by Laura Landon
Olivia nearly ran to the closet where Chivers kept the cloaks and reached in for her wrap.
“May I be of some assistance, my lady?”
Olivia froze with her hand still on her cloak and turned her head to see Chivers standing just beyond the door. She felt like a child who’d been caught stealing money from her mother’s reticule.
“I was just . . . I mean . . .”
“I understand, my lady.”
Chivers carried the tray Olivia hadn’t noticed he had in his hand to the study.
“Cook sent up a fresh pot of tea and something to eat. She thought perhaps you’d like a bite while you were waiting for Lord Iversley to return.”
Olivia closed the door to the cloak closet and followed Chivers into the study.
“It’s been hours, Chivers. You don’t think—”
Olivia stopped, unable to go on.
“I think Lord Iversley is quite capable, my lady. These things take time.”
“Perhaps if I just went down to see for myself. I could stay in the carriage and—”
Olivia stopped when Chivers looked at her from beneath disapproving arched brows.
“I’m sure Lord Iversley expects you to stay here where you promised you’d be.”
Olivia wanted to reprimand Chivers for his impertinence, but how could she? He’d been a part of her father’s household even before she’d been born. And he was right. She had given her word. Damien would be furious if she went down to the ships. Even more furious if she got in the way.
“But if he’s—”
Olivia swallowed the rest of her sentence when the mantel clock struck midnight. He hadn’t even been gone an hour.
“Perhaps you’d like to rest for a while. Tilly’s waiting upstairs in case you require her.”
Olivia knew what they were doing, all of them. Trying to keep her occupied to ease her worrying. She should be grateful.
“Yes, Chivers. I think I’ll go up to change. They haven’t been gone all that long, have they?”
“No, my lady. Not that long at all.”
Olivia went upstairs to her room and changed out of her ball gown. She tried to go slow to occupy more time, but her movements matched the racing of her heart. It was as if she couldn’t get downstairs fast enough, in case Damien returned sooner than expected.
But when she reached the study, the room was still empty. Hot tea and small sandwiches were waiting for her.
Olivia drank a cup of the tea, then paced the room. She stopped in front of the window and looked out onto the deserted streets, then she drank another cup of tea and paced the room again. And the clock struck one.
Then two.
And three.
And four.
Olivia stared at the mantel clock, daring it to strike six. She’d already made up her mind that on the last chime she’d call for her carriage and go down to the docks. She was past nervous. Past being so frightened that she’d become ill. Now she was just numb.
It was over. She knew it had to be. Damien could be in pain. He could be dead.
She couldn’t stand the wait any longer.
As much as she told herself he was experienced enough and good enough to take care of himself no matter the situation, she knew how easily disaster could strike. How quickly the man she loved could be taken away from her.
. . . the man she loved.
Olivia clutched her hands around her middle and rocked back and forth on the edge of the settee. She didn’t want to admit it. She’d fought the truth from the day he’d come back to her, but she couldn’t deny it any longer. Not now. Not when there was a chance she had lost him.
She loved him.
She loved Damien as desperately now as she had the night she’d made the decision to save his life. Only it wasn’t a love he’d ever reciprocate. Damien didn’t love her. He’d never allow himself to love her. He’d bluntly told her so. Told her he considered what she’d done an act of betrayal. An act for which he could never forgive her.
The clock on the mantel struck the hour. She rose to look out the window for the thousandth time, expecting to see an empty street as she had each time before. Determined to call for her carriage and go to find Damien. But in the distance she heard the clopping of horses’ hooves and the rumble of carriage wheels.
Olivia strained to see if the carriage slowed in front of her townhouse.
It did.
Captain Durham jumped from the carriage and helped Damien to the ground. Damien was hurt.
Olivia raced to the front door as Captain Durham helped him into the house.
“Damien!”
Olivia looked at him, searching for any sign of blood but didn’t see any. What she saw was even more frightening.
Damien’s features were devoid of color, his face a pasty white. A heavy sheen of perspiration covered his forehead, and rivulets of sweat streamed down his face. He kept his jaw clenched tight, his lips drawn taut, and his eyes were glazed in agony.
Chivers rushed to Damien’s other side, and he and Captain Durham slowly helped Damien up the stairs.
“Where’s he hurt?” Olivia said.
“It’s his legs,” Captain Durham answered.
Olivia turned to go back down the stairs. “I’ll send someone for Doctor Barkley.”
“No!”
Damien’s pain-ravaged voice stopped her, and Olivia froze at the bottom of the stairs. Damien’s face had gone even paler, and as she turned to Captain Durham, he said, “A doctor won’t do his lordship any good. I’ll take care of him, my lady.”
Olivia sucked in a breath and rushed back upstairs to turn down the bed.
“What do you need, Captain?” Olivia asked when Chivers and Captain Durham had brought Damien into the room and close to the bed.
“I’ll need a bucket of hot water—very hot. And plenty of towels.”
Olivia rushed for the door. Captain Durham’s voice stopped her.
“And send someone up with a full bottle of whiskey.”
Olivia looked at the stark pain on Damien’s face and raced out of the room. She’d only taken a few steps down the hall before Damien’s loud moan of anguished torment stopped her short. With tears blurring her vision, she headed for her father’s liquor cabinet while issuing orders for the hot water and towels along the way.
Olivia grabbed the fullest bottles of whiskey on the shelf and raced back into Damien’s room just as Chivers and Captain Durham were laying Damien on the bed.
They’d stripped him of his shirt and breeches and were positioning his naked body facedown on the cotton sheets.
Olivia tried not to stare but wasn’t strong enough to turn her face away from him. Only it wasn’t his nakedness that held her gaze. It was the wide strips of puckered flesh that crisscrossed the backs of his thighs and legs. A raw redness distorted his limbs, and she realized how much pain he must have endured to cause such horrific disfigurement.
Olivia swallowed hard as she watched Chivers and Captain Durham hold Damien’s shoulders. She rushed across the room with the bottles clutched tightly to her breast.
With trembling hands, she poured a good amount into a glass and leaned down to hold it to his lips.
“Here, Damien,” she said, then fell backward when his arm swung out and made contact with her shoulder.
“Out! Get the hell . . . out of here!”
Olivia scooted back on the floor to move out of Damien’s reach.
“Get her out of here,” Damien said, his voice a hoarse, raspy whisper filled with pain. “For God’s sake, Durham. Get her out.”
“Yes, my lord. But first drink this.”
He held a bottle to Damien’s lips, but Damien pushed it away with a vile oath.
“I want her . . . out!”
Olivia stood on legs that barely held he
r and staggered back to get out of Damien’s line of sight. Several footmen entered the room with buckets of steaming water and tall stacks of towels. Captain Durham reached for a towel and dipped it in the water.
“Perhaps it might be best, my lady . . .” Captain Durham said, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“Out! Get her out!”
“I’m going, Damien,” Olivia said, backing toward the door. “I’m going.”
Olivia watched Captain Durham lift the bottle to Damien’s mouth again, then lay a steaming towel across the backs of his thighs.
Damien bucked on the bed and clutched great wads of the bedsheets in his fists while the captain kneaded his legs like a baker kneaded mounds of unbaked dough.
Olivia closed her eyes at his first agonizing moan.
“Is she gone?” Damien said between gasps of pain.
Captain Durham looked behind him to where Olivia had her back pressed against the wall. She stepped out of the room.
“Yes. She’s gone.”
Olivia walked a few feet down the hallway and sank down on the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands.
She’d never seen such suffering. Never seen a human being in such agony. Her stomach roiled at the muffled groans coming from inside Damien’s room.
“What happened last night?” Olivia whispered to Captain Durham. She kept her voice low enough so she wouldn’t wake Damien. Even though there was no way she could. The amount of whiskey he’d consumed, plus the two doses of laudanum Captain Durham had forced down his throat, guaranteed he wouldn’t wake for hours.
Captain Durham leaned his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. “We had your cousin trapped aboard the Commodore, but he escaped the barricade we’d set up, and Lord Iversley gave chase. None of us were close enough to help, and his lordship,” he said, looking down as Damien tossed restlessly on the bed, “was left to follow the blackguard on his own. I know he hurdled a number of crates your cousin threw in his way as well as raced down blocks of crowded alleys. We got to him as quickly as we could, but there was a fight. Before any of us could reach them, your cousin slammed a board across the back of Lord Iversley’s legs.”
Olivia swallowed past the lump in her throat.
Captain Durham rose from his chair and walked to the window where the sun rested high in the sky.
“Lord Iversley was forced to exert himself far more than he’s physically able to handle right now. By the time we got to him, the damage was already done.”
“Will he heal?”
“Yes, he’ll heal. But he’ll need care for some time now.”
Olivia watched Damien sleep for a while, then asked, “Where’s Richard?”
“One of my men fired a shot to stop him, but he got away. He no doubt isn’t finished. We’ll keep an eye out for him.” Captain Durham turned to face her. “I saw you watching what I did to Lord Iversley.”
Olivia felt her cheeks warm and her stomach churn. “How does he stand it?”
Captain Durham raked his fingers through his hair. “The procedure isn’t pleasant for either of us. I don’t enjoy inflicting such pain. But it’s worse for him,” he said, glancing to where Damien lay.
“I can understand the hot, moist towels. I can see where they would soothe the muscles. But is it necessary to knead his legs so? Or lift and pull him the way you do?”
“Yes. You remember the man I told you about?”
“The man from China?”
The captain smiled. “He would have told me I was too gentle tonight. He would have lifted and stretched Iversley’s legs until he screamed. He would have scolded me using Chinese words I couldn’t understand and made me work the earl’s legs even after the earl had fainted from the pain.”
Olivia turned her head to hide the tears swimming in her eyes.
“And he’d be furious if he knew how long it had been since someone had done what I did tonight. I told Iversley when he came to stay with you, he needed to teach Chivers or one of the other footmen what to do so when I left his legs wouldn’t grow stiff. But he said I wouldn’t be gone that long. That he could get by until I returned.”
Olivia felt a wave of anger wash over her. “How often does this have to be done?”
“Ideally, every day. Every other at the least.”
“Then more than one of us will learn.”
“Us?” Captain Durham asked with raised brows.
“Yes. There is no reason I cannot learn the procedure. Perhaps I’m not as strong as you, but I still need to know what to do should the need arise.”
“He’s not going to like it,” Captain Durham said, crossing his arms over his chest. “He doesn’t like for anyone to see his legs.”
“He’ll get used to it. Just as he’s gotten used to the world seeing the scar on his face.”
“Perhaps. But I’m not sure he’ll ever get used to you seeing him as naked as the day he was born.”
The air caught in Olivia’s throat. “I, uh. I hadn’t . . . Oh, my.”
Captain Durham smiled and Olivia tried not to look so mortified. “Then I guess that’s something we’ll both have to get used to.”
Chapter 19
Olivia stood outside Damien’s door, clutching a bottle of whiskey and a stack of towels to her breast. She forced herself to leave the cork in the bottle, when what she wanted to do was take a drink of it herself. She took several deep breaths, praying they would help her work up the courage she needed to enter Damien’s room and face him.
“Did you need assistance, my lady?”
Olivia looked over her shoulder to face Chivers who’d come up behind her.
“No, Chivers. I was just . . .”
“I understand, my lady. Allow me.” He reached around her to open the door.
Olivia had no choice but to bolster her courage and march into the room like an invading army. It was all she could do not to run when Damien turned his head and looked at her.
“How are you?” she said, stacking the towels on the end of the bed in a very precise manner, then pouring a small amount of liquor into a glass. He watched her with a questioning look on his face, but she didn’t hold his gaze long enough to let him know she’d noticed.
“Olivia. About last night.”
She stood still. She knew he was referring to the shove that had sent her sprawling to the floor.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I know. Pain makes people do things they’d ordinarily never do.”
“That doesn’t excuse what I did, but yes. The pain hasn’t been that bad since—” He stopped and looked away from her. “Well, it was rather severe last night.”
She held out the glass. “Do you need some of this?”
“No. I had enough last night.”
“You needed it.”
He smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, but was warm enough to heat her insides.
“But I don’t today. Besides, if I start drinking already, I’ll get as bad as Baron Haddley.”
“No you won’t,” she answered, as aware as the rest of Society that Haddley hadn’t had one sober day in the last twenty years. “You’re stronger than he is.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“It’s funny, but some days I don’t feel like it.”
Olivia pondered his words, words he’d spoken more to himself than to her. Yet words that opened a small window so she could see inside him. Inside to where he harbored his fears. Well, today she had fears of her own.
She took a fortifying breath and placed the glass back on the table. The door opened and a servant carried a basin of steaming water into the room. Olivia cleared off a place for the basin.
“What are you doing?”
There was a hardness in his voice she chose to ignore. “I’m preparing to minister to
you the same as Captain Durham did last night.”
“No!”
Damien made a move to lift himself up from the bed, and Olivia stepped closer. She shoved her palm against his chest to push him back down.
“Lie back down and turn onto your stomach.”
“No!”
“Turn over, Damien.”
Their gazes locked, the battle line clearly drawn.
“Bloody hell, woman.”
“Please, don’t curse, Damien. It doesn’t do any good.”
“I don’t bloody care. I’m not going to let you see—”
“I saw everything last night.”
“Well, you’re not going to see it in broad daylight.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have anything to say about it.”
“The hell I don’t!”
“Don’t argue with me. Captain Durham said the exercises should be performed every day. Since I intend to see they are, you’ll bloody well lie down and let me get this over with.”
Damien glared at her with raging fury. Then he shifted his gaze to the door.
“Don’t even think about it. You’re not strong enough to make it across the room, let alone out of the house to escape me.”
His glare darkened, and Olivia tried to show how unaffected she was with his show of temper by continuing to prepare for what she had to do.
“I’m not letting you touch me. Captain Durham will do it.”
“He’s not here.”
“Well, get him,” Damien roared.
“No,” Olivia roared back just as decidedly. “He was awake all night. He has to oversee the unloading of the cargo on the Commodore, and he needs to rest.”
“Then I’ll wait until he’s rested,” he said through clenched teeth.
“You can’t. That’s what put you in this condition. Your stubborn bullheadedness. We’re going to do this now.”
“You don’t know what to do.”
“Captain Durham explained what I should do, and I watched most of what he did last night.”
“Blast!”
