Page 8 of Lord of Fortune
Chapter 2
Amelia staredat the man while thoughts of murder barreled through her. He didn’t actually mean to accuse her grandfather of fraud, did he?
“I can see why that would be distressing for you, but it is, alas, a fake.” His tone was as condescending as his pitying gaze.
Yes, he actually meant to accuse Grandfather of fraud.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Prove it.”
His dark blue eyes glittered in the afternoon sun. “That’s precisely what I mean to do. After I tend to Egg.” He turned and strode toward the cave. The older man, Bowen’s assistant, had gone to where he’d dropped their belongings—two bags, a length of rope, and a lantern.
“Let’s see about your arm,” Bowen said.
Egg scoffed. “It’s nothing.” He picked up the bags with his uninjured left arm and attempted to lift the lantern with his right. Wincing, he let go, but Bowen caught it before it tumbled to the ground and started a fire in the dry grass. After putting the lantern out, he frowned at his assistant.
“It’s not nothing. Drop the bags and sit.”
Egg grimaced and directed a dark glower toward Bowen. “It’s not as bad as your hand!”
Amelia’s gaze dropped to Bowen’s hands, and for the first time, she noticed the back of one was sliced open and covered in dried blood.
“That is an utter fallacy,” Bowen said calmly. “I know you don’t want me to touch it. You’re such an infant.” He knelt beside the older man and rummaged through one of the bags. Withdrawing a flask, he handed the vessel to Egg and bade him to drink. Next, he took out a cloth. “Remove your coat.”
Amelia walked toward them. “You can’t mean to tend the wound here?”
Bowen arched a brow as he looked up at her. “Do you have accommodation nearby?”
“In Burrington, yes. Haven’t you?”
“We do not.”
“And you say I didn’t plan very well,” she muttered.
“Ididn’t say that,” Bowen protested. “Egg did.”
She lifted her gaze heavenward before kneeling next to him and giving his arm a light shove. “Let me.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he scooted to the side.
“What are you doing?” Egg asked, his voice heavily laced with doubt.
It was hard to see the depth of the wound with his clothing in the way, but the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. “Trying to determine if you require sutures.”
“You’re skilled with that?”
“I’ve stitched a few people here and there.” Amelia’s grandmother had taught her old remedies, and between them, they’d cared for their retainers as well as a few neighbors. She poked at the wound, drawing a sharp hiss from Egg.
“Watch it,” he scolded.
She glanced over at Bowen. “You’re right. He is an infant.” She stood abruptly. “It would be best to clean and dress the wound properly. Burrington isn’t far on horseback. I saw your mounts tied near the road.” She inclined her head toward where the animals were in plain sight. Her own horse was on the opposite side in a copse, hidden.
“You’re offering help?” Bowen asked, his head cast at a skeptical angle. “After you threatened to shoot us?”
“She did more than that,” Egg said. “She nearly nicked my ear off.”
Amelia winced. “As you said,nearly. If I’d wanted to, I would have.” She was wholly exaggerating. She’d never meant to shoot at them at all. She’d brought the pistols for defense—she was a fair shot—never imagining she’d encounter someone trying to steal her grandfather’s treasure. Panicking, she’d acted out of desperation when she’d pulled a neckerchief over her face and threatened them. Looking back, she felt a burst of pride at her daring, along with a blaze of fear over what she might have done if her aim had been a bit more true. Couple that with the horrifying intentions of the man who’d held a knife to her throat, and she was surprised she wasn’t shaking in distress.
Unsettled, she tried to find the bravado she’d shown earlier. “Are you coming or not?” She pivoted toward the road.
