Pain sliced through flesh and bone while stars danced before his eyes. A strangled sound, part howl, part curse, was torn from his throat.
Hell and damnation.
“Your Grace.” The footman clasped his upper arm, lending support. “I’m terribly sorry. I should have anticipated this.”
“No,” said the coachman, who’d leapt down from his box and dropped to a crouch so he could inspect the broken step. “This is my fault. The iron’s rusted through.”
“Neither of you is to blame,” Anthony hissed between gritted teeth. “I was told last month that the carriage required maintenance, but I refused to listen.” He’d stupidly believed it to be an unnecessary expense. All he could do right now was be thankful this happened to him and not Ada or Mr. Quinn.
“Can you walk?” the footman inquired.
Anthony tried to do so but the pain was so intense his knees nearly gave out while tears sprang to his eyes. He gasped. “It’s either broken or sprained.”
“In that case I’ll help you inside and…oh good, Mathis is coming. He’ll offer assistance.”
Mathis, the butler who’d replaced his predecessor a few years ago, was a welcome sight indeed.
“What’s happened?” he asked as soon as he reached them.
“His grace took a stumble and hurt his ankle.”
Without missing a beat, Mathis wound one arm around Anthony and encouraged the footman to do the same so they could support their master’s weight. Together, the three of them hobbled up the front steps and entered the townhouse.
“In there,” Mathis said, setting a course for the parlor.
Much to Anthony’s relief, he was quickly positioned at an angle on the sofa so his injured ankle could rest upon the seat. A cushion was placed underneath it.
“Please send for Doctor Richmond at once,” Mathis instructed the footman. He waited until the footman was gone before turning to Anthony once more. “Would you care for some tea, Your Grace?”
Tea sounded lovely. “Yes please.”
The butler departed with the assurance that he would return soon, allowing Anthony to sag against the sofa’s backrest with a loud groan. This was not supposed to happen. He was meant to call on Ada tomorrow. He’d promised.
“Bloody nuisance.”
As it stood, he only had himself to blame and with that unpleasant reminder, he flung one arm over his eyes and tried his best to ignore his discomfort.
“What’s all the commotion about?” a female voice asked with a hint of playful curiosity.
Anthony raised his arm just enough to regard his youngest sister, Athena. “Why are you still awake at this hour?”
The sixteen-year-old drew closer, squinting at his leg. “Couldn’t sleep. Are you injured?”
“Apparently.”
She leaned forward to better study his foot. “How on earth did you manage that?”
He told her what happened, about the carriage step breaking because of neglect, and his subsequent fall.
Her eyes widened. “Why didn’t you say you were struggling to make ends meet? We’ve so many things we might sell. My diamonds alone are worth a fortune.”
“Thank you, but that is completely out of the question. They were a birthday gift from Mama and Papa.” He gestured for her to sit before saying, “Don’t worry. I’m already doing precisely as you suggest.”
“You are?”
“You’d be surprised by how much an old painting I found in the attic was worth.” He tried to reassure her with a smile. “It’s not the last thing I’m selling, but it’s enough to assure me that we will be fine.”
Especially since he planned on reinvesting a portion of the earnings. This time he’d take better care to select the sort of companies his father had placed his faith in.
