Free An Unexpected Gift by Katherine Grey

pick me up. I was to spend the night.” She stared into the night before meeting his gaze, her blue eyes imploring. “Please. I need to leave.”
    He shoved the missive from Sandhurst into his frock coat pocket and maneuvered her through the crush of guests and out of the ballroom. “Did someone make improper advances?” he asked in a low voice.
    She shook her head.
    Taking her pelisse from the waiting footman, he helped her into it. He shrugged into his own coat and ushered her out to his carriage.
    The wind whistled through the newly blossoming trees. Thunder crashed overhead. Olivia jumped back with a whimper, nearly colliding with him as he followed behind. He put his arm around her waist and hurried her to the coach, propriety be damned.
    “Take us to the St. Germaine residence,” he said to the driver, closing the door behind him.
    As the carriage moved forward, he lit one of the interior lamps. Olivia sat huddled in the far corner, her eyes squeezed closed, her lips moving soundlessly.
    “Miss St. Germaine. Miss St. Germaine.” He raised her chin with gentle fingers. “Olivia, tell me what happened.”
    She opened her eyes and stared at him. Only she wasn’t looking at him, she was looking through him. It was as though he wasn’t there. A crack of thunder filled the silence, followed by a flash of lightning. She clutched at his hand, her lips moving faster.
    It dawned on him then. She was afraid of the storm, of the thunder in particular. He ducked his head to hide a smile of relief and moved onto the bench beside her.
    The thunder rolled overhead while rain battered against the roof of the carriage. Olivia covered her ears with her hands and rocked back and forth. Putting his arm around her, he pulled her close, trying to offer the comfort of his presence. As a child, he had always been less afraid when he wasn’t alone.
    Realizing she was still whispering to herself, he leaned closer.
    “It’s only thunder. It’s only thunder. It’s not cannon fire. It’s not cannon fire. It’s not cannon fire,” she repeated over and over.

Chapter Six
    Cannon fire? Will didn’t know what she meant by that. He watched over her, not sure how else to offer comfort from the storm.
    The carriage pulled to a stop, and he sent up a small prayer of thanks that the St. Germaine townhouse was not a great distance from the Riverton home. Once he saw her safely inside with a cup of tea, Olivia should be fine. He looked down at her white face as the footman opened the door, an umbrella in hand to shield them from the elements. Tea be damned, she needed a bracing glass of brandy.
    Will stepped down from the coach and helped her out. Making certain the footman was keeping her sheltered from the rain, he pulled up the collar of his coat and followed them. They entered the townhouse just as a loud crack of thunder bellowed overhead, shaking the timbers of the building.
    Olivia whipped off her pelisse and strode down the hall. “Ellie, where are you?” she called. “We must hurry. They will be arriving soon.”
    “I’m here, Mum. I’ve already started with the bandages.” The young maid who’d helped out the night he’d arrived injured handed a stack of white linen folded into small squares to Olivia.
    Bandages? Will shrugged out of his great coat, handed it to the footman, and walked down the hall.
    “Good. I know I can count on you to keep a level head.” Olivia opened the door off to the left. “We’ll have them put the wounded in here. Remember, I need to see the most serious injuries first.”
    Ellie bobbed her head. “Yes, Mum.”
    Wounded? Will glanced at Olivia and then the maid. What was going on?
    “I’ll need my instruments,” Olivia called over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs.
    “I puts them on a table next to the cots.” Ellie gave Will a wary glance, then dashed up the stairs after her mistress.
    Cots? Instruments? Who was she expecting that would be wounded? Was she like her brother after