“One of them, at least.”
“If she’s the lady who took charge”—the conductor pointed down the train—“she’s along there, with the doctors.”
Devlin nodded his thanks and was turning away when, in a tone tinged with awe as much as with gratitude, the conductor added, “Don’t rightly know as we’d have managed without her.”
Devlin stored that morsel up to relay to Therese later. He strode on, skirting the wounded laid out on the flat between the tracks and the rise of the embankment. Several times, he stopped to help those who plainly needed it. He’d never been in a war, but this appeared much as he imagined a field hospital behind the front lines would look, and no more than Therese could he turn away from those in need who were weaker and less able than he.
As he continued toward the center of activity, he acknowledged that attitude as yet another trait he and she shared.
He came upon a man who was clearly one of the doctors, leaning down and speaking with a wounded woman.
As, plainly exhausted, the man patted the woman’s hand and straightened, he weaved.
Devlin caught the man’s elbow and steadied him.
The man turned to thank him, but paused, blinking at Devlin, presumably recognizing him as someone with authority who hadn’t been around earlier.
Devlin said, “I’m looking for Lady Alverton.”
The man blinked again, then glanced farther down the train. “The only lady still down here is helping my colleague with the last of the wounded. All the other ladies are either among the wounded themselves or too weak to be of much use. However, if your lady is she, Lady Alverton has been a Trojan. You might think otherwise, but I thank God that she was on the train. She organized the conductors and able-bodied men to ferry out the wounded and the dead.” He glanced around. “What we have here is bad enough, but without her leadership, it would have been much worse.”
Devlin faintly grinned. “She’s very good at organizing people.” That was such an understatement, if they heard it, her brothers would fall about laughing. Everything Devlin was hearing suggested that Therese was well and busily rising to every challenge.
The doctor nodded down the train. “See that spot where the light is brightest? Last time I saw her, she was there.”
Devlin nodded. “Thank you. I sent my man back to Potters Bar to ensure help was coming as fast as possible.”
“Thank you for that.” The man looked around and sighed. “Regardless, it’s going to be a long night.”
Devlin dipped his head in farewell and walked on.
He was still some yards from the brightly lit area when Therese, who had been crouched by the side of a wounded youth, rose and straightened. Devlin’s gaze locked on her, racing over her, confirming that she appeared entirely unhurt.
The relief that hit him was even more intense than what he’d felt on seeing the children. So intense, it forced him to slow and pause andbreathe.
Breathe past the constriction that had locked about his chest and absorb the reality that she was hale and whole and well.
Feeling suddenly freed of a crushing weight and significantly more lighthearted than he had been, with his features easing, he walked toward her.
Therese glanced along the row of injured lying along the rise of the embankment. She had, she thought, done everything she could. Her heart was starting to thud strangely—not racing but rather the opposite. Each beat seemed abnormally deep and slow.
She raised her head and forced herself to breathe deeply, but that didn’t help. For the last while, she’d pushed aside the steadily ballooning tiredness dragging at her limbs; she would have plenty of time to rest later. But now her hands were icy; looking down, she spread her fingers and frowned as she noted that her nails appeared leached of all color.
Now she thought of it, her whole body felt chilled.
She didn’t know what made her glance toward the front of the train, but she did and, through the fading chaos of the night, saw Devlin walking toward her.
He’d come.
Her heart—stupid organ—leapt, at least as much as it could manage. She might have been wrong in thinking what she had—she still wasn’t sure about that—but Child would have told Devlin why she’d rushed off, why she’d run away, and yet, here he was.
Regardless of whether he loved her or not, he’d come after her, and she had no doubt whatsoever that, now he was there, everything would be all right.
She could relax, set down the burden of caring for all these people, and let him pick it up. She knew he would.
A smile blooming on her lips—the first in hours—she shuffled to face him and started to raise her hands, extending them in welcome.
Abruptly, the energy that had been holding her upright drained to her soles.
