“A fall from his horse, sir. Nothing serious, we don’t think, just his shoulder again, but you know what he’s like when he’s in pain.”
“Where is he? In his room?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kent tore through the house, scattering clusters of distressed servants at every corner, and raced up the stairs and into his father’s room, where a scene worthy of Bedlam greeted him. A young woman in a riding habit was shouting at Turner, the earl’s valet, Olivia was crying noisily, while three footmen were engaged in holding the earl down on his bed while he bellowed in pain.
“Olivia! Out” Kent said.
“But—”
“No buts. If all you are going to do is cry, you can do it somewhere else. You, madam!”
Now that he could see her closely, he realised it was Miss Quick, the bruising rider whose reckless pace had no doubt caused the earl to fall.
“Miss Quick, out, if you please.”
“I am trying to tell this dunderhead that he must bring ice at once, but he insists on laying hands on Charles, and I will not have it, do you hear?”
“Turner knows precisely how best to help his lordship, madam, and you are hindering him.”
“Yes, but—”
“Out, or I shall carry you out myself.”
“But—”
With a muttered curse, Kent picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her screams. “Away you go, Turner.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Kent marched out of the room and deposited Miss Quick unceremoniously on the floor, under the wide-eyed gaze of Olivia.
“Stay away from the earl until he requests your presence, madam, although if it were left up to me, I would have sent you packing long since. Break your own neck if you want to, but leave my father alone.”
He went back into his father’s room, and firmly shut the door on the women. Turner was kneeling on the bed, and as Kent watched, he took hold of the injured arm and pulled sharply. The earl screamed once, then sank back onto the pillows in relief.
“Thank you, Turner. Whatever would I do without you? Kent! There you are, my boy! Did they tell you what happened? Thunderer caught his hoof in something and we both ended up on the ground. Happily he was unscathed, unlike me.”
“Dislocated your shoulder again, eh?”
“I really should teach Turner to ride so that he can be on hand for the next time. Would save me a lot of grief, for he knows just how to pop things back into place.”
“Or maybe you could ride a little more cautiously, Father?”
The earl laughed and rubbed his nose ruefully. “No fool like an old fool, eh? Poor Marjorie! Such a spirited rider, but I should never have tried to keep up with her. I am fifty-five years old, Kent, and I should not be attempting to compete with a slip of a girl almost thirty years my junior. Where did she go?”
“Mr Kent conveyed her out of the room, my lord,” Turner said, handing the earl a glass of brandy. “Drink that, my lord. It will dull the remaining pain.”
“Conveyed her out of the room? What precisely does that mean?”
“I carried her out,” Kent said. “She was… unhappy about it.”
The earl gave a bark of laughter. “Obnoxious woman! Did you ever have the misfortune to hear her laugh? She barks like a dog.”
“I thought it was a goose myself,” Kent said.
The earl chuckled. “Lord, yes! Poor Jane! She is trying so hard to get me married off, and I am trying to find another wife, truly I am, but they are all very poor substitutes for my dear Caroline. Your mother is a wonderful woman, Kent, and is proving very hard to replace.”
