Chapter Twenty-One
Sofia was woken by the startled squeal of the kitchen maid who had arrived to begin the preparations for the day. Who was the more surprised by the encounter she could not surmise. Sofia realised she had fallen asleep in the comfortable chair and spent the night in the kitchen.
'I am so sorry that I startled you. I came down for something to eat and, as you can see, I fell asleep. I shall get out of your way immediately.'
The girl curtsied. 'Never you mind, my lady, nice and warm it is in here. Shall I make you a lovely jug of chocolate and bring it up for you? I ain't supposed to go above stairs, but I don't reckon Cook will mind this once seeing as it's you.'
'That would be wonderful. I shall make sure you are not reprimanded for helping me.' Sofia was about to leave when somebody hammered on the kitchen door. She froze – memories of the burglar flooded back. Surely such a person would not bang on the door?
The maid recovered first and dashed off to investigate. To her astonishment Perry strode in and for the second time that morning she startled someone by her presence in the kitchen.
'Sweetheart, what in God's name are you doing down here?'
She was about to answer when his expression changed to one of concern and he was beside her in an instant. 'You have your arm in a sling, you are pale. Let me look at your hand.'
She flinched away. 'You must not, it is far too painful to be touched. I should have asked for the doctor to be sent for yesterday.'
Gently he pushed her back into the rocking chair and then carefully removed her injured hand from the sling. She bit back a cry of pain as he folded back the scarf to examine it. His language caused the kitchen maid to gasp.
'You have dislocated tow of your knuckles. They should have been put back in place immediately. It will be far more painful for you doing it now.'
His words had scarcely registered when he took hold of her middle fingers and held the rest of her hand steady. Then there was the searing pain and her world went black for a moment. Her scream filled the chamber.
'I'm sorry to have hurt you so badly, my love, but your hand will be better now things are back in place.'
Slowly she recovered her breath and was able to speak. She had been going to rail at him for his rough treatment but then she realised he was right. Her hand was no longer agony when she moved it. She scarcely dared to look down for fear of what she would see.
'I shall carry you back to your room, sweetheart, and then we can talk.'
Without a by your leave he picked her up and she didn't have the energy to protest. He shouldered his way through the door, past the servants' rooms and into the main part of the house.
'My room is the third door on the left, Perry.' She should have asked to be put down as she was perfectly capable of walking but being held so close to him, feeling his warmth, his strength, was exactly what she needed.
He put her into her bed and then busied himself restoring the fires before returning to her side. 'Were you up because your hand was so painful?'
'I was. Which reminds me – did Aubrey catch the burglar?'
He explained what had transpired. 'You could have been killed? What were you thinking? You might be the most aggravating of husbands, but you are the only one I have and I do not wish to lose you.'
His smile curled her toes, then she saw the familiar darkness in his eyes but he did not follow up on his desire and for that she was grateful. She was not ready to be intimate with him – there was still too much bad blood between them.
'I too could not sleep. I guessed you were having problems with your hand and wanted to see for myself what damage you had done.'
'I am so ashamed that I punched your brother unnecessarily. If my hand was so badly damaged is not his nose also broken?'
'He has a magnificent black eye but you have not marred his face.' He pulled up a chair and sat close to her, but not alarmingly so. 'I'm consumed by shame at my reprehensible and unforgivable behaviour. I have absolutely no excuse and will understand if you wish to leave me.'
'I have not quite decided what I wish to do. If the ceremony could be set aside, then we could start afresh – get to know each other better before...' She blushed, not able to mention what she had been thinking.
'I am floundering, sweetheart. You just told me you did not wish to lose me and yet you are asking to have the marriage broken. I love you, I shall never marry another, but will do whatever you want.'
'I love you too. I have not explained myself properly. I would like to be married in our own church with your family and mine present. I was just suggesting we could pretend we were courting, and then we can put everything behind us and start again.'
'We don't have to do anything about the ceremony in Spain as we can just ignore it. The family will be together here for the Christmas festivities, that will be the perfect time to have a second ceremony.' His eyes blazed and she caught her breath.
He jumped to his feet before she could respond and moved rapidly to the door. 'That being the case, my darling, I should not be in your bedchamber. I shall appear mid-morning to take you for a drive as I think that is the correct procedure for a courting couple.'
'Will I not have to remain indoors until the doctor has visited?'
