Chapter Twelve
Kitty came out of the small parlor, closing the door behind her with care.
Max stood there, waiting. “Well? How is she?”
Kitty took his arm and motioned him away into the hall. “Sssh. She’s still sleeping.”
He led her into the library and sat her down in one of his large leather chairs. “You need tea or brandy or something. You’re too pale.”
She shook her head at him. “I’m all right. I’ll have some tea later. And if I’m pale, it’s nowhere near as white as Hecate.” She shivered then, a whole body shiver that nearly rattled her teeth.
“Damn,” muttered Max, grabbing a thick blanket that lay folded on one arm of the large sofa. “You’re either cold or in shock. Most likely both. I’m going to ring for tea right now. And you will drink it, do you understand? That’s an order.”
Too shaken to argue, Kitty nodded as Max walked to the bell and summoned Deery.
“What did the doctor say?” Max returned to her side.
“He said…” she tried to gather her thoughts. “He said it was a very bad break, and it was a good thing she did not wake. He set what bones he could, and he believes she will heal in time. But he did say she will most likely limp for the rest of her life.” Tears stung the back of her eyes. “She is so alive, Max. Sobright. To see her like this, so very still…I don’t believe she’s sleeping. I think she is unconscious. The doctor wouldn’t say yea or nay, but tried to reassure me that whatever the cause, sleep is the best thing for her right now.”
“And he’s correct.” Max knelt down beside the chair, taking Kitty’s hand in his. “She has suffered grievous injuries, Kitty. Her body is, right now—even as we speak, starting the process of healing itself. We have to let it, let her wake when her body is ready, much as you’d like to tell her how glad you are she’s still alive, it will have to wait until she’s ready to hear it.”
His words sank into her brain, the calm assurances making sense at last.
She nodded. “You’re right, of course.”
“Ah, here’s the tea.” Max rose at a knock, and as the door opened, he took a tray from Derry. “Thank you. Just what we need.”
“Is there anything else we can do, sir?” Derry looked concerned. “We are all praying for the young lady, of course. Should we ready a room, do you think?”
“No,” Kitty stood. “If we could send a message to Aunt Venetia and ask her to come here, I think that would be the best idea.” She rubbed her forehead for a moment. “Let me think…”
Max glanced at Deery. “Arrange for the message, Deery. Miss Ridlington will write a note after she’s had a cup of tea.”
“Very good, sir.” Deery bowed himself out.
Kitty poured tea, adding milk without consciously realizing it. She drank, and the hot liquid served to wake her from a confused and fogbound state that nearly rivaled her sister’s. “Oh that’s better.” She took a breath. “Thank you, Max. This is all quite far from what you imagined might happen when you won yourself a mistress, isn’t it?”
A mobile eyebrow flew up. “My dear Kitty, if you think either of those topics is connected in any way in my mind, you will get a far more impressive spanking than the one you received last night. You won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
She blinked. “I apologize. That was not meant to be insulting.”
“Good. But understand this. Not one iota of this morning’s events would have been different had younotbeen here.”
She lowered her gaze, realizing what she had implied. “I think I already knew that, Max. But I would appreciate your forgiveness for my poorly expressed thanks on behalf of my family and Hecate. Those, I might add, would also be as grateful and sincere were I not a guest here at Mowbray House.”
Max neared her, took her tea and put it on the table. Then he held out his arms—and she walked straight into them with a sob.
Embarrassed, but too overwrought to do anything else, Kitty allowed herself the liberty of several minutes of weeping over Max’s waistcoat. After which she accepted the proffered handkerchief, wiped her eyes, blew her nose and retrieved her tea. “Thank you.” She sipped. “All better now.”
He smiled. “You sound like a child with a skinned knee who’s been given a biscuit to make it better.”
“Sometimes a hug works just as well. Not to mention a handkerchief.”
He nodded. “Right then. Now that we’re thinking clearly, perhaps we should plan a little further than your Aunt Venetia. I will ready my travelling carriage. It hasn’t been used for a while, so it’ll be a couple of hours…I’m going to presume Hecate would be best served if at home in Ridlington?”
“I think so,” said Kitty, thinking it over. “It’s a long journey, of course, but if she remains in this healing sleep, perhaps it’s best undertaken now, where she’ll avoid experiencing the pain of having that leg jostled.” Another thought crept into her mind. “Where’s Dal?”
“Having breakfast with Mrs. Timmins. They seem to have taken quite a shine to each other. Last conversation I caught was Dal talking to her about the fruits of India.”
