Page 3 of Snowfall and the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #4)

J onas Langford, the eighth Duke of Ramsdale, stared out the window of his study, his brow furrowed in concern as he watched Ailis Temple ride her old mare back to the vicarage in what had quickly turned into a rather severe blizzard.

A fierce wind was blowing and snow whipped all around her, causing her dark cloak to twist and billow around her slender body.

Her horse appeared unsteady, no doubt because of the patches of ice forming along the drive as the temperature began to drop precipitously.

“Grimes, have my curricle readied. I think I had better escort Miss Temple home.”

He had barely gotten the words out before her mare skidded on one of those icy patches and sent Ailis tumbling onto the snow. “Grimes! She’s hurt.”

He raced out of the house, cursing himself for delaying her when he knew the conditions were turning bad and she needed to get home. But he had come to enjoy her company and the utter lack of deference shown for his status when voicing her opinions, which were always honest and well reasoned.

No one else ever dared speak to him so forthrightly.

There were other things he liked about the vicar’s niece, but those attributes did not bear mentioning at the moment.

“Come with me,” he barked at two footmen standing by the front door.

“Your Grace?” the senior said, momentarily confused by Jonas’s purpose when he threw open the door and a blast of frigid air and snowflakes came swirling into the house.

“Miss Temple has fallen off her horse,” he shouted, already running down the drive as fast as he dared. A chill seeped into his bones, for he had run out neglecting to don a hat, cloak, or scarf.

The footmen followed him out with all speed.

The wind howled and heavy snow blinded Jonas as he hurried to Ailis’s side. “Don’t move,” he cautioned, his heart twisting into knots when she tried to sit up and couldn’t. She sank back onto the snow and cried out in pain.

He had seen her land hard on her shoulder when taking the fall and realized by the odd position of her body that she must have dislocated it.

This was the sort of injury he had learned to repair during his years of military service.

Men often fell off horses in the heat of battle, and he had become quite adept at putting bones back in place.

Basic medical knowledge was one of the necessities for survival if one hoped to make it through the war alive.

“Whittier, grab her belongings. Hanford, take her mare to the stable.”

“Aye, Your Grace,” each man said in turn.

Fortunately, Ailis’s mount appeared not to be injured. Hanford quickly took control of the skittish horse and used soothing words to ease her out of her fright. The young footman was good with horses and easily handled the gentle beast.

Whittier, the more seasoned footman, grabbed Ailis’s reticule and the baskets she had used to carry food to the needy. Jonas noted the baskets were empty, everything already given out, since she must have intended Langford Hall to be her last stop.

“Ailis, do not struggle,” he said, trying to calm her while she appeared to be as skittish as her mare.

“My shoulder…”

Gad, she sounded in a lot of pain.

A vapor of cold air circled around them as he released a heavy breath. “I know. I fear it is dislocated, but I’ll take care of it as soon as I have you back home. Rest your head against my chest. Don’t struggle, Ailis. You are safe. I have you.”

She said nothing as he lifted her in his arms.

Jonas did not know if she was merely resting quietly or had passed out. It did not matter, for he had to get her indoors fast.

Grimes and the Langford Hall housekeeper, Mrs. Fitch, were standing by the front door, both wringing their hands, as he strode in with Ailis in his arms. “Grimes, send one of the grooms to the vicarage to let Vicar Temple know what happened and assure him she will be in my care until this blizzard passes. In fact, send young Leo Curtis. His mother’s house is near the vicarage.

Let him stay with his family until the worst of the storm is over.

Send him right now while there’s still daylight left. ”

“Aye, m’lord.”

He now turned to his trusted housekeeper. “Miss Temple needs a bed. Give her my best.”

He had a dozen bedchambers in his house that were unused and would be finer than any she had ever slept in.

“Your Grace, I think she will enjoy the East Room,” Mrs. Fitch said, scampering up the stairs behind him. She was referring to the guest chamber with flowers and butterflies on the wallpaper, a room so feminine and cheerful, it gave him a headache. “But I’ll need a few minutes to get it ready.”

“Fine, I’ll put her in my bed in the meanwhile.”

His housekeeper gasped. “Your Grace! It is indecent!”

“Do not lecture me, Mrs. Fitch. Is it decent to leave Miss Temple writhing in pain? Send one of the maids to serve as her chaperone. And do not send me someone squeamish. I need to set her shoulder back in its socket, and that is going to hurt like blazes.”

“Oh, poor Miss Temple,” she said, and scrambled off to carry out his orders.

Jonas carried Ailis into his bedchamber. An odd feeling came over him as he placed her gently on his bed. “Don’t fall back, Ailis. Can you remain sitting up? Just for a little while longer.”

“I’ll try.”

“I’ll be quick, love. Then you can rest against the pillows.

” He propped them one atop the other before proceeding to remove her hat, scarf, cloak, and gloves, and then he knelt to remove her boots.

He dared not take anything else off her without someone on his staff to chaperone.

But when Ailis began to heave as though about to cast up her accounts, he slid the chamber pot out from under his bed and instructed her to aim there if she felt anything coming forth.

He waited a moment for her nausea to pass, but dared not hold off any longer. “Ailis, I need to get at your shoulder. I have to loosen your gown, love.”

Why was he now referring to her by that endearment?

She stared up at him. The bejeweled green of her eyes met the dark brown of his.

By heaven, she had the prettiest eyes.

But that was to be pondered another time. “Your gown has to come off, Ailis. At least down to your waist. Well, it is best that you simply take it off, because it is damp from your fall into the snow and you’ll catch a chill if you leave it on.”

Besides, she wouldn’t be going anywhere for days yet.

“All right,” she said, each word holding an abundance of agony, so that he knew he had to work fast to undo the laces and tapes. There weren’t too many in the way. Ailis’s gowns were practical and most were the sort easily laced by herself.

He knew she did not have a lady’s maid and probably counted upon the vicarage housekeeper—Leo’s mother, Mrs. Curtis—to assist her into the one or two finer gowns in her possession.

“Your Grace,” a gravelly, feminine voice called from the doorway. “Mrs. Fitch sent me up here to assist you.”

He glanced at the middle-aged woman who had been in service to his family for ages. “Come in, Martha. You’ll be serving as Miss Temple’s chaperone. Help me get this gown off her.”

“Your Grace!”

“Save your protestations for later,” he said with a growl. “I am interested in her shoulder, not her body. Miss Temple has to be in excruciating pain. Be as gentle as possible. I’ll hold her while you slip it off.”

Despite having declared no interest in Ailis’s body, he found it hard to ignore its surprising splendor. Heat shot through him as he wrapped an arm about her waist. She was soft and nicely shaped, full in all the right places and trim in others.

In truth, she was more beautiful than he had ever realized.

But the implications of this revelation, now extending to her eyes and her sweet body, was to be considered another time. “Miss Temple, I’m so sorry. This is going to hurt.” Hurt you terribly. She would soon find out just how much, unfortunately.

He took her arm, holding it gently by the wrist while he began to raise and rotate it ever so carefully. With his other hand, he carefully guided the protruding bone back into its ball socket.

She cried out, for he had to repeat the slow rotation three times before her shoulder was securely back in place. It was an ordeal for Ailis, but she managed it as bravely as any soldier he had ever tended.

She could not hold back her tears, however. They streamed down her pale cheeks in a steady flow.

“The worst is over, Miss Temple,” he said, addressing her with proper formality because they were not alone. “I’ve got it back in place now.”

“Oh, thank heaven,” Martha whispered.

Mrs. Fitch, having joined them while he was rotating Ailis’s arm and witnessing the pain it caused her, also muttered words of praise. “The poor lamb. Her bed will be made up shortly, Your Grace.”

He nodded as he took Ailis back in his arms and motioned for Martha to draw aside the covers. “Meanwhile, I’ll keep her here. She’ll be most comfortable with her back resting against the pillows, but she needs one more placed under her arm.”

“She also needs a robe,” Mrs. Fitch said, for Ailis only had on a linen chemise. It was a sturdy garment, appropriate for winter, but still a mere undergarment and showed too much of her skin for propriety.

“No, I need to put her arm in a sling first. Martha, get me another pillow and hurry back here. Mrs. Fitch, I’ll need a sturdy cloth to form the sling.

If you are shocked by the indecency, then get her a shawl to wrap around her shoulders for now.

She is not to raise her arm or move it at all for the rest of the day. Probably not for several more days.”

He glanced at Ailis as she now lay in his bed with her eyes closed and her golden curls in delicate disarray.

He wanted to take the clips out of her hair, since she would be more comfortable without them, but decided to let the ladies take care of this once she was properly settled in the guest bedchamber.