Page 93 of The Viscount and the Vicar's Daughter
“How is he, Alex?” She hurried into the parlor behind him and watched as he carefully set his father down on the settee. His father yelped again as Alex removed his boot and then cut his trouser leg which was already torn and stained with blood. “Is his leg broken? Shall I fetch the doctor?”
Alex nodded. “Bloody, stubborn fool. I don’t think there’s a break, Viola. Just a bad gash, and I think he’s now thrown out his back. Stay with him. I’ll get Dr. Walcott.”
“Me, stay? Shouldn’t you be–” But he was already running out the door.
Viola sighed. “Here, Lord Trent. Just lie back and let me elevate your leg. That’s it. Lie still and I’ll return in a moment with clean cloths and some brandy.”
She hurried to gather supplies as fast as she could, calling for Mrs. Bligh’s assistance. But the woman was upstairs tending to her own father. “Good grief. Dealing with one father is bad enough. But two?” she muttered before calling back up to Mrs. Bligh. “Never mind. I’ll attend to Lord Trent myself.”
There was little she could do but apply pressure to the gash to stop the flow of blood.
Alex’s father was moaning and blaspheming all the while she tried to keep him comfortable. Applying brandy to the injured shin had him shouting curses again. Fortunately, she did not think the kick had broken his leg. There was no bone protruding. But the diagnosis would be left to Dr. Walcott who may as well set up his infirmary in the vicarage since he seemed to be here more than anywhere else, lately.
She breathed a sigh of relief when Alex hurried back with the doctor within a matter of minutes.
As she moved away, she realized her gown was stained with blood. Well, it mattered little since she could not possible go up to the manor house for supper now.
Alex seemed to read her thoughts. “If necessary, I’ll have Mrs. Stringer send down supper for us all. But I still hope you and I will dine at Ardley Hall tonight. Dr. Walcott, when can my father be moved?
“I do not think it is wise to attempt it today. His leg is fine, just a nasty cut. His leather boot absorbed enough of the blow to keep the bone from breaking. But your father has thrown his back out and will be in agony for that. He shouldn’t be moved just yet. Leave him here overnight. Viola, do you mind having him sleep on your settee? He’ll also need a hot compress applied to his lower back.”
“All right,” she said with a nod.
“Good. I’ll come by first thing in the morning to look in on both gentlemen.”
Lord Trent was not at all pleased. “I will not stay under this roof! I demand to be taken to Ardley Hall.”
Alex turned to Dr. Walcott, his expression fuming. “Will his back be damaged if I summon a wagon to pick him up now? If he wants to be an idiot about it, who am I to stop him? I’ll make certain the wagon is well padded to minimize jostling.”
“I think it should be all right, my lord. He will ache like bloody blazes, but Miss Ruskin has enough on her hands with her father and does not need more burdens piled on her.”
“Thank you. Viola, can you put up with my father for a little while longer while I ride home?”
She nodded.
“Good. You have my permission to gag him if he is rude to you in any way.”
She grinned. “I will not hesitate to do so.”
Alex rode off and the doctor left soon afterward.
His father had not stopped scowling at her even though he was the reckless fool who had brought this misery upon himself. “Well, Miss Ruskin. You must be gloating.”
“To see you hurt? Never, my lord.” She applied a cool compress to his forehead and left a moment to boil some water for a hot compress for his back. She soon returned with the hot towel but made certain it was not so hot that it burned him. “This might ease the twinges. Just relax. Close your eyes, if it will help.”
“You do not have to do this for me,” he grumbled.
“I would do this for anyone who came to the vicarage in need of assistance, whether a prince or a pauper.”
He winced as she helped him take off his jacket and then lifted his shirt to apply the heat directly onto his skin. “Your gown is ruined, Miss Ruskin. My blood is all over it.”
“I know. Mrs. Bligh will do her best to boil out the stains.”
He grunted. “I’ll pay for a replacement if they do not come out.”
“Thank you for offering, but it isn’t necessary. Despite what you think, I am not penniless nor am I a fortune hunter. I do not need your money or your son’s. Nor do I want it.”
“Is that so?”
