‘Because I think that it is outweighed by the things I do find admirable about you. You have courage and you have great spirit. What I sincerely hope to find is that you have a heart, because you have kept it safe by keeping it buried. Love is not always weakness, Susan. Making oneself vulnerable does not mean having to be wounded. It can mean sharing in all the best that life has to offer.’ He lifted one of her hands and kissed her fingers. ‘Now, let me play host.’
He turned, to see Lady Sophy and Lord Rothley enter.
‘Would you have me call the local surgeon?’
‘It would be of limited use, I think. The wound is through the muscle and most likely clean.’
‘Yet still the surgeon should be called. We can say it was highwaymen upon the road.’ Lady Sophy was already removing Lord Rothley’s coat, which had been tenderly draped over his shoulders for the journey. ‘Do you have bandages and lint and basilicum powder, Sir Esmond?’ Her voice was crisp.
‘I do not know, but we can ask my housekeeper.’
‘I would clean and bind the wound, and then the surgeon can decide whether it needs to be stitched. A professional opinion is important.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Sir Esmond grinned at Lord Rothley. ‘You have no choice in this matter, Rothley.’
‘No, I can see that I do not.’
‘Basilicum powder, Sir Esmond.’
‘My apologies. I will go and find out about it, personally, and will arrange for the ladies’ baggage to be placed in the south bedchambers.’ He looked at Susan. ‘Will you come with me, and let me show you about the place?’
She nodded, and he led her out.
Lord Rothley’s shirt was quite heavily stained about the wound, although the pad had done much to staunch the flow, and it no longer dripped. He watched Sophy’s face as she surveyed it.
‘It is not serious, you know,’ he commented, more interested in her than the injury.
‘No, but any wound must be treated with caution in case of infection.’ She knelt beside his chair and began to cut away the sleeve of the shirt with a small pair of scissors from an etui in her reticule.
‘But with you to nurse me, I would be in the best of hands,’ he whispered, close to her ear.
She tried to ignore the warm feeling his nearness gave her.
‘I think from the bleeding, some minor vessel was severed, but a glancing wound such as this should, as you say, be clean, my lord. I am so glad he did not shoot you so that the ball became embedded.’
Lord Rothley, watching her profile at close quarters, smiled.
‘So am I, my love.’
She turned at the epithet, her seriousness dissipated by a shy smile.
‘It seems so strange that a gentleman should address me as that. I never anticipated …’
‘You do not object to it, I hope. After all, you showed no objections to my kissing you, and I would hate to think you had taken a leaf from my shocking sister’s book and become a tease, madam.’
He was smiling still, and the laughter lurked in his eyes.
‘I do not object. I—’ She halted as a maid entered with a bowl of water and clean cloths, bobbed a curtsey, begged her ladyship’s pardon, and said that the ‘basil’s powder’ was being searched for, and should be with her shortly.
‘You were saying?’ he asked, as the servant left.
‘I feel as if everything has happened very suddenly, and yet gradually at the same time, which is madness. Only three days ago I did not even know if you had forgiven me.’ She dipped the cloth in the boiled water, and began to clean the wound. He flinched.
‘There was nothing to forgive, Sophy. It was a misunderstanding, and easily made.’
‘But I let myself be convinced by it, did not listen to my heart.’
‘But that heart never lost faith, did it?’
