“Why did you send Maggie for me?” Eleanor asked Grayson, who stood at one end of the sofa, saying nothing.
“I was surprised you’d gone to your room so early, and I wanted to see you.”
“Did you?” she repeated, feeling comforted all over, even before a glass of brandy was pressed into her hand by her brother-in-law, and her sister drew her sodden cloak out from behind her.
“Stop all this calm chit-chat,” John ordered. “You are to be punished and confined to your room, and you should be tarred and feathered.”
Eleanor couldn’t help laughing, even as Maggie rolled her eyes.
“Why are you laughing?” the earl asked, though Eleanor could hear the softening in his voice.
“Because I am not a child. I can go where I wish, when I wish, especially on my birthday.”
His mouth gaped open. “Do you hear this?” John asked the room in general, his gaze swiveling from Grayson to Maggie.
Then Maggie laughed, too, stopping only when her husband frowned at her.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “This is serious.”
Turning to Eleanor, she added, “And you should be sorry. Yes, you are an adult, but you didn’t behave like one. You are dear to all of us, and that was extremely wrong of you to go out into the night alone.”
Chastened by her sister’s words, Eleanor was more than a little ashamed. She didn’t like the annoyed expression the earl was still wearing, nor the disappointed look upon Grayson’s face.
“I did behave like a child,” she admitted. “And I am sorry for the worry I caused. I knew what I was doing was wrong, or I wouldn’t have snuck out as I did.”
“Scaring us all,” John muttered, “especially poor Gray.”
Eleanor glanced at him, and he nodded, looking quite somber.
“And I did get hurt,” Eleanor said quietly, only because the throbbing in her ankle was becoming more painful, and she desperately wanted her boot off.
“Oh no!” Maggie exclaimed. “I thought Gray was only carrying you as a romantic gesture.”
Eleanor shook her head and pointed. “My ankle, I twisted it.”
Grayson crouched down at her feet and gave her riding boot a gentle tug.
“Ow!” she exclaimed. This was not going to be pleasant. “I fear my ankle is swollen.”
“We should cut the boot off,” Grayson said, looking to John, who muttered something about not being a butler as he left the room to get the necessary implement.
Eleanor sighed, relieved it was only her riding boots. “Fine. As long as they’re not my Wellies.”
Grayson smiled at her words, then he gave her a wink while they waited for Cam to find some shears.
“I’m sorry about your sofa,” she told Maggie. “In my sodden state, I should have been put on the floor.”
“Don’t be silly. We were due to redecorate anyway. I was thinking peach and green colors.”
“What!” John exclaimed, reentering the drawing room and looking even more distraught, probably fearing the expense once his wife started thinking of the latest styles for home decorating. He handed Grayson a pair of scissors from the cook.
“I’ll have this off in a jiffy,” he promised her. “Let me know if anything hurts while I cut.”
In a couple minutes, with her boot in two pieces, her stockinged ankle was exposed to everyone’s view.
“Not too bad,” she said, feeling guilty for worrying everyone.
“The boot might have been stopping it from swelling any further,” Grayson pointed out, “so don’t be surprised if it gets bigger, but Cook should have some arnica, which will help.” He looked pointedly at John again.
