Page 90 of Too Wanton to Wed
“Master, come quickly. You are needed.”
Warily, he forced himself to sit up. Roper, who never lost his calm, sounded on the verge of panic. “What is it?”
“It’s Miss Lillian,” came the urgent reply. “We must go.Right now.”
Aggrieved, he held his throbbing head with one hand and forced his feet into slippers with the other. Whatever was amiss, he was certain it did not need to be attended to until at least noon. He stumbled across the room and pawed at the lock until it inadvertently clicked free. Clutching the wall at a sudden attack of nausea-spiked vertigo, he swung open the door.
“What has she done this time?” he demanded. “Tell her to go back to sleep. There’s no class today.”
Belatedly, he realized a diminutive servant boy not much older than Lily herself also stood next to Roper, with Mrs. Tumsen and half the staff hovering right behind.
“What’s going on?” He struggled to clear his thick head. “Why are you all here? Is it my birthday?”
“It’s your daughter,” the boy piped up. “She’s all burnt up at the inn with your mistress.”
The haze evaporated from Alistair’s mind, but the words still did not make sense. “What?”
“Master,” Roper murmured. “You remember yesterday, when you said Miss Smythe had left you?”
He shot a quick glance over his manservant’s shoulder at the gaggle of onlooking staff and decided there wasn’t much point in dissembling. “Yes, I seem to recall something of that nature.”
“Miss Lillian took off after her,” Mrs. Tumsen put in, her voice and hands shaking. “They spent the night at the Shrewsbury Inn, and this morning... well, this morning there was sun. The inn hasn’t got curtains and bed testers like we do. And Miss Lillian... ” She swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”
Struck with bone-jarring terror, Alistair bolted from his room without bothering to fetch his coat and hat or muck with sensible shoes.
“Where are my horses?” he barked, cursing himself for ever letting go his livery. So what if he hadn’t taken a ride in nine years? If he would have been smart enough to have kept stableboys on hand just in case, he wouldn’t be about to waste a good hour chasing his half-wild horses into the barn to be readied. “Has anybody checked the carriage to make sure it’s still viable? How are the wheels? If I have to walk into town and carry her back in my bare hands... Roper, summon a physician. Have him meet us at the inn. Cook, see what you can do for cold compresses. Order every ounce of ice in a hundred yard radius. Mrs. Tumsen, you know where the liniments are. I want to see every single footman carrying buckets of water to Lily’s chamber. It’s too dangerous to travel with her while the sun still shines, but as soon as nightfall hits, I’m bringing her back home. Maids, prepare everything you can think of. I’m counting on everyone to do their part to—”
“Master.” Roper stepped forward. “It’s done. The horses have been readied and the carriage awaits you. There’s a full bottle of ointment and clean linen soaking in ice water between the seats. Everyone you don’t see here before you is carrying water and ice to Miss Lillian’s chamber. Physicians have been notified and Mrs. Tumsen has placed every drop of liniment within arm’s reach of Miss Lillian’s bed.”
Alistair could have hugged him. “Then what are we waiting for? Roper, come with me. The rest of you—” He took in their worried, sympathetic faces. “Thank you all.”
He preceded Roper down the corridor and out the door, then raced to the reins like a man possessed. They flew down the path at a tear, dirt and dust billowing up behind them.
When they arrived at the inn, a crowd had already begun to form. Some of the womenfolk hovered by with expressions of alarm and empathy. A few of the menfolk, led by the smithy, were less congenial. They shouted Bible verses and “Let the devil spawn burn!” as he shoved past them to enter the inn.
The proprietress stood halfway up a curved staircase, gesticulating wildly. “They’re upstairs. Come quickly!”
With Roper on his heels and his heart in his throat, Alistair raced up after her.
The room was pitch black. Someone had seen to that much, at least. After the blinding light of the midmorning sun, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Weak flame flickered in a small sconce. Slowly, the shadows began to make sense. As soon as he could make out the bed, he hurried over and fell to his knees at his daughter’s side.
Hands wringing, Violet leapt to her feet to allow him room. He ignored her. How she could have let this happen...
“Papa’s here, sweetling,” he murmured, suffering at the sight of so many burns covering his daughter’s sweet face. “I’ve got some ointment and a cold wrap here for you, and then I’m going to bring you home.”
“Alistair,” Violet burst out. “I am so, so sorry. I never meant—”
“Be silent.” If she forced him to speak to her, he would only wound them both.
An icy fury emanated from his bones. Had he not told her time and again the horror that would occur if Lily went into the sun? His innocent daughter was in a horrible state, andshehad let it happen. These burns were far worse than those Lily had suffered before, and she still bore the scars from last time.
Alistair’s throat closed. Peoplediedfrom burns like these. If he lost his daughter because Violet hadn’t protected her, he would never,never,forgive her.
He thrust an open hand toward Roper, who immediately provided him with shears. Slowly, gently, Alistair trimmed away the sleeves where they might rub against Lily’s raw arms, cut away the bottom third of her skirt where it could chafe her thin, blistered legs. With every snip of the shears, he sliced away another part of his soul.
Lily was hurt. Lily was in pain.
Lily might die.
