Page 48 of The Major's Mistake
There was an audible gasp as her hands froze for an instant. “Dear God,” she murmured, ducking low to hide the film of tears in her eyes.
A wash of color flooded his face as he tried to push her away. “Yes, I warned you,” he said savagely. “It’s quite sickening, isn’t it. Now kindly allow me to cover myself.”
Miranda looked up at him, puzzled. “Why, you are … you are embarrassed.”
“Yes!” he exploded. “Of course I am—I’m a damn cripple.” He drew in a ragged breath. “More so that you once knew me … in a more admirable state,” he added in a near whisper.
He flinched as her fingers began massaging the scarred flesh around his knee, but she refused to be brushed away. “You think,” she said slowly, “that you are in any way diminished by the fact that your flesh is torn or that you walk with a limp?”
Julian hung his head.
“Good heavens.” She smiled sadly. “You’re a fool.”
His eyes came up, filled with a poignant uncertainty. “But I see the look of revulsion on the faces of the ladies as I pass?—”
“Then they are even bigger fools than you.”
She rose to leave. “Good night, sir. You have only to ring if you need anything during the night.” Her gaze strayed to his bruised face. “You may change your mind about draughts and potions on the morrow. I fear that you are going to feel quite the worse for this evening’s activities come morning.”
A considerably agitatedSykes appeared on Lady Thornton’s front steps far earlier than proper manners allowed.
“Oh, heavens,” exclaimed Miranda as Wells opened the door with some reluctance in answer to the urgent rapping. “How remiss of me—we should have sent word to you that the marquess was spending the night here.”
A spasm of relief crossed the valet’s weathered face before it was replaced by a look that could only be described as miffed. “Well, His Lordship might have saved me a good deal of worry if he had seen fit to share such plans with me.”
Miranda repressed a smile at the man’s injured tone. “I don’t believe he began the evening with such a thing in mind. However, there was a slight mishap ….”
Sykes’s eyebrows shot up.
“The result was several broken ribs, which prevented him from venturing forth on horseback. So you see, he had little choice but to remain here.”
“Now how in the dev—er, deuce did that happen?”
“Ah, I imagine His Lordship might prefer to make the explanation himself.”
“Which you shall no doubt pester out of me, but not before I have some breakfast.” Julian moved stiffly into the entrance hall. Miranda had sent Wells up to his room earlier so that he was freshly shaved and the worst of the dirt had been brushed from his breeches and boots. Even so, he hardly cut a dashing appearance, what with the bruises spreading over his cheek and a borrowed shirt that hung a good deal too short at the sleeves and a good deal too wide at the midriff.
Sykes had noticed that the big groom was sporting a wicked shiner and put two and two together. A bark of laughter escaped from his lips. “Good Lord, guv! A mite rusty with your fives? I’m afraid it looks like you may have taken the worst of it.”
“I’m touched by your concern,” replied the marquess dryly. “Perhaps when you have finished expressing your opinion, you might find it in your heart to take Zeus home and return with the carriage. And perhaps some clean linen.”
His valet wiped the grin off his face. “Sorry. No doubt you are hardly in the mood for banter.” A flash of concern came to his eyes and he took a step closer to Julian. “How are the ribs feeling?” he asked in a low voice.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” replied Julian. “But I would like to be on my way home as soon as possible.” He muttered a few more instructions in the other man’s ear, then Sykes took himself off without further ado.
Miranda had followed the exchange between them with great interest. “Well, I see you were not quizzing me when you said he was not the sort of valet to fall into a fit of vapors over a wrinkled sleeve,” she murmured, a flash of amusement evident in her eyes.
He gave her back a rueful grin. “No,” he agreed. “And I can assure you, he shall not let me hear the end of this for quite some time.”
She slipped her hand around his arm and started off down the hall. “Come, I’ve had Cook prepare an ample breakfast.” She hesitated a fraction. “You still prefer coffee?”
He nodded.
At that moment, Lady Thornton burst from the breakfast room and rushed to her nephew.
She made a sympathetic sound in her throat at the sight of his mottled cheek, then reached up to bestow a light kiss on the uninjured one. “Julian, my dear boy. How are you feeling?” Before he could answer, she took hold of his other arm and went on. “I’ve brought a number of cushions in, and I’ve ordered a bowl of porridge in case it pains you to chew, and ….”
Julian rolled his eyes, causing Miranda to stifle a smile, then submitted to his aunt’s coddling with a resigned sigh.
