Lady Cordelia laughed at the idea, which he thought was a very good sign.
As he carried her up the stairs it began to dawn on him how personal it was for her to be in his arms.
He’d planned on her being so sometime very soon, but could not have imagined the current circumstance.
She gazed up at him as he traversed the stairs and Percival had a very great wish to bend down and kiss her.
He would do no such thing of course, not until the question had been asked and answered. It would not do to put the lady in a compromising position and he did not yet know if the lady even wished to be compromised.
“Just here, Lord Harveston,” Miss Mayton said, running ahead of him and throwing open the door.
Percival carried her through it.
Good lord, now he was in her bedchamber. And carrying her to the bed.
He was not certain when last he had to exert as much self-control as he did at that moment. He’d very much like to throw Miss Mayton out the door.
Lady Cordelia’s maid came hurrying in. “What has happened?” she cried, staring at him.
“Your lady has injured her ankle,” he said by way of explanation.
“I heard that part from the butler,” the maid said. “What I didn’t hear was that she was in a lord’s arms!”
The girl was rather saucy.
“You ought to put her down, the earl shan’t like it!” the maid said.
“Do be quiet, Lynette,” Lady Cordelia said. “I have injured my ankle and could not put weight on it.”
“Pull the bedcovers back,” Percival said, hoping his face had not tinged red from saying it.
“What?” the maid cried.
Really, this Lynette was a bit of a hysterical sort of person.
“I cannot lay her down until you move the covers,” he pointed out.
“Go on, Lynette,” Miss Mayton said. “Do stop being such a booby about it.”
Lynette, seeming to realize the fastest way to get her mistress out of his arms was to do as she was asked, hurried round him and pulled down the blankets.
Percival laid her down gently, her head on the pillow. “Fetch me those other pillows,” he said, pointing to the other side of the bed.
For once, Lynette followed a direction without shrieking about it.
“Now,” he said, “I will lift Lady Cordelia’s ankle, keeping it straight and steady, as you slide the pillows underneath. Do you understand? We do not yet know if it is broken—all care must be taken.”
Lynette gulped and nodded. “Aye,” she said.
Percival carefully and gingerly lifted Lady Cordelia’s ankle, supporting it from underneath to keep it still.
She winced just a little as he laid it down.
“Thank you, Lord Harveston,” she said, looking up at him.
“Yes, thanks much, my lord,” Lynette said, pulling him by the sleeve. “We will take things from here.”
The maid was literally pushing him toward the door.
