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~April 14~

E llen was anxious to get to the hospital the following day. She’d managed to stay away the whole of Wednesday, but it hadn’t been easy. She was desperate to find out how Sergeant Jones was doing. She hadn’t been called back to the hospital, so she hoped he was doing better.

She hadn’t even taken off her hat and gloves when Nurse Cotswold greeted her. “I am so glad you’re here,” she said with a sigh.

“How has Sergeant Jones been?” Ellen asked.

“Well… the same, I’m sorry to say. The doctor is getting increasingly worried.”

“Oh, dear. He hasn’t called for me, I hope?” Ellen asked.

“No, thank goodness. He has not been as agitated as he was the day before last.”

“Well, that’s a good sign. I’ll go to him immediately.” She quickly put away her things and washed up.

The sergeant looked to be sound asleep. This was a good thing. Ellen had brought with her a bowl of fresh water and a clean cloth to bathe his forehead with. Before she got started with that, though, she checked on his leg.

It looked as if the swelling was down, and it wasn’t nearly as red. She felt a presence and looked up. Nurse Cotswold was standing just behind her looking over her shoulder. “It’s looking better,” she told the nurse.

“Yes, it is.”

“Have you changed his bandage today?”

“No. I haven’t touched it,” the woman said.

Ellen bit the inside of her lip. The woman was as kind as one could be, but sometimes Ellen wondered about her training. She was certain that bandages should be changed at least once a day. She’d tried to get the nurses to do this, but it wasn’t how they had been taught, so they balked.

“Well, why don’t we do so? I’ll go get the kit.” Ellen strode off. When she returned a few moments later, the nurse had carefully removed the old, dirty bandage.

“It is looking much better,” she said.

“That is such a relief,” Ellen agreed, handing the nurse another clean cloth dipped in warm water to bathe the wound.

“It is a relief,” a man’s coarse voice said, startling the two women. They both turned and saw that the sergeant’s eyes were open, and he was looking down the bed at them.

Ellen hurried over to him. “Sergeant Jones, I am so happy to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“Hungry?” he said, almost more like a question than a statement.

She smiled. “Of course you are! I’ll get you some broth.”

She rushed off to do so, leaving the nurse to clean and rewrap his leg.

“We were so very worried about you,” Ellen said, as she watched him carefully sip at the tea cup full of broth.

“I had the oddest dream that you were speaking to me,” he said, giving her a little side glance.

She laughed. “Probably because I was. Not yesterday. I couldn’t be here yesterday but…”

“She was here caring for you the entire night and day before that,” another man’s voice said, startling her.

She jumped to her feet when she saw Lord Pennyston standing at the foot of the bed. “My lord! How lovely to see you. Isn’t it wonderful? Sergeant Jones’ fever has abated, and his leg is looking much better as well.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” His Lordship said, coming around the other side and giving Sergeant Jones a smile. “You gave us quite a scare, Freddie.”

“My apologies, Major,” Sergeant Jones said with a smile.

“You shouldn’t apologize to me but to the lady,” Lord Pennyston said, nodding toward Ellen.

The man dutifully turned to her, but before he could say anything, she interrupted saying, “You owe me no apologies. You couldn’t help yourself. I’m just grateful you’re well on your way to recovery.”

The man looked back at his superior and shrugged a shoulder.

Lord Pennyston just laughed. “Freddie, if you don’t mind, we’re going to leave you to enjoy your meal in peace. I want to have a word with the lady.”

“Um-hum,” Sergeant Jones said with a sly little smile.

His Lordship gave a little chuckle, but indicated that Ellen should walk with him toward the far end of the ward where there were fewer patients.

He stopped and turned to her but didn’t say anything. Instead, he fiddled for a moment with the points of his shirt collar which reached up his cheek. It was clear he was attempting to hide his scar. Sadly, it was rather too big to hide so easily.

“You wanted a word, my lord?” Ellen prompted.

“Er, yes. I wanted…” He gave an embarrassed little smile. “I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Freddie.”

“Oh, there’s no—”

“But there is. You went far above the call of duty, coming in the middle of the night. Caring for him throughout the entire day to your own detriment. Why, you hadn’t even eaten when I arrived in the early afternoon.”

Ellen felt a flush creep up her face. “It was my pleasure—”

“No, it was more than that, I’m sure, and I want… I want to thank you. I’m certain that money is out of the question, but maybe… I don’t know, a dress or earbobs, perhaps? Something frivolous that would make you happy.”

Ellen was truly taken aback. No gentleman had ever offered to buy her anything before. “Absolutely not!” she said before she could even stop herself. “I mean, that is completely unnecessary, my lord.”

“I am certain it is, but truly, I want to do something to thank you.”

She opened her mouth once again to refute his offer, but he cut her off before she could say anything. “Think about it. I’m certain there are plenty of things a beautiful lady of society might want…” He snapped his fingers. “Invitations. I could get you invitations to the most exclusive parties. Granted, I’ve been out of the country for some time, but I’ve got excellent connections. You might not believe this, but before I’d even graduated from school, I was already making a name for myself among the haute ton .”

Did he just call her beautiful? “Thank you, but I—”

“Don’t say no. Every young lady wants invitations.” He smiled at her and raised his eyebrows as if daring her to say she didn’t. It made her notice that his scar reached all the way up and had even taken a notch out of his right eyebrow. It gave him quite a rakish look, she thought.

He was so kind and so generous in his offer, but truly, thanks to her membership in the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society, she already had invitations to every party she could possibly want to attend—not that she attended very many. It was difficult to do so as a single woman, even a widow. One needed an escort, and she had none. Oh, she had her companion, and Mrs. Perbury was good enough to accompany her to whatever parties she wanted to attend, but it wasn’t at all the same.

An idea began to form in Ellen’s mind.

“Did you say that you attend society parties?” she asked.

He lost his smile. “I did, before I received my commission.”

That meant he didn’t any longer. And considering how he hid inside his shirt collar and ducked his head down anytime anyone came by, she had a sneaking suspicion he was, perhaps, overly self-conscious about his scar. It wouldn’t surprise her at all, considering what he’d told her of his parent’s reaction to it. It sounded very much like they could both benefit from her idea.

“In that case, my lord,” she said, smiling up at him, “perhaps there is something you can give me as thanks for taking care of Sergeant Jones.”

“Oh?”

“I have determined—with the help of some friends—that I need to get out more. I rarely attend parties, but instead lead a rather retiring life. I want to change that, but it’s difficult when one is a widow.”

He nodded warily, and she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with this either. In fact, her stomach had tied itself into knots, and she felt as if her throat was trying to close up to stop her words. She pushed forward because… well… because she had promised herself and Ladies Welles and Colburne that she would make an effort to be more adventurous, more outgoing. If she didn’t, she was going to spend the rest of her life doing exactly what she was doing now—living in a house owned by her parents-in-law, volunteering at the hospital, and living a quiet, lonely existence.

She took in a deep breath. She could do this. She could!

“What I need, truly, is an escort. Would you…?”

His eyes widened. She’d pushed too far, but this wasn’t just for her. It would be good for him as well. She didn’t back down. “Would you, please, escort me to some of these parties?”

His face paled. “I am very sorry, my lady, but that is the one thing I cannot do.”

Before she could ask him to explain himself further or even consider her request, he turned on his heel and walked out.

Now she had done it. She had angered the one man she’d ever found any interest in. The only one who had been the slightest bit intrigued by her. Maybe she was better off living a quiet life.

~April 15~

Amelia walked into the offices of Strodnam, Melrose, and Harrington Attorneys at Law and announced herself. “I am Amelia Rutledge, daughter of the Earl of Seaford. I wish to speak to the man who managed his estate,” she announced to the room of clerks all now staring at her with open mouths and wide eyes.

She looked among them for some sign of intelligence. One clever fellow immediately jumped up from his desk and strode forward.

“Of course, madam. I will inform Mr. Melrose that you are here. If you would please come this way?” He bowed her toward a flight of wooden stairs that led up to a landing. There were a few chairs arranged outside of three closed doors—she presumed the offices of the three solicitors.

He went to the first door directly in front of the stair and knocked. “Amelia Rutledge, the daughter of the Earl of Seaford is here to see you, sir,” he said, sticking his head through the door.

The door was thrown open a moment later and a small, blond man strode out to meet her. He was all beige and brown from the top of his head down to his shoes. “Mrs. Rutledge, what a surprise! What a very, very great surprise.”

“I would be surprised if it wasn’t,” she said with a bark of laughter. She had never called nor communicated with this man ever in her life, and now, she’d just turned up out of the blue. Of course he was surprised.

“Yes, yes. Do, please, come in.” He ushered her into his plain brown office. He sat behind his desk and offered her the wooden chair on the other side. “I do apologize. I don’t entertain clients very often.”

“No worries. I’m not one for luxuries,” she said, making herself comfortable.

“So, finally, you have returned from… where was it?” he asked. “India?”

“America,” she corrected.

“Right! America. And now you are here to see about your brother’s will,” he said, nodding and pulling out a large ledger from the bookcase behind him.

“My brother’s will? No. I’m here about my father’s will. Goodness, I keep forgetting Dicky is no longer with us,” she said. Her chest felt hollow, remembering that her brother had passed, and she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye, let alone attend his funeral.

“Oh! Yes, yes, of course. Your father’s will.” He put the ledger back on the shelf and took out another, older-looking one. He placed it carefully on his desk and paged through until he found what he was looking for. He made some noncommittal noises, then stood and went to the door. He opened it and shouted a string of numbers down to the room below before returning to his seat behind his desk.

He gave her a little smile. “It shall be here in a moment.”

She smiled back. “You don’t have any recollection…”

“I’m afraid not, madam. It has been a while.”

“Fifteen years?” she asked, trying to remember.

Mr. Melrose nodded. “Thirteen,” he corrected her with a smile.

One of the clerks knocked at the door briefly before coming in and handing over a file.

“Right, let’s see what we have here.” The solicitor looked through, running a finger down each page as he came to it. Only a couple of pages in he said, “Ah ha! Here we are.”

Amelia sat forward at the edge of her seat.