His gaze locked with hers and held for the span of a few breaths. “I promise.”
****
There were only a few instances in Robert’s life, and he could count them on one hand, where he had been surprised. He prided himself on anticipating situations and acting accordingly. An invaluable trait on the battlefield.
His father’s and brother’s deaths, although a shock, had not been a surprise. Men of their wealth and status were a target. The only questions werewhyandwho? Even his mother’s demands that Robert marry Donald’s fiancée had been predictable when he learned the circumstances.
No, he’d only been surprised, truly surprised, five times. The first was a surprise tenth birthday party. The second was when his mother told his father to give up his mistress or she would leave him. The third was when his father complied, and then begged forgiveness. The fourth was when the solicitor said Conclarton was in a financial crisis.
Winfield returned with the linens and Robert observed the lovely Miss Mercer whispering to him in an agitated tone. He heard only snippets but enough to surmise that Winfield wanted to wait until the leech arrived, while Robert’s lovely rescuer rightly argued that time was of the essence. The bullet should be removed post haste, she had said, with a lift of her chin and a nod of her head.
The fifth surprise was when Miss Mercer had demanded his promise to her that he would live.
Miss Mercer turned from her conversation with Winfield, and her pleased expression told him she had won the argument.
“The bullet must be removed,” she announced as she placed a cool hand on his shoulder. “I am very sorry. I fear it will hurt like blazes.” She turned those hazel eyes toward Winfield. “Perhaps some whiskey for the duke? It might dull the pain.”
“Pain and I are well acquainted. But what are you doing? It is not proper for you to see me unclothed.”
“I just told you. I must remove your shirt. The bullet must be removed, and the wound sewn shut if we have any hope of stopping the bleeding.”
“A maid should not see a man without clothes.”
A smile teased her full lips. “I promise I won’t look.”
Winfield clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “His Grace is correct. This is most improper, but I do not see a way around it. Please turn your back while I remove His Grace’s shirt.”
Miss Mercer did as Winfield instructed, affording Robert a view of her long mane of hair. He mused that he liked how it cascaded past her waist like bolts of silk. He never understood the fashion for women to pile their hair on top of their heads and adorn it with all manner of trinkets and whatnots. He preferred a woman’s hair loose and accessible for a man’s touch.
He dragged his gaze from Miss Madeline and the gentle curve of her waist down to her hips. “Good Lord. You are a vision.”
“Robert, did you say something?” Winfield said.
He groaned in pain and swore under his breath as Winfield tried to remove his arm from his sleeve. He must be in worse shape than he had thought, to voice his opinion out in the open. Well, what was done, was done. “Please ask if the lady is married,” Robert said.
“You may talk to me directly, Your Grace,” she said with a sparkle in her beautiful eyes. “I am unmarried.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” he said closing his eyes for a moment as a spasm of pain shook him.
Miss Mercer approached the bed. “The blood from your gunshot wound is drying on your sleeve and has adhered your shirt to your skin. If Winfield pulls too hard, it will make your wound worse. Let me help. Winfield, I’ll need clean water, and the buckets you brought for the duke’s bath were spilled in all the commotion.”
“Propriety,” Winfield managed. “It would not be proper if I left you alone with His Grace. Again. I do not know what came over me the first time. I was quite taken back by His Grace’s condition, I suppose.”
She folded her arms on her chest and stepped back. “Well, then, yank away. But be aware that His Grace has already lost a lot of blood. If he bleeds to death, it will be on your hands.”
“I will be right back,” Winfield said. “Your Grace, do I have your word as a gentleman that you will not…I mean…”
“Winfield, you have my word that I will not ravish the lady.”
“I am not worried,” Miss Mercer said. “He is too weak to do any ravishing. Besides, I am not his type.”
Winfield gave a slight bow and hurried from the room, leaving the doors opened wide.
Robert’s eyebrows knitted together as he frowned. “Although I am a gentleman and would not take advantage of a lady, I feel you have questioned my manhood when you said I lacked the strength to ravish you.”
Miss Mercer rolled her eyes. “Men.”
“What is that comment supposed to mean?” He pretended to pull a frown. He knew very well what she had meant in both the roll of her eyes and her tight smile, but he discovered he enjoyed sparring with her. She had a nimble mind and a quick wit, which he very much enjoyed. Not to mention that she was exceedingly brave. “And another thing. Why don’t you think you are my type?”
