“Of course, My Lord,” one of the servants replied, nodding as they began to carry Pembroke toward the staircase. Tristan felt a surge of relief that his part in the disaster was now over; he had brought the man home safely, the physician would be there soon, and he felt optimistic that things would turn out well in the end. But amidst the chaos, he couldn’t shake the feeling that their carefree day had transformed into something far more serious, and the weight of responsibility settled heavily upon his shoulders.
As Tristan made his way back to the drawing room, the cheerful atmosphere felt jarring against the weight of the incident he had just witnessed. He paused at the threshold, gathering his thoughts, before stepping inside to face the curious glances of the ladies, who would no doubt have heard the hubbub in the hallway.
His eyes fell immediately on Diana, who was looking at him with concern.
But it was Lady Bretherton who leaped to her feet and spoke first. “Lord Everton, what on earth happened?”
He took a deep breath, the familiar warmth of the room contrasting sharply with his heightened pulse. “Lord Pembroke has had an accident. He fell from his horse during the hunt. I brought him back inside, but he collapsed in the hallway. The servants are attending to him now, and we are awaiting the doctor.”
The room fell silent, the jovial chatter replaced by gasps of surprise and concern. “He seemed dazed but conscious when I last saw him. I trust he will be all right, but I wanted to ensure you all were aware.” Murmurs of sympathy spread through the group
“I am sure you did your best, My Lord,” Lady Eliza said, looking up at Tristan through her long lashes. “Let us hope that the doctor will be here soon.”
Tristan nodded, and withdrew to a corner of the room. He did not want to be the focus of anyone’s attention right now, but he did not feel that he could leave his guests either.
As he stood there, attempting to shake off the adrenaline of the earlier chaos and his lingering worry for Pembroke, he sensed eye on him and when he looked up, he saw that Diana was navigating her way through the room, which was now slightly crowded with guests. Her movements were purposeful, and as she approached him, her keen eyes sharpened with intent.
“My Lord,” she said, her voice cutting through the noise around them. “What’s that on your arm?” He instinctively glanced down at his sleeve, where the blood had begun to seep through the fabric.
“It’s nothing,” he replied with a wave of his hand, attempting to brush it off as unimportant. But Diana was not easily deterred. Her brow furrowed, and the concern in her eyes deepened. “It’s clearly something, and you’re not fooling anyone,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Before he could respond,she took his arm and gently pulled him aside, her touch both firm and reassuring.
“Come with me,” she insisted, her gaze unwavering as she led him away from the crowded drawing room. Tristan felt a mix of gratitude and disbelief at her determination; he had no choice but to follow her through the hallways of the estate. The quiet of the corridor enveloped them, a welcome separation from the lively gathering. “We need to tend to this,” she said, her voice softening as they reached a small, unused sitting room. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in a sanctuary away from the prying eyes of their peers.
Diana motioned for him to sit on a nearby sofa, and as he complied, he couldn’t help but admire her focus.
“Stay here,” she instructed him. “I’m going to find something to use as a bandage.”
He nodded, and sat mutely as he waited for her to return. She was so decisive in her actions, that he did not feel he should do anything else.
When she came back, she set to work. She had found a small first aid kit from somewhere – he had no idea where – and she seemed fully prepared to use it.
“You really should take better care of yourself,” she chided gently, as she knelt beside him, her fingers deftly unrolling the bandages. There was no awkwardness between them, even after the moment they had exchanged in the maze the previousevening, and Tristan found that he could not take his eyes off her.
“Hold still,” she instructed, her voice steady as she began to clean the wound. He watched her work, captivated not only by her skill but by the intimacy of the moment. The soft brush of her fingers against his skin sent an unexpected thrill coursing through him, grounding him in a reality that felt suddenly fragile.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he tried to reassure her, but she shot him a look that silenced him, a mix of exasperation and affection in her eyes.
“Then why are you bleeding?” she countered, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. Her focus shifted back to the task at hand, and as she applied the antiseptic, he felt a sharp sting followed by the cool relief of the ointment. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, and as she bandaged his arm with delicate precision, Tristan found himself caught in the moment, appreciating the intimacy of her care.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his earlier fears slipping away as she finished the last knot. “You really shouldn’t have concerned yourself with me.”
“Just don’t make a habit of it,” she replied, her smile brightening the room.
Tristan realized, in that moment, that she was the only person who had noticed that he was injured, the only person who had bothered to check that he was alright. He could not deny, either, that he had enjoyed the attention. The intimacy of the moment, as she had bandaged his arm, had drawn him in, and he found that now, he did not want the moment to end.
“I mean it, Diana,” he said softly, looking at her. “Thank you.”
“You should not be so reckless,” she said, getting to her feet. “Perhaps you should consider giving up hunting. It seems to only cause chaos!”
“And perhaps you should keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you,” he shot back, though his voice held no malice. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Only when it comes to saving your life,” she replied.
Just then, footsteps echoed nearby, shattering the moment. Diana stared at Tristan, panic in her eyes. She knew, just as wel las he did, that they should not be alone together.
“Hide!” he whispered.
She quickly ducked behind a nearby couch. He could hear her breathing, behind him, and he positioned himself on the couch so that she could not be seen. He instinctively reached out to touch her hair, gently pushing it behind her ear to keep her hidden.
