Free A Season to Be Sinful by Jo Goodman

escort.
    Master Pinch? Sherry asked. The boy stepped front and center. Did you hear?
    He nodded. His eyes darted to the bed where Harris was dressing the wound. A touch of color came into his cheeks, but the color was green.
    Sherry waved him away from the bed. You will see that Dr. Harris is not accosted. I am depending on you to secure another hack. I am in no expectation that our driver still remains on the street.
    Dash went to the window, threw it open, and leaned so far out he was in danger of tumbling. Right you are, guvnor, he said, craning his neck for a view of the front street. I mean yer lordship. The blokes gone. I suppose it werent worth the extra shillin ye give im to twiddle is thumbs waiting for us. Theres people hered just as soon slit is throat for it.
    Present company excluded, Im sure, Harris muttered with heavy irony.
    Sherrys slight smile was appreciative. Come back in here, Master Dash, before you fall on your head and the doctor has two patients to attend.
    It was hours after nightfall that the room, the patient, and all of her protectors were finally settled. After returning with Pinch and all the items on Sherrys list, Harris stayed long enough to examine his patient and enumerate the reasons Lord Sheridan should not spend the night. One of the things
    Sherry had not requested was the services of his valet, but that stalwart had arrived with an underfootman, two valises, a trunk, and enough fresh bedding to open an inn.
    As the entourage grew, so did the need for more clean rooms. The widow and her daughter earned three months wages in the course of the evening, sweeping, scrubbing, and scraping the dirt from the floors, beating the bugs from the mattresses, and finally snapping clean white sheets over the beds.
    Rutland did not warm to Sherrys permitting Pinch, Dash, and Midge to take one of the rooms, and Sherry did not favor the three urchins going to bed dirty, but by midnight there was little argument left in anyone.
    Sherrys room adjoined Roses. Hed had his bed moved to the wall that separated them. Now that he lay atop the unevenly filled mattress, he realized the noise rising from below-stairs would never permit him to hear her if she required help. It seemed rather far-fetched that she would. Harris had said it was unlikely that she would wake soon. Sherry suspected the physician meant to say that it was unlikely that she would wake ever, but at the last moment reconsidered this pronouncement.
    What had he brought down upon his own head? he wondered. Although it was not his way to blame others, on this occasion he had not even the luxury of contemplating it.
    It had begun simply enough with the desire to return to his country estate. A rather quaint longing, he thought. Would he be here this evening if hed had desires of a different sort? What if it had been his inclination to spend more time in the gaming hells or if he had decided against ending his arrangement with Fanny? More to the point, what if he had chosen a different entertainment for their last evening together? An intimate dinner in her home to set the stage for the break. A private musical performance. Vauxhall Gardens instead of Covent.
    What if he had what if what if
    The cry made him bolt upright. He was unsteady at first and shook his head to clear it. Had he been sleeping? Dreaming? He had no memory of falling asleep but knew he must have. The tavern was markedly quieter now, the patrons having imbibed enough liquor to gradually pass from rowdy to stuporous. The crescent moon was no longer framed in his window, and there was a hint of starshine to replace itmore evidence that time had passed.
    The cry, then. What was it?
    Sherry cursed under his breath. In a single motion he pushed himself out of bed and grabbed the robe at its foot. He shrugged into it as he headed for the door. The window-less corridor was dark as pitch, but it was only a short distance to the next room, and he found his way with a minimum of groping