Page 85 of How to Tempt an Earl

Ian knelt by her side. “Jenkins already left to fetch the surgeon, and Mrs. Smithson is bringing supplies. Let me look at him, Grace. I’ve been in plenty of bouts, and I can assess the severity of his injuries.”

Not wanting to leave her father’s side, she shifted to allow him access, keeping a firm grip on her father’s limp hand.

The baron grimaced as Ian unbuttoned his bloodied coat and waistcoat and pushed them aside to examine him. He roused and opened his good eye to look at her. “I’m sorry, Grace.”

“Shh. Save your strength.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she furiously blinked them back.

“He accused me of cheating at cards,” the baron said.

“Hatfield?” Ian asked.

“Yes.”

Her stomach felt like someone had hollowed it out with a dull spoon. It always came back to the gambling.

“His nose is broken. Several broken ribs as well,” Ian said.

Her father moaned, a pitiful, guttural sound.

Mrs. Smithson arrived with hot water and clean clothes. Grace dipped a cloth in water and began to gently bathe her father’s battered face.

“I’ve made a mess of things for you, haven’t I?” he asked.

Yes! she wanted to shout. He had. For three years since her mother’s death, he’d made her life miserable. But he was her father, the man who’d once sat her on his knee when she’d been a child and told her bedtime stories. She bit her lip and continued to tend him as a heaviness settled in her chest.

At last, the surgeon arrived. A short, portly man with thick spectacles and sparse, curly black hair, he took one look at his patient and frowned.

“This is Dr. Stedler,” Ian said.

“Please help him,” Grace said.

Dr. Stedler set his black bag on an end table, took one look at Grace’s tear-stained cheeks, and his wrinkled features softened. “If my lady would step away, I’ll have a look.”

Ian must have sensed her hesitation to leave her father’s side. “It’s all right, Grace,” he said. “The doctor is good with the sorts of injuries your father’s sustained. He treats the pugilists after their matches. I wouldn’t have sent for him if I didn’t trust him.”

Grace stepped back, her hands twisting in her skirts while Ian and Brooks remained by the baron’s side in case he needed to be restrained while the surgeon worked.

Her father cried out when the surgeon examined his abdomen, and her entire body stiffened at the godawful sound. Her thoughts turned to her brother. He remained in her father’s house, and she was grateful that his nursemaid would have put him to bed some hours ago. She would not want her young brother to witness this. If something happened to their father, what would she tell Adam?

Their father might die and all because of his fondness for gambling.

Gambling at the Raven Club.

Bile rose up her throat.

It felt like hours before Dr. Stedler had finished. He’d tightly bound her father’s ribs with cloth bandages. Ian followed the surgeon out of the drawing room, and Grace trailed behind. Ian had removed his coat and waistcoat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. Blood stained the white linen, and she looked away.

“He broke four ribs, but he is very fortunate, my lady,” Dr. Stedler told her.

Grace’s brows snapped together. “How is it that four broken ribs are considered fortunate?”

His eyes appeared large behind his thick spectacles. “It is not uncommon for a broken rib to puncture the lung. It could have been much worse. He’ll recover, but it will take weeks.”

“Will he be able to travel to his home?”

“Yes, if he’s moved carefully, but I don’t recommend it for tonight. I instructed Brooks to carry him upstairs and put him in an empty bedchamber.”

“Can I see him?” Grace asked.