Page 6 of If You Were the Only Girl in the World
“Oh.” That mystified her. “But weren’t you to marry someone that we spoke of that night?”
“I was.” He lifted his brows and shook his head. “I didn’t.”
“I see,” she said, but shook her head. “Well, in any case, I should go.”
“No.” He looked up and down the street. No one was about. But he was not so interested in what this appeared to be as he was in the fact that he wanted to talk to her again. More. As he had wanted to talk to her again ever since that night. He was more interested in finishing this evening on the note of redemption. And he disliked arguing.
Especially when he was right.
So he stepped toward her and swept her up into his arms.
The surprise of it had her grabbing him around the neck. “My lord!”
“Nate.” He settled her in his embrace, one hand to her waist, and a secure hold under her knees. She was lighter than he expected. Petite, lithe, she felt right in his arms and it was easy for him to walk home with her. “We’re going to see to your ankle. Sprained or broken. Get Fitz to get us some ice.”
She giggled.
“That’s good. I’d like to hear more of that.”
“Who’s Fitz?”
“The family butler.”
“Ah.” She mashed those pretty lips together. “Of course.”
“He’ll get us two brandies.”
“Because brandy heals ankles?”
“The cure for any distress.”
“I see.”
He nodded. “As I recall you like your liquor.”
She wrinkled her brows. “Not what I wish to be remembered for.”
“Right. But after that drink or during, we’ll call a doctor.”If we can find one.
“We don’t need one.”
He took the steps up. “If it’s broken.”
“And even if it is.”
“Pull the knocker,” he told her and she did. “Again.”
Fitz, who’d been hired by his Grandmother Olivia last year after their previous butler had been called up, flung open the broad front door. He was still dressed in his everyday black wool suit, with his large black patch securely in place over his left eye and cheek. He awaited Nate’s return. Perhaps Dylan’s as well. With his one good green eye, he surveyed the armful Nate carried and stepped backward. “Colonel!”
“Fitz, this is Miss Katrina Schubert.” The lady and the butler nodded solemnly to each other. “She’s with us for the evening. She was attacked in the street by ruffians and has hurt her ankle.” He kept walking toward the grand staircase as he told the man the story.
“Ice, sir? Cotton for a bandage?”
“Right you are, Fitz. And brandy. Do please go look for Miss Schubert’s purse on the street. Might you know if any of Mrs. Monroe’s cake is left in the pantry?”
“Yes, sir. Tea, too, sir?”
“Tea?” Nate paused on the landing and looked down into the brilliant hazel eyes of the very amused Miss Katrina Schubert. But she shook her head and Nate kept going up the next flight. “No, thank you, Fitz.”
