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The doctor came and proclaimed that her bruised hip was healing astonishingly fast. Again, she wondered why Miles was not there to speak to the doctor. Not even outside of the bedroom; she listened, straining to hear his voice, but all she heard was the doctor bidding the butler good day, and the door opening and closing for him to leave.
It was late afternoon before her mother and Amelia finally arrived.
“The doctor came to inform us that we can take you home now.” Her mother looked around the room. “Have you seen his lordship today?”
“I have not seen him since yesterday,” Siobhan said, making sure she used a neutral tone that didn’t display her disappointment. “I am sure he has better things to do than to keep me company.”
Her mother pressed her lips together. Unlike Siobhan, she made no effort to hide her emotions. “So he has not been here at all?”
“I do not believe so. Especially after the rumors started.” She fixed her mother with as stern a stare as she could muster. “I am sure he went to stay at his family estate.”
“Most rude, to leave a guest alone.” Her mother stalked to the window to peer out. “Where is your father with the larger carriage?”
“Why did you come separately?” Siobhan asked, expecting that her mother wished to ensure she had enough room to lay comfortably in the larger coach.
Instead her mother gave her a prim look. “Your sister and I have an appointment with the seamstress that I could not possibly cancel. You are aware how hard it is to be seen by Madam LeVeon, now that she’s gained popularity.”
Although she should have been used to it by now, her mother’s focus on herself and her own interests—and those of her sister—and her lack of caring for Siobhan stung deeply.
Tears gathered in her eyes and Siobhan blinked them away. “Will you ride to the house with me, at least? It will be painful.”
Her mother seemed stunned at the request. “Do you really think so? You seem so much better than the last time I visited.”
As much as she tried to hold them in, a few tears spilled down her cheeks. She swallowed away the lump in her throat and tried to appear unaffected. “I am in horrible pain even now, Mother. Every movement hurts.”
When her mother and sister exchanged looks that seemed to commiserate how annoying they thought her protests, Siobhan looked away. “Never mind. I am sure Papa will see after me.” Her voice cracked.
“You must understand. If we could cancel the appointment, we would.” Amelia’s tone was less than believable.
“Of course,” Siobhan said.
The sound of the front door could be heard, and the deep timbre of male voices.
“Here he is,” her mother announced with obvious relief, at hearing her husband. When he arrived in the doorway, she told him, “Owen, bring the coachman. She will have to be carried out.”
As her mother and Amelia looked on, Miles’ butler, the family coachman, and her father lifted her from the bed. Siobhan did her best to keep from crying out in pain, but in the end, she gave up and whimpered.
It was a cumbersome affair to get her through the doorway, down the corridor and outside to the coach. By the time she was settled inside the coach, tears poured freely down her face. Siobhan knew it was not only from pain, but because she knew Miles had purposely stayed away. Not that she could blame him, but it was hard to explain that to her wounded heart.
Through the carriage door, her father was thanking the butler and handing him a note. Probably for Miles, to thank him. Of all the people in her family, only her father was conscientious enough to do such a thing.
As expected, the drive home was uncomfortable. Thankfully, the tincture Firtha had given her before the men carried her out to the carriage began to take effect, and she fell asleep halfway there.
*
As expected, being moved into the house and bedroom was uncomfortable, but Siobhan was prepared for it. Thankfully, she was able to sit with minor discomfort and she convinced her father to allow her to sit by the window. Through the window Siobhan watched over the garden, the birds flying from one branch of a tree to another, and the butterflies fluttering over open blossoms, their graceful flights across brightly colored petals lulling her to relax.
Her mind went to the time she’d stood on a balcony talking with Miles. The way he spoke, his deep voice filling her senses. The way he’d understood her desire to get away from the crowds. A long sigh escaped her, as a smile played on her lips.
How long before she saw him again? She could not help but wonder, even though she knew that, because of the rumors, he would probably keep his distance.
Knocks on the door brought her out of her musings. Her father entered, his eyes bright with excitement.
“I met a young man named Charles Winthrop at the Historian’s meeting. He told me he’d recently met you and that you’d invited him to meet with me. So he returned with me after the meeting. He ate dinner with me, your mother and your sister. But he stayed even after they’d retired, and we stayed up until late as he described his travels.”
Siobhan smiled at her father’s enthusiasm. No longer traveling as much as he’d once done, now he enjoyed learning from anyone who traveled recently.
“I knew you and he would have much to discuss.” She held her breath to hear about what had occurred.
