Page 22 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)
Her lips curved downward. “You aren’t answering my question.”
“And neither are you. It’s hardly time to be shy, dear wife.”
Huffing so she wouldn’t be tempted to smile, Genevieve shook her head. She started studying and poking at his body to see through all the dirt on him. “This is hardly a time to flirt. Oh! That is blood. That is not dirt.”
“No, I’m afraid your perception is entirely accurate.”
“So you are injured!”
His smile widened before faltering into a wince when she grabbed his forearm. “I didn’t lie to you.”
“No, you merely didn’t give me the time to answer,” Julian teased and then let out a short hiss. “Do be mindful, would you?”
“I cannot believe… whatever happened?” She gaped with dread at the severe cut on his hand.
It had been wrapped at some point, but the handkerchief was too damp to do any good now.
Just glimpsing the injury made her sick to her stomach.
A tumble in the mud, a bite from an animal…
poison could easily enter the bloodstream and kill a healthy man in a matter of days.
And here was Julian, making jests. “We must call a physician at once.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that serious.”
“But we need to take care of your injury,” she said, tugging him over to the nearest chair in the hall.
Her elbow bumped into an empty vase that cracked on the table.
She huffed and set it aside, hands shaking, and turned back to her husband while she tried to think.
“Fresh water. Hot water, I think, or cold, I can’t recall.
We’ll fetch both. Clean linens, of course, and some alcohol I think.
Where is Mrs. Waverly? She’ll have to help.
My hands are shaking too badly for this. What were you doing, Julian?”
Julian used his good hand to pull his hair back from his face and then wiped off a bit of the mud there. She could see much more of him after those two motions. That smile broadened as he gazed up at her. Resting his injured arm on the table beside the fallen vase.
“Everything will be just fine,” he promised her.
“What is the commotion here? Your Grace! And Your Grace!” Mrs. Waverly appeared, startled and wide-eyed.
The duke nodded. “Might you fetch some warm water, a bottle of brandy, linens, and a sewing needle?”
“Thread too, of course.” The woman immediately departed.
Genevieve’s breathing grew difficult. She swallowed air, trying not to panic. She didn’t understand how Julian could be so calm at a time like this. It didn’t make sense. Where had he been? What had happened? Whyever had he gone alone into danger?
“Breathe, my dear, or else you’re going to have to take the chair.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped and then sucked in a deep breath. Knowing how sharp that sounded, Genevieve skirted a glance about to ensure she was alone before turning to him. “Truly, Julian. You try me. What sort of trouble did you get into? I didn’t agree to this.”
“I was out with the tenants. One of them had a broken wheel on their wagon and I wanted to help. I promise, it’s better than it looks. The blood is dry. I’m only filthy because my horse startled in the rain and sent me flying. I’m hardly bruised, but I did land in a puddle. She’s safe, by the way.”
She furrowed her brow. “The tenant?”
“My horse. Heidi.”
“That’s an odd name for a horse. That is…” she tried to think of something better to say. “Only, I mean…”
“No, it is an odd name. But I assure you it’s appropriate.”
She shook her head as she realized what he was doing. “You’re distracting me. Julian, really. If you want me to be your wife, you must not tease me so.”
Footsteps grew loud as Mrs. Waverly arrived with a chambermaid at her side, supplies overfilling their arms. Her clumsy scolding was forgotten.
Julian had them set aside everything on the table so he could stay put and tend to his hand.
Genevieve forced herself to be the one to clean up his energy, acting as what she assumed a doting wife might do.
But then came the needle and she couldn’t do it.
“Are you going to faint?” Julian asked with a twist of his lips. He nodded to Mrs. Waverly and the chambermaid. “We can manage during this portion, thank you.”
They took their leave and Genevieve tried to swallow the anxiety drowning her from the inside. “This is just awful. I don’t think I can do this. I can do many things, Julian, really, but this…”
“You don’t have to,” he reassured her, still playing the near-drowned charming prince. “I know how to manage my own stitches. I was in the navy, was I not?”
Genevieve blinked. “Oh. Ah. I didn’t think of that.
” She rubbed her arms and stepped back, pulling herself together.
She had to do better than this. It was annoying how calm he behaved.
But surely if he could manage well in an emergency, then so could she.
“You never speak of it. Did you… did you enjoy your post?”
He stopped the needle that hovered right above his split flesh. The room dropped a few degrees in temperature. Unable to move, she stared and waited.
It took Julian some time to respond. His tone grew curt. “If you wish to stay while I stitch my skin together, I’d thank you to say nothing more.”
Though offended by the suddenly blunt behavior, Genevieve snapped her mouth shut. She took a step back and then another. Against the wall she stood motionless and said not a word as Julian quietly and efficiently stitched himself back together.
Moisture dripped down his brow. Sweat or rain, she wasn’t certain. But she didn’t ask. His sudden switch was so startling that Genevieve waited for Mrs. Waverly to return and then muttered something she would never recall before taking her leave, desperate to be far from her strange husband.