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It was Smitty who blushed.
Alex straightened, hands on hips, meeting Drake’s challenging look. “That is because it is the only place where you are not in need of improvement.”
Drake looked startled, then burst out laughing. “I will take that as the highest of compliments … since you are so very difficult to please.”
“I do believe we are embarrassing Smitty,” Alex informed him, looking sympathetically at the red-faced valet. “And I can see that you are quite well and have no further need of my attentions.” She tossed the cloth onto the low table beside the bed. “So I will return to our guests.”
Drake frowned. “I will join you shortly.”
“You will not,” she replied, pausing in the doorway. “You will stay here and rest.”
“Don’t push me, Alexandria,” he warned, his expression darkening.
She gave him a bright smile. “But that is what we tyrants do best.” She shut the door behind her.
Drake shook his head. “Why do I allow her to browbeat me, Smitty?”
Although the question was only half serious and was spoken more to himself than to Smitty, the older man answered it. “She is not browbeating you, your grace; she is caring for you. She does that because she loves you, just as you allow it because you lo—”
“Never mind,” Drake hastily intervened. His emotions, when it came to Alex, were still too new and raw for him to discuss or analyze. But the thought that she might still love him caused a ray of hope to be born inside his heart.
He stood, wincing a bit at the pain in his shoulder. “I still cannot understand how it could have happened, Smitty.”
“I suppose the saddle strap just wore through.”
Drake shook his head. “That was a new saddle; I cannot believe the s
traps could wear so quickly.”
“It is also not like Winthrop to overlook such an obvious flaw,” Smitty mused, thinking of the efficient head groom. The elderly man had worked at Allonshire for twenty years and took great pride in running the enormous stables.
At that moment the very man they were discussing knocked lightly on the door.
“May I come’n, your grace?” he asked, when Smitty opened the door.
“Of course, Winthrop,” Drake replied, sitting back down on the bed. He had planned on going back to his guests, but Drake’s instincts told him that Winthrop’s visit was more than just a token gesture to check on the state of his employer’s health.
Winthrop stood just inside the doorway, obviously uncomfortable at being in the duke’s bedchamber.
“I f-felt very bad about the accident, yer grace,” he stammered.
“I know you did, Winthrop,” Drake responded. “And I am certain that it was not your fault.”
The groom looked relieved at Drake’s words. “I appreciate yer faith in me. I was sure that saddle was new and in good condition. But it bothers me that the strap broke like that. It shouldn’t ’ave ’appened. So I just checked on the saddle meself, t’ make sure. …” He hesitated.
“Go ahead, Winthrop,” Drake urged.
“Well … I wouldn’t tell ye this unless I was certain, but the fact is that the strap did not wear out. It was cut.”
Total silence filled the room.
“Cut?” Smitty echoed at last.
Winthrop turned his troubled gaze to Smitty. “Yes, cut.”
“How can you be sure?” Drake demanded.
“There is no sign of wear, yer grace.” He looked utterly miserable. “The slice is clean and so neat that only a knife could’ve made it. It looks like it was cut about ’alfway through, and the jumps ye took with Jupiter were strong enough t’ sever the strap the rest of the way.” His lips tightened. “There is no question in my mind … that strap was cut.”
