One
Summer 1817, Kenley Manor, Northumberland, England
“I am still angry with you,” Lady Deborah Storm informed Lord Percy Grey, Viscount Shrewsbury, when he stepped onto the terrace where she was enjoying a delightful summer day while reading Harrington, by Mary Edgeworth. She had not even needed to look up from her book to know that it was Percy because she always knew, as if the air shifted when he appeared.
It was ridiculous and a foolish romantic notion, but she allowed the possibility—privately.
“You have been angry since I arrived and I have apologized ten times over,” he argued.
Yes, he had. Except, he hadn’t expressed the reason why he was sorry. Deborah suspected that it was for one thing and not the reason she was truly irritated with him. She also was not going to tell him because he should already know or be able to figure it out on his own.
Except, he hadn’t yet.
Deborah placed a slip of paper between the pages she was reading and closed the book. “When you dance with me next Season, you will be forgiven.” That should give him a hint of why she remained irked.
“That is six months away. I am to grovel until then?”
“Yes.” She grinned. “I do believe that I would enjoy that very much.”
“Well, I would not,” he grumbled. “At least once I leave here, I will not be seeing you again until the spring.”
“You will miss me,” she teased, her smile growing bigger.
Percy chuckled, but Deborah knew that he would never admit to such, even if it was true.
Though, it was likely that he would not even think about her and the only reason that he was spending so much time with her these past few weeks was because he suffered from guilt, which was foolish. The accident had been her own fault, but it still left her with a fractured ankle. That most ungraceful moment of her life had occurred in London shortly before her family was to return home. She had been reading while walking down the stairs, which was foolish, missed a step at the bottom and lost her balance at the same time that Percy had rounded the corner. The two collided and Deborah’s ankle twisted as they fell.
The pain had been immediate and while Percy scrambled to his feet and offered his hand, she had pulled her skirt back just enough to see that a bruise was already forming as her ankle swelled.
Percy hadn’t even asked permission to touch her before he swept her up and carried her to the settee.
Had Deborah not been in so much pain, she would have taken time to enjoy being in his arms, no matter the reason. Unfortunately, he hadn’t ever seen her as anything other than a younger sister of one of his closest friends.
He likely never would.
Oh, she still recalled the concern in his sapphire eyes, and how his blond hair had been tousled because he kept pushing his fingers through it while he paced as they waited for the doctor.
He’d been so adorable, and his concern had warmed her heart and she couldn’t have helped but hope that he may begin to like her in more than in a sisterly fashion. Deborah had known it was foolish, but that didn’t mean she would discourage his attention.
She had also hoped that her ankle was only strained but Dr. Orlando Valentine confirmed the fracture, but not until after he had pressed painfully about it, which she was certain had caused more damage than the fall. He then put his ear close to the injury because he was, as he put it, listening for the movement of bones that can sometimes produce a grinding.
Deborah had nearly gotten ill at the very idea.
Unfortunately, that was not the worst of it because Peter and Benjamin, brothers who she had loved until then, added to the torture by holding her still so that Dr. Valentine could align the bones so that they could heal properly.
Only then was she given laudanum for the pain. Dr. Valentine had not brought any with him and the housekeeper claimed that there was none in the house, only to discover that it had been misplaced after Dr. Valentine was done moving her ankle around.
Dr. Valentine then soaked linen strips in a mixture of egg whites and water before he wrapped them around her ankle. When the linen dried, it also hardened and she could barely wiggle her toes, which she was told not to do.
Because of her fractured ankle, it had been necessary for their family to remain in London for another sennight so that Dr. Valentine could continue to examine her injury for additional swelling or bruising, which would indicate something more serious, which there was not.
During the day, and only after she had complained enough, Deborah was carried to the parlor where she rested with her foot on a pillow, then she was taken back to her bed at night.
She also eventually forgave her brothers for their assistance in the torture and loved them again. However, she’d had no complaints about remaining in London because Percy had visited her every day.
Percy hated seeing Deborah forced to remain on the chaise or settee because of her ankle. She may not complain of pain, but she did suffer some discomfort and he was not certain that he would ever forgive himself. If he had not been in such a hurry, and had been mindful when he turned the corner, she would not be injured now.
Guilt ate at him and while the family remained in London, he had visited her each day. At first, he brought her flowers, then he visited Hatchards daily, and purchased her a new book. Percy did not really know what Deborah enjoyed reading but suspected that she could not be too particular because she always had a nose in a book when not required to participate in polite conversation. He had also hoped that he had not purchased something that she’d already read, and if he had, she never told him.
