Night Fire by Catherine Coulter

fifty of those years. The old man had brought Burke into the world and for that, Burke was profoundly grateful. He’d also thought Dr. Arkwright long dead and blurted out as much.
    â€œNot yet,” said Dr. Arkwright, giving Burke a nearly toothless grin. “I’m retired, but the Rendel stable lad caught me fair and square. Being I was so close, I thought it silly to send the lad on for Mark Brody. You know Brody, don’t you?”
    â€œYes, I met him three years ago when he first came.” Burke then told the doctor what happened.
    â€œArielle Leslie, poor little girl. Well, lad, let’s take a look. What were you doing with her anyway?”
    Good question, thought Burke, but he didn’t reply, merely walked more quickly toward Arielle’s room.
    â€œShe’s grown up,” said Dr. Arkwright as he stared down at Arielle. “Well, my dear, open your eyes and tell me where you hurt.”
    Arielle said only, “My head. Dreadful. Please make it stop.”
    Dr. Arkwright grunted. “I approve a woman of few words. Now, open your eyes, that’s it, and tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”
    Burke stepped back, saying nothing, watching the old man efficiently treat Arielle. Oddly, Dr. Arkwright turned to Burke after a few minutes, saying, “I can’t give her any laudanum just yet. Concussion. Wake her up every couple of hours and ask her who she is and where she is. In eight hours or so, some laudanum. I’ll leave instructions.”
    Dorcas finally regained her senses. “His lordship doesn’t live here. He merely brought her home.”
    Dr. Arkwright looked at Burke, then grunted again. “So that’s the way of it, hmm?”
    Burke found himself leaving with Dr. Arkwright. “You’re certain she’ll be all right?”
    â€œIf I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t be leaving. Don’t be such a fool, my boy. The chit will be singing songs in her bath by tomorrow morning. If you were her husband, you’d be there to sing with her.”
    â€œThat’s true enough,” said Burke. “It scared me witless when she flew over her horse’s head.”
    â€œNatural enough reaction,” said Dr. Arkwright. “She’s a beauty. I wondered how she’d turn out. Haven’t seen her for three years, you know; last time was just before Sir Arthur died. I suppose you’ll be back tomorrow to see her?”
    Burke nodded. He watched Dr. Arkwright climb into his small brougham and leave.
    â€œIs she all right?”
    â€œYes, Geordie, she’ll be fine. Dr. Arkwright swears it. You’ll keep an eye out, won’t you?”
    â€œAye, that I will. The lass promised me some haggis, and I’ll remind her about it tomorrow morning.” Geordie scratched his head. “Old Philfer can be got around.”
    Burke didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t find another choice for himself. Finally he returned to Ravensworth Abbey and spent a very long afternoon and night.
    â€œIs she singing yet?” was his first question when he greeted Dorcas the following morning.
    The old woman smiled, and Burke saw she was missing almost all her back teeth. “Very nearly. Do you wish to see her, my lord?”
    Burke couldn’t believe it. Everyone in Arielle’s employ seemed eager to promote him. Only Arielle was fighting tooth and nail. “Certainly,” he said, all calm and confident, and followed Dorcas up the stairs.
    â€œYou were with Arielle since she was a child, were you not?”
    â€œYes, a sweetheart she was, open and chatty and clean of spirit, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œA pity she changed.”
    â€œWhat can you expect? It was bound to have happened. Ah, lovey, I’ve a visitor for you.”
    She turned in the doorway and motioned to Burke. He heard Arielle call out, her voice harsh and wary, “No, Dorcas. Please, I don’t wish to