enjoyed caring for her friend in her last months when she became too feeble to care for herself.
Blinking away her tears, Roxanne rose to her feet and gathered her bundles. Sofia had been one of a band of travelling players, almost a mother to her, and she had given Roxanne so much, even her name.
‘If anything happens to me you should go to London,’ Sofia had told her only a few days before she died. ‘You are a fine actress, my love. You could find fame and fortune—and perhaps marry a man of substance and be the lady I believe you truly are.’
Roxanne had begged her not to talk of dying, tears stinging her eyes, but after her death it had become clear that Roxanne could not stay with the band of travelling players with whom she had lived for the past five years. She was in danger and her only choice was to run away before he returned to the camp.
She had made up her mind that she would get to London if she could, though it would mean walking for many days, perhaps weeks. Before she reached the great city, she would need to find work for a few days to earn her food.
Lost in thought, she was startled as she heard a loud cry and then a horse came crashing through the trees towards her. It was saddled, but without a rider, its reins hanging loose, and she realised that someone must have fallen.
Instinctively, she ran in the direction from which the cry had seemed to come. She had gone only a few yards when she saw a man lying on the ground. His eyes were closed and his face looked pale. Her heart caught and for a moment she thought he was dead. Dropping her bundles, she knelt by his side and touched his face. He felt warm and she drew a breath of relief. His fingers were moving and he was still breathing, though seemed unaware of her. He must have been knocked unconscious by the fall from his horse.
She hesitated, then unwound his white stock from his neck; taking out her precious store of water, she poured some of it onto the fine linen and began to bathe his face. His lips moved, a groan issuing from him, then his eyes flickered open and he looked up at her.
‘What happened?’ he muttered. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Roxanne. I think you fell from your horse. It came rushing at me through the trees and I heard your cry.’
‘It was the fox,’ he said and pushed up into a sitting position. His dark grey eyes fixed on her face. ‘It started up just in front of us. I tried to stop, but I was riding hard and the stupid horse reared up in a fright.’
‘The horse was startled. They are nervous creatures, sir. If you were riding too hard, the fault was yours.’
‘The devil it was.’ His slate-coloured eyes narrowed, became intent and suspicious. ‘What is a lady like you doing alone in these woods—dressed like that?’
Roxanne hesitated, for to tell him her true story was too risky. She did not know him and should use caution. He was undoubtedly a gentleman and Sofia had warned her to be careful of the gentry, for they were not to be trusted.
‘I was with a band of travelling players, but I had to leave. I am trying to get to London to find work as an actress.’
‘Are you indeed?’ His gaze was unsettling. ‘I see you have water, Miss Roxanne. Will you give me some?’
‘I used some to bathe your face, but you may have a few sips.’ Roxanne handed him the stoneware flask and he lifted it to his mouth, drinking deeply. ‘Please leave some. I may not find a stream to refill my flask for hours.’
‘I passed a stream not far back,’ he replied. ‘But if you are making for London you are walking in the wrong direction.’
‘Oh…’ Roxanne frowned as he handed her back the bottle. ‘Perhaps you could—’ She broke off as he attempted to stand and shouted with pain. He swayed and would have fallen had she not caught hold of his body and supported him. ‘Where does it hurt?’
‘My right ankle,’ he groaned. ‘I think it must be broken. If I sit down again, could you take the boot off for me?’
‘Do you think that wise, sir? The boot will probably have to be cut off if your ankle is broken—and a doctor should do it. Sofia would have known how to treat you, but I do not have her skills.’
‘Who the hell is Sofia? Is she with you?’
‘She was my dearest friend and she died recently.’
‘Sorry,’ he muttered, his face white with pain. ‘I have a knife. Cut the damned thing off and bind the ankle with the stock. It will have to do until we can find an inn and a doctor.’
‘We—are you expecting me to go with you?’
‘How do you imagine I can get anywhere alone? Or were you planning to go on and leave me here?’
‘Your temper does not help your cause, sir. If you will sit, I shall attempt to do as you ask—and, no, now you mention it, I was not planning to abandon you.’
His eyes narrowed in annoyance, his mouth set hard. ‘You speak in the tones and manner of a lady, yet you say you are an actress. You must be a clever one.’
‘Sofia said I could play royalty to the manner born,’ Roxanne said, helping him to lower himself to the ground so that she could attend to his ankle. ‘She was once a courtesan and had both royal and aristocratic lovers in her youth so I imagine she would know how they behave.’
‘She sounds quite a remarkable lady?’
‘She was wonderful.’ Roxanne hesitated, then ran her hands down the length of the boot. Not yet! She would not tell him too much too soon. ‘It is difficult to tell while this is on, but I think you may have a break just above your ankle. It will hurt too much if I try to pull the boot off—have I your permission to cut the leather? I dare say it may have cost a great deal of money.’
‘I have other pairs; just do it.’ He thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out a silver penknife.
‘I think I have something better.’ Roxanne opened her large bundle and took out a long thin dagger. ‘The blade is very sharp. It will slit the leather easier than your knife.’
‘Good grief, what are you carrying a dangerous thing like that for?’
‘I am a woman travelling alone. I needed to be sure I could protect myself.’
‘Remind me never to try to seduce you when I’m drunk.’
‘Are you in the habit of seducing women when drunk?’
Roxanne’s eyes held a sparkle of amusement as she glanced at him and then back at the boot. It was long and tight fitting and obviously the best quality. She inserted the knifepoint into the leather and began to slit the length of the boot. Her patient groaned once or twice as she worked, a muffled cry escaping him as she finally drew it from his foot.
‘Damn!’ he muttered as her fingers began to explore his ankle and the region above. ‘It hurts like hell.’
‘I think there is a small break just above the ankle,’ Roxanne said. ‘The flesh is not torn, but there is a bump where there ought to be straight bone—it might have been worse.’
‘You cannot feel the pain,’
