When Catherine popped a spoon of honey into the boy's mouth, the adoration on Charles's face mirrored his uncle's.
"Chadbourn! Why didn't you come when I sent for you? Franklin told me those horrid boys imposed themselves on Charles. He said you ordered him brought to the stables, but I couldn't believe it."
Will spun around to see Sylvia leaning on the door-frame, breathing rapidly. He saw the moment her eyes found Charles and the white bandage around his right thigh.
"Dear God, what have you done to my son?"
She looked as if she might faint. Will stepped closer, but she proved to be sturdier than he thought. She pushed herself forward and fell to her knees beside her son. Catherine stood and moved away. Will put out a hand to steady Catherine, but she sidestepped him.
"My baby, what did they do to you?" She grabbed the boy's hand and patted it repeatedly. Charles looked like he wanted to pull it away.
"What have you done, Chadbourn?" Sylvia spat over her shoulder. "He may never be normal. He may never walk. He may?—"
Will saw stark alarm on the boy's face. "Nonsense, Sylvia, it's a clean cut. He will heal up fine." He glanced at Catherine, who eyed the parlor door. He didn't want her to bolt. They needed to talk.
"Randy says I may get an excellent scar," Charles, relieved, put in with pride.
"Randy? We don't associate with any 'Randy.' Those horrid boys did this, didn't they? Emery was right to run them off. You will call the magistrate, Chadbourn. I insist on it." She continued to chafe Charles's hand, while the boy tried in vain to tug away.
"No, Mama," Charles insisted. "Randy didn't do anything. I climbed up the fence to watch Freddy and slipped. It was my fault, but Randy says he slips all the time, and I just need practice."
"Randy says? Randy says? What does he have to say about it? That lot at Songbird Cottage are not received, Charles. You will not go near them again. You will keep yourself to the schoolroom with dear Franklin." She hiccuped a sob. "We must send to London for a physician."
"You might want a physician or surgeon to look at it," Catherine said quietly to Will. "There is an excellent medical practitioner in Wheatton. I doubt he will do more than I, however. Until then, I recommend you keep it clean. Reapply honey when you change the bandages tomorrow."
"You let this woman touch my son? With honey? We will send for Wetherby, of course. He will come from London posthaste, but this honey will horrify him." Sylvia rose to glare at Catherine. "She's from Songbird Cottage, isn't she? One of them?" She didn't wait for an answer. She lifted her chin and addressed Catherine directly.
"Get you gone. Stay away, and keep your sons away from mine," Sylvia spat.
Catherine drew herself to her full height and returned Sylvia's haughty look with one of her own. "I will gladly leave, and I will make sure my brothers know they aren't welcome here, as I had intended when I came."
She turned to Charles, neatly giving Sylvia the cut direct, her slight bow acknowledging the boy's title, for his mother's sake. The smile she gave him looked genuine, but strained. "I hope this scratch doesn't trouble you unduly, Your Grace. Don't let it keep you from enjoying the out of doors.”
“My lord," she went on, with a nod at Chadbourn, and strode with her long-limbed stride to the door.
"Miss Wheatly, wait!" She didn't.
Blasted snooty aristocrats. Catherine rounded the hall into Eversham's vaulted and, in Catherine's opinion, over-decorated, entance hall. I'll be damned if I skulk out the tradesmen's door like a charwoman. She refused to recall the last time she had come to this door. Her half-boots pounded on the floor mosaics and echoed off the gilt cherubs on the molding. She could hear the earl call for her to stop. If he thought he could detain her, he was as big a fool as his ninnyhammer sister.
She reached the front door before he caught up with her. "Please don't go," he said breathlessly, putting out a hand.
She jerked her arm up so he couldn't touch her.
"Do you plan to throw me in the dirt?" she demanded, when she spun on him.
"What? No. I want to talk to you about Charles."
His sister treats me like dirt, and he wants to talk about her son? She scowled at him.
"I apologize for my sister. She is in a fragile state, and I'm afraid the sight of the bandages sent her wits begging."
"I doubt it. From the looks of the duchess's pupils, an excess of laudanum scrambled those wits long ago."
The pain in Chadbourn's eyes caught her. He must genuinely love the woman. He bit his lower lip; Catherine found herself captivated by the sight.
"My sister was not well served in her marriage," he said hesitantly. "The generosity of spirit she had as a girl disappeared." He looked directly at Catherine. "I can't seem to bring it back."
For a moment, he looked as if he meant to ask Catherine for help, as if she could heal the duchess's hurts, but he quickly came to his senses. "I'm sorry. I have no right to burden you with my problems."
