Page 98 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

With one hand grasping his stick and the other tucked in her arm, he staggered the last few steps to the drawing room and collapsed into the nearest seat.

He sat there, breathing heavily, with his eyes closed, and for a moment she thought he had fallen asleep.

His grip on the cane loosened, and it fell to the floor unheeded. She was about to leave him to rest when he opened one eye.

“Tired of me already?”

“You were asleep.”

“Just resting my eyelids.”

“Are you hungry? Shall I bring you some bread and cold meat?”

“Nah. All I need is a tankard of ale and some more laudanum,” he said, pulling a flask out of his pocket and taking a swig.

Cassandra rang the bell for the beer her brother wanted, and sat staring at him.

What had they done to him? Xander was a mere shell of the man he had been. And it was not only his leg. That much was clear.

His confidence had received as many fragments of shrapnel as his limbs, and she feared they would be even harder to extract.

Cassandra stayed with Xander for the rest of the afternoon. He wasn’t inclined to talk, but neither did he want to be left alone. She didn’t know what to do with him.

He was tired. He would be better after he had rested, wouldn’t he?

At half past four, she made her escape, excusing herself from his suffocating company.

She hovered in the hall, waiting for Jethro to walk through the door at his usual time. She needed to warn him about the strange state of mind her brother was in.

Sure enough, as the clock struck the quarter hour, her husband entered the house.

“Cassandra—what a pleasant surprise,” he said, leaning over and pecking her cheek.

Was it such a surprise? Wasn’t it their routine? No. Not recently. She hadn’t waited in the hall for him since—when?

The day she had asked him about Xander. Was it really that long ago? They had both been so busy, they had fallen out of the habit.

She lifted a hand to where his lips had touched her skin, and her eyes misted over. It was the first time he’d kissed her cheek in as long.

His brow crinkled with concern. “Is all well? Alexander?”

“Yes, he’s arrived, but he is far from well. I have to warn you, he is different. Melancholy. He has always been so talkative before, but now he just sits and hardly says a word.”

Jethro hooked her arm in his. “You must give him time. He’s tired from his journey.”

“I know, but I’m afraid…”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I’m afraid he will never be the same.”

He squeezed her hand. “No, but that may not be a bad thing,” he said in a gentle voice that took the sting out of his words. “Being afraid will not help him, but praying will. With God’s help, there is always hope.”

Jethro was right. She must not give up hoping. For Xander’s sake—and theirs.

Chapter 53

Despite his brave words, Jethro’s confidence wavered as he entered the drawing room, unsure of what he would find.

“It is good to see you in one piece, Alexander,” he said, striding over to where Cassandra’s brother sat slumped in a chair with his right leg propped up on a stool in front of him.