Second Chances by Andrea Pickens

Author:Andrea Pickens [Pickens, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Heavy grey clouds scudded in from the west and the day that had begun so promising turned ominous. Allegra added her own short spencer to the earl's garment so that Max would not take a chill. She had already torn several lengths of cloth from the hem of her skirt, then soaked them in the icy waters of a nearby brook in order to clean the worst of the grime from his face and apply a cold compress to the nasty swelling around his eyes. Once or twice he stirred under her touch, his lips moving ever so slightly, as if he were trying to speak. But even that slight effort seemed to exhaust his meager strength. There was no further sign of life, save for the faint rasp of his labored breathing.

It seemed like an eternity before she heard the clatter of wheels coming towards them. The earl leapt down from beside the driver and stumbled over to Allegra.

"Still much the same," she said quickly in answer to the stark question in his eyes. "He hasn't regained consciousness. You have sent for a doctor?"

"Of course I bloody have—sorry." He raked his hand through his hair. "It was a lucky thing that work was being done on Renfew's roof. Watson already had his cart hitched in order to fetch supplies from Hingham. We've brought a board, so that Max may be moved with the least disturbance."

His gaze had never left his son's battered face. As the driver of the cart turned his team and dragged a section of planking from the back of the conveyance, Wrexham took Max's lifeless hand and bent low over his ear. "Steady lad," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm here with you now."

The two men then carefully shifted Max onto the board and placed it on a hastily arranged pile of straw. Wrexham and Allegra climbed in on either side while the other man hurried to take up the reins. The cart moved off with a lurch.

Wrexham's face betrayed his frustration with the painfully slow progress over the ruts and rocks. He grimaced with every jolt, his hands clamped tightly on the board to absorb as much of the jostling as he could. Allegra put her head and down and did the same. In a short time, her hands were raw and bleeding from the considerable effort but she hardly noticed. All of her attention was riveted on the bruised face that lay so utterly still.

Neither of them spoke a word. What was there to say?

At last the cart track intersected with one of the main roads and the driver dared urge the horses into an easy trot. Still, it another long while before they turned up the winding drive leading to the Hall. The doctor was already pacing anxiously by the front entrance and several of the footmen, their faces creased with concern for the younger Sloane, hurried to assist the earl in carrying his son up to his chamber. Allegra trailed in their wake, along with the housekeeper, who carried a large tray with all the items the doctor had requested.

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