The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(285)

"You're right, Arabella," he said, sitting up quickly before he did anything else to disgrace himself. "Pack up your bags. We're leaving today. Timothy and Betsey will come with us."



He bent to pull on his shoes to hide his moist eyes, and began to head for the front door.



"But Blake, it's so late. Or early! Where are you going?"



He spoke with his back to her, cuffing the tears away. "To the clinic for a few minutes to leave instructions, and to perform a couple of other errands around town."



"What about breakfast?"



"I'll eat before we leave. I can sleep in the carriage," he said, anticipating her next objection. "Send a note round to Mrs. Evans, and one to Thomas telling them we're leaving. We'll stay with Michael Avenel and call at your house, look in on the Deverils to see how Sarah is, and then see what happens after that."



"Of course, whatever you like."



He was about to step out the door when he paused, too struck by her beauty not to touch her once. He took a deep breath and stepped back. He chucked her under the chin and toyed with one glossy jet ringlet. "Try not to look so worried. All will be well. And don't forget to check your stocks and shares. The clinic is counting on both of us."



"And yet we're leaving?" she asked in a surprised tone.



He heaved a huge sigh. "I'm not God, Arabella. I'm tired. Dashed tired. I came back from the being away at war for nearly six years, nearly eighteen hours a day, more when a battle was on, with hardly any leaves of absence. I've been working like a madman ever since I came home. I need to get my own life in order. Then perhaps the rest of it will fall into place. Marriage, family…"



He stopped before he said anything more that might betray his feelings for her. He did not dare linger to speak with her in the mood he was in. "I'll be back about eleven."



"I'll be ready," she promised, though her heart was sinking into her boots. He was going to marry Leonore?



Blake headed straight for Bethnal Green, where some bedraggled and freezing women were hoping for a bit of last-minute trade. He explained to them what had happened to Molly, and told them to be on the alert for a man matching the description he had been given, or anyone with some strange blackish powder.



"Get anyone you suspect might be exposed to it to my clinic straight away. You know where it is."



He handed them all the money he had in his pockets, though it was little enough.



"Make sure you come in to be checked, and get something decent to eat. We're going to be starting a little school soon, too, if you want to learn reading and sums."



"Bless you sir, thank you."



"Don't thank me, thank my wa- Wife," he amended suddenly, though he could not have said why.



"She's a lucky woman, sir."



"I'm a lucky man. Or will be soon, I hope."



He went to the clinic and consulted with Dr. Herriot, who was just getting in, and surprised to see him back for another shift.



"No, I'm not here to work. I'm sorry to be leaving you like this, Antony, but that girl Molly was the last straw for me. I'm going to come back to London one day. At the moment I'm all in turmoil. I can't see my way clear of the darkness I feel all around me. I need to sort our some personal matters. Then I can come back in a better frame of mind."



"I understand."



"By all means write and tell me what is happening. My accountant can do the books and find someone to manage the office, do the purchasing and so on. As for extra hands, let those two young chaps who volunteered last week have a go. And if the medical students want some real experience, we'll give it to them. I'll be back soon, me and Arabella."



"Very good. Listen, I'm sorry again that I didn't contact you earlier. I doubt we could have saved her. But the sooner we find that monster the better, before he blights more innocent women's lives," the earnest young man said.



"I couldn't agree with you more."



"When are you leaving?"



"Today. I'll write and let you know what my plans are. And thanks for all your help." He offered his hand to shake.



"I'm only too glad to do it," Antony said fervently, returning the warm pressure.



Blake got into his carriage and headed for the house in Islington.



As always, the trip never failed to depress him. It had been a futile errand for over ten years now, ever since he had been told the truth by his father…



He would need to tell Arabella one day.



The poor girl. He had told her they would have absolute confidence between them, yet he had lied about his feelings for her right from the start. Had kept things from her. He felt as though he had done nothing but pollute and corrupt her ever since they had met.