Page 142 of Rogue of My Heart

Daphne let loose a wretched scream when Camden lifted her into his arms.

Rebecca laid a hand on her shoulder. “You can trust Captain Beauchamp. He will take care of you, I promise.” Rebecca waited until she nodded, then ran toward the house, her skirt hiked up to her knees.

She did not slow to look back until she’d reached the entrance. Camden followed not far behind her. Daphne had her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried against his chest. Rebecca swallowed past the lump in her throat, drew a deep breath, and burst through the door, nearly knocking the footman who stood near the mahogany panel clear off his feet.

The footman’s eyes widened. “My lady.”

“Daphne is hurt. Send for the doctor at once.” She turned her attention to a nearby maid. “Go get Mother. Send her to Lady Daphne’s room. Go quickly.”

The maid nodded, then hurried up the stairs.

Camden came through the door, Daphne red faced and sobbing in his arms. Rebecca led him to Daphne’s chamber, where he placed her on the bed. Rebecca sat on the edge of the mattress, stroking Daphne’s cheek.

“Mother’s coming, and the doctor as well. You are safe now.” Tears pricked at her eyes, but she fought them back. She needed to be strong for Daphne. “Mother will know how to take care of you.”

Rebecca looked up, searching the room for Camden. Her face paled. A deep scarlet stream trailed down his hand, dripping onto his breeches. “You’re bleeding.”

Nine

Camden looked down at his hand, then back at Rebecca. The worry in her gaze tugged at his heart, but also gave him hope. She must care for him to show such concern. He gave a nonchalant shake of his hand and said, “It’s nothing to worry about. I scratched it on the corner of the stable building when I ran past. It will heal.”

“It needs tending.” Rebecca glanced back at Lady Daphne.

“I’ve experienced far worse wounds. I assure you, my hand can wait.” He moved closer to Rebecca, now cradling his injured hand in his unharmed one. “It’s nothing, truly.”

She grimaced before turning her attention to the maid in the corner. “Go fetch linen strips and warm water straight away.”

Lady Chesterfield stepped into the room with Lady Phoebe on her heels. They stopped at the foot of the bed. “What happened?” Lady Chesterfield glanced at Rebecca before her gaze settled on Lady Daphne lying on the mattress.

“She was tossed from her mount. I fear her leg is broken.” Rebecca stood. “The doctor has been sent for.”

Lady Chesterfield moved to stand beside Rebecca at the edge of the bed. “Phoebe, have a servant fetch the brandy decanter. A drink will take the edge off of her pain. Then wait for the doctor and show him up the moment he arrives.”

Phoebe nodded before disappearing from the room.

“Captain Beauchamp cut his hand, helping Daphne.” Rebecca glanced at him. “If you will excuse us, Mother. I’d like to tend to his injury.”

“Yes, do take care of the captain.” Lady Chesterfield turned her attention to him. “Captain Beauchamp, you’ve done us a great service. I thank you for it.”

He shifted his feet, uncomfortable with the praise. “I simply happened to be in the right place. Any gentleman would have done the same.”

Lady Chesterfield studied him for a moment, then nodded and turned her attention back to Daphne.

“Come. Let us see to your hand,” Rebecca said with a gentle pressure of her fingers on his arm, indicating that he should follow her out of the room.

He cradled his injury as he followed, the throbbing in his hand intensifying when he tightened his grip around it. They reached the staircase and made their way down. At the foot of the steps, Rebecca turned toward a long hall. The maid she’d sent approached with the requested supplies.

“Take them into the parlor,” Rebecca ordered. She glanced back at Camden, worry etching her features, before scurrying after the maid.

The concern she showed for him made him smile. He knew she found him attractive, enjoyed his company and his touch. But this? A person could not fake the concern radiating from her. Rebecca cared about him even if she refused to admit it.

“Sit over there.” She pointed toward a wingback chair by the hearth before moving to a nearby table.

He smirked at her tight tone, lowering himself into the chair. The maid set her burden on the mahogany table next to his seat before retreating into a corner. Rebecca took a quick survey of the items, then removed her white gloves. Her hands shook slightly as she laid a strip of linen across the table. “Give me your hand.” She reached out, holding her hand palm up.

Camden placed his injured hand on her outstretched one. Warmth spread through him at her tender touch, overshadowing the throb that had been there just moments before.

She dipped a fresh strip of the white linen into a bowl of warm lavender scented water before dabbing the damp cloth on his wound. He winced, and her gaze flickered to his. “Does it hurt terribly?”