Page 33 of To Heal a Broken Earl
“Yes, he can be stubborn,” Emma muttered.
Hastings returned a few minutes later with a small pot of the salve and handed it to Emma. She lifted the lid and quickly closed it once more. “Phew. His lordship has not exaggerated the smell. It’s truly awful,” she said. Emma could certainly understand his reluctance to have such a foul-smelling concoction massaged into his leg. Michael was a stoic and proud man, considerate of others, and would not want to offend anyone with his presence, especially a noxious odor that accompanied it. Thinking of his putting up with the terrible pain in his leg to prevent the discomfort of others made her heart wrench.
Michael had stubbornly refused all her attempts to compensate him for the dresses. Emma hoped that the party—and hopefully, a much improved, more tolerable salve—would be a way of thanking him for his generosity.
But this wasn’t just about her wanting to show him her gratitude; it was about her concern about his leg. Michael was in so much pain. She’d observed it herself throughout the journey here—surreptitiously, of course. She couldn’t help but see the strained look in his eyes or the gray pallor of his face. Or the fact that his limp had become far more pronounced since they’d arrived. She thought about when she fell in the library and he caught her, and her heart squeezed. That had likely made his leg worse.
If there was something she could do to help him, she would. Besides, she preferred his smile to his gruffness. Although his gruffness didn’t deter her. But that smile.Oh,Lord!When he smiled, that cute little dimple danced on his chin. Not that she would tell him that. But just thinking about it made her face heat with a blush.
All the same, it felt good to be doing something useful. And the idea of helping Michael stirred a feeling of pleasure within her that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.
“Hastings, do you have any suggestions for a discreet place where I could work on this salve, so the pungent aroma won’t spread throughout the house?” she asked, barely able to contain her excitement.
“I do. There’s a secluded room tucked away behind the stables that might serve perfectly for your needs,” he replied thoughtfully. “And it has a window.”
“Perfect…” she said. “I will let you both know the results of my experiment.”
“Oh, we’ll know if it works,” Stanhope said.
“How will you know?” Emma said with a curious smile.
“Why, it won’t smell it anymore, will it?” Hastings replied with a chuckle.
Joining in their laughter, she asked Stanhope to prepare some tea and snacks for the modiste and her assistant for later, and then she hurried on her way, glad to have found a way to help Michael with his injured leg. She smiled, thinking about helping to plan a surprise birthday party for the man who was coming to mean so very much to her.
~*~
Emma stepped back and sighed, smiling as she admired the clock she and Michael had discovered in the attic. It had stopped working, but luckily, Hastings, whose father was a clockmaker, knew how to repair it. And after that, all it needed was a good polish. Its graceful brass case gleamed once more,the delicate hands ticking steadily across an ivory face. Now proudly restored, it sat upon the parlor mantel, a handsome focal point in the room. Emma had decided to focus on refurbishing the rooms that would be used to entertain guests, whether for tea or dinner.
The transformation that the parlor had undergone since their arrival pleased her greatly. The walls had been freshly washed and painted in a gentle, buttery cream, giving the room a soft, comforting warmth. Running her hand down the sleek damask curtains, she marveled at how lovely they looked, having been fashioned from the surprisingly well-preserved fabric they’d also found packed away in a trunk. She loved how the rich azure blue of the curtains on the wide, multi-paned windows complemented the soothing shade of the walls. An elegant, ornate secretaire made of mahogany, which they’d also found in the attic’s treasure trove, had been cleaned and polished and now sat beneath one of the windows on the far side of the room.
Glancing at her list in the small bound notebook she’d begun to carry around with her, she noted that the new Axminster carpet in a darker hue of blue was due to be delivered tomorrow, along with the settee that had been re-covered in a cheery floral pattern that matched the blue of the drapes and the pale yellow of the walls. And then the room would be complete.
Taking one last look around the room, she sighed, pleased with their efforts in the parlor. Leaving the room, she noticed the quiet of the house. Michael was with the stonemason and several workers hired to repair the wall bordering the estate. Katie was upstairs, likely taking a nap by now, under the supervision of Doris. It would be a perfect time to experiment with the salve.
Emma retrieved the jar of salve and the small vials of sandalwood oil and orange essence she had tucked away in a box off the kitchen, along with a kerchief and other utensils she might need. She knew that Michael favored sandalwood andcitrus soap and shaving cream. If she could use enough to mask the pungent odor of the salve, maybe he wouldn’t mind using it.
Easily finding the room at the far end of the stables, she unlatched the wooden shutter and used a sturdy piece of wood to keep it open. She’d used a cask she’d found in the corner, rolling it over to the door to ensure it stayed open as well. Hopefully, between the open window and door, enough air would flow through the room, and the smell would not be as overwhelming.
Tying the kerchief over her nose and mouth, Emma divided the salve into three equal measures, which she spooned into three separate glass jars. In the first, she blended several drops of sandalwood oil and mixed it thoroughly; in the second, she used both the essence of orange and sandalwood, and in the third, she added only the orange essence. After each mixture, she wrote in her notebook how many drops she had used of each oil, along with approximately how much salve she had used.
As she finished blending the salve with the mixture of orange and sandalwood, she heard a softwoofand suddenly found herself sharing the room with Finn, who began to sniff the air below each jar.
“Woof!” he barked more loudly when he sniffed below the one that had the orange and sandalwood a second, then a third time.
She tugged down the kerchief that had covered her nose and mouth and sniffed the jar Finn had barked at, before sniffing the other two. “You approve of this one?” she asked, happy to have an opinion, even if it was from a dog. Finn wagged his tail and barked once more. She couldn’t detect any of the original salve’s smell, and while she had added orange essence, it seemed to enhance the sandalwood, not overpower it. “It does smell lovely,” she said to the dog, patting his head. “Maybe this will work, after all.”
Earlier, as she made her way to the stables made her way to the stables, she’d noticed Finn in the company of Michael and Wright. They had likely been laboring alongside the craftsmen from town, diligently working on the wall. She imagined how exhausting the task must have been, especially under the warm sun. Knowing the physical demands of their work, she felt a pang of concern for Michael. He would be tired and sore after such strenuous labor. Perhaps Hastings would be able to give him a soothing massage with the improved salve.
“Now, what brings you in here, Finn? I’m afraid I don’t have any treats in my pockets for you,” she said, stepping outside the door and looking around, before stepping back inside. No apples to be found either. “Did you decide the work on the wall wasn’t appealing enough to keep you amused, dear boy?”
“Woof,” he repeated, nudging the middle jar containing the salve that had been mixed with both essential oils.
“I take it that means you like it. I do, too. The question is whether Michael will approve,” she said, kissing Finn on the nose.
“Approve of what?” a familiar, deep voice said.
Emma looked up as Michael walked into the room. “It smells good in here,” he said, reaching down and scratching Finn behind the ears. “What is it?” He leaned down and sniffed the jars. “It smells like sandalwood.”
