Page 26 of When You Rescued Me

“Her carriage was waylaid by highwaymen,” Samuel said.

The young lady whipped her head around as though noticing him for the first time, but it was the auburn-haired sister who spoke.

“And you are?” Her white-knuckled grip on the bedpost was the only indication of her distress.

“Samuel Ross,” he said. “I am one of Fielding’s men.” It was stretching the truth a little, but after all that had occurred today, he hoped Sir John would claim him.

“A runner!” the fair-haired one said. “How did you come to be with Hannah?”

“Two of my colleagues got word that a notorious gang of highwaymen was planning to hold up a carriage on Primrose Hill today. We set out to prevent it from happening but arrived immediately after your sister’s vehicle was stopped.”

“I have Mother’s b-brooch,” Miss Dennington said, and Samuel realized she was still clutching it. “Mr. R-Ross got it back for me.”

Miss Dennington’s sisters exchanged a concerned look, and Samuel took the opportunity to deflect attention from him back to where it belonged. “Miss Dennington has lost a considerable amount of blood and is suffering from shock,” he said. “Both things can cause confusion. She has a cut about three inches in length that runs beneath the left side of her jaw that should be attended to without delay.” He paused. “It likely will need to be stitched, but I would recommend cleaning it with alcohol straightway. Doing so will be excruciatingly painful, but it will lessen the likelihood of infection considerably.”

“How do you know so much about such things?” The auburn-­haired sister was already moving a bowl of water and a small towel from the top of a chest of drawers to the bed. The other one had removed Miss Dennington’s bloodstained gloves and was carefully easing her arms through the sleeves of her buttonless spencer.

“I served in the Royal Navy for several years, and our ship’s surgeon was remarkably skilled at his work.”

“Our butler has sent for a physician, but I agree that we should not wait upon his arrival to get started,” the auburn-haired sister said. “And since you and Hannah have so clearly dispensed with all social proprieties, I will introduce myself. I am Elinor Dennington, and this is Sophia. Our father is unable to come to Hannah’s bedchamber but will want to speak with you before you leave.”

“Very well.” Samuel had expected no less, but he would much rather have slipped out unnoticed.

“Is this your cravat?” Miss Sophia had begun gingerly removing the bloodstained cloth.

“It is.” Given his state of undress, it had been an easy guess.

“We shall have it laundered and returned to you,” she said. And then, as if the thought reminded her of who was missing, she gasped. “Where is Fanny? Did she not go with Hannah to the wharf?”

Is that where Miss Dennington had been going? He’d not thought to ask. Primrose Hill was a long way from any of the quays along the Thames.

“To the best of my knowledge, Miss Dennington’s maid is safe. Given your sister’s serious injury, it seemed expedient to return her to her home as quickly as possible. We did not wait for her maid to return to the carriage. She will be brought here by my colleagues.”

Miss Sophia’s eyebrows rose. “There was no one else with you in the carriage?”

“Mrs. . . . Mrs. Chesterfield will think that I was a gown with legs and f-feet,” Miss Dennington whispered.

The worry in Miss Elinor’s eyes intensified. “Sophia, I think I should start cleaning the wound. Would you take Mr. Ross to Father’s study and make sure Romford relayed the critical nature of Hannah’s condition to the physician?”

“Of course.” Miss Sophia hurried to the door. “This way, Mr. Ross,” she said.

“And bring Mrs. Romford and Father’s best brandy back with you,” Miss Elinor called.

With one last look at Miss Dennington’s pale face and drawn expression, Samuel followed Miss Sophia out of the room.

Mr. Dennington’s study was on the ground floor. Miss Sophia knocked lightly on the door and entered. Samuel hesitated for a moment and then followed her in.

“Father,” she said. “This is Mr. Ross. He’s a Bow Street runner, and he just brought Hannah home.”

“Brought Hannah home?” Alarm resonated in the voice of the gentleman sitting behind the large wooden desk. “What on earth happened at the wharf?”

“She never reached the wharf,” Miss Sophia said. “The carriage was waylaid by highwaymen whilst she was yet en route.”

“Highwaymen!” He attempted to rise, but his daughter rushed to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“No, Father. Stay in your chair. The last thing Hannah would want is for you to reinjure your leg. She is safe in her own bed upstairs, and Elinor and I will care for her until the doctor arrives.”

“You’ve sent for him?”