A bitter laugh escaped Hugo’s lips. “Strict to the point of cruelty. I was told that I ought to wear spectacles when I was a boy, but he did not care for the notion. He believed my eyes could be strengthened the way a muscle can, so he made me read in poor light, made me do a thousand peculiar things to fix my sight.” He blinked. “I still do not wear spectacles, though I have no doubt they would improve things.”
She thought of the times she had seen him scrunch his left eye shut, as if it helped him to see better out of his right eye. Compensating for what his left eye could not manage, though undoubtedly putting more strain upon his good eye.
You poor thing…
It was wretched to imagine that any father could be so cruel, making her own dismissive father seem like a saint by comparison.
“I think you should defy those old commands and wear spectacles,” she said. “And… I would not have noticed your hand if we were not so close. I doubt anyone else would notice. I am… so very sorry that happened to you.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago, and I am just grateful that he was not so cruel to my sister.” He got to his feet, offering her his right hand. “Come, let us get you back onto your horse and return you to the manor.”
There was discomfort in his manner, as if he could not quite believe he had revealed so much to her. She longed to know more, of course, but she held her tongue, strangely heartened that he had chosen to share so much with her at all.
Bracing for the pain, she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet, keenly aware of his arm around her waist as he led her back to the docile mare. Regardless of whatever weakness he might have, he felt effortlessly strong to her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hugo held the reins of the mare, his own horse trailing behind. He could have ridden, but he wanted to be certain that Evelyn would not come to any further harm, and he could not do that unless the reins were in his hand. For a moment, he had considered riding with her, but figured she would only protest and potentially ride off of her own accord.
Why did she laugh when I called her impetuous?he wondered as the manor came into view. The lady that he had come to know was as reckless as any he had met, the fire in her seeming to flare whenever he was near.
He smiled at the thought that he was becoming acquainted with a version of her that few others knew existed.
It was not long before they came to a halt outside the manor’s entrance, a puzzled stable boy pausing mid-chew of a sandwich. No one was supposed to be back yet, the hunt still underway somewhere in the woods, in the direction of faint horns blasting.
Hugo raised his arms up toward Evelyn, who stared back at him with the same puzzled expression as the stable boy, as if to say,And what, exactly, do you expect me to do?
“Let me help you,” he urged, a note of impatience in his voice.
She hesitated, and then, with a reluctant puff of breath, she reached back down to him. Her hands fell upon the ledge of his shoulders, bracing herself, and he tried not to think about the intense, almost frightened grip as he pulled her toward him.
It was fortunate that she was riding side-saddle, for he could slide his arm underneath the crook of her knees, bringing her safely into his arms. She felt rather nice there, held against him, and itwasa bit of a walk up the porch steps. Not something that someone with her injury ought to be doing.
So he carried her, wielding her with ease up the steps and into the gloom of the manor where, in an instant, servants swarmed.
The housekeeper sent a footman out directly to fetch the physician from the nearest village, while maids were instructed to fetch hot water and another footman was tasked with the more arduous duty of fetching ice from the ice house.
“Into the drawing room, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said, leading the way.
Hugo followed, Evelyn seeming to nestle deeper into his embrace as he carried her along the hallway, her hand holdingtight to his lapel, her head turned inward, her cheek upon his shoulder. There had been no complaint from her, no protest about how she could manage on her own… and it worried him rather more than it relieved him.
Was she more badly hurt than he had thought? So badly hurt, in fact, that the fire in her had gone out?
He took her into the drawing room and settled her down on the settee while the housekeeper bustled about with cushions, before heading back out into the hallway to see what was taking the other servants so long.
“I suppose I should leave you in their enthusiastic care now,” Hugo said with a smile, noting that Evelyn looked a little pale, a little shaken. Perhaps the events of what had just happened were catching up to her; it could take time for that sort of thing to happen.
Evelyn grasped for his hand, the voluntary contact startling him for a moment.
“Thank you,” she said softly, shyly. “Thank you for helping me… and I am sorry about your father.”
She still wore her riding gloves, but as he looked down at her hand holding his, he could not stop a wayward thought from popping into his head: was her hand as warm as her ankle had been, were those rosy cheeks of hers hot to the touch?
“It was nothing, Lady Evelyn,” he replied, feeling a little awkward.
He was not accustomed to gratitude, and he certainly had not expected any from her. Nor had he expected to hear her offer her sympathies for he had quite put it out of his mind that he had told her about his father’s cruelty.
Gently, he withdrew his hand. “Rest well.”
