Page 17 of Dark Embrace

Mr. Franks shook his head and hooked his thumbs in his lapels. “It means agreatdeal.”

“It does not explain the lack ofblood.”

“The poison from his wound would explain it,” Mr.Frankssaid.

It would not, but Sarah had no intention of saying so. In this moment, she was immensely glad of Mr. Franks’ contrary nature. If Mr. Simon claimed the sky was blue, then Mr. Franks would argue that it was green, simply because he could not help himself. A boon, under the circumstances, for it offered her anunexpectedally.

With everyone’s attention locked on this new evidence, Mr. Thayne leaned in and spoke for her earsalone.

“My champion, Miss Lowell?” He soundedamused.

“Only the voice of reason,” she whispered in return. “They were ready to name you a ravening beast that chewed flesh and drankblood.”

When no reply was immediately forthcoming, she glanced back at him over her shoulder and found him far too close for either propriety or comfort. Too tall. Too broad.Toomale.

Golden stubble dusted his jaw and his sun-bright hair had come free of its tie to fall in loose, thickwaves.

“A ravening beast,” he mused, and his lips curved in a dark smile. “Perhaps the descriptor is fitting.” There was no sarcasm inhistone.

“Why would you say that?” shedemanded.

“People are often not what theyappear.”

His eyes glittered, gray and brooding as a storm-chased sky, myriad emotions reflected in their silvered depths. Dark emotions. Loneliness. Regret. Sadness. Attraction. Or perhaps she only saw the things that dwelled in the shadowed corners of her own heartandsoul.

She turned forward once more to stare straight ahead at Mr. Simon and Mr. Franks who bickered back and forth like two boys in shortpants.

Buffeted by both confusion and dismay, she heard not a word of theirdiscourse.

Mr. Thayne leaned in again and whispered, “Thank you,” his breath fanning hercheek.

People are often not what they appear.With the heat and leashed threat of Killian Thayne so close at her back, she had the strange thought that he was not at all as he appeared, that the calm and controlled face he presented the world was not his true nature. That there was something inside of him, something dangerous and barelyrestrained.

That perhaps the label of beast wasmostapt.

But notravening.

No, Killian Thayne would be more of a patient predator, one that watched andwaited.

7

Only one attendantcame to carry Mr. Scully away, which meant either Sarah or Elinor would need to haul the other end of thestretcher.

“Would you rather fetch linens and make up the bed or lift and carry?” Elinorasked.

“Linens,” Sarah said with a glance at the bed. Another poor soul would arrive soon to take that spot, to lie moaning in pain, or stoically white-lipped.

That was the part she found difficult. She had little enough to offer the patients save for a cool hand on their brow or a cup of water or gin. The physicians doled out laudanum with a miserly fist when there was any to be had at all, for the cost was dear. So the patients suffered, and that suffering wore at her. She longed for a way toalleviateit.

She paused only long enough to wash her hands in the basin at the side of the ward. Others had commented on her obsession with cleanliness, including Mr. Franks and the matron. Mostly, the nurses washed not at all, and the surgeons only after a messy surgery to clean away the blood and gore. But Sarah’s father had thought it important to wash both before and after patient care. He had believed that miasma was the source of illness, foul smell taking root and causing disease, and so he had insisted on cleanliness to curb fetidsmells.

A mouse scurried in the shadows as she made her way along the wide corridor, the noise and clamor of the wards fading behind her. Slowing her pace, she turned down a narrower hallway and, finally, stepped into a small, dark alcove that housed the storage closet. The door was an ill-fitting slab of wood that stuck fast until she pulled hard, and then it scraped along the floor with agratingrasp.

She stared into the interior of the closet and thought that she ought to have brought a candle for there were no windows in the alcove or in the short, narrow hallway that led to it. The linens were on the middle shelf, a low stack of oft-mended, yellowed cloths that had been scrubbed and boiled time and again, and still bore the stains ofmanyuses.

As Sarah stepped into the storage closet, a shush of sound behind her made her turn. She peered into the gloom but saw nothing more than dust and shadows. Then a mouse scurried across the floor and disappeared into a hole on theoppositewall.

Feeling foolish, she turned back to her task, stacking sheets and choosing several tallow candles to add to her pile. An eerie sensation tickled the fine hairs at her nape and again she heard a whooshing sound. She set down the gathered items on the shelf and turned to face thehallway.