Chapter Twenty
Caroline unwound the bandage that protected her stitches. She looked away as Julian gently held her hand and examined his handiwork.
“You are not going to faint again?” he asked.
“No. As long as I don’t look at my hand, I shall be fine,” she replied.
“How is it?” asked Francis.
Her brother stood close to the low couch where Caroline was seated next to Julian. Much as she had reassured Francis that she was capable of receiving medical attention from their host without there being any hint of impropriety, he had insisted on being present while her injury underwent inspection.
Julian ran the tip of his finger along her palm, carefully avoiding the stitches. Caroline shivered at his touch.
“That’s a good sign. It means you haven’t damaged the nerves,” he said, as he raised his head and smiled at her.
“Shall I be able to play the pianoforte properly once this wound heals?” she asked.
Julian nodded. “Yes, I hope so.”
“Excellent. So, something good will come from your injury Caroline. You shall finally be able to play the pianoforte. Who would have thought that all those years of suffering from your terrible playing could have been avoided by merely stabbing you in the hand,” said Francis.
A tart response was almost on her lips, but the look of surprise on Julian’s face at Francis’s remark stopped her short.
“I’m sorry, Julian. You must forgive the way we tease one another. It is what we do. When my hand is fully recovered, I promise to play for you. Then you can be the judge of whether I am accomplished or not.” Caroline cast an evil glare at Francis, who raised an eyebrow in return. She prayed he would soon grow bored of watching Julian tend to her wound and decide to take his leave. Had he never heard of three being a crowd? She most certainly did not need him to chaperone her in a sitting room in the middle of the day. His brotherly quips were fast becoming embarrassing.
“I shall change the bandage and wrap it again. If you could keep it dry, and try not to use the hand too much over the next few days, the stitches will allow the wound to begin to heal,” said Julian.
Disappointment flared at his words. Her injured hand would restrict her from much of the dancing. Also, now in jeopardy would be the opportunity for her to join the hunting party. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that for the first time in her life, she would be relegated to the role of wallflower for much of the house party.
Caroline was not used to the idea of sitting in the wings. She was the star. Front and center stage, where everyone could see her. Her stay at Newhall Castle was throwing up a whole new set of unexpected challenges.
Julian unrolled a clean bandage and began to wrap it around her hand. He hummed softly to himself as he worked. Caroline watched him. The deep tone of his voice was a warm lullaby. She leaned closer. Their faces were mere inches apart.
When he glanced up at her, she felt her heart flutter. A flush of heat raced to her cheeks. She lowered her head, hoping that Francis had not seen.
She sent a silent prayer to the heavens as Francis made several steps toward the door. “I won’t be long. I shall retrieve a book from my room and come back to join you both shortly,” he said.
To her surprise, Julian softly chuckled as Francis left the room. “Is he always as protective of you as he has been since you got here? Because if not, a chap might get the impression that Francis did not trust him,” he said. He finished wrapping the bandage and tied it off with a clever little knot which he then tucked back under the bandage. It was a neat job. Caroline was impressed.
“I have had a trying time of late. He is simply doing everything he can to make sure I enjoy myself while at the house party. Speaking of which, it looks more than likely that there shall only be our small gathering for supper,” she replied. She was oddly conflicted over the lack of other guests. She was sad for Julian because his party was not starting off according to plan. A great deal of preparation had obviously gone into having Newhall Castle ready for some thirty-odd guests. Her heart went out to him as she sensed his growing unease.
On the other hand, a small spark of something she thought might possibly be joy lit in her heart. As he put the scissors and spare bandages back into the small leather bag, she watched him with an interested eye.
Julian picked up the bag and rose from the couch. “Yes, I believe you might be right. Anyone still on the road through from Leicester at this hour is likely to stop at Ashby-de-la-Zouch and stay at the Queen’s Head. I will of course have the stable hands and grooms ready for any late arrivals. In the meantime, I had better go and speak with Lady Margaret and see what can be done with the mountain of pies that were baked this morning.”
After Julian left, Caroline wandered over to the window. The light was fading fast.
Francis returned shortly after, carrying the book he had promised to retrieve. “Bit of an awkward situation with no one else arriving,” he noted.
Caroline nodded. “Yes, well fortunately, Julian has a castle full of servants who no doubt will find a good use for all that extra food. I feel embarrassed for him. The first time he holds a house party and nothing seems to have gone right.”
Her brother knitted his eyebrows. He came to Caroline’s side. “Since when did Newhall become Julian?”
She knew he wasn’t trying to tell her what to do, the Saunders males were not that foolish, but still, she resented his tone. The warm, but slightly patronizing one that he used when trying to win her over to his way of thinking.
“Since we all agreed in the coach on the way up from London that I would attempt to be more amenable and pleasant,” she replied.
“Don’t you think you are being a little too familiar with him?” asked Francis.
“So, you don’t want me to call him by the name he has offered to me as part of our attempt to be friends. Why not?” she added.
“I am not saying you shouldn’t be friends with Newhall; I am simply saying you may want to be careful about being overfamiliar with him. By using his first name, you will make others think you have already laid a claim to our host. Considering you have declared no interest in becoming his countess, I would suggest that it is not such a good idea.”
She had come to Derbyshire to get away from London. To be free of the constant unwelcome attention from her devoted but delusional suitors. She had no business in muddying the waters of Julian Palmer’s marriage pool.
“Alright, as soon as everyone else arrives tomorrow, I shall go back to calling him Newhall. If he asks me why, I shall explain it is to keep a level playing field for all the potential candidates. I am sure he will find that somewhat amusing,” she replied.
Francis was right; she had no intention whatsoever in marrying Julian. They were friends, nothing more. She had to take a well-considered large step away from him.
