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“Yes.” She looked down again and lifted the cloth, bending her head to look even closer. The bleeding had slowed substantially. She glanced at the other wounds she could see, but they had already stopped bleeding and looked far more shallow. “If you insist on not calling the doctor, I can do it myself, but I should warn you, it has been a while. The others appear to only need a bandage.”
“It has been a while?” He sounded half-strangled, and Josie looked up at him in concern as he repeated her words for a second time.
“Yes. Did you take a blow to the head as well?” Straightening up, she went onto her tiptoes, trying to see.
Elijah
The moment was utterly surreal. Dressed in a lacy pink nightrail and wrapper, Josie was on her tiptoes, trying to see his head after she had just closely inspected his wound. Not only that, but she seemed completely confident in her ability to stitch his wounds when the entirety of Derbyshire knew of her disdain for needlework. Josie was not the type to sit about embroidering if she could help it. Yet she thought to stitch his wound? Plus, her assessment of his injuries matched his, which was even more startling.
“Since when do you stitch anything?” he asked, almost affronted he had not known that about her.
“Stitching cloth is boring. Bend your head down, so I can see if you have any injury.” The brisk way she was bossing him around made him feel this was not the first time she had tended someone’s wounds. But when the devil had she done it?
“My head is fine.” He brushed off her hands, taking back the cloth from her at the same time. Josie put her hands on her hips, scowling up at him. “I am wondering who taught you to stitch flesh when you are so well known for your abysmal needlework.”
“Evie, of course.”
“Evie?!”
“If all you are going to do is repeat what I say, you might as well keep your mouth shut and let me work.” She snatched the cloth from him and hung it on the side of the washbasin, then picked up a dry one and pressed it to his wound. The amount of pressure she put on it was surprising with its force.
Elijah tried not to scowl. It was not her fault his cousin was a hellion who had had to learn lessons he would rather not think of. After the death of his aunt and uncle, Evie’s parents, she had disappeared into the streets of London. It had been mere chance of fate that had allowed his father to find her again, years later, and by then, she had changed so much from the sweet, well-loved little girl she had been. She’d had to in order to survive.
He did not like to think about that time or how they had all grieved, worried, and searched. What they had gone through could not compare to what Evie had, and he did not like to think of that, either. It was also annoying to discover his cousin had more skills she had neglected to share with her family.
She was like a magpie, except instead of hoarding shiny objects—though she did that too, come to think of it—she hoarded facts about herself, especially about the time she spent on the streets.
“I did not know Evie had such skills, either,” he grumbled. Josie laughed lightly, lifting the pad of cloth slightly to peek under it again.
“Well, we did do our best to keep you out of things,” she said teasingly. “After all, you would have stopped us if you had known half of what we got up to.”
Groaning, Elijah covered his eyes with one hand. “I do not want to know.”
“No, you probably do not. Now, am I stitching this or not?”
“Yes, please.” He was too curious to deny her, and she was correct. A stitch or two would help it heal better and faster. He did not want to call in the doctor, or else the servants would tell his father. Then his father would want to know what happened, and Elijah would have to admit he’d gone into the Warrens without his ‘guards.’
The fact he had a better chance of finding out more on his own than with two more lords at his side would not sway his father’s anger nor make up for the breach of trust. The only reason his father did not worry was he was sure Elijah would never do something so stupid. Now, he was paying the price, and he did not want his father to know.
Watching Josie work was almost hypnotic, especially since he was now wildly curious about this previously unknown skill of hers. By the time she was done, his wounds were cleaned, the two stitches were in place, the throbbing was painful but tolerable, and he was even more impressed with her skills.
“There.” She stepped back and crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows. Sitting shirtless on the side of his bed, Elijah felt caught out, like a naughty schoolboy whose misdeeds had been discovered. “Now you can tell me where on earth you have been and what happened. If you do not, I will tell Uncle Oliver all about your injuries.”
Bloody hell. Elijah scowled before he could halt the reaction, revealing how effective her threat was. Fortunately, he had had some time to think about how he would explain his injuries while she was patching him up. She had been so focused, she had not asked until now. Before he returned home, he had thought he would need to avoid her bed until he was healed, so at least that was no longer an issue, but he had known he would have to tell her something.
“Footpads. I was deep in thought and not paying attention to where I was going.”
“And where were you going?” She scowled at him, a hint of jealousy in her expression, and Elijah realized she thought he might have gone to see another woman.
“Nowhere,” he said hastily, not wanting to spark her ire.
Knowing how he felt when it came to her and Joseph, he would not wish that upon her. It would not help his cause if he ever had a hope of winning her over. Josie had already spent years trying to get Joseph’s attention, only to have him fall in love with another woman. Elijah meant to be a contrast to that, especially after her reaction to his attendance at the Society of Sin.
“After my dinner at White’s, I went for a walk. Sometimes, I need to walk and wander to gather my thoughts.” That actually was true, though he had not had the opportunity to do it much of late.
“Could you not have at least told me where you were going? Or that you would be out walking and not to worry?” Uncrossing her arms, she put her hands on her hips, scolding him as if he was a small boy.
Frowning, Elijah got to his feet, so she was no longer able to look down at him—rather the other way around—but she did not take even a small step back. Her ferocious scowl might have been intimidating to some. The pain from his wounds had subsided, but they were still throbbing, making him a bit testier than he might have been.
