Page 31 of Falling for a Forsaken Marquess
“At least it is not bleeding, miss,” Fanny replied, offering some comfort. “Maybe it is only a hard bump and nothing more.”
“Perhaps,” Agnes said, her voice doubtful.
Silence fell over them again. William had expected Agnes to continue speaking out of anxiety for the boy, but she was quiet. This was a first for him since meeting her several days ago, revealing that she was perhaps not as talkative and loud as he had initially believed.
Maybe the woman had been nervous about meeting him and had spoken too much and too loudly to conceal her nerves, or perhaps talkativeness was simply part of her character. A bit of chatter would have been welcomed right now to lighten the tense silence gripping them all.
Fortunately, the physician’s surgery was now in sight, and it was just a matter of getting past a rider who had stopped to chat to someone on the street. Rogers called out to the man to move aside, and it looked as though the gentleman was about to snap at the driver, but one look from William was enough to shut him up and get him moving. Finally, the carriage stopped, and Rogers brought the step around to them.
“Hand the boy to me, My Lord,” the driver said. “I’ll take him inside.”
It made sense to give the child to Rogers, but William found himself shaking his head and insisting that he would carry the boy. Perhaps it was the age-old need for a man to prove his strength in the company of ladies, although William was not so quick to adopt that thinking.
He had no need to impress Agnes or her maid, and yet he put effort into taking the child from her and nimbly climbing down the carriage as though he were Heracles. It was tricky getting down a carriage while carrying someone, but William managed it without a fault to be seen and couldn’t help feeling a little pride at the feat.
“I will go ahead,” he told Agnes.
“I’ll follow you, My Lord,” she replied, climbing down the carriage.
William didn’t wait for her to catch up to him but strode into the physician’s office, startling the older man.
“Lord Hampton!” Dr Ralfe exclaimed. “What the devil do you have there?”
“This child was nearly run over by a phaeton and has suffered head injuries from a hard fall,” William told him. “I need you to examine the boy as he is still unconscious.”
The man nodded. “Come, bring him into the other room.”
Agnes entered just then, her eyes falling on the physician. “Good morning, sir. I hope you can assist us with this little boy.”
The physician frowned, looking between her and William. “Did one of you run him over?”
“Heavens, no!” said Agnes. “It was another rude and unfeeling gentleman, if that is what I can call him. He seemed more like an animal.”
The physician raised his eyebrows. “I see. Well, bring him in so I can examine him.”
William followed and placed the boy on the bed, surprisingly excited when he saw the child’s hand move.
“Did you see that?” he asked Agnes. “His hand moved.”
“It did?” Agnes asked, approaching the bed and peering into the child’s face. “Dear, can you hear us?”
“Let me see how he fares,” Dr Ralfe said. “He might be waking up.”
William and Agnes stepped aside and allowed the physician to do whatever was necessary, both anxious to hear of the boy’s diagnosed condition. The man lifted the boy’s head and felt the bump, his lined face one of intense concentration.
“That is rather a large bump,” the physician commented. “He must have fallen hard. How long ago did this happen?”
“About forty minutes ago,” William answered. “We would have brought him earlier, but the traffic delayed us.”
“How bad is the injury, Dr Ralfe?” Agnes asked.
“There is a fair amount of swelling, which will cause some headaches for a few days or even weeks,” the man explained. “This child is going to need much rest and monitoring to see if the injury affects his brain.”
Agnes’ eyes opened wide with horror. “Affect the brain? Oh, my heavens! But he is so young to have such a thing happen to him.”
Agnes did not know who this child was, yet she was concerned about him as though he were dear to her. William had never encountered this much compassion and tenderness in anyone before, not even his mother, who regularly gave money to the poor.
He doubted the duchess would ever hold a filthy child in her arms or touch his dirty face and hair for fear of contracting a disease. William’s eyes dropped to Agnes’ white dress, noting several soiled areas and a tear along the hem.
