It was odd to think that he was on the brink of a real courtship, for the first time in his life.
Mother will be thrilled,Nathan thought, smiling wryly.
The clock in the corner chimed, and he strode over to inspect it, taking note of the time.
Strange. I’ve been here for a full fifteen minutes already. Guests are never kept waiting this long. I wonder what’ is happening.
Something like worry coiled in his gut. Nathan seated himself in an armchair by the fire, only to immediately bounce up again and resume pacing the room.
Five more minutes passed by, then ten, and at last he was beginning to feel worried. Nathan was just about to leave the room and go in search for someone who could tell him what was going on – surely, he hadn’t been forgotten, or ignored – when footsteps approached.
He just had time to compose himself before the door opened.
It wasn’t Pippa, however, who stepped into the room, or Lady Randall. Instead, he found himself face to face with a rather flustered and dishevelled Timothy, in his shirtsleeves.
“Nathan, it’s you,” Timothy said, forcing a distracted smile. “We weren’t expecting you. Now is not a convenient time, I’m afraid.”
“I do have an appointment. I am here to see Pippa. That is, Miss Randall. She is expecting me.” He gave a wry smile which he hoped conveyed his purpose. “I am here to speak with her mother, too. It’s a rather important matter.”
Timothy was still distracted, glancing around as if he couldn’t wait to leave. He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up wildly.
“Oh,” he murmured. “Oh, dear.”
The worry came back, Nathan’s gut churning with unease.
“What are you talking about, Timothy? What is happening?”
He paused, closing his eyes. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident, Nathan.”
His voice seemed to be muffled, as though Nathan was underwater. He didn’t recall deciding to sit down, but suddenly hewassitting down, on the armchair by the fire he’d vacated earlier. Timothy remained standing, fidgeting with his fingers and seeming distracted once again.
“An accident?” Nathan repeated.
Timothy nodded. “I’ll be as brief as I can. Miss Randall – Pippa – fell down a flight of stairs only half an hour ago. She hit her head quite badly. We don’tbelievethat there are any broken bones, but she is disoriented and weak, and we don’t dare move her. The physician has only just arrived. We’re all in quite a state, as you can imagine.”
Nathan gripped the arms of the chair.
“She’s… she’s hurt?”
Timothy nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“I must see her.”
“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Nathan was suddenly on his feet again, once again having no idea of when he’d chosen to do so.
“Imustsee her,” he repeated.
Footsteps approached again, and the door opened to admit Katherine. She looked pale and drawn, holding her arm protectively over her belly.
“Oh, Lord Whitmore, it’s you,” she said, in a tone that he did not know how to interpret. He wasn’t sure that she wasdispleasedto see him, but it was abundantly clear that he was not welcome at this particular time.
Nathan didn’t care. Pippa was hurt, seriously so.
“How badly is she hurt?” he asked, directing his question straight to Katherine.
She sighed. “It’s hard to tell. The physician is examining her now. Word has been sent to my siblings. Lady Randall is of course inconsolable.”
