Page 91 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
As she spoke, the corridor door to the other chamber opened and Shaldon entered, supported by Kincaid and Bakeley, the surgeon who’d tended her wounds trailing behind, and Lloyd following with the surgeon’s bag.
Shaldon glanced her way and their gazes locked.
His lips turned up in a boyish grin, sending her heart pounding harder.Heat tingled through her, making her conscious of her dishabille, and the long plait of hair that hung over her shoulder.
She stepped back and closed the door.There was no lock, no key.Apparently, the Earls of Shaldon had full access to their lady wives.
But she was not Lady Shaldon, and she must leave this bedchamber directly.
There was no time for the complicated business of stays, gown and coiffure.“Find me a dressing gown, at once, Sirena.Perry, gather my things.I am not staying here.”
“Lloyd, find me a banyan.”
“Let Russell tend you first, Father,” Bakeley said.
He lurched toward the wardrobe, but Kincaid interceded, finding the blasted dressing gown and helping him into it.
“I must talk to Jane.”
“Getting ready to bolt again, is she?”Kincaid muttered.
“Father—”
“Bakeley, come with me and chase your wife and your sister out.Lloyd, go and tell Cook to send a tray up to Lady Jane’s bedchamber.Take Russell with you and feed him.”
“But, Father—”
“It’s all right, Bakeley,” Kincaid said.“Russell treated his lordship’s stab wound on the field, and the cuts are small enough to keep for now.”
Bakeley took his arm, but he shook it off and straightened, ignoring a flare of pain.He would walk through that damn door on his own.
He pushed it open.Perry looked up from the dressing table and grinned.Sirena craned her head from the clothes press, where she was poking around.
Lady Jane clutched a bed hanging and pulled it in front of her.“Shaldon,” she squeaked.“What—oh, blast it, why am I surprised?You need to leave this moment, sir.”
Bakeley went to his lady, who had finally found what she was looking for, a filmy feminine robe.He yanked the garment from his wife and tossed it.Shaldon caught it, pain shooting through his shoulder.
“You fool man.”Lady Jane must have seen him wince.“Let the surgeon see to those wounds.”
“Everyone out,” he said.“Except you, Jane.I must beg an audience.”He moved nearer and draped the dressing gown over her shoulders.Behind them, one of the girls giggled and the door latch clicked.
She leaned her forehead against the bedpost.“They are as insufferable as you, Shaldon.”
He’d been counting on that.
“I’m not sleeping in your wife’s bedchamber.”
When she stood tall, the loose braid settled along the length of her proud back.“Can you manage getting your arm into this sleeve?”he asked.
He paused, catching a breath.The bandage showed white under the thin lawn and lace of her gown.One more thing to settle with the Duque de San Sebastian.
“I was hoping you would be willing to sleep inmybedchamber.And I’m so sorry the Duque struck you, the cur.”
She extended her arm and allowed his help, accepting the braid as he passed it over her shoulder.He’d wedged his amorous hopes between helpfulness and apologies, and she hadn’t noticed.
When she turned to him, her eyes were clouded with anguish.
Dammit, why had he mentioned the cursed Duque at all?
