Page 48 of A Remarkable Rogue

“Put the hot water and towels over there.” She pointed at the end of the table as she organized the two servants. “Mrs. Hodges, would you start up a fire? And, Danby, please bring the oil lamp from the entry hall. We’ll need as much light as we can get.”

“What are you doing?” Nate frowned at her as Mr. Elliott took the length of rope from Danby and set about tightly tying the soldier’s hands together.

“You’re hurt,” she explained. Now that the soldier couldn’t attack, she slowly removed the pistol from Nate’s hand and very carefully laid it on the sideboard. Then she took his shoulders and steered him gently down into the chair at the head of the table. “Your wounds need to be dressed.”

“And most likely sewed up,” Mr. Elliott put in after one last hard tug on the rope to make certain Baker couldn’t escape. “I’ll do it.”

Nate raised a hand to stop him from reaching for the sewing kit. “Lady Rowland will do it.” He pinned Sydney beneath his grim gaze. “Won’t you, Baroness?”

That was a challenge if ever she’d heard one. But she certainly wasn’t going to back down, even if she had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out her insistence to let Mr. Elliott do it. She’d never bandaged a wound in her life, never sewn up anything more than a loose hem at a ball. And now…skin. Her head swam with sudden dizziness, yet she couldn’t refuse. The last thing she’d do was show any cowardice in front of him.

Even though she was certain she’d blanched white, she rasped out, “I will.”

Mr. Elliott yanked Baker to his feet. “We’ll be leaving, then.” With a nod at Sydney and a hard look leveled at Nate, he pushed the soldier toward the door. “Send word through St James when you can. He’ll know where to find me.”

Nate nodded, and Mr. Elliott left the house, harshly shoving the soldier along with him.

Danby carried in the lamp and set it where Sydney directed at the end of the table. He turned up the wick until it blazed, and she quietly thanked him. Along with the bright fire, the lamp would cast enough light for her to clearly see Nate’s wounds even with the shutters closed.

“Danby,” Sydney called out as the butler and housekeeper began to slip from the room.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Double-check all the locks and shutters around the house.” She solemnly met his concerned eyes. “Close the house to visitors.No oneis allowed inside or out unless I give permission, including our own staff, and post pairs of footmen and the grooms outside the basement doors and those leading to the terrace to make certain no one slips in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned toward the housekeeper. “Mrs. Hodges, ask Cook to make up a breakfast tray for Captain Reed.” Her eyes glanced down at Nate’s bloody arm.God’s mercy. She darted her gaze back to the two servants before she sickened herself from the sight of the wound and the mounting unease churning in her stomach at the thought of sewing it closed. “Bring a large pot of tea, please. Very hot and lots of it. And hurry with it.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Mrs. Hodges answered.

Danby closed the door after them, leaving her alone with Nate.

She fought to keep from wringing her hands. Now that orders were given and the household set into action, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She faced Nate with a deep breath.

He dryly arched a brow. “Tea solves everything, does it?”

“Of course.” She forced a haughty sniff despite her nervousness and pulled a chair up next to his, close enough to reach his arm. “WeareEnglish.”

He laughed and accidentally jostled his arm. With a sharp gasp, he panted down the pain through clenched teeth.

“Here.” She reached for his jacket lapels. “Let’s take this off first.”

He carefully shrugged his shoulders to help her remove the jacket.

Sydney froze at the sight of the bloodied shirtsleeve. A slash of a knife had ripped through the lawn. Beneath it, a long gash sliced down his forearm and bled bright red.

Oh, she could never do this! Already her hands shook, and she’d yet to touch him.

“Perhaps,” she said as she started to rise, “we should call a surgeon.”

With his good hand, he reached for her arm to stop her. “I trust you, Baroness. Besides, something tells me you’ll be gentler.”

“Don’t count on it,” she muttered as she sank back onto the chair.

His lips twitched. He nodded toward the sewing kit. “Let’s get started then.”

She opened the kit and stared inside. She was at a complete loss for what to do next. “I don’t know…”