“Where is Penny hurt?” he asked Archie.
“Looks like her arm may be broken, sir.”
“We will call a doctor for her when we arrive at some lodgings,” Warwick said. “Bids will find us the closest one.”
The maid had her eyes closed and rested, pale and shaking against the footman. He could see she was in a great deal of pain, but they could do nothing for her until they reached a place they could summon a doctor.
Warwick eased Samantha off him and unbuttoned his coat before pulling her back into his body. He then bent with her in his arms and pulled out a blanket. He threw the first at Archie and reached for the second. With a flick, he had it opened. Wrapping it around Samantha.
He felt her sigh into his neck once more, but she did not speak.
Warwick was angry and had no outlet. No one had hurt her deliberately, and yet she could have injuries he couldn’t see, like her maid. Her face was still pressed into his neck. She was small and slight in his arms, and the fierce need to protect rose inside him. He battled it down.
Control, Warwick.
This was Samantha. The woman he had argued, teased, and debated with for the majority of his life. They were like siblings and nothing more. Yes, there was that link between their families, but he’d not believed her to be his Raven. Yet, holding her like this made him wonder if he’d been wrong.
Surely not?
He’d felt like he’d been walking about London in a single shoe with the other perpetually missing since she’d left them. Left their great big, loving, and loud protective family. He’d told himself his reaction was simply worry.
He’d asked her brother, James, why he’d allowed her to leave them. His answer had been because Samantha needed this. Needed to grow as a person away from their families. Find herself.
That had made no sense to Warwick, but as he had no say in what Samantha did, he’d grunted something and never asked after her again. He’d learned things from letters she wrote to his sisters, but he’d not received or written any himself.
What felt like an age later, the door opened, and Bids stood there looking worried.
“They will be all right, Bids. Has the luggage arrived?”
“It has, sir.”
Warwick pulled out some more money and handed it to him for the boys.
“Make haste to find accommodations nearby now, Bids.”
“At once, sir.”
The door shut, and minutes later, they were moving, and his only thought was to get the woman in his arms warm. Her shivers had eased slightly, but her clothes were wet, which told him she’d been doused in rain and seawater.
“Hold on, Samantha,” he whispered into her ear. “You’ll be warm soon.”
She didn’t reply.
CHAPTERTWO
The inn was busy when they arrived in the wide courtyard. Stepping out, he still held Samantha in his arms. She roused, lifting her head from his neck.
“I-I can walk.”
“How? You can barely speak, and your teeth are chattering!”
“D-don’t yell at m-me.”
Ignoring her, he headed through the brown wooden front door and up to the reception desk.
“I need two rooms now,” Warwick said, moving through the people waiting. “This is the Duke of Raven’s sister, and she is extremely unwell. It is imperative we get her warm at once.”
The people waiting grunted something but stepped back. The woman behind the desk looked at them, not seeming overly flustered at the sight of two men carrying women.
