Barbara Metzger Read Free Page A

her time of need. Either the man was a saint or—Ty sat up so quickly the other papers around him scattered and his injured arm protested so vehemently he fell back against the pillows until the pain subsided. He clutched the letter and stared at the whitewashed ceiling above him. Lord, what if the poor girl had been violated? He knew small towns and small minds would not make the distinction between wanton and raped. Ruined was ruined, and no so-called decent folk would come to her aid. Of course she’d want to move, to pass herself off as a widow somewhere, after her own family, the cousins, the aunt in London, had turned their backs on her. Without money or friends, heaven alone knew what would happen to Miss Croft. Without George ... It did not bear thinking of. His letter continued:
     
    I swear I would never have left you to bear this on your own, if only I had known in time.
     
    Ty’s brows were drawn into a scowl as he read further.
     
    And I will write to Clarence this very day to release to you whatever funds you need, even if he has to mortgage Faircroft. Hire the best physicians, or send to London for one of those fancy accoucheurs if you think that would be better. Do what you must, Dilly girl—
     
    Dilly? What kind of name was Dilly? Ty looked back, but Miss Croft had not given her name, only Sister.
     
    —until I can get home.
     
    Major Tyverne clenched his jaw muscles. Croft had been intending to go to his sister’s aid, for whatever good he could do.
     
    I did ask the captain for leave as soon as I got your last letter, and Belinda’s, of course, but he refused, with a major battle looming. I swear I shall make sure I am wounded in the skirmish—nothing serious, mind you, so do not fret over me when you have so much else in your dish—but enough that they will have to send me home.
     
    Ty’s teeth would be ground to nubs at this rate.
     
    If not, I shall resign my commission, enduring the label of coward, as you at home have endured worse.
     
    Ty could well imagine the taunts an unwed, enceinte miss would hear, the whispered slurs she would not. The turned backs, the disrespect—How could a gently reared female bear that on her own? Now to add the grief of George’s passing was beyond cruel.
    Lud knew what would happen to her or the child without Croft’s support. That cousin, Clarence, sounded just the kind of toad to toss them out on the street. If George’s sister gave up the babe, as many a woman in her circumstances would be forced to, she would still never be welcomed in the community, never given references for employment, never have the chance to marry.
    Not even jingle-brained George, who thought he could orchestrate the depth and degree of a battle wound, believed his sister could find a husband.
     
    As for Lord Dallsworth, I cannot regret the termination of his suit. You never wished to accept that old stick anyway, you know. You told me often enough. Furthermore, I refuse to have a sister known as Dilly Dally.
     
    George closed his letter by beseeching his sibling to be strong, for all of them. He promised to finish the letter after the coming battle, when he could better estimate his arrival date.
    The lieutenant never finished the letter, of course, and he was never going to arrive in Kent. Not in time for the baby, not in time to rescue his sister. Never.
    “Live,” he’d told Ty. “Live to pass on the favor. Save someone else’s life.”
    Major Lord Tyverne always paid his debts. With one notable exception, he always fulfilled his obligations. He knew what he had to do now.
    He had to ride the blasted horse.
     

Chapter 3
     
    A nearly useless arm was bad enough. Fevers that keptracking his weakened body were worse. Landing on his rump in front of half the regiment was worst of all.
    The surgeons had declared Major Lord Tyverne recovered enough so that the ride home in the troop transport ship would not kill him. They would certainly make no such assurances about