“If you two do not stop speaking around me as if I am a child or unaware of my surroundings, I am going to thrash you both as soon as I regain my strength.” A hitching moan escaped Sophie as another agonizing twinge sliced through her. “Answer me, Marie. This instant.”
“Your husband bade us move his things from the guest room into this suite, my lady,” Marie said. “I have her undone, Sir Nash. Lift her, and I shall slide the gown and corset off her. Shall I wait to change her shift until the doctor sees her? That will cause her less discomfort for now.”
“Yes.” Nash gently hugged Sophie to his chest so her garments could be removed in a smooth downward motion.
Panic swept across her as a harsher ache made her gasp, “I need a basin!”
Much to her horror, he held her as she retched and rid herself of every drop of champagne she had ever thought about drinking. How much more humiliation was this night to bring her?
“A wet cloth for her mouth and another for her head,” he said to Marie after handing off the basin. He eased Sophie back onto the pillows and sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “Your chemise is soaked through with blood. We should change it, rather than allow you to lie in it.”
“No. Not yet.” She didn’t care if she was floating in blood—she just wanted to be left alone so she could cover her head and quietly die from embarrassment. Through barely opened eyes, she didn’t detect a hint of revulsion from him. “I will be fine,” she whispered. “I merely need a moment to gather myself.”
“You keep saying that.” With a touch so gentle and caring it threatened to make her weep, he wiped her mouth with the wet cloth and draped another over her eyes. “Rest now. Talking only makes you draw deeper breaths and increases your pain. Be still, my swan, so you will improve. None of us can bear the thought of life without you.”
He should not say such things. That wasn’t at all fair. She rested her hand across the cloth covering her eyes, willing her heart to shut him out.
The door creaked, warning her someone had either arrived or departed, but she was too overset by the evening’s events to lift the cloth and look. A distinct hint of crisp, clean mint wafted across her, and she immediately knew it was Celia’s stepfather. The man always smelled of freshly crushed mint. She pulled in a deeper breath, knowing it would help allay the returning nausea.
“All of ye may leave while I see to the lady,” Dr. MacMaddenly announced with his usual gruff efficiency. “Now.”
“I am Sir Nash Bromley, Lady Sophie’s husband. I will not be leaving.”
“Ye will stay out of my way, then, sir, or we shall have words in another room, ye ken?”
“I assure you, doctor, I shall not be a hindrance.”
Sophie kept her eyes covered but expelled a long-suffering breath. “Dr. MacMaddenly, it was just a rock that hit me in the back. Not a dagger. Not a bullet. Merely a stone, and it knocked the wind from me. I shall be fine.”
“I shall be the judge of that, m’lady,” the doctor said. “If ye insist on being in here, Sir Nash, lift your wife, so I mightexamine the wound. I saw that missile. Such an object could do a great deal of damage.”
“The intensity of her pain has also caused her to be quite ill,” Nash told the doctor as he slid an arm under her shoulders and gently curled her to his chest to expose her back. “I am sorry, my love. I know it hurts when I move you.”
My love?When in heaven’s name had he started using that endearment? He needed to stop it. Such subtle attacks on her heart were not at all amusing. A jaw-tightening sourness pounded behind her ears, warning that more champagne was on its way out. “I need the basin!”
Once again, he held it for her as she heaved so hard it felt as though she had surely turned herself inside out.
“Marie!” he bellowed. “More cool cloths for her ladyship!”
“How many times has she been ill like that?” Dr. MacMaddenly asked.
“That is only the second time,” Sophie whispered as she sagged against Nash’s chest. “And kindly stop talking around me. I am quite capable of supplying you with whatever information you require.”
“The bruising is quite severe and only just started,” the doctor said as he unceremoniously cut her chemise and peeled it away. He gently prodded and pressed, hitting every excruciatingly tender spot.
She held her breath and buried her face in Nash’s chest, willing herself not to cry out.
“Nothing can be done for the puncture wounds but to keep them clean and bandaged,” Dr. MacMaddenly said. He gently squeezed her arms and hands, then tapped on the bottoms of her feet. “Any tingling or numbness, m’lady?”
“No.” She swallowed hard, trying not to give in to another round of heaving. A strained groan escaped her lips as Nash eased her down among the pillows onto her side.
“Laudanum and rest. Keep the wounds clean and let her rise from the bed when she feels well enough to do so.” The gruff physician rounded the bed and offered Sophie a somewhat affectionate scowl. “And none of your stubbornness about resting and healing, m’lady. I ken well enough how ye are, but Celia bade me warn ye that if ye dinna do as ye are told, she will have a bit of ye, and ye willna like it.”
“Thank you, Dr. MacMaddenly.” She attempted a weak smile. “I shall do my best to behave.”
“I doubt that.” The doctor pulled a bottle and a small vial from his black leather satchel and handed it to Nash. “A full vial of the laudanum immediately. ’Tis a large dose, but she will need it for this first time, especially. Once it takes effect, see that her maid cleans and bandages those wounds. Celia said ye were a military man, so ye ken how it should be done. After that, Lady Sophie may have more laudanum as the pain demands it, but knowing this lass, she’ll not take it unless ye force her, so watch her closely. There is no reason for her needless suffering.”
“I shall personally see to her care,” Nash said, sounding entirely too ready to rise to the challenge.
