Page 75 of Lady Graceless
Though he would like to say yes, he knew very well that he could not. “No,” he said, pushing the word out of his lungs.
“Right,” the duke said. “I’ll arrange things. Gracie, stay here and keep him awake. On no account allow him to close his eyes.”
“Yes, Papa,” she said softly.
Lady Grace crawled back to his location in the bushes. She stared down at him with wide eyes. Those very pretty olive-colored eyes. He did not suppose he had ever been this close to her before.
“Not paralyzed,” he said with effort.
She did not look at all convinced. “If you were, then I suppose any self-respecting lady would take it on very bravely. You are not to think she would not.”
What did she mean? Was she saying she’d wed him even if he was to be in a chair all his life?
It was very cheering if that was what she meant. Also, her perfume was intoxicating.
“It would be challenging, of course,” Lady Grace said. “But a lady should not be put off by a challenge. I imagine she would be ready to meet it head on.” She sighed long and deep. “This was all my fault. If only I did not get dizzy.”
Miles would like to propose to her then and there. He could not though. He could hardly get out the simplest words and he found he must put all his attention into getting air into and out of his lungs.
“Is he still awake?”
The duke had returned. How the gentleman was to get him out of his current predicament he had not the first idea.
“Yes, Papa, though I believe he is in very terrible pain.” In a lower voice she said, “He might be paralyzed.”
“Do not jump to the worst just yet. Take the flask, throw some brandy into him. I’ve commandeered Lady Montague’s coachmen and grooms. They’re hammering together a litter of sorts and they’ll bring round a cart. We’ll take him home—I’ve already sent for my physician.”
He saw Lady Grace nod. So that was the plan—somehow, two burly coachmen were to get him out of the bushes and into a cart. He did not, of course, know how painful an operation that would be. He was not an idiot though. It was going to hurt.
Lady Grace crawled back to his side. She held the flask and he drank down as much brandy as he could. The warm liquid did deliver its own particular comfort, though he imagined that would fly out the window once he was moved.
*
GRACE HARDLY KNEWhow she’d created such a mess. And dragged Lord Dashlend into it too. He would suffer for her actions more than she ever would. She’d landed on top of him; he’d broken her fall.
Now, he seemed to be working hard even to take a breath. There was every chance he’d never walk again. She’d ruined his life! She’d ruined Lady Lavender’s life too.
She’d tried to be encouraging, to hint that Lady Lavender would not turn from him when she discovered that her dashing gentleman was to be bound to a chair. She was not certain if it were true, though.
Had it been herself, she would have remained resolute in the face of such uncertainty. She would have bravely faced the prospect of failing to have children, of being wed to a man who might at any moment succumb to winter fever or a wasting disease. There were a whole host of things that a person immobilized in a chair might perish from, as she knew very well from Mrs. Lendower. That lady had been struck down three winters in a row, until she finally succumbed. She’d been a lovely lady, but there was something about being immobile that wore a person down.
If she were Lady Lavender, she would value whatever time together they had.
Would the actual Lady Lavender do the same?
All the bitterness that had been in her heart regarding Lady Lavender and Lord Dashlend melted away and disappeared, as if it had never been there at all.
Grace heard a commotion coming. She peered over the rose bushes to see two very large men carrying boards that had been hastily nailed together to form a litter. Behind them followed a collection of footmen and grooms.
She poured the last of the brandy down Lord Dashlend’s throat. He drank it eagerly, as if he knew being moved would bring its own sort of torture.
“This is Wellburn, Lady Montague’s stablemaster,” the duke said. “He’s been to war and knows how these things are done. We will follow his lead. Wellburn? Send everybody going in the right direction.”
Grace stood and got herself out of the way, as Wellburn did very confidently begin getting everybody going. The first part of the operation entailed cutting down the rose bushes surrounding Lord Dashlend. One of the footmen piped up that Lady Montague was certain to have a fit over it, but Wellburn said, “I think if you were to ask the lady which to save, her roses or one of her guests, she would say goodbye to her roses.”
Once the bushes were cut away, six men brought the litter forward. Wellburn directed three on one side to slowly lift Lord Dashlend to his side, all moving as one. Then the litter was slid underneath him and he was laid gently down.
The men carefully lifted the litter and carried it to the waiting cart. The cart had been lined with hay to soften the jostling that would occur during the journey.
