Page 25 of The Major’s Mistake (Intrepid Heroines #7)

She paused for a fraction. “I am afraid I must, sir. If they are not properly wrapped, they might cause serious damage—” The shirt front fell open and her eyes dropped to his bare chest.

An involuntary cry escaped her lips. “Oh, Jul—sir!” she whispered.

“Yes, I know.” He tried to pull away. “Hardly a pretty sight.”

Miranda looked away quickly to compose her features, but not before Angus caught the look of anguish on her face. In an instant, however, she recovered and managed to school her emotions enough to speak in a normal voice.

“That still looks rather raw. I have a salve that may help. I shall send it to Mr. Sykes on the morrow.” Her fingers began to run mechanically over the rough twist of bandage, though her gaze remained riveted on the deep scar cutting across his breast. Julian’s face remained averted from hers, its expression hidden in the shadows.

Even so, the rigid set of his shoulders gave hint as to the state of his emotions.

“This seems adequate for the moment,” she allowed after a bit. Leaning back, she closed up his shirt and made a show of straightening up her supplies. “Come along now, sir.”

That caused his head to jerk around in surprise. “What?”

Miranda looked taken aback. “Why, you can’t think I would allow you to stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Because you would be a good deal more comfortable in one of Aunt Sophia’s guest rooms.”

It was a most reasonable answer but his mouth took on a mulish set as his eyes dropped to the floor. “I prefer to remain where I am.”

All of a sudden she seemed to sense that more than his body had taken a beating.

Her expression took on a pensive look as she thought for a moment.

“Please sir, it is I who would feel a good deal more comfortable if you come with me. I should not wish to think of you out here in the chill with naught but a thin blanket and a hard cot.”

His jaw tightened.

“Besides, what if there arises a problem with those ribs?” she added quickly, then shook her head. “No, if you insist on remaining here, then I shall have to stay close by as well. I imagine Jem can fetch a chair so that I may sit outside the door.”

Julian let out a sigh of resignation. “Very well,” he growled. However his brow creased slightly as his eyes darted from his stockinged feet to his boots.

“Jem, help Lady Miranda gather her things, while I give His Lordship a hand with his coat—no doubt those ribs make it nigh impossible to lift an arm,” said Angus, rising quickly to his feet.

The young groom jumped to obey his words, and amid the bustle, Angus made short work of slipping the marquess’s Hessians back on. As he assisted Julian up and helped him don his outer garment, their eyes met and the marquess gave a slight nod of thanks.

The other man merely blinked then stepped aside as Miranda came around to take hold of Julian’s arm.

She lifted the lantern and smiled warmly at her two grooms. “I trust the night will pass with no further mishaps. I shall fetch the basket in the morning.” With that, she turned and nudged the marquess into a slow shuffle towards the door.

As the beam of light bobbed in slow progress through the darkness, Jem thrust his hands into the pockets of his breeches. He slanted a sideways look at his companion.

“It’s strange—he don’t appear to be half so bad as we figured.”

Angus didn’t answer for a bit, his eyes still following the two silhouettes in the flickering light. “Hmmm,” he murmured. “Strange, indeed.”

Jem scratched thoughtfully at his chin. “I don’t rightly understand—he treated Lady Miranda so cruelly in the past, yet he seems to … to?—”

Angus cut off his musings with a stern look. “Well, it ain’t none of yer business to be mulling on yer betters,” he chided. “Nor mine. It’s best ye leave off thinking on it.” But the purse of his lips showed he was far from ready to heed his own advice.

Julian muffled a groan as he lowered himself onto the edge of soft mattress.

Miranda eyed him with concern. “I shall get you a draught for the pain as soon as I see you settled.”

He leaned forward, taking his head in his hands.

“If you wish to do me a kindness, you will simply leave me be, Miranda. I have no need of draughts or salves or potions. I merely want to try and get some sleep.” His mouth quirked in a rueful grimace.

“And try to forget about what a bloody fool I must appear.”

Miranda couldn’t repress a slight smile.

“Well, if it is any consolation, you actually seem to have won over a new admirer. Jem was quite impressed with your showing. He couldn’t stop rattling on about how he hadn’t seen anyone stand up to Angus in a mill, and that the outcome was rather in doubt until you had the misfortune to slip.

” She knelt down as she was speaking and began to ease the coat from his shoulders.

“Horses,” she said softly. “What fustian! However, I do wonder what on earth could spark such a quarrel between you and Angus.” Her brow rose in question.

Julian clamped his jaw shut.

“Men,” she muttered again, tossing aside the finely tailored garment. “I’ve laid out a clean shirt that I borrowed from Wells.” Without pause, she began gently working off his boots.

“Miranda—”

They fell to the floor with a clatter. Her fingers started with the lacing at knees of his riding breeches.

“Miranda!” There was a note of rising panic in his voice. “Don’t?—”

It was too late. She had already peeled back the soft buckskin to expose the injury to his leg.

There was an audible gasp as her hands froze for an instant. “Dear God,” she murmured, ducking low to hide the film of tears in her eyes.

A wash of color flooded his face as he tried to push her away. “Yes, I warned you,” he said savagely. “It’s quite sickening, isn’t it. Now kindly allow me to cover myself.”

Miranda looked up at him, puzzled. “Why, you are … you are embarrassed.”

“Yes!” he exploded. “Of course I am—I’m a damn cripple.” He drew in a ragged breath. “More so that you once knew me … in a more admirable state,” he added in a near whisper.

He flinched as her fingers began massaging the scarred flesh around his knee, but she refused to be brushed away. “You think,” she said slowly, “that you are in any way diminished by the fact that your flesh is torn or that you walk with a limp?”

Julian hung his head.

“Good heavens.” She smiled sadly. “You’re a fool.”

His eyes came up, filled with a poignant uncertainty. “But I see the look of revulsion on the faces of the ladies as I pass?—”

“Then they are even bigger fools than you.”

She rose to leave. “Good night, sir. You have only to ring if you need anything during the night.” Her gaze strayed to his bruised face. “You may change your mind about draughts and potions on the morrow. I fear that you are going to feel quite the worse for this evening’s activities come morning.”

A considerably agitated Sykes appeared on Lady Thornton’s front steps far earlier than proper manners allowed.

“Oh, heavens,” exclaimed Miranda as Wells opened the door with some reluctance in answer to the urgent rapping. “How remiss of me—we should have sent word to you that the marquess was spending the night here.”

A spasm of relief crossed the valet’s weathered face before it was replaced by a look that could only be described as miffed. “Well, His Lordship might have saved me a good deal of worry if he had seen fit to share such plans with me.”

Miranda repressed a smile at the man’s injured tone. “I don’t believe he began the evening with such a thing in mind. However, there was a slight mishap ….”

Sykes’s eyebrows shot up.

“The result was several broken ribs, which prevented him from venturing forth on horseback. So you see, he had little choice but to remain here.”

“Now how in the dev—er, deuce did that happen?”

“Ah, I imagine His Lordship might prefer to make the explanation himself.”

“Which you shall no doubt pester out of me, but not before I have some breakfast.” Julian moved stiffly into the entrance hall.

Miranda had sent Wells up to his room earlier so that he was freshly shaved and the worst of the dirt had been brushed from his breeches and boots.

Even so, he hardly cut a dashing appearance, what with the bruises spreading over his cheek and a borrowed shirt that hung a good deal too short at the sleeves and a good deal too wide at the midriff.

Sykes had noticed that the big groom was sporting a wicked shiner and put two and two together. A bark of laughter escaped from his lips. “Good Lord, guv! A mite rusty with your fives? I’m afraid it looks like you may have taken the worst of it.”

“I’m touched by your concern,” replied the marquess dryly. “Perhaps when you have finished expressing your opinion, you might find it in your heart to take Zeus home and return with the carriage. And perhaps some clean linen.”

His valet wiped the grin off his face. “Sorry. No doubt you are hardly in the mood for banter.” A flash of concern came to his eyes and he took a step closer to Julian. “How are the ribs feeling?” he asked in a low voice.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” replied Julian. “But I would like to be on my way home as soon as possible.” He muttered a few more instructions in the other man’s ear, then Sykes took himself off without further ado.

Miranda had followed the exchange between them with great interest. “Well, I see you were not quizzing me when you said he was not the sort of valet to fall into a fit of vapors over a wrinkled sleeve,” she murmured, a flash of amusement evident in her eyes.

He gave her back a rueful grin. “No,” he agreed. “And I can assure you, he shall not let me hear the end of this for quite some time.”

She slipped her hand around his arm and started off down the hall. “Come, I’ve had Cook prepare an ample breakfast.” She hesitated a fraction. “You still prefer coffee?”

He nodded.

At that moment, Lady Thornton burst from the breakfast room and rushed to her nephew.