Page 65 of Surrender Your Grace
“Only a little,” she said, wincing as his fingers probed. “Putting weight on it, though, is excruciating.”
“It might be broken. Jenkins!” he called. The ever-present butler appeared at once. “Summon Dr. Wadsworth. Mary, bring cool compresses. Henry, you and I will speak of this later.”
The others scattered, leaving her alone with her husband.
“How does a bookshelf fall over?” he asked.
“I don’t know.I was perusing a book when I heard a loud creak. One heavy book fell from above then another. And suddenly—everything tumbled. I tried to run but tripped. It was quite an ordeal.”
“This happened at Hatchard’s?”
“Um… no.”
“West Haven’s?”
“It was… a more exclusive shop.”
“I’ll have the name. I plan to speak with the owner.”His tone brooked no further hedging.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “Foxlow’s, off Fleet Street. Just beyond Temple Bar.”
His fingers stilled, and his head came up. “You left Westminster? Tell me you are joking.”
“I was well guarded, and we didn’t intend to linger.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. Cici braced for fury, but Mary rushed in with the cloths and a basin of cool water, sparing her.
He wrapped her ankle in soaked strips with meticulous care.
“That is helpful, Andrew. Thank you,” she said.
“Any other injuries aside from your shoulder and ankle?”
She glanced nervously at Jenkins, who stood by the door if he should be needed further.
Leaning forward, she spoke softly for only him to hear.“When I fell, a few books gouged me in, uh… tender areas.”
“The physician should be here soon.” He stood and lifted her in his arms again. “Let’s get you settled upstairs.”
“Mary,” he called over his shoulder, “I will speak with you and Henry together.”
A nervous girl by nature, Mary wrung her hands as she answered, “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Andrew, they were following my instructions.”
“Your disregard for your safety is staggering.” His voice dropped to a growl. “If you cannot be trusted to act sensibly, I must intervene. Once the physician has done his part. I will take care of the rest—personally.”
That sounded ominous. She swallowed hard, unsure if the ache in her ankle would rival what he planned next.
He climbed the staircase effortlessly, a full flight, not once jostling her or getting winded.
“What was so blasted important you’d risk your neck in that part of London?”
“I cannot say,” she replied softly.
“Rather, you will not.”
The door opened in the foyer below, and Jenkins admitted the physician.
