Free In the Arms of an Earl by Anna Small Page A

had ordered tea. Jeremy had not stopped looking at her, and she turned away, her face hot.
    “You can play the pianoforte for us, if you’d like,” he said, after a pause. “We promise not to instruct or criticize, eh, Lucy?”
    “Oh, Jeremy.” Lucinda shook her head as if dismayed by his comment, but giggled. “Jane, you are very lucky Colonel B. has not criticized your playing yet. Why, I do not even walk near the pianoforte when he is here in case he calls my arpeggios lazy.”
    Flustered, Jane strode to the window and pretended to look at the park. “You are both very lucky to have a friend who can instruct. We have nobody in Weston. I’ve had to teach myself, which is less than adequate.”
    “He will probably be all right in the morning.” Lucinda went back to sorting her pile of ribbons.
    “Perhaps we should bring him some tea,” Jane said without thinking.
    Jeremy cocked an eyebrow. “I shall bring him some.” He rose from his chair. “It is getting late, and I wanted to ride again early tomorrow. I’d invite you along, Miss Brooke, but I’m sure you’d much rather play nursemaid.” His heels rattled on the parquet floor as he strode from the room.
    Lucinda stared after him. “I wonder what that was all about.”
    Jane gulped back her anxiety. “I cannot imagine.”
    ****
    Jane bolted upright in bed, the hairs at the nape of her neck standing on end. The cry of a wounded animal, or possibly the wailing of a ghost, had interrupted her sleep. Disoriented, she clutched the coverlet to her chest. Lucinda snored softly beside her. Surely, Lucinda would have mentioned if Everhill were haunted.
    A low, agonized moan broke the silence. Jane held back her own scream, until she realized what it was. Without considering her actions, she scrambled out of bed and fled the chamber, snatching her wrapper as she went.
    Colonel Blakeney’s room was at the end of the corridor. His moan reached her again. She should call for Colonel Parker, or at least the housekeeper, who could summon a doctor if he had taken ill.
    But she didn’t stop at Colonel Parker’s chamber, nor did she run up the back stairs to awaken the housekeeper. Before she considered her actions, she stood before the colonel’s door, her heart pounding in her ears.
    Something crashed onto the floor. With a quick glance down the hall to make sure she was alone, she opened his door.
    A single lamp illuminated the room with a faint flickering glow. The fire had died in the hearth, and she shivered in the frosty room. Colonel Blakeney lay sprawled across a couch, one leg dangled over the side. His shirt was open, and he’d thrown his arm over his eyes in the absolute image of despair and suffering.
    Oblivious to the sensibility of the situation, Jane closed the door and went to him. “Colonel Blakeney?” She touched his shoulder.
    His arm dropped from his face, and he stared at her with bleary, red-rimmed eyes. The reek of whiskey reached her nose, and she nearly gagged.
    “Jane.” He closed his eyes, his brow deeply furrowed.
    Gulping back her fear, she felt his forehead for any signs of fever. Besides being damp and covered by lank strands of hair, his skin was cool. Unsure of what to do for him and questioning her motives for staying, she decided to summon help. As she backed away from the bed, her foot bumped an empty crystal decanter. She picked it up and placed it on a nearby table. She was no stranger to the signs of inebriation. Her time with Doctor Adams had shown her all variety of sad abuse, especially with those who had given up hope.
    He probably would not want his old friend to see him thus. Besides, she had some training at the doctor’s side and could probably help him better than anyone else.
    Teeth chattering, she added another log to the dying embers. In minutes, a cheerful blaze crackled on the hearth. She dusted off her hands and turned to go back to the colonel, but instead collided with him. She cried out, but clapped her