Langford walked to the garden doors and spied out. “They are coming. Time for the plan.” He opened the door a bit.
Eric pulled himself up and followed Langford over to one of the cases on the wall. Like many town libraries, it replaced some breadth with height. The books near the ceiling could be accessed by one of the ladders that ran on a railing three feet below the top of the cases.
Langford climbed one ladder. He grabbed four heavy tomes and dropped them to the floor. “Damnation!” he shouted while he scrambled down and threw himself on the floor amid the books.
Eric looked down at him. He had been promised a clever plan, not these histrionics.
“Oh, no! What happened, darling?” The duchess rushed in, her face a mask of worry and shock. She fell to her knees beside him. “You fell! Are you all right? Is anything broken?”
Langford sat up and rubbed his shoulder. “The weight of the books unbalanced me. Stupid to go for them all at once. Help me get to that divan over there, Brentworth.”
“Should you even try to move on your own? Maybe I should call for several footmen to help me lift and carry you,” Eric said dryly.
Langford glared at him. “No, no. I think I can manage it with only a bit of help from you.”
With much fussing on the duchess’s part, and tentative moves and a few groans on Langford’s, Eric moved his friend to the divan. While he did so, he noticed Miss MacCallum angling her head to read the title on the front of one of the books on the floor.
“It is a good thing you are here, Brentworth. Davina and I were just taking a turn in the garden, and if we had been by the back portal we might never have been aware of Gabriel’s accident.” The duchess fussed more, this time over that shoulder. Or maybe it was the other one.
Eric could not remember which one had been injured.
“If you would allow me, I could tell you whether you need to send for a physician or surgeon,” Davina said.
“Surgeon!” The duchess gave her husband a desperate look.
“If a shoulder breaks, it is very serious. All breaks are,” Davina said. “Will you permit me to see if there are any?”
Langford and his wife shared an unfathomable look. Langford shrugged. With thehurtshoulder. His wife stood aside. Eric folded his arms to watch Act Two.
Davina advanced on the divan. She placed her hands on the injured shoulder. She made a series of firm presses, each time waiting for something. Probably for Langford to howl in pain, which he neglected to do. Indeed his lack of reaction was such that by the last press Miss MacCallum wore a frown.
“Please raise your arm straight out in front of you.”
Langford obeyed.
“Now to the side, then above you.”
Out the arm went. Then up.
Miss MacCallum stood back. “After the way you cursed and cried out, I feared you were seriously hurt. Instead, I doubt you will even have a bruise in the morning.”
“Perhaps you had hoped for more damage. I am sorry to disappoint you. That was a far enough fall for me.”
“Why, the shock alone would make a man curse,” the duchess said. “Isn’t that so, Brentworth?”
“Apparently so.”
“I think I will forgo our outing,” Langford said to him. He rubbed his shoulder again for good measure. “It may not be broken, but I am quite sore.”
The duchess sat beside him and rubbed the shoulder too. She ruffled the dark curls on his head in reassurance. Rather suddenly, no one else existed for the two of them.
“Miss MacCallum, I have my carriage here. I will take you back to the City,” Eric said. “I was going in that direction myself.”
The duchess heard. “Oh, would you, please? I invited Davina to go with me to some warehouses, but now, with Gabriel injured—” All her attention returned to Langford, who somehow managed to appear pale but stoical.
“I suppose I can take advantage of your offer.”
“Let us go, then, so Langford can rest.”
