stepped in after him. “How is he?” he asked, moving to the bedside.
“Better, thank heaven.”
The young medical man seemed surprised to find the patient’s brow cool and his breathing easy. “You’re right. No sign of fever. God be praised.”
“Yes.” Laura added with a grin, “And Mary Chegwin be praised as well.”
Perry nodded. “Hear, hear.”
Laura looked from one to the other. “What brings you two here tonight?”
“Begging compliments, Miss Callaway?” Treeve smirked. “It isn’t like you.”
“I was not—”
He held up a conciliatory palm. “Only teasing. You are ever so diverting to tease.”
“I came to see our mystery man, and Treeve invited himself along,” Perry explained.
Treeve spread his hands. “How could I resist an opportunity to call upon the lovely ladies of Fern Haven?”
Perry, she noticed, rolled his eyes.
No one could deny that Treeve was charming, likable, and generous with his compliments. But Laura knew he liberally shared his flattery with many females so paid it little heed.
Perry turned from studying the patient to her. “You look tired. Do you feel all right?”
“I am well—just a bit weary.”
“No wonder, caring for this man around the clock.”
Laura looked down, feeling self-conscious. “Hardly that.”
“Yes,” Treeve said, “you’ve been devoting too much of your attention to this veritable stranger while all but ignoring your old friends. I begin to grow quite jealous.”
She shook her head. “I doubt it.”
Eseld appeared in the passage, bright smile belied by her clasped hands. “Treeve? Do come down. We hoped you would make a fourth in whist.”
“Very well.” He backed from the room with a Shakespearean bow complete with rolling hand. “Pray excuse me, Miss Callaway. The fair Eseld beckons.”
Eseld dimpled and giggled and led the way downstairs. This time it was Laura’s turn to roll her eyes.
Perry’s forlorn gaze followed them from the room, and then he turned his attention back to her. “Are you certain you feel well?”
“Yes.”
He reached a hand toward her. “Do you mind?”
She stilled, unsure, then relaxed as he laid cool fingers on her brow. “You don’t feel overly warm, but you ought to get some rest—I would not want you to fall ill. Our patient is out of danger, so go and get a good night’s sleep, all right? Doctor’s orders.” He softened the command with a grin.
Laura exhaled deeply. “Sounds heavenly, I admit. Thank you again for all your help.”
“I did very little and was glad to be of assistance. Do let me know if there is any change.”
“I shall. Good night.”
The next morning, Laura drank tea and buttered a second piece of toast while her uncle prepared to depart. She would normally accompany him on his calls or walk the beaches if she wasn’t needed, but today she went up to the guest room. A few minutes later, Miss Chegwin returned with a bowl of broth she’d prepared at home. “Don’t tell Wenna.” She winked and took a chair near the bed.
“I’ll sit with him for a bit,” Mary said. “See if I can get him to drink this broth. You get some sleep.”
“I slept most of the night, since Dr. Kent declared him out of danger,” Laura said, “but I could use some fresh air.”
“Go on, then.”
Dressing warmly, Laura again went strolling on the beaches near Fern Haven. She walked along Greenaways as before, then expanded her search. Sometimes things washed ashore over a longer distance. She climbed the grassy cliff and descended into the next cove. There she again looked among the rocks, and all along the sandy stretch of Polzeath Beach until she reached a rock pool at its other side.
In the water trapped there after the tide receded, something metallic glinted up at her. She bent and looked closer. A bottle?
She reached into the pool and drew out a flask of pewter or tarnished silver bearing a fine scrollwork design. Might be worth something. She gave it a little shake—empty—then placed it in her basket.
“What’ee find?”
Laura whirled, startled to find Tom Parsons looming above her. She’d not heard him over the wind and surf.
Uneasy at finding herself alone with the man, she chose a friendly approach. No use in angering him. “Just an empty pewter flask. You?”
He studied her expression, and she forced herself to look back. He finally broke eye contact, wincing into the morning sunlight.
“Nothing today, though I found plenty the night of the wreck before the agent and customs man came.”
“Well, all the best to you.” She turned to go, but his voice held her as forcefully as a hand on her arm.
“If’ee find something