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Scott tried to rise up again but fell back down and groaned with pain. “How?”
“As it happens this wonderful gentleman … happened along, and we got you into his curricle and came here. The driver of the coach—ungrateful blackguard—took off, you see.” The stranger was now leaning back against an oak cabinet, his arms folded across his massive chest, watching her with a curious look in his very fine and bright gray eyes.
His black locks were laced with silver, and they were long and cropped in layered waves around his very good-looking face. He exuded a dominant air and self-confidence, and she wondered who he was and just what he had been doing traveling alone at night.
“Flip …” Scott said suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. “What are we to do?”
“Never mind, now, Scott. We’ll manage,” she answered, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.
She took up a rag, dipped it into the hot water, and said, “I have to clean your wound, Scott … so try not to move for a moment.” She removed the rag they had held in place to stem the flow of blood and had to stop herself from crying when she saw him wince with pain.
She applied the hot wet rag, and Scott made an agonized sound and said testily, “Stop … just stop, Flip.”
“I cannot. I must clean your wound,” she answered firmly.
“Well, then, do you think you could manage to do it without killing me?” he answered irritably.
She could see by the tightness of his lips and the look in his dear blue eyes that he was in awful pain. She tried to tease him. “Well, yes, for I mean for you to recover very quickly, so that I may kill you with my own two hands.”
He laughed, which set him to coughing, which set her to almost sobbing. “Oh, Scott … hush, oh, there, there.”
After his coughs subsided, Scott glanced towards the stranger and offered, “How do you do, sir. I am very grateful for your help … I am Scott Hanover.”
Felicia bit her lip. She wasn’t sure they should be giving over their real names. However, they were in the very thick of it now.
“Just lie still, lad. I take it you tried to stop a pack of highwaymen and were shot for your efforts. Luckily … you took the bullet in the shoulder, and I think you shall do. However, you have lost a great deal of blood and need your rest. The doctor should be here soon, and once the bullet is out, you’ll do.” He inclined his head. “I am …” He hesitated and then offered, “Glen Ashton.”
Felicia’s gaze narrowed. Glen Ashton, was it? Why had he hesitated? And now that she had a moment, she saw from the cut of his clothes and the manner in which he conducted himself that he was used to two things: money and standing.
“Well, well,” said a voice from the doorway. “So, here is the boy.” The doctor was a small, balding man with a kind smile and now had Felicia’s full attention.
He frowned slightly as he stood over Scott and added, “Ah, I see you have had some very excellent attention.”
Felicia got out of his way as he bent to retrieve his instruments from his leather bag. She found herself standing close, very close to Glen Ashton and ridiculously felt her cheeks get hot. She managed to peek up at his handsome face, and as though knowing that she did so for reassurance he told her, “He will do. I have tended wounds like that … in the war.”
“Oh, were you in the war with Boney?”
“I was at Waterloo … helping the wounded,” he answered shortly, and it was obvious he did not wish to speak of it.
The doctor worked on Scott and made some ‘aahs and ohs’ sounds. To Felicia the time ticked by slowly as she watched him and saw Scott squirm with pain.
“Well,” said the doctor. “We are lucky. The bullet has passed straight through … there is an exit wound … here.” He indicated without actually moving Scott to show them. “No main arteries were severed, and although he has lost quite a bit of blood, he should do. We still have to worry about infection, however, so we are not out of the proverbial woods yet. I’ll see to the dressing now and be back in the morning.” He glanced at Felicia once again. “Perhaps you had better take Miss to her own room now, for I mean to give the lad something to help him sleep.”
“As you wish, doctor, but when your ministrations are complete, do stop by and have a word with me. I will be in the private parlor.” So saying he took Felicia’s elbow and began to lead her out of the room.
She made a feeble objection. “Yes, but …”
“No buts, my girl. It is time you and I …” He smiled at her softly. “… have a bite to eat and a little chat. I would wager, and win, that you are starving.”
It was true. She hadn’t eaten all day, what with the news that the duke was nearly about to descend on her and then rushing off beside Scott with London in their sights. She was absolutely famished.
“Yes, it is an awful thing, but I am hungry,” she answered.
“Awful?” He frowned. “Why?”
“Well, I shouldn’t be, should I? What with poor Scott …?” She shook her head. “He lies there in an awful state all because of me …” She stopped herself and said without looking at him, “Well, I shouldn’t want to gorge myself, should I?”
He chuckled. “Very loyal sister.” He then eyed her as though studying some new species, which made her almost squirm in place, before he added, “Well, as to that, it is perfectly natural for you to be hungry after such an adventure, and after all, you have seen to Scott’s well-being.”
