The housekeeper didn’t wait; she ran and was back in minutes.
“We have everything we need now,” Stephen said.
“Christ, I hope she remains unconscious,” Patrick whispered as he reached for a towel with hands that shook.
They washed their hands, and then Stephen held Sophie’s arm. Taking the bowl Mrs. Lilly handed him, he poured a combination of alcohol and hot water over the wound, trying to sluice it clean. Everyone froze as Sophie moaned, then opened her eyes.
“Easy, Sophie,” Patrick said. “It will be over soon. Hold her, Stephen.” His words were clipped, knowing what he was about to do would be extremely painful.
“I-I don’t need holding,” she whispered, her face the color of gruel.
“You just fainted, so yes, you do,” Patrick said.
“Not long, Sophie,” Stephen soothed her.
Her shriek as Patrick poured alcohol straight into the wound made Stephen whimper. Patrick, however, cursed fluently, long and loud.
Sophie then let loose a string of curses of her own that any sailor would be proud of.
“I’d be impressed if my hands weren’t shaking and I didn’t feel like my lunch was about to reappear,” Stephen said.
“You were in the war and saw far worse,” Patrick said. “Besides, she was shot, not you. Bandage, please,” he said, holding out a hand to Mrs. Lilly.
“But this is Sophie,” Stephen whispered. “Your Sophie.”
My Sophie.
“We are not closing that hole, are we?” Stephen whispered.
“No, that can wait for the doctor.” Patrick placed a soft pad on the wound and then wrapped the bandage around Sophie’s arm.
“Pour some whisky into a glass, Stephen.”
He tied off the bandage and then moved to slide an arm under Sophie. “I want you to drink some of this now. Just a few sips.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t like drinking.”
“And yet you will,” he said, taking the glass from Stephen. Holding it to her lips, he watched her do as he asked. “Good girl.”
“Send word to Lady Carstairs, Stephen. Tell her what has happened and that she is not to leave the house tonight. Ensure her that Sophie is all right. She will stay here, and I will send word on her condition tomorrow.”
“And now if you will leave, my lord, I will see to her comfort. Helen, get something for the countess to change into,” Mrs. Lilly said to the maid lurking in the hallway.
“I am not leaving her.” The words were cold, but Patrick didn’t care. He could have lost her today, and that thought alone was the thought he held on to.
“Patrick, I will be all right,” Sophie said. “Go and change.”
She didn’t look all right. She looked pale and sickly. His beautiful girl was hurting, and he wanted to kill Jack Spode for that… and would.
“You will change, Colt,” Stephen ordered. “Because you have blood on your white shirt.”
Looking down, he saw his friend was right.
Patrick allowed Stephen to pull him through the door that connected the two rooms, leaving it wide enough so they could hear Sophie if she called, but offering her privacy for his housekeeper and maid to wash her.
“I want the entire story, but first….” Stephen went to the door and bellowed for washing water and Patrick’s valet.
When Simpkins arrived, he quickly washed the blood from his body and pulled on the clean clothes.
