“That was, in all likelihood, the correct decision.”
“I am sorry for accidentally shooting you,” she went on. “Truly I am. I did attempt to procure brandy for you in lieu of tea, but Mama caught me in the pantry and declared that, should I be found smuggling spirits again, I should be sentenced to needlepoint for a fortnight.”
Theo closed his eyes briefly. “A punishment which, I daresay, may prove more ruinous than the bullet.”
“Indeed,” Lottie said, with feeling.
“Let us hope your marksmanship improves faster than your embroidery.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Still, I feel I ought to be allowed to assist in some meaningful capacity. I feel awfully responsible.”
“You are awfully responsible.”
“Yes, but quite by mistake.”
Theo sighed. “That does appear to be the theme of the week.”
There came a knock at the door, and Hetty entered a moment later, prompting Lottie to straighten at once and adopt an expression of unconvincing innocence. Hetty took in the scene – the toast with a bite missing, the tepid tea, and Theo’s pained expression – and said flatly, “You have been in here scarcely three minutes. How, precisely, is it already a disaster?”
“I am being exceedingly nurturing,” Lottie replied, wounded. “Lord Langley even said so.”
“I said no such thing.”
“You were certainly thinking it.”
Hetty raised her brow. “Out.”
Lottie sighed, gathered the tray with a great air of martyrdom and swept towards the door. “I shall inform Mama you have rejected my ministrations, Lord Langley,” she added darkly. “She shall say it is because of your humours.” And with that ominous pronouncement, she swept out – toast, teacup and all – leaving the chamber quiet once more.
Hetty remained by the doorway for a moment longer, before the click of the latch announced she had drawn the door shut behind her.
“Have you come to smother me with a pillow?” Theo asked hoarsely. “If so, do give me a moment’s warning. I should like to appear surprised.”
“You appear sufficiently near death without any assistance,” she replied coolly, moving to the window and drawing back the curtain with a brisk tug. “Between Benedict’s fists, Lottie’s bullet and your own idiocy, you have managed to bring yourself halfway to the grave without aid.”
“Charming bedside manner.”
“I am not your nurse,” she said sweetly, looking out to the morning.
“My nurse would not call me an idiot.”
“No,” she replied, turning to face him, “but I daresay she would think it. As, I believe, would every sensible person within a ten-mile radius of Mayfair.”
“You wound me.”
“Not nearly so efficiently as my sister.”
Theo emitteda wheezing laugh that ended in a wince. “Touché.You might do well to consider enrolling her in some sort of duelling society. She would serve us admirably. Might even turn a profit.”
Hetty crossed the room and seated herself in the chair beside his bed, folding her hands tightly in her lap. “For the record,” she said, after a moment, “I did attempt to persuade the household that the blame did not lie with you.”
“Indeed? Because it did not.”
She gave him a pointed look.
“Not entirely,” he amended.
She narrowed her eyes at him further.
