Brien," she added, summoning the bravado to raise her chin a notch.
"The Irish Angel?"
Caitlin bristled. The mockery in his voice was subtle, perhaps meant to go over a poor Irish peasant's head, but she hadn't missed it. She forced a nod, not trusting her voice. It wasn't just his tone that angered her; the child was hurting, and he stood here asking questions!
"Very well, Caitlin." The marquis released her shoulder. "I collect I am obliged to you for my son's .. . miraculous recovery."
Adam's gaze shifted to his two upper servants. "She's to have a rise in wages," he told them, then gestured at the doorway. "Now remove everyone at once. I wish to be alone with my son."
"Oh, but yer lordship!" Caitlin pulled
His demand jerked her mind from that chilling image. Caitlin licked lips suddenly gone dry, trying to gather her wits. "I ... I'm the new—"
"M'lord, is it true?" The butler's excited voice rang from the doorway. "Is his lordship awake?"
Adam tore his eyes from the red-haired girl and darted an irritated glance over his shoulder. Jepson hovered in the doorway, backed by several murmuring servants clad in nightclothes. All were straining for a glimpse of the bed. Swearing softly, Adam swung his gaze to it... .
He wanted to sob and shout for joy at the same time.
He'd done it! He'd saved his son. Andrew's eyes ... his own eyes ... looked back at him from his son's small face, their gentian depths lucid and focused.
"Andrew...," he murmured thickly, "I—" His voice cracked, and he fell silent, trying to master his emotions.
"Papa," the boy whimpered, "it h-hurts! My leg ..."
A sudden movement beside him drew Adam's attention. The stranger he'd surprised at the bedside was reaching for his son.
"Keep your bloody hands off him!" he snarled, shoving her away.
"Your lordship!" Jepson rushed into the room as Caitlin recoiled from the marquis's angry hands. "Please don't blame the girl, your lordship," the butler implored. "She's the one who worked this miracle. She's—"
"Explain yourself, man." Adam wanted to laugh at the biting irony of Jepson's words. No miracle had brought his son's cure. Far from it! But he worried the red-haired chit was somehow tied to Appleby. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the creature try to withdraw. He clamped a hand on her shoulder and speared his butler with an angry gaze. "Now, Jepson! Or I'll let the magistrate deal with this intruder."
Mrs. Hodgkins hurried forward. "B-begging your pardon, your 1-lordship, but she's no intruder. She—she's the Irish Angel, and she—"
"She's what?"
Jepson coughed discreetly and set a hand on the housekeeper's arm. "Ahem, actually, your lordship, she's a new housemaid we've hired." He glanced at Hodgkins. "But those who ... where she was formerly employed, ah, sometimes called her the Irish Angel." The staid butler looked almost comical as he tried to summon an explanation that would satisfy his employer.
"Ah ... for her extraordinary healing skills, your lordship."
"Indeed." Adam offered the word coolly, running his eyes over the trembling girl in the silence that followed. Satisfied Appleby had kept his word regarding Andrew, he considered the odd coincidence of the girl's appearance.
His gaze moved to a poultice applied to his son's brow. That hadn't been there before. Someone had made a clumsy attempt of some kind ....
His eyes returned to the girl, and he gazed at her thoughtfully. The servants' claims were all rot, of course. But he all at once saw the advantage in letting them stand. He'd be saved unwelcome speculation about Andrew's otherworldly recovery.
"What's your name, girl?" It was a command, though he tried to soften the tone somewhat. With a growing awareness, he noted the chit was young ... and inordinately pretty.
"C-Caitlin, sorr—I mean, yer lordship." Caitlin was still dealing with the shock of recognition. And the fact that he still had her pinned by the shoulder wasn't helping her composure. "Caitlin O'Brien," she added, summoning the bravado to raise her chin a notch.
"The Irish Angel?"
Caitlin bristled. The mockery in his voice was subtle, perhaps meant to go over a poor Irish peasant's head, but she hadn't missed it. She forced a nod, not trusting her voice. It wasn't just his tone that angered her; the child was hurting, and he stood here asking questions!
"Very well, Caitlin." The marquis released her shoulder. "I collect I am obliged to you for my son's .. . miraculous recovery."
Adam's gaze shifted to his two upper servants. "She's to have a rise in wages," he told them, then gestured at the doorway. "Now remove everyone at once. I wish to be alone with my son."
"Oh, but yer lordship!" Caitlin pulled
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