Free Exile for Dreamers by Kathleen Baldwin

eye contact with Mr. Alexander Sinclair.
    I found it difficult to concentrate when across the park I was certain Lord Ravencross must be gritting his teeth in severe pain. Real pain. Never mind what the footman had been told to tell me, it was the kind of pain that could steal one’s life away. I stared unseeing at my cup of murky tea, into which Madame Cho had stirred some excessively bitter herbs. I nibbled absently at a biscuit, but it promptly turned to dry cotton wadding in my mouth.
    Despite the pounding in my head, I wanted to run back to Ravencross Manor and demand to be admitted. It was foolishness to sit here sipping repugnant tea when he was suffering.
    Jane reached over and laid her hand over mine to stop me from shredding my biscuit to crumbs. “I know you are worried, but there would be nothing you could do for him.”
    Maybe not, but I could be there. I could annoy him just enough that giving up would not be an option.
    Georgie fretted, too, but for other reasons. She turned her plate of bread and jam round and round in her lap. “Mr. Sinclair, would you mind telling us how you left our friends, Lord Wyatt and Captain Grey? Are they well?”
    Usually Georgie asks a hundred questions where one will do. Today it was the opposite. I knew what she really wanted to ask, but couldn’t. The yearning in her small query made me wince for her. She wanted to ask so much more. She ached to know if the man she loved was safe. Were Lord Wyatt’s wounds healed? How much danger was he in? Were he and the captain on the run from the Iron Crown? Or were they the ones doing the chasing? Most of all, Georgie wanted the answer to one gut-twisting question: When would Sebastian return home to her?
    Our guest finished chewing before responding. “Lord Wyatt said you would ask after him. He instructed me to tell you he is in fine fettle.”
    Georgie’s lips pursed for a moment. “ Instructed you. Does that mean he is well or not?”
    â€œYes, miss. Both men are hale and hearty. A daring lad, your Lord Wyatt. I’m under strict orders not to recite the details of our escape from France, but I can tell you this, he and the captain are men to be reckoned with.” Mr. Sinclair stopped speaking abruptly and made short work of a sausage roll.
    Georgie blanched. I could well imagine the scenarios she must be conjuring in her imagination. “Tell me frankly, Mr. Sinclair. Is he unharmed or not? No new injuries?”
    â€œNothing to speak of. A scratch here and there. The man is a first-rate swordsman.” Mr. Sinclair reached for a salted egg, and I wanted to slap his hand for terrifying poor Georgie. I was beginning to think the rude American was as deceptive as Miss Stranje.
    â€œYou needn’t worry, Georgie. He has the right of it. Lord Wyatt is an excellent hand with both sword and gun.” I spoke with a firmness meant to settle her fears.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miss Stranje and Sera in the doorway. I jumped to my feet, nearly toppling my plate to the floor, catching it just in the nick of time. “What news?” I’d risen so suddenly the room began to whirl, so I slumped back into my seat and gripped the arms of my chair.
    Miss Stranje looked grim, grimmer than her earlier report warranted.
    â€œWhat’s happened?” My voice cracked and sounded odd even to my own ears.
    She answered me directly, no hedging this time. “Lord Ravencross is doing as well as can be expected.” She looked drained and weary, and she absently rubbed her palms on the side of her dress. “The doctor stitched him up and gave him laudanum. They’ve moved him upstairs to his own rooms, where he seems to be resting more comfortably than he was in Mrs. Evans’s small bed.”
    â€œ Seems to be? ” I asked.
    â€œWe’ll know more by tomorrow morning.” Miss Stranje straightened and gave me a shrewd once-over. “And you should be