Page 33 of The Major’s Mistake (Intrepid Heroines #7)
Fifteen
“ M y dear, thank the Lord you are safe!” Lady Thornton crushed Miranda to her frail chest, not bothering in the least to stem the tears of relief that flowed down her cheeks. “And Julian?”
“He’s been hurt. His leg …” Miranda took a ragged breath and blinked away her own tears. “I saw to him as best I could but …” Her lips began to quiver. “A physician is with him now.”
Sensing that Miranda was perilously close to collapse, Lady Thornton collected herself and sprung into action. Hot water was ordered for a bath, along with a large glass of brandy.
“Drink it,” she ordered, thrusting it into Miranda’s trembling hands. “Every drop. And Wells, see that Angus has a tot as well.” She flashed a warm smile at the big groom, still hovering protectively in the doorway. “As many as he wants.”
Miranda was forced to choke down the contents of the glass.
Lady Thornton gave a nod of satisfaction on seeing the spirits bring a hint of color back to her pale-as-death cheeks.
Ignoring the feeble protests, made even weaker by the effects of the brandy, she took hold of Miranda’s arm and marched her to her bedchamber.
Every stitch of torn and muddied clothing was stripped away and her aching body eased beneath the steaming water.
Miranda’s eyes drooped shut as she sunk up to her chin in the fragrant suds.
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but the soothing heat of both the bath and the brandy seemed to have melted away the last bit of resistance against the enveloping exhaustion.
No words came out, just an odd sound somewhere between a croak and a sob.
“Julian has no doubt weathered far worse in Spain, my dear,” whispered Lady Thornton. “He’ll come through with flying colors. It is you I am concerned with right now. You must rest. We’ll talk later.”
Miranda was scarcely aware of being toweled off, of her nightrail being tugged over her head, of being tucked between the sheets of her own bed.
By the time the curtains were drawn she had already given into a deep, dreamless sleep.
As Lady Thornton looked up from her book, Miranda ruffled her son’s curls and released him from her lap.
The dark smudges beneath her eyes had lightened considerably, helped along by a day and a night of uninterrupted rest. Still, the fine lines etched around her mouth revealed that the ordeal was not near forgotten.
Justin sprawled on the patterned carpet and opened a wooden box holding his playthings.
He, at least, seemed not a whit affected by the nasty ordeal he had experienced.
His stubby fingers extracted a miniature cavalry officer, resplendent in full dress uniform, from the tangle of other toys and began galloping it over a series of imaginary hills.
“It’s Major,” he announced. “Riding to Mama’s rescue.
” His rich blue eyes, so like those of his father, came up.
“You see, I wasn’t worried at all. I knew you were going to be safe because Major promised.
” A cloud then seemed to darken the boy’s soft features.
“Major is going to be alright, isn’t he? ”
Miranda bit her lip, wondering how it was that little ears always managed to hear everything. “Yes, love, he will be fine, though it may be some time before he can come ride with you again.”
“He’s a great gun. I wish he could be here now,” said Justin as he took a platoon of foot soldiers out of the box and positioned them behind the mounted figure. “I—I wish he could be here all the time.”
Miranda was saved from having to make any reply by the entrance of their butler, who handed Lady Thornton a sealed sheet of paper. Her chest tightened as she watched her great aunt slowly unfold it and scan its contents.
“You see, my dear. It appears there is no reason for worry.” Lady Thornton at last put down the note and removed her delicate gold spectacles. “Sykes writes that Julian has spent a restful night and there is no sign of fever or infection.”
It suddenly became less difficult to breathe.
“It is still too early to tell,” she replied as she watched Justin maneuver his troop of lead soldiers across the parlor floor.
“And I don’t like that the physician insists on keeping him dosed so heavily with laudanum that he hasn’t regained consciousness. ”
“Well, at least he did not find fault with your efforts. Sykes says that the man had to admit that no more skillful job could have been done on Julian’s injuries.” A small smile stole across Lady Thornton’s features. “Though, our friend adds, it was obvious that it pained him greatly to admit it.”
Miranda made a face. “I have a distillation of willow bark and extracts I find quite effective for preventing fever,” she continued.
“And a salve for the wound that helps stave off any sort of infection.” Her lips tightened.
“Though I doubt a toplofty physician would pay any attention to my suggestions.”
“Perhaps not, but I have no doubt that Sykes would be more than willing to do whatever you asked. By the tone of the note here, he seems very ... impressed with your abilities.”
“Jul—His Lordship is lucky to have such a good man to care for him,” she murmured.
Lady Thornton appeared to ignore the fumbling of words.
Her face came alight. “Yes, enlisting Sykes to help is a splendid idea,” she mused aloud.
“We shall just have to deliver your medicines to Highcroft Manor so we may rest assured that Julian is receiving the proper treatment. I had planned to visit in any case.” There was a fraction of a pause.
“Do you care to come as well? Sykes may need some guidance in what to do.”
Miranda’s face betrayed the warring of her emotions.
“I ... I think not,” she finally answered.
Her eyes couldn’t keep from straying to her son, still engrossed in his games of make believe.
She, however, had no such childish illusions.
“I don’t belong at Highcroft Manor,” she added in a low voice.
“You will have no trouble explaining my directions to Mr. Sykes.” She rose abruptly.
“I’ll fetch what you’ll need from my stores. ”
“Do that one more time and I shall be tempted to ram that smile right down your throat,” growled Julian.
Sykes took on an injured expression. “I’m only doing following Lady Miranda’s orders, guv.
She says that it’s important to move the joint a little every day else it will grow together all stiff and tight.
And I’m only smiling because we’re making progress—your leg is able to bend a good deal more than even two days ago.
” He gave a sniff. “So don’t go ringing a peal over my head.
A sheen of sweat coated the marquess’s forehead and he gritted his teeth against the pain as his valet took hold of his knee and flexed it again.
“I suppose that will do for the day,” said Sykes, leaning back from the task and wiping his own brow.
“Don’t do me any great favors,” muttered Julian.
His valet shot him another aggrieved look, surprised at his employer’s uncharacteristic irritability. “It isn’t as if I’m enjoying myself any more than you are, guv. Now, stop squawking and I’ll just unwrap the bandages and have a look at how those flesh wounds are healing.”
Julian had the grace to color. “Your pardon, Sykes. I’m afraid this interminable bed rest has made snappish as a caged bear.” He fell back against the pillow. “And I don’t expect you to play the nursemaid to me. Surely some local girl may be hired to do these tedious tasks.”
“You know I don’t mind.” A true grin split his weathered face.
“Besides, when you start jawing at me, I know you’re feeling better.
” The smile faded somewhat as he undid the bandages and regarded the jagged cuts.
“I don’t like that bit of red there,” he murmured, applying a generous dab of salve to the entire area. “It doesn’t look quite right.”
The marquess craned his neck to see. “Are you sure? Dr. Reynolds noticed nothing amiss this morning.”
“Hmmph.” The valet’s grimace indicated what he thought of the learned doctor’s opinion. “I’m not sure that nodcock would notice if you grew scales and sprouted wings, he’s so intent on currying your favor.”
“You think him a toadeater?”
“I think him a jackass.”
That drew a chuckle from Julian.
“It’s no joke, guv. Why, I had to threaten the fellow with bodily harm to stop him from plying you so full of narcotic that it would have been months before your eyes uncrossed.
And on top of that, he had the nerve to try and throw away the medicines Lady Miranda make up for you.
Called her a quack, he did. A meddlesome, ignorant female.
” Sykes grew even more heated. “I should have darkened his deadlights right then,” he added under his breath.
Julian bristled. “He called her meddlesome and ignorant?”
“Aye. And her knowing more about healing arts that any sawbones I ever met.” He looked down at Julian’s injured leg once more and pursed his lips. “Perhaps I shall ride over to Lady Thornton’s today and ask her advice on this.”
In truth, the spot in question was, at worse, only a trifle redder than the surrounding areas, but Sykes was not adverse to a bit of exaggeration if he could contrive for Miranda to feel compelled to make a visit.
For he sensed that it wasn’t mere confinement that was driving the marquess to distraction.
And Sykes was quite sure Miranda felt the same.