Her hands deftly moved over Charlie’s head, eliciting a groan from him. But still, his eyes did not open. Miss Faraday met Lucas’s eye. “I need water, towels, thread, and a needle, something for bandages and vinegar or alcohol. And if your housekeeper has anything for the pain.”
Lucas nodded, turning on his heel. Mrs. Humphries met his eye and nodded, rushing out of the room. Lucas turned back and watched Miss Faraday, hands clasped tightly behind him.
She didn’t look up but spoke to him. “The cut does not seem deep, though the bleeding must be stopped. I think it was likely a fall that has caused his unconscious state. I am worried about his shoulder too. It is possibly out of place, and I do not have the strength to fix that.”
“I have called a surgeon. If ever he comes.”
Miss Faraday nodded. Mrs. Humphries returned at that moment. Lucas traded her the supplies she had brought for instruction to wait for the surgeon, and then he brought Miss Faraday all she had asked for.
Immediately she set to work, and Lucas, pacing at the foot of his brother’s prone form, watched in concern as she cleaned the wound and brushed aside his hair for a closer look. Lucas forced his feet to move in her direction, coming to kneel beside her. “Is it shallow, as you thought?”
“Yes.” Her eyes remained on the cut. “I do not think it needs stitches. They could be put in to speed the healing, but if he will agree to stay in bed for a few days, I think in the long term it would be best not to have any. They tend to cause extra discomfort and require removal.”
Lucas nodded.
Miss Faraday glanced at him then leaned close. “Sit with your mother, will you? I think she could use some comfort.”
Lucas followed her gaze to where his mother sat, hands pressed tightly in the folds of her dress, eyes trained on her youngest son. Lucas immediately strode to her, berating himself for not realizing her need before then. He sat beside her, taking her hand. “Miss Faraday believes he will be all right. The cut is not so bad as it appeared, and the surgeon will see to his shoulder.”
She nodded stiffly then started forward. “Your father. He went to his club before Parliament’s session. We need to inform him.”
Miss Faraday wiped her hands on a towel, pushing to a stand. “If it is not overstepping, I can find a servant to alert him on my way out?”
“You are leaving?” Lucas asked, surprised by the panic the thought brought.
Miss Faraday’s eyes shifted from his and then back again. “I can do nothing more for him. With a surgeon coming, I believe you will be well in hand.”
It occurred to Lucas that he hadn’t a clue why she had come in the first place. He’d not seen her for the last week now, and a flood of questions pushed aside his fear for Charlie for just a moment.
“Do stay, Lydia,” his mother said, her voice small.
Her Christian name still sent a wave of feeling through him. Lydia. He’d called her that at the door without thinking. It was a beautiful name.
And not at all what he should be focusing on as his brother bled all over his mother’s drawing room rug. Though, in truth, the bleeding had mostly stopped, andMiss Faradayhad put a towel beneath his head.
“If you are certain?” Miss Faraday herself did not seem certain, but Mother nodded. “I will find a servant, then return.”
“Thank you,” Mother said.
Miss Faraday slipped from the room, and Mother pressed her eyes shut, swallowing. “I never was good with blood. You are certain Charlie will be well?”
“Yes. Miss Faraday is very proficient. I believe her.”
Opening her eyes and straightening her shoulders, his mother slipped from the couch, coming to kneel beside Charlie and hold his hand in hers. Again, Charlie moaned softly, but he did notstir. Mother brushed his hair back from his forehead, avoiding the location of the cut.
Miss Faraday came back into the room, taking in the scene and coming to perch on the sofa beside Lucas. Well, a foot from Lucas.
They all watched Charlie in silence, waiting for the surgeon to arrive. In Lucas’s experience, they could be waiting for hours. It would be entirely inappropriate to keep Miss Faraday out that long, which begged another question.
“Is your maid with you?” he asked.
Miss Faraday nodded. “Yes. She is in the carriage. I came to speak with your mother.”
“Is everything well?” he asked quietly.
Miss Faraday—his mind tugged at him to call her by her Christian name, but he would not bend to its will—hesitated. “My guardian is ill.”
“Lord Tarrington?”
