Page 123 of Three Weeks with a Princess
Then she proceeded to do exactly that.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“There, you’re all set for bed,” Chloe said as she finished braiding Lia’s hair. “I do wish you’d agreed to see the doctor, though.”
Lia turned at her dressing table to smile at her worried-looking aunt. “My headache is gone and I feel fine. Besides, I’ve been told on a number of occasions that my head is quite hard.”
“And who would be so rude as to say that?”
“Jack for one, along with my grandmother, my mother—”
Chloe chuckled. “Very well, I see your point. But it wouldn’t hurt to see the doctor, just to be sure.”
Having a family who would do anything to protect her was a blessing Lia never thought she’d have. How ironic that she’d almost had to die before she’d recognized that she was loved simply for herself, without judgment or expectation of anything but love in return.
“I’m truly fine, thanks to all of you,” she said.
Chloe glanced at the clock on the bedroom mantelpiece. “Goodness, it’s almost ten o’clock. Why don’t you climb into bed and I’ll bring you a cup of tea? Unless you’d rather go right to sleep.”
“I’d rather wait for Jack, if you don’t mind. I won’t be able to rest until I know everything that happened tonight.”
“It might be some time before he and Dominic return from Bow Street. There was much to explain to the magistrate, I’m sure.”
“I know. I’ll wait.”
After her embarrassing fainting episode, Lia had regained her senses as Jack carried her from the brothel to Gillian’s carriage. Because Mrs. Grace’s nefarious establishment was only a few blocks from Covent Garden, the Runners were already arriving from Bow Street by the time Jack loaded her into the coach. She’d barely had a chance to exchange a word with him before the lawmen pulled him away to deal with the aftermath of their rescue. Gillian had then climbed in and taken both Lia and Amy back to Upper Wimpole Street.
Lia stood and hurried to the big four-poster. Shivering a bit, she quickly slid under the heavy, comforting bed linens and propped herself against the headboard. “How is Amy?”
“She’s sleeping, thank goodness.” Chloe fetched a soft knitted shawl from the wardrobe and draped it around Lia’s shoulders. “She did agree to see the doctor, poor thing, but she looked to be in much worse shape than you.”
Lia grimaced. “It was awful what they did to her.”
“The doctor gave her a sleeping draught and told her that she needs to spend the next few days in bed, but he expects her to make a full recovery.”
“Thank goodness.” Lia caressed the smooth bedsheet with the flat of her hand. Never again would she take for granted how wonderful it felt to be safely tucked up in her own lovely, clean bed. “But I don’t know if anyone can completely recover from an ordeal like that.”
Her aunt wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Lia relaxed into the warmth of her embrace, breathing in the delicate citrus scent of Chloe’s perfume. “I know, darling. But Amy is strong, and so are you. You both kept your wits about you and fought to stay alive until help could come. I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am, and how relieved.”
When they’d arrived home, Chloe had immediately sent for the doctor for Amy, dosed them both with large brandies, and then seen them deposited in hot baths. Chloe had washed Lia’s hair, allowing her to haltingly relay the evening’s traumatic events without interruption, listening with calm attention. It had been infinitely soothing for Lia’s rattled nerves.
“Thank you,” Lia said. “I’m rather proud of us, too, although I know that sounds horribly conceited.”
Her aunt laughed. “You have every reason to crow. From what Gillian tells me, you were a true heroine.”
“If anyone would know, it would be Gillian.” Lia grinned. “She’s a warrior princess.”
“Indeed she is. Much to her husband’s consternation.”
“I, for one, am exceedingly grateful she is the way she is.”
According to Amy, Gillian, along with Jack and one of her grooms, had taken care of Mrs. Grace and her thugs in short order. To Gillian, it was apparently all in a day’s work, but she’d rendered Amy into an almost babbling state of admiration. After all, it wasn’t every day one was rescued by a duchess who could disarm a ruthless thug twice her size.
“Did Gillian go home?” Lia asked.
“Yes. She said she needed to explain things to Charles before he heard anynonsensical gossip, as she called it, about tonight’s events.”
“I wish I could have heard that conversation.”
