Page 36 of Souvenir of Love

“You did the right thing.” His hazel eyes were warm. “There is nothing I would welcome more than to shed these ragged clothes and step into a warm bath. And while I do not think I need quite so much bandaging as you suggest, there are some rather nasty cuts on my hands and arms which need to be tended to.”

Jervis, who had elbowed his way through the clustered servants, held out a handful of gray fluff. “I’ve got a good bit of lint to pack them gashes with.”

“Thank you, Jervis, but I think I shall surrender myself to my wife’s more tender ministrations.”

“If you say so.” Jervis’s mouth quirked skeptically. “But I’ve some salve with bear grease. Works wonders, won’t hardly leave a scar…”

“Sell them to James Dinsmore, his need is the greater.”

Jervis made as if to spit, then caught himself, muttering, “Sooner use ’em on a pig.”

“He’s alive, then?” Alix asked. “You didn’t kill him?”

Rafe shook his head.

“That’s good,” she said. “Elizabeth will be relieved to hear it.”

He glanced around, looking for his sister. “Where is she?”

“I think perhaps she is embarrassed, after all the trouble she’s caused.”

“Perhaps.” He looked as if the last bit of his energy had suddenly drained away. “But I don’t want to talk of Elizabeth now. I’m sorely in need of that bath you mentioned.” His arm around her waist, he allowed her to guide him up the stairs. But he paused as they reached the first landing and bent his lips to her ear. “And after you’ve tended to my wounds, I can think of some other parts of my body that would appreciate your attention.”

James’s bloodsplattered the inlaid marble floor of the entrance hall like obscene raindrops. Lord Grenville and the surgeon held him upright. Every item of clothing, every visible part of him, appeared covered in blood. Anne screamed when she caught sight of him, a horrified wail that spiraled upward.

“Anne,” Grenville said sharply, “I know he looks alarming, but you must get hold of yourself. He needs your help.”

She nodded. Inhaled deeply. Gestured to a door to her left. “Take him into the dining room… Put him on the table.” She turned to a footman. “Tell the kitchen we need water, lots of hot water, bowls, and clean linen. We’ll need a sharp knife, too, to cut his clothes off. And tell his valet to have his bedchamber ready.”

The footman stood, waiting to see if her instructions were complete.

Anne scowled at him. “Are you waiting for my brother to bleed out on the floor? Off with you!”

She turned her attention back to James. “Is he conscious? Can he walk?”

“A little,” the surgeon said. “I’ve given him laudanum for the pain.”

Together they carried James into the dining room. A maid hurried to remove the silver candelabras from the long mahogany table as they lifted him onto it. More maids appeared carrying bowls of water and linen. Anne worked with the surgeon to remove James’s clothes, her face tightening as each sword cut was exposed.

“Lord Moreham,” she hissed at Lord Grenville, “tell me he is dead.”

“He is not.”

“Then tell me he suffers as badly as my poor brother.”

Grenville did not answer. He turned to a footman, motioning the man to remove the pile of rags from the table that had been James’s waistcoat and shirt.

“Is the earl wounded?” she demanded.

“He is, but not so severely as James. He has had his satisfaction, Anne. The thing is done.”

She glanced up at him, her hands deep in a bowl of red-stained water. “Oh no, my lord, the thing is not done.Ihave not hadmysatisfaction.”

Frowning, Grenville opened his mouth to respond, but Anne’s attention was turned elsewhere.

“You clumsy fool!” she snapped at the surgeon, who had pinched the flesh of James’s lacerated cheek together and was preparing to stitch it with heavy black thread. “You will scar him forever!”

The surgeon shot a look at Lord Grenville, an expression that clearly sought His Lordship’s assistance with this grief-maddened woman. Finding none, he turned back to Anne, his words respectful, but his tone condescending. “Your Ladyship, the skin of the face is most delicate; there is no help for it—your brother will be scarred.” He pinched James’s swollen flesh more tightly together and bent with his needle.