Free Megan Frampton by Hero of My Heart Page A

the wall. He had a wild, feverish look in his eyes, which wasn’t surprising, given that the rivulets ofsweat dripping down his chest had now soaked through the top part of his breeches.
    He lifted his chin in a disdainful gesture. “And your doctor here thinks he can help me?”
    Perhaps there really
was
an illness exclusive to the Quality.
    The marquess reached out and grabbed Mary’s hand, squeezing it in a grip so hard she felt the blood drain from her fingers. “Help me with what? Separating me from my money? How long have you been trying the same game, cousin? It hasn’t worked yet, has it?”
    Hugh raised an eyebrow—
must be a family trait
, Mary thought—and spoke in a voice as cold as a winter wind. “I don’t think you need help with that, Alasdair. How can you accuse me of such a thing?”
    Alasdair closed his eyes. “And you’re here for my own good.” He had a sarcastic, worn-out tone to his voice.
    Hugh spread his hands in a casual gesture. “There has been talk. I am here to protect you.”
    Alasdair shook his head as if to clear it, then rubbed his hands over his face. “There’s always talk. Spread by you, of course,” he said in a tired voice. “Give us a minute,” he said, indicating Mary. “And then I’ll go with you.”
    Hugh’s lips tightened into a thin line, and he glared at Mary, then nodded. “We’ll be just outside,” he said. It sounded like a threat.
    The two men left, and Mary heard the low murmur of their voices just outside the door.
    He was just going to go with them? When it was clear they meant to do him harm? What in God’s name was happening?
    “You won’t sue me for breach of promise, will you, love?” Alasdair said, a wry smile on his lips.
    He was going with them.
What was really wrong with him?
    “You were right after all. It wouldn’t have worked. You’ve got your long, lovely life ahead of you, whereas I—” He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Never mind.”
    He raised his right hand, looking like he might collapse from the effort, andpointed toward where he had dropped his jacket. “There are a few pound notes inside my pocket. I was saving them to buy you a bride gift, but you can have them now.” He began to cough, a dreadful, deep hack that seemed to resonate throughout his body. “You should leave. I wouldn’t want my cousin to get any clever ideas.”
    “But … but what about you?” Mary asked. “What will you do?”
    He shrugged. “Keep on as I have. Do keep in touch, won’t you?” His lips twisted in a sardonic smirk, and Mary could almost physically feel how he was pushing her away. And, even though she’d wanted nothing more than for him to do just that a mere twenty-four hours ago, it hurt now.
    His eyes were clouded with pain. “Go on, take the money before Hugh barges back in here again.” His voice was rough, and she wondered what his noble gesture was costing him. How long he’d been resisting whatever it was his cousin was trying to do.
    She rose and quickly found the money, sliding the few notes into her Donne book before her heart made her ask questions he wouldn’t answer. She slipped the volume into her bag, and turned to face him. “Well. Goodbye then, and thank you.” It felt like an oddly formal statement, given what had passed between them.
    He nodded his head in acknowledgement, and made a casual gesture toward the door. “Be off, Miss Smith, and be grateful we weren’t married. I’d be a devil of a husband.” He bared his teeth in a rakish smile that looked forced.
    Mary’s jaw clenched, and she grabbed the cloak he’d bought for her, slinging it around her shoulders as she reached for the door. Just before she opened it, however, she turned to look back at him.
    His eyes had closed again, and his expression was bone-weary. Mary fought the urge to return to him, to comfort him.
    She didn’t think she could make it right, not for him.
    She walked out into the hallway, her eyesight