Page 13 of The Moonstone Major
To his relief, Dr. Hewitt arrived just then and broke up their conversation. Fionn rose to give the doctor his seat so he could more easily check Chloe’s bandages. He watched as the doctor began his examination. After checking her ribs and ankle, he had her raise her hands, turn her neck. Twist her body to the right and to the left.
He peered closely into her eyes and then had her follow his finger with just her eyes without turning her head. “Excellent,” he murmured once done.
Fionn breathed a sigh of relief. “Then you don’t think she has suffered more than a few bruises and the ankle sprain?”
“That is all. Her ribs are tender, but those will heal with simple bed rest. Lady Chloe ought to be fit to resume her activities in a week’s time. You did a fine job, Major Brennan. I could not have provided better treatment for her myself.”
Everyone now breathed a sigh of relief, except for Chloe, who did not look pleased. “An entire week?”
“Yes,” the doctor said, casting her a stern look. “You are to do exactly as Major Brennan advised. Stay off that foot for at least three days. Minimal exertion and lots of bed rest for a full week for those bruised ribs. I’ll come by to see you tomorrow, and I had better not find you hopping about.”
He closed his medical bag and rose to leave.
“Might I grab a ride back to town?” Fionn asked.
“Of course, Major Brennan.”
Fionn turned to the marquess. “I’ll return these garments to you tomorrow, if you don’t mind. I had better get back to the fort.”
“Come by anytime,” Phoebe said. “We shall be staying close to home until Chloe is feeling better. Thank you again for rescuing her.”
“Indeed,” Chloe’s eldest sister, Hen, said with heartfelt warmth. “That was too much of a close call. I think my husband must have a little talk with Lord Claymore.”
The duke nodded. “I shall attend to it first thing tomorrow.”
The marquess, apparently, was not to be left out. “I’ll join you. I may have only one functioning arm, but I can still throw a solid punch. If he dares utter a smart remark, he’ll find himself missing a few teeth.”
Dr. Hewitt groaned. “Please, I have enough patients to treat without adding that London set to my roster.”
Chloe tried to get up. Everyone shouted at her to sit down.
Fionn knelt by her side. “I will stop by to see you tomorrow. Rest your ankle, Lady Chloe. The parish church dance is at the end of the month. You want to be fit for that, don’t you?”
Her eyes brightened.
He adored the way they sparkled.
“Will you be attending?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“No maybe about it. You must attend and claim a dance from me.”
“Isn’t it usually the other way around? Am I not supposed to ask you?”
He saw the hurt in her eyes as she said, “Would you have asked me?”
“Probably not.” He glanced at his lame leg, using it as an excuse. “I cannot manage the livelier dances for fear this damaged limb will give out from under me.”
She cast him a stubborn look, refusing to be deterred. “Then you and I shall hobble together to the strains of a waltz. We can spin about the floor at our own speed, slow enough for us to manage.”
Well, he wasn’t getting out of that with more feeble excuses. “Very well. Save a waltz for me.”
The dance was still weeks away.
Perhaps she would forget him by then.
He left with the doctor and remained quiet until his rig rattled out of the courtyard. “Quite a bit of excitement,” the doctor remarked. “I’ll stop by the Kestrel Inn next to see how Lord Claymore is faring.”
