“Without a saddle?” Arabella asked, utterly shocked.
“I’ve ridden bareback before, though it’s been some time,” he admitted.
“But these are carriage horses and not used to being ridden!” Arabella protested.
“I’ll be careful, Arabella. These particular horses have been used for riding and pulling a coach, so it won’t be a completely foreign notion to them. In the meantime, you all will pile into the remaining carriage and make your way on to Bath. You can put the injured driver on the floor where he will be jostled about the least. There is no better man to have at the reins than Collins here,” he said, referencing the driver of his own coach who was still working to calm the team of horses that had been attached to his own carriage. “When you arrive, send word to Nicholas and have him come to Wolfhaven to tend Primrose there.”
“I’m hardly an invalid,” Prim began, but as she stepped away from Hyacinth to make her point, her knees gave way and she began to sink.
Cornelius caught her. “Certainly not an invalid, but even you can admit you are not in the pink of health at this moment.”
“I’ll get the horses,” Rowan said and then went tromping through the creek to collect the two.
“Get back here,” Hyacinth shouted.
“They’re carriage horses, Hy,” the boy protested. “Docile as lambs!”
“Carriage horses that have been through quite a scare and could easily bolt or rear. You’ll not go a step further, young man!”
Cornelius was impressed with how stern and parental she sounded. Considering that Hyacinth was only a few inches taller than Rowan, it was doubly impressive. Lowering Prim to the ground where she could lean against the busted carriage, he said, “You will stay there and I will fetch the horses.”
She started to nod in agreement, thought better of it at the first small bit of movement and then spoke, “Yes. I will wait right here.”
Cornelius left her then, waded through the stream and across to the opposite bank. Luckily, the stream was not too deep or swift moving. Using the broken reins that were still about the horses’ necks, he led them back. Tethering them both to a tree, he made short work of loading everyone else in the remaining intact carriage and seeing them off. To the driver he said, “Collins, be very careful with them. If you get a sense of anything wrong, stop for help. Don’t try to push on.”
“Aye, my lord,” the driver said. “I’ll see they get there safe and sound and get Dr. Warner back to you quick as can be.”
Ambrose watched the carriage rolling out, weighed down with all its occupants. It wasn’t intended to carry so many, but it would do, he thought. They had no other choice.
Alone with Prim, he looked down at her. “Now that they’re gone, tell me the truth. How badly are you injured?”
“I don’t know. I think my shoulder is… well, not where it ought to be. I struck it and my head on the side of the coach when it rolled,” she admitted. “It isn’t my head that’s making me weak and faint. The pain in my shoulder is unbearable.”
A dislocated shoulder was not life threatening. On that score, he was relieved, but he knew from firsthand experience just how painful it could be. That she was not wailing and screaming with it was testament to her strength of character. Likely it had far more to do with her not wanting to upset her siblings than anything else.
Cornelius reached for her, hauling her up by her uninjured arm. Leaving her standing there, he retrieved the horses and mounted one of them, holding on to the reins of the other. She couldn’t ride bareback so she’d have to be pillioned with him.
“Under the circumstances, I think you must ride astride for safety. Place your foot on mine and use it to step up,” he instructed.
She did so. As she stepped up, he grasped her uninjured arm and hoisted her the rest of the way up. It wasn’t graceful in the least, and the horse protested the unfamiliar weight of both of them on its back, but there was little choice in the matter.
When she was positioned before him, her back to his chest and her head tucked in just beneath his chin, Cornelius nudged the horse forward. The companion horse fell in step beside it, as if they were both still bound to the same vehicle. Cornelius was torn between wanting to gallop ahead and needing to maintain the slow, sedate pace to prevent her further pain. Damned if he did and equally damned if he did not, he contented himself to hold her close and make steady progress toward their destination.
Chapter Sixteen
Without a saddle, it had not been a smooth ride. Every bump and jolt had made her stiffen in his arms, a hiss or whimper of pain escaping from her lips. At some point, she had blessedly slipped into unconsciousness, the pain simply too much to bear. It had been a relief on one hand, to know that it would ease her suffering in some way. At the same time, it was quite worrisome. He feared that her head injury might be worse than he first believed.
When they finally reached Wolfhaven, the butler opened the door and his eyes widened. “Lord Ambrose! Lord Wolverton is away!”
“I am aware… we’ve had a carriage accident and she’s too gravely injured to go further. My aunt and the others have gone on to Bath and will send back Dr. Warner to attend her. For now, I need a bedchamber for her and laudanum if you have any on hand.”
The butler nodded. “Of course, my lord. Please come inside. The young lady?”
“Her name is Miss Primrose Collier. She is a family connection,” he offered by way of explanation. The truth was far too convoluted and not really any of the butler’s concern. “Thank you for opening Wolfhaven to us. In her current state, I did not think she could stand the journey to Avondale.”
“Certainly, my lord. Certainly. Bring her in and we’ll take her upstairs to the gold room. It has been aired out recently when Lord and Lady Vale stopped for a visit.”
Cornelius followed the servant through the wide carved doors and into the great hall. They climbed the stairs to the second level and then traversed the length of the hall to a suite of rooms in the section of the house that had clearly been recently redecorated. He placed her on the bed and stepped back, staring down at her. What was he supposed to do with her now? His knowledge of medical procedures was shockingly limited, not to mention that his own emotional state was likely rendering his decision making abilities poor at best.
“I’ll have the maids retrieve a nightrail from her ladyship’s things,” the butler said. “They can get her changed into something more comfortable and then we may begin assessing which of her injuries require immediate tending… if you are in agreement, that is, my lord.”
Of course he was in agreement. His own mind had completely frozen and he was unable to think of a single thing beyond the fact that he’d managed to get her there. “Yes, of course. I know she has taken a nasty bump to the head and her shoulder is out of joint. Have them be careful of it.”
“Yes, my lord. All will be taken care of.”
He was reluctant to leave her, reluctant to entrust her care to others, and yet he knew he had to do so. Backing away from the bed and toward the door, he stepped out into the corridor but went no further. He would not go far from her in her current condition, a condition that he felt responsible for. It had been his carriage, after all. If it had been properly maintained or checked carefully prior to the journey, the accident might never have happened. She would not have been injured and the lives of everyone else in the carriage would not have been endangered.
Two maids passed him to enter the bedchamber, borrowed clothing draped over their arms. He could hear them talking inside as they tended to her. After a few moments, they emerged again and he didn’t bother to knock as he turned and once more went through that door.
The blood had been washed away from her face and most of her hair, leaving a large bruise visible to him. The dark, angry spot just above her temple was a stark reminder of just how close she had come to perishing. Recalling the wreckage of the splintered carriage, it was a wonder that she hadn’t been more seriously
injured or even killed. It was a wonder still that she was the only one who had been seriously injured.
Her eyes fluttered open then and she looked up at him. “This is a fine mess, isn’t it?”
He laughed in spite of everything. “I do believe that is a grand understatement of the facts, Miss Primrose Collier.”
“How long it will take for Dr. Warner to get here?”
“Are you in a great deal of pain?”
She sighed, a grimace of discomfort crossing her face. “My head hurts, but is bearable. It’s my shoulder that’s truly horrible. I think the laudanum is beginning to work though. I’m sorry for being such a bother.”
“You’re not a bother, Primrose. I am sorry for not taking more care with your safety. It was my carriage, after all, that was in such a sad state of repair that the wheel snapped and resulted in your being injured in the first place.”
She frowned at that. “I don’t understand why the wheel snapped. The road was in good condition, and I heard the driver say he’d gone over everything carefully the day before and both coaches were in tip-top shape. I know that accidents happen, but—”
“But what?”
A frown marred her features. “It seems silly, but I can’t help thinking of our encounter with Lord Samford. What if… what if he decided that he doesn’t want Rowan near enough to create difficulties for him? The resemblance is so marked that anyone seeing him would know without question what his parentage is!”
“I can’t imagine that he would take it upon himself to do such a thing… not because I think him above it, but because I cannot see him being bothered with it. His reputation is such that having a child out of wedlock would not be a surprise to anyone. If he were thinking to remarry, it might be an issue. But otherwise, it is hardly worth his notice.”
Her gaze was less direct, her expression more lax. It was clear that the laudanum had begun to work. “And is that how Lila was viewed by your father? Hardly worth his notice?”
“Sadly, yes. I do not say that to be cruel, Primrose. And it is not in any way an indictment of Lila, Rowan, your mother, or any other poor woman who finds herself in such a terrible situation. It is an indictment of such men who act without honor.”
“And was it honor on the stairs the other night that kept you from kissing me?”
It was definitely the laudanum that prompted such a question. Her speech was somewhat slurred and very slow. Cornelius looked away from her then. He would answer her, because it was very unlikely that she would recall it anyway. “Yes. It was honor. I will not be like my father or Lord Samford and his ilk. Why would you ask that, Primrose?”
“If your honor forbids you from kissing me, it is because you see me as a woman too far beneath you for honorable intentions,” she admitted, and her lower lip trembled slightly, as if such an admission was painful for her. “I ask that question, Lord Ambrose, because I need to remind myself, especially now when we are alone together, of all the reasons I must hold firm to my own resolve in your presence. Women have honor, as well, you see? I am as determined to be different from my mother as you are determined to be different from your father.”
“It is not that you are beneath my station, Primrose. It is not even that I am not a good prospect for marriage, though that is certainly true. There are scandals attached to my name… a long history of them. Most can be laid at my father’s door. But the worst can be laid at mine. My intentions toward you are not what you would believe and now is not the time to discuss them.”
“And what have you done that is worse than your father’s utter disregard for the children he fathered?”
Would it alter the way she viewed him? It ought to, he thought. “I killed a man.”
“You said that before. An innocent man?” she asked.
“No. He was anything but.”
“I see. And did you do this to save others?”
“I thought I did. I did not know when I fired my own pistol that the second one he possessed was already spent,” he admitted.
“That does not make you evil, my lord. Or even scandalous. It makes you very brave and very troubled, I think.”
He said nothing in response, but nothing was required. On the last word, her eyes had closed once more. She slept peacefully, the laudanum easing her pain and lulling her into a deep sleep. Free to do so, Cornelius eased himself onto the edge of the bed. Cupping her cheek tenderly, once more savoring the silken texture of her skin and the warmth of it beneath his hand. His attachment to her was growing disproportionately.
It seemed as if the instantaneous attraction he’d felt for her was deepening into something more. Despite her sometimes prickly nature, he saw her for what she was. Frightened, and yet fierce as she sought to protect herself and her family. He admired her for that. Respected her for it. Those things, admiration and respect coupled with the stunning beauty that he could not deny, were creating far more difficulties for him in keeping his feelings in check than he had anticipated. She was in no way ready to accept his suit and with each passing moment, he was sinking deeper under her spell.
A noise behind him alerted him to the presence of the butler. The man cleared his throat in a somewhat scandalized manner. Cornelius rose and turned to the encroaching servant. “I think it best if she sleeps until Dr. Warner arrives to set her shoulder. Otherwise the discomfort will be too much.”
“Yes, my lord. I could not agree more. The cook has prepared a poultice to reduce the swelling of her injury. The maids will be here to apply it momentarily.”
There was a wealth of censure in the man’s tone, despite their difference in status. Cornelius did not take umbrage as the butler was clearly in the right and he quite wrong.
“A fire has been laid in Lord Wolverton’s study, my lord. There is brandy there or tea can be served if you so choose.”
“Tea shall do nicely. Under the circumstances, I should keep my wits about me lest I forget the proprieties,” Cornelius offered by way of assurance.
“Just so, my lord,” the butler agreed. The maids entered then, dipping into curtsies even as the butler held the door open for him. The implication that he should leave could not have been more pointed, or more correct. He should leave and he should endeavor to keep as great a distance between them as possible. But he would not. Of that, Cornelius was certain.
Chapter Seventeen
It was evening when Prim awoke. The pain was bearable, or so she thought. When she moved, it exploded in her shoulder like a ball of fire. It arced outward, racing down her arm and toward her neck as she cried out.
“You mustn’t move yet, Miss Collier. We have not yet set your shoulder… I had hoped the laudanum would keep you under a bit longer until it was done.”
The voice belonged to Dr. Warner. Gingerly, she turned her head in the direction from which he’d spoken. “I can’t stand it much longer. Can we not just set it now and be done with it?”
“It’ll be excruciatingly painful,” he warned. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.”
“I do,” she said. “It’ll take too long for the laudanum to work again and it only makes me feel sick. Quicker is better, I think.”
Dr. Warner approached the bed, standing near enough that she no longer had to turn her head to look at him. “Better for you, Miss Collier,” he said. “But it appears that your current condition might very well be the death of my dear brother. He has paced the floors until there may well be a hole worn in Wolverton’s new carpets.”
She groaned softly as she tried to draw herself up further in the bed. “He feels responsible for what happened, but I do not believe that he is.”
Warner nodded. “No. I heard about your suspicions, that you believe Lord Samford to be involved in this accident. I do not disagree with you that he is capable. We’ll discuss it further, my brother included, once we’ve set your shoulder. Take the laudanum, Miss Collier.”
Reluctantly, Prim accepted the glass of liquid he handed her. The small amo
unt of milk laced with the laudanum was bitter on her tongue, but she drank it down quickly. Her stomach rebelled and it took all of her will not to cast up her accounts right there. She managed to narrowly avoid that humiliation, but only just.
Within mere minutes, the dizziness began again. The room seemed to dip and sway about her. The door opened and she heard the deep tones of Lord Ambrose’s voice. She did not speak to him, but instead let the lethargy of the laudanum overtake her, lulling her into a strange state between wakefulness and sleep.
The men approached the bed and she felt their long shadows falling over her. In her drugged state, past and present mingled. It was no longer Dr. Warner and Lord Ambrose who loomed over. It was the horrible men that her mother had entertained between her more affluent protectors, those men who had made advances toward her, toward Hyacinth, who had engendered such fear in her of men and of being touched by them.
When they reached for her, their hands clasping at her arms, she screamed out and began to thrash. But it was an imprudent move. Despite the drugs, the pain was shocking in its intensity. It suffused her so completely that she could do nothing but scream her agony. The wail echoed throughout the room, the sound of it deafening, until it drifted off to nothingness and blackness consumed her.
*
“Do not faint.”
Cornelius glanced up at Nicholas’ tight features. “Men do not faint.”
“Lovesick calves do and you, my brother, are a lovesick calf.”
Cornelius drew his gaze away from his brother’s teasing face. He knew that Nicholas’ words were intended to ease the unbearable tension that had fallen over the room with her godawful scream.
“Let us please set her shoulder and be done with it,” Cornelius said firmly. “The pain is unbearable for her, but it is the laudanum that brings back the ghosts of her past. I think they do more damage.”
“Hold her steady. Whatever you do, do not let her move,” Nicholas instructed.
The Awakening of Lord Ambrose (The Lost Lords Book 6) Page 11
