it
when he awakes. Apart from that, he must be kept warm and given only barley
water and a little bouillon, for I am fairly sure he will develop a high fever
before morning.’
‘Shall you return tonight?’
‘Oh, I do not think it necessary. Tomorrow morning,
I shall bleed him, and that will make him very much more comfortable.’
Minette privately considered that the poor
gentleman had lost enough blood already, but she made no remark, simply
bestowing her hand and a smile upon the doctor before she left the bedchamber
to make arrangements for the agent’s care. She had quite expected that the
housekeeper would be much put out but, as she was speaking with Mrs Pritchard,
it struck her that the lady’s manner was warmer—she agreed, smiling, with
everything her young mistress said and seemed anxious to oblige.
‘Now, do not you worry about anything, your Grace. We will take every care of the poor gentleman. You go
and eat your dinner and be sure the master gives you a
glass of good red wine before you sit down. You are as pale as can be, and I am
sure it is no wonder after what you did. So brave as you were!’
Minette smiled waveringly, and tears stung her
eyes. She was unused to praise and rather surprised to discover that the
household now regarded her as a heroine who had saved two lives, and one of those
that of their adored master. As she made her way to the little salon that
opened into the dining room, she was met on every side by smiling faces and
little murmurs of appreciation.
She found Rochford waiting for her. He, too, had
washed the mud from his person and changed his stained riding coat and buckskin
breeches for a neat, double-breasted coat of dark blue wool and tight yellow
pantaloons. He moved somewhat stiffly, as though his back ached, but did not
seem otherwise the worse for his misadventure. ‘Eugénie, my dear, come sit by
the fire. You are chilled.’
‘No, not at all.’ Her teeth chattered, and she gave an involuntary shiver. ‘Well, perhaps
a little.’
He picked up a decanter and poured a generous
measure of Burgundy into a glass. ‘Drink this. It will do you good.’
She smiled up at him and took the glass from his
hand. His fingers brushed hers for just a moment, and it was as though she
touched a flame. Her hand shook slightly, and he bent his gaze upon her with
concern. ‘It was foolish to go out in this weather when you have so recently
recovered from the influenza. I say nothing of the sheer lunacy of putting
yourself in danger as you did.’
She sipped her wine and said with creditable
composure, ‘ You make too much of it. I was never in
the least danger.’ She relaxed as the warm glow of the wine soothed her, and she
allowed herself to sink back against the cushions of her chair, grateful that Grandmère,
who never allowed her spine to touch the back of a chair, was not there to
scold her for her slovenly posture. ‘How did it come about that you were in
that dreadful fix? I mean with the tree lying across you like that?’
‘Believe me, it was quite unintentional. I had no ambition
to play the hero. Wilkinson’s horse reared and threw him when the lightning
struck. He was quite clear of the tree when I went to assist him, but the trunk
shifted and rolled in the mud, and that damn branch came down on top of us
both.’
‘Intentional or not, Mr Wilkinson certainly owes
his life to you.’
‘Nothing so dramatic! I, unlike you, really was not in the least danger.’
She twinkled up at him. ‘Shall we agree that
neither of us did anything at all noteworthy and drop the subject?’
He shook his head. ‘There, I cannot agree with you
but, by all means, let us talk about something else. For instance, just why did
the girl, who once upon a time could not bear to look at me, risk her own life
to save mine?’
There was a glow in his face that she had never
seen in his or any other man’s. A glow of admiration and
something warmer. The wine caught in the back of