Page 40 of The Nabob's Designing Daughter
“Errol,” she said before she could lose her nerve. “Let’s go inside where it’s warmer.”
He raised his head with a stunned look, rolled off her, and helped her to her feet. “I beg your pardon, Ann.” His expression altered, falling back into polite neutrality. “You must think me a beast.”
She shook some of the dirt from her cloak. “Why would I? I kissed you back.”
“Come,” he said. He took her arm and hurried her toward the cottage. “We’ll eat some of those meat pies. But why are you really here? Does the duchess need me?”
“No, not yet. I wanted to talk, to explain.” She stopped him before the door and took in a shaky breath. “I paid your university fees because I wanted to help you, and I had the means to do so, and you… you deserved the help, in spite of the fact that you’re… you were such anarse.” Now that the words were coming, she had to get them all out, and let him reject her if he would. She could turn and go back down the road to the castle. “I meant to tell you myself. I’ve been trying. And I had no idea you’d found a position in London. And I came today to tell you, you must accept it. You must go. You must follow your dream.”
The look he turned on her was thunderous. His damnable pride again. He’d fuss and insist on paying her back, but leave he would, that was certain. The kisses had meant nothing compared to his ambition.
Never mind. She swallowed sudden moisture and went on. “I never meant to hurt you. I lo…”
“Dr. Robillard.” A horseman was flying up the lane, too fast. It was Will, one of the grooms from Kinmarty. He jumped from the saddle. “Ye’re needed at t’castle, Dr. Robillard.”
A MOST DIFFICULT PATIENT
“Is the duchess—”
He shook his head and fumbled his cap, his face pinched and white. “Been an accident. With a gun.”
“What was the injury?” Errol asked.
“A chest wound. A gun exploded. Some shrapnel, some powder burns.”
“Right,” he said. “I have some medical supplies at the castle. I’ll have what I need there to get started. My horse is in back. I’ll take yours. Fetch a gig for Miss Strachney from the inn and bring her and my medical bag.”
Will crouched to give him a leg up.
She turned to go back inside, but a sudden premonition had her call over her shoulder. “Who was injured?”
Will pressedhis lips together and shot Ann a pitying look. She came and stood next to the groom, her face going paler.
“Out with it,” Errol said, more harshly than he meant to.
“’Twas Mr. Strachney, sir.”
“Ann,” he said. “You’re coming with me. Will, toss her up here. Gather my medical kit and bring it along as soon as you’re able.”
He’d never had the chance to be much of a horseman, and he prayed he could keep his seat and not lose Ann, seated palfrey style in front of him. Clutching her to him, he spurred the poor beast, fighting the trembling in his heart. Benedict Strachney was a brute of a father set on ruining his daughter’s life, and the lives of the Darleton tenants if he was able. Nevertheless, he’d taken an oath and he’d do all that he could to save the reprobate.
Damn, damn, damn.
“’Twas his blasted new gun, I’ll warrant,” she said. “He’d been anxious to show it off to the lords coming here, but the action was off, and he’d had one of his men fiddling with it.”
He tightened his hold. “We’ll patch him up, Ann.” Her skirts billowed in the wind, and her soft feminine scent filled him with confidence. She belonged in his arms.
She looked back at him, and her hood slipped, and he saw the worry there. Mayhap she loved the crusty old man.
“I ought to have asked how bad it is,” she said“We had a local man last year shot accidentally by the duke’s gamekeeper. I picked out buckshot for hours, and the poor man’s face will be forever scarred.”
“Youpicked it out? Not one of the men? The apothecary, or barber, or someone?”
“The apothecary is too fond of his whisky to be always steady of hand, and the barber is far too ham-handed for a bullet extraction. They called me, and I helped them.”
“Did your father know what you were about?”
“He’d gone up to Edinburgh on business.”
