Page 10 of The Phantom Duke

“Do I? I take that as an insult. I wish no part of it but must reside beneath a roof somewhere. I do not see why I should move myself just to avoid you. Better that everyone else departs.”

“That is just childish.”

The great head turned in her direction, face cloaked by deep shadow. Maria felt as if she were being scrutinized by a hunter. Weighed and measured. She winced at a pulse of pain from her head but decided she must make herself a more difficult opponent.

I will not appear weak and subservient before this brute.

She eased herself from the bed.

“I wish to be on my way. I have an urgent task.”

She put a hand to her waist, suddenly remembering the letter that Doctor Drayford had given her. It was gone. Her stomach sank, and she prayed that Doctor Henshaw Gould would accept her word that she came from the orphanage without the letter of introduction.

“And what is that?”

“There is fever at the orphanage not far from here. I am to retrieve supplies from Bethlem Hospital, which might save lives. Whichwillsave lives! I cannot allow a cruel and rude man to stand in my way.”

She tried once more to put weight on her ankle, and a molten lance of pain tore through her leg.

“I will write to this Earl of Sunspire. I imagine my butler is capable of divining the correct address and inform him that his daughter requires….”

“No!” Maria exclaimed.

“No?”

“I mean. It is not necessary. My father knew I was… leaving last night and will not have missed me. I would rather assure myself that the medical supplies needed at the orphanage are delivered.”

“Shall I send a maid to relieve Elsbeth, Your Grace?” Philby inquired.

“Yes. And no more interruptions,” the duke said briskly.

The words elicited no response from the elderly butler other than a grave inclination of his head. The young servant curtsied and breathed thanks before leaving the room.

“Leave the door, Philby,” the duke said as the butler backed from the room, bowing. “Let it not be said that I was shuttered away, alone with our guest.”

Maria was grateful for the light, though the duke retreated into a darker corner of the room. She could see him but not discern the details of his face. She wanted to ask him the reason for his behavior, for the darkness and his lurking in shadows, but decorum held her back.

Perhaps, it was because she had reacted in such a startled manner. Maria inwardly winced. But still, a gentleman would have understood and responded appropriately to such an outburst, doubtlessly caused in no small part due to her injury. He had not.

He watched her with sharp eyes above steepled fingers for a long, silent moment. Then the sound of footsteps along the hallway outside could be heard. A man appeared, small and with dark hair and spectacles. He looked from the duke to Maria.

“I heard voices and assumed our damsel in distress had woken.”

“She has and wishes to be on her way,” the duke said.

“Well, if I may?” he said to Maria.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Doctor Simon Hale. I was present last night when you were assaulted, and I treated you. May I?”

She watched him cautiously but nodded. He carried a leather bag and had a friendly smile. He carried out a series ofperfunctory examinations, testing her ankle, looking into her eyes with a candle and having her follow a pencil that he moved from side to side.

“I think you’ll live. A sprain of the ankle, which should right itself in a few days, and a few broken blood vessels in your temple rather than a cracked skull. Head injuries always bleed considerably, but this one is not indicative of a serious wound.”

“The price of recklessness,” the duke grumbled.

“That was uncalled for!” Maria clamped her mouth shut as the words fled her lips.