“A side of beef?” echoed Adeline faintly.
“Yes, a piece of raw beef,” he ordered over his shoulder as he strode into the parlor, “else she’ll have a wicked black eye.”
Adeline jerkily nodded permission to Jonas, shooed him on his way, and then followed in Talverton’s wake. She entered the parlor in time to see him settle her sister gently on the largest sofa in the room. Swiftly he turned to gather up pillows from other chairs and gently place them behind her head and shoulders.
Vanessa’s eyes fluttered open as he smoothed her skirts down around her ankles, tucking them about her. “What?” she muttered, struggling to sit up.
“Hush,” he said quietly, his voice sending odd, comforting ripples through her.
“Oh, Vanessa, I’m so sorry,” wailed Adeline.
Vanessa furrowed her brow against an incipient pounding in her head and tried to concentrate. “What happened?"
"Your sister planted you a facer,” explained Hugh as he smiled down at her. “Her form was questionable, but it was a nice flush hit.”
“How can you jest about it?” complained Adeline, sinking to her knees beside Vanessa.
“It’s all right, Adeline,” assured Vanessa weakly. “Actually it was Mr. Talverton’s fault,” she declared, trying to glare at him but giving it up when it increased the pounding in her head.
“Somehow, I knew you’d come round to blaming me."
"What are you doing here, anyway?” Vanessa demanded aggressively, then winced as a sharp pain pierced her cheek and eye.
“You’ll probably feel better if you keep the eye closed,” he counseled. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to pay an afternoon call. When your butler left me standing while he went to search out your location, I became restless. I heard female voices coming from the library, so I merely came to investigate.”
“Excuse me, Miss Adeline, but I got the beef the gentleman requested,” said Jonas from the doorway.
“Excellent,” declared Talverton, striding over to the butler. He took it from Jonas, testing the weight and thickness in his hand before crossing back to the sofa where Vanessa lay.
“What’s that for?” she asked in dismay as she saw him approach.
“For that black eye you’re going to get if you don’t put this on it.”
“Black eye?”
“Yes, black eye,” he said, pushing her back down among the pillows and laying the slab of beef over the left side of her face.
“This is ridiculous,” Vanessa protested, reaching up to remove the meat.
He caught her hand, holding it firmly in his. “Leave it,” he commanded, “unless you desire to resemble a pugilist who has lost a round.”
“Perhaps you had best do as he says,” Adeline said weakly, biting her lip in dismay.
“What’s going on in here?” a harsh, gravelly voice demanded.
Vanessa looked toward the doorway and groaned. Mr. Wilmot had arrived, as promised.
Jonas pushed past him, hurrying to the sofa. “I tried to tell him you were indisposed, Miss Vanessa, but he wouldn’t listen. Came right on in, he did, saying as how he was expected.” He turned to glare resentfully at the man, his old face heavily lined, though his eyes stared out fiercely at the intruder.
“I understand, Jonas,” she said. Suddenly she realized Mr. Wilmot’s angry gaze was settled on her hand, which was still clasped in Mr. Talverton’s. “You can let go of my hand now, Mr. Talverton,” she said, pulling it free. “I promise I shall suffer the meat to stay in place for it is certainly not my desire to resemble any prizefighter.”
Hugh allowed her hand to slide free and straightened to face Mr. Wilmot, though he maintained his position by the sofa.
“I apologize for not rising to meet you formally, Mr. Wilmot; however, I’m afraid I met with a slight accident.”
“What did this man do to you?” Wilmot growled, striding forward to tower over her.
“Mr. Talverton? Do not be ridiculous, sir. If anything, he has been my savior.”
