“Munson said the doctor is on his way.”
“Send him up as soon as he arrives,” she said, just barely holding on to her stoic veneer.
The maid bobbed her head and closed the door gently behind her.
Alex immediately set to work pouring the warm water into a bowl and wetting the corner of a cloth. She then eased down beside Lucien and began to clean the dried blood from his face. But her guilt wasn’t kept at bay for long. After she had cleaned most of the blood from Lucien’s jaw, she dipped the soiled cloth into the bowl and wrung it out, then set about cleaning the rest of his poor bruised face.
If only she hadlistenedto Inspector Holland and taken more care. Was it so terrible to stay home while he sorted things out? Did she really value her own safety and the safety of those around her so little?
Alex’s lower lip began to tremble. How foolish she had been. How careless. If Lucien suffered any permanent injury, she would never forgive herself. Just as hot tears gathered in her eyes, a soft knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Alex croaked as she set the cloth aside and hastily wiped her face. The door swung open, but it wasn’t Dr. Mosley who hurried into the room. It wasFreddie. Relief swept through her while Freddie’s shocked gaze raked over Lucien.
Then she turned to Alex. “Oh, my dear,” she said as she rushed to the bedside, her face softening with concern. “What on earth has happened?”
Alex opened her mouth to respond then promptly burst into tears.
Twenty-Five
Lucien cracked one bleary eye open and groaned. Everything seemed to hurt to varying degrees: his head, his chest, his entireface. He gingerly rolled onto his back as memories came to him in scattered bursts: that awful man landing a solid punch to his jaw, Alex calmly threatening the man with a gun, then, confusingly, Lucien being carried up a staircase. But by whom? Worst of all was the image of Alex crying beside him. Lucien remembered wanting to comfort her so desperately, but the words hadn’t come before he passed out once again. He hadn’t felt this out of sorts since the morning after the first—and last—time he let his cousins take him out drinking.
He tried to open his other eye, but it was too swollen to be of use. God only knew what he looked like. He groaned again. This time because he felt so pathetic.
A rustling came from just out of his line of vision but Lucien didn’t have the strength to turn over again. Then he heard someone yawn. Afemalesomeone.
“Hello?” Lord, he sounded nearly as bad as he felt.
“You’re awake!” Freddie then leaned over the side of the bed, flashing him a sunny smile that immediately fell. “Oh, Lucien, you look awful.”
He briefly closed his good eye. “Yes, I imagine so, given I feel awful.”
“Let’s get you up,” Freddie said as she helped him into something resembling a seated position. Then she handed him a full glass of murky liquid. “Here. You’re supposed to drink this as soon as you wake. Dr. Mosley’s orders.”
Lucien eyed it warily. “And he is?”
“Our family physician. Another doctor looked you over back at the office, but Alex wanted a second opinion. All right. Drink up. It’s to help the pain.”
Well, in that case…
Lucien accepted the glass and obeyed. It tasted awful, but he would endure much worse if it made him feel even a little better. When he finished, Freddie took the glass and set it on a tray.
“Would you like anything to eat?”
Lucien nodded and Freddie tugged on the bellpull. She was dressed in a plain white muslin day gown with her hair pulled back in a simple knot. He wasn’t used to seeing this side of her and it wasn’t very long ago that such a discovery would have been mesmerizing. But now… now he felt nothing more than a sense of comfort. The kind one enjoyed when in the company of old friends.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
Freddie shrugged and sat back down in the bedside chair. “Only a few hours. I was reading but dozed off. Alex was up with you for half the night until Mother forced her to go to bed, which sheonlyagreed to do if someone else would watch over you. The doctor was concerned you might be concussed,” she added.
Lucien vaguely recalled an elderly man prodding him. “I thought I was dreaming,” he said with a frown.
Freddie smiled. “You cried out a few times. Apparently you bruised some ribs as well.”
Lucien skimmed his fingers along his injured side and winced.
“The doctor said they would be quite tender for at least a week. The only thing you can do is rest.”
“How—how is Alex?”
