Page 97 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

She alighted from the carriage and waited for Xander to follow.

“You,” he called to her footman from the top of the steps. “If you don’t want me to land in a heap on the ground and prevent the coach from getting away on time, I suggest you give me a hand.”

At a nod from Cassandra, Martin hurried forward to offer an arm to her brother as he laboriously climbed down from the carriage.

Sweat was pouring from his brow as he reached the bottom. She could only imagine what pain he must be in.

“Stick.”

She handed him the walking implement and, leaning heavily on the aid, he stumbled his way across the yard.

Cassandra asked Martin to arrange for the carrier to bring Xander’s trunk to the house, and then offered her arm to her brother.

With a grunt, Xander took it for his own support, not hers.

“I didn’t expect you to travel without your valet. Where’s Cottman? You could have done with his help on the journey.”

“Dead.”

Cassandra gasped. “I didn’t realise. I’m so sorry. It makes me all the more thankful that you are alive.”

“Barely.”

“But nevertheless, alive.”

“I wish I were dead.”

Not a good start. “But God has seen fit to spare you, so here you are.”

“Yes. Here I am. A worthless excuse of a man. Forced to rely on my sister. A burden, not a blessing.”

Cassandra restrained a sigh. If he was going to be this bad-tempered, he might well prove to be a burden, but it would do neither of them any good to say so. She must remain positive.

“We’re family, Xander. Jethro is happy to provide for you.”

“Happier than I am to rely on him. How humiliating.”

Said the man who had charged his bill at the Golden Lion to her husband. Had a close brush with death changed him so much?

Xander winced and took a sharp intake of breath. Cassandra chided herself for not asking Jethro for the chaise. It was only a short way, and she had thought the fresh sea air would do her brother good, but it seemed she was mistaken.

“How do you feel?”

He stopped their slow progress and stared at her, his mouth turned down in scorn. “How do you think I feel?”

Well, that was something. At least he had enough wits about him not to swear at his sister.

“I don’t know. Tell me.”

He grunted again, and they resumed their hesitant walk toward home. It was a relief when the brief journey was over, and Xander struggled up the steps and into the house.

His face was so pale she thought he might faint. It was disconcerting. She had never seen him look so weak—so vulnerable.

“Would you like to go up to your room to rest?”

“No, I darn well wouldn’t, unless you want me to damage even more of this useless body, as I doubt I could climb half a dozen stairs without falling. A chair, Cassandra. I need to sit. Now.”

She plastered a thin smile on her lips. “Yes, of course.”