Page 134 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
“Perfectly so, thank you, Tilly,” Etty said, her voice wavering.
“Shall I send for Miss Gadd to tend to you?”
Etty shook her head. “No, Tilly, dear—there’s no need to disturb Frances. I can see to myself.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey and exited the chamber.
“Lord Radham, shall I tell Lady Arabella that you’ll be down presently?” the footman asked.
Andrew took Etty’s arm and helped her into a chair beside the fireplace. “No,” he said. “I must tend to Miss Howard.”
The footman arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“Andrew…” Etty began, then she colored and glanced toward the footman. “I mean, Lord Radham—there’s no need for you to stay. It’s a few cuts, nothing out of the ordinary.”
Nothing out of the ordinary!The woman he loved had injured herself while running from his anger and the judgment of the world—and she called thatnothing?
He caressed her hand. “Let me help you, my love,” he said. “For your sake—and mine.”
She gave him a quick, tight smile, but made no protest as he drew a footstool before her, then lifted her injured foot onto it.
“I see I have no voice on the matter,” Etty said.
Her words pricked his conscience—the words of a woman acknowledging her position in a world of men where her fate was dictated by others.
“Tell me to go, Etty, and I will,” he said. “Nothing matters more to me than your happiness.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment he thought she would shoo him out. Then she relaxed into the chair and nodded.
“So be it.”
Not the most encouraging of invitations, but he treasured it nonetheless.
“You may go,” he said to the footman. “We’ll call if you’re needed again.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Thank you, Simon,” Etty said. “You’ve been very kind.”
The footman smiled and responded with a nod. Clearly, unlike many in Society, the residents and guests of Longford Hall thanked their staff on a regular basis and such civility came as no surprise.
As soon as Simon left, Andrew placed the tray at Etty’s feet and kneeled beside it. She made no protest as he grasped the hem of her skirts and lifted it to reveal her legs. The stockings were torn and smeared with dirt and blood.
She caught her breath and stiffened as he grasped one stocking and slowly peeled it away to reveal her skin, and he glanced up to see her watching him, her eyes the color of sapphires. She gripped the chair, curling her fingers around the arms, but made no protest while he removed the stocking. Then he repeated the gesture with the other stocking, pausing where the silk was stained with already-drying blood, for fear of hurting her, and lifted his gaze to her, silently begging approval.
Her mouth curved into a smile and she nodded. His heart soared at the expression of trust in her eyes, and he removed the second stocking. A fresh pulse of blood glistened on herskin, but, brave soul that she was, she did not cry out. Then he dropped the stockings onto the floor.
“Poor Frances,” she said with a sigh.
“Frannie?” he asked. “Is she hurt also?”
She nodded toward the stockings. “She’ll think I’ve caused more work for her. And I dread to imagine the mending my gown will need. I tore it last week, and she mended it so beautifully.”
“Frannie Gadd’s always been a good girl,” Andrew said. “Has Lady Arabella taken her in?”
She shook her head. “She’s my lady’s maid, and she’s already very accomplished.”
“Your lady’s maid? Isn’t she a little young for the position?”
