She nodded, then immediately regretted the movement for the throbbing it triggered.
He tucked an arm behind her shoulders and helped her sit upright. The movement, the pain, the god-awful stench of whale oil—she swallowed hard in an effort to withstand the nausea.
“You should have just let me help you across.”
“Thank ye. That’s very helpful,” she muttered.
He sighed. “What hurts?”
Everything. But that wasn’t precisely the truth. “Everything from my hip upwards.” She shifted a bit, testing the different muscle groups. “But my wrist. Definitely my wrist.”
Edward gently undid the buttons of her soiled glove and those on the wrist of her definitely destroyed pelisse, heedless of the stains he was getting on his own attire. Softly, he turned the sleeve up. The swelling had already started.
“Can you stand?”
She nodded gently and let him help hoist her up, too sore to be embarrassed. She wobbled as she stood, almost toppling face-first into him, and he grabbed both of her arms.
“Take the bag,” Edward said to Andrew, who was standing there with his mouth open in abject horror. “The carriage is stuck in the traffic. It’ll be quicker to carry you home,” Edward said to her.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” She recoiled and almost ended up on her arse again. “I can walk.” She wasnotabout to rest in his arms again. No way, no how, not going to happen.
He sighed. “I’ll carry you over the oil slick at least,” he said and then scooped her into his arms without seeking any further permission.
The sudden feeling of being swept off her feet set her pulse racing. They were close enough for her to feel his warmth and to catch his scent—that hint of ink and leather that had imprinted itself onto her nucleus. She inhaled—for the relief from the stench of oil only, of course—and immediately felt her heart rate slow and a sense of calm descend that did not mask the pain, but somehow dulled it.
While part of her was eager to be back on her own feet, another part wanted to burrow into him. Andthatrealization was worsethan the blisters, the fall, and the rejections combined.
Chapter 11
Edward stalked in circles at the bottom of the stairs in the great hall. Fiona had tried to walk home, but a minute after he put her down, her knees had buckled. Luckily, he was close enough to catch her before she hit the ground again. He ignored all her further protests and carried her home.
The doctor had arrived a quarter hour ago and promptly shooed Edward out of Fiona’s bedroom. So here he was, pacing, with the memory of his misstep circling in his mind.
She had come to life in that laboratory. As the scientist had enthused over her work, her smile had shone brighter than the flames she created. Their discussion went deep, quickly, far beyond what Edward’s understanding of chemistry could follow. As she’d scrawled her postal address on a blank page of Sir Humphry’s notebook, Edward had seen green.
ShelikedSir Humphry. She was genuinely pleased to be in his company. What’s more, she could be in his company without facing the wrath of theton, and he’d felt stupidly, boyishly, jealous.
So he’d offered to solve her business problems for her, which had gone down as well as he’d have expected had he taken one moment to think it through. But he hadn’t thought and now she was injured, which was not actually his fault, but he still felt responsible.
Just as Edward was ready to storm back upstairs, the doctor appeared.
“Well? Will she be all right? How serious are her injuries?” Edward asked once the sawbones had reached the foyer.
“It’s a minor concussion. She’ll be fine. Make sure she’s drinking lots of fluids and that a maid is around to keep her awake for the next few hours.”
Edward hadn’t realized just how tightly his body was drawn until the doctor’s words loosened it. Fi should be fine. “And her wrist?”
The doctor removed his spectacles and rubbed his handkerchief over the lenses. “Her wrist is mildly sprained. A compress and immobilization are all it needs. I’ll be back in the morning to check on her.”
Edward had to batten down the temptation to force the doctor to spend the night in the corridor outside Fiona’s room. Even in his current state, he could see it was unnecessary. After seeing the doctor out, Edward went down to the kitchens. The bustling room stopped still as he entered. Scullery maids stood there, slack-jawed, hands submerged in dishwater. There was athudas a kitchen maid dropped a lump of dough on the long wooden bench.
It had been a while since he’d ventured downstairs. Half of the faces staring at him were unfamiliar. Mrs. Price, after taking a quick moment to compose herself and check the pins in her cap, bustled up to him, wiping her hands on her apron. “Your Grace,” she said as she curtseyed. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Miss McTavish is upstairs, injured.”
“I heard, Your Grace. The doctor ordered a poultice for her wrist and one for the bump on her noggin.”
“Is it ready?”
