Andre could not help but wonder slightly, as he laid coughing upon the snow, when it was he had come to mean so much to the earl’s daughter that his present state would alarm her so. While there was no doubt that he was getting on in years, and it was true he had taken a rather shocking spill just now thanks to missing his step on the ice, there was hardly enough cause to think he’d perish from it.
Sitting up shakily, he supposed it might have something to do with the fact he was also rather ill, and probably ought to have chosen not to come out at all. However, it was not often that he had anything to do, and refusing an invitation meant waiting a long stretch of months before being remembered by the world enough to receive another. While he wasn’t the most sociable of men, he did have some need for companionship from time to time, and he hadn’t thought the cold such a terrible thing.
“It will take more than England’s weather to kill me, mon chou,” He mused as his breath returned to him. Dusting off his pants, he sat in the snow a moment longer and prayed the ache in his bones away as he gripped his cane and attempted to get his feet back under him.
Ocean Archive 