“No,” Titus stood, reaching out a staying hand for the doctor. “She prefers the windows and drapes open. She likes the breeze from the garden, even in the winter.”
The doctor nodded approvingly. “It’s my opinion fresh air is best for an ailing patient.” He moved to put a hand on her forehead and take her pulse, seeming encouraged by the results. That finished, he turned to Titus, assessing him with eyes much too shrewd and piercing for a boy used to living his life largely unseen.
“She means something to you, boy?”
She meant everything to him. But of course, he could not say that.
“Titus.”
“Pardon?”
“My name is Titus Conleith.”
The doctor gave a curt nod. “Irish?”
“My father was, but my mum was from Yorkshire where they worked the factories. We were sent here when my dad was elevated to a foreman in a steel company. But the well was bad, and Typhoid took them all three months later.”
Alcott made a sound that might have been sympathetic. “And how’d you come to be employed in the household of a Baron?”
Titus shrugged, increasingly uncomfortable beneath the older man’s interrogation. “I saved old Mr. Fick, the stable master, from being crushed by a runaway carriage one time. He gave me the job here to keep me from having to go back to the workhouse as his joints are getting too rheumy to do what he used to, and no orphanage would take in a boy old enough to make trouble.”
“I see. Have you any schooling?”
Titus eyed him warily. “I have some numbers and letters. What’s it to you?”
“You’ve a good mind for what I do. A good stomach for it, as well. I’ve a practice on Lowood Street, do you know where that is?”
“Aye.”
He clasped his hands behind his back looking suddenly regimental. “If Mr. Fick can spare you a few nights a week, I want you to visit me there.”
“I will,” Titus vowed, something sparking inside of him that his worry for Honoria wouldn’t allow to ignite into full hope.
The three days he sat at her side were both the best and worst of his life.
He told her tales about the horse’s antics as he melted chips of ice into her mouth. He monitored for spikes of fever and kept her cool with damp cloths and cloths packed with ice. The doctor even let him dose her with the Thymol and look after most of her necessities when the maids took a turn for the worst.
He begged her to live.
All the while, he crooned the Irish tune his father used to sing to his mother on the nights when they drank a bit too much ale and danced a reel like young lovers across their dingey old floor.
Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands.
He barely ate or slept until the fourth night, after she’d swallowed several spoonsful of beef bone broth, the deep sounds of her easier breaths lulled him to nap in the chair by her bed. Alcott had roused him with the good news that her fever had broken and had then ordered him to wash and change clothing and sleep in the guest room down the hall.
A commotion woke him thirteen hours later. Without thinking, he lurched out of bed and scrambled down the hall. Skidding to a halt he narrowly avoided crashing into the Barron’s back.
Every soul in the Goode family gathered around Honoria’s bed, nearly blocking her from view. Prudence, Felicity, and Mercy all chattered at the same time, and it was the happy sound of their cadence that told him that he had nothing to fear.
Titus squelched a spurt of possession, stopping just short of shoving in and around them to see what was going on. This moment didn’t belong to them, it belonged to him.
She belonged to him.
“Young Mr. Conleith, there you are.” Doctor Alcott, a tall man, stood at the head of the bed next to his patient, who was still blocked from Titus’s view. “Miss Goode, you and your family owe this young lad a debt of gratitude. It is largely due to his tireless efforts that you survived.”
They all turned to look at him, clearing the visual pathway to her.
Titus drank in the sight of Honoria sitting up on her own with an ecstatic elation he was not aware a mortal capable of feeling. She was still ashen and wan, her eyes heavy-lidded and her lips without color.
And yet, the most beautiful sight he’d laid his eyes upon.
Her fingers worried at the burgundy ribbon in her hair, stroking it as if drawing comfort from it.
Was it his imagination, or did dash of peach color her cheeks at the sight of him?
He already knew he was red as a beet, swamped in the blush now creeping up his collar.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Every word he knew crowded in his throat, choking off a reply.
“Yes,” the Barron chuffed, taking his shoulder, and firmly steering him backwards. “Expect our gratitude in remuneration, boy. I’ll call for you to my office tomorrow to discuss the details. There’s a good lad.”
The door shut in his face and he stared at it for an incomprehensible moment. From the other side, the Baroness’s voice grated she asked the Doctor if Honoria might be well enough to attend the garden party at the palace in three days.
He dropped his head against the door and closed his eyes.
She’d looked right at him. Had seen him for the first time. Did she remember any of the previous days? Had she heard anything he’d said to her? Sung to her?
She’d thanked him.
And he’d said nothing. His one chance to actually speak to her and he’d choked.
And then he’d been shut out like the inconvenience he was. To them, the Goodes, he was still a nobody. Nothing. They would never think about him after today unless the dog shat upon the carpets and someone needed to clean it up.
Would she? Would she come to him? Had she noticed him, truly? Not as a servant or a savior but as himself…
One question haunted him as he dragged his feet down the hallway back to the mews, his hand curling over the memory of her skin.
Would he ever get to touch her again?
Want to read more of Honoria’s story?
Preorder Courting Trouble.
Also by Kerrigan Byrne
A Goode Girls Romance
Seducing a Stranger
Courting Trouble
Dancing With Danger
Flirting With Disaster
The Earl of Christmas Past
The Business of Blood Series
The Business of Blood
A Treacherous Trade
A Vocation of Violence
Victorian Rebels
The Highwayman
The Hunter
The Highlander
The Duke
The Scot Beds His Wife
The Duke With the Dragon Tattoo
The MacLauchlan Berserkers
Highland Secret
Highland Shadow
Highland Stranger
To Seduce a Highlander
The MacKay Banshees
Highland Darkness
Highland Devil
Highland Destiny
To Desire a Highlander
The de Moray Druids
Highland Warlord
Highland Witch
Highland Warrior
To Wed a Highlander
Contemporary Suspense
A Righteous Kill
Also by Kerrigan
The Highwayman
The Hunter
The Highlander
The Duke
The Scot Beds His Wife
The Duke With the Dragon Tattoo
How to Love a Duke in Ten Days
All Scot And Bothered
About the Author
Kerrigan Byrne is the USA Today Bestselling and award winning author of THE DUKE WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO. She has authored a dozen novels in both the romance and mystery genre. Her n
ewest mystery release THE BUSINESS OF BLOOD is available October 24th, 2019
She lives on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington with her dream boat husband. When she's not writing and researching, you'll find her on the water sailing and kayaking, or on land eating, drinking, shopping, and taking the dogs to play on the beach.
Kerrigan loves to hear from her readers! To contact her or learn more about her books, please visit her site: www.kerriganbyrne.com
Seducing a Stranger: Goode Girls Book 1 and Victorian Rebels Book 7 (A Goode Girls Romance) Page 26