He peered out his window at the darkening skyline. “Almost to London, I think.”
They had spent the day at Lord Waverly’s estate. Louise and Henrietta had been in a different group somewhere on the property, while Dominic stayed with Barbara and her husband. It had been quite boring and he’d dodged several eager mothers wishing to introduce him to their daughters.
His footman opened the door, revealing a stout man with a creased face beside him. He doffed his hat. “Yer pardon, my lord, but there’s been an accident. Do ye by any chance have Miss Gordon with you?”
He climbed out. “In the other carriage.”
“I’m here.” She was already charging toward them, that determined, no-nonsense expression on her face as dear to him as her doe-eyed, pink-lipped response to waltzing with him.
A band tightened around his chest.
The man who’d stopped them tipped his hat to her. “Joseph O’Gregory, blacksmith in the village of Craven, just over the hill. There’s been word from the Waverly estate that you’ve a doctor with you—” he tipped his head to Dominic “—my lord.”
“I went into a nearby village to purchase a few items and happened to see a man in need of medicine for his cataracts,” she said shortly, by way of explanation. “Go on, please. Time is of the essence.” Despite her small stature, there was an innate pride in her form, in her expression, that bespoke knowledge and skill. No one seeing her now would think her less than she was.
“My nephew fell off a roof. His leg be twisted funny, and he can’t walk. Passed out, he is.” The man pressed his cap against his heart. His gaze bored into Henrietta and his hands gripped the cap so hard his knuckles were pale-boned spheres against the rough fabric. “Can ye fix him?”
“I shall certainly do my best.” She did not even glance at Dominic, but motioned for the man to leave. “Ride ahead and I will follow. Put him on a flat stretcher of sorts and carry him into a house. A clean house. Try not to jostle him. Tell someone to wait at the village edge to show us where to go.” With a flip of skirts, she rushed back to her carriage. Presumably to tell his driver where to take her.
He hurried to his own carriage, heart pumping strange beats within his chest.
She had not asked permission.
As an earl, most people looked to him for guidance. Even when he had not been earl, his position as second son often lent him an authority that the nonpeerage responded to.
“Follow them closely,” he told his driver, before opening the carriage door himself and getting in.
“What’s wrong?” asked Louise.
“Nothing that can’t be fixed, I hope.” He rapped the carriage ceiling to signal he was ready, and they started off.
It took only ten minutes before they reached the village. Less than five more and they were in front of a small, well-tended cottage. Henrietta had beat them there. He heard the quiet timbre of her voice through the open windows of the house.
“You will continue home,” he told Louise.
“But—”
He gave her a no-nonsense look, and for once she capitulated. A pouting capitulation, but a small victory, nonetheless. Satisfied that she’d stay put, he gave his driver instructions to take her back to the estate.
He ducked into the little house. It was surprisingly full.
“I’ll need everyone but his parents to leave,” Henrietta said in a loud and clear voice. Murmurs ensued, but the look she gave almost made Dominic want to turn and run himself. A chuckle rolled in his throat and he ruthlessly shoved it away.
He stepped to the side, allowing everyone to exit.
“You may leave, as well.” She was bent over the patient, who remained oblivious to his surroundings. A blanket covered his lower half.
“I shall stay and assist.” One glance at the white-faced parents assured him that she would need his help. They were too shocked to be of much use.
Henrietta looked up, her pupils large and dominating her irises. Two bright spots of color stained her cheeks. An escaped tendril cupped her jaw. “Very well, if you’ve the stomach for it.”
She straightened, pulling the sheet down to expose ripped and bloody clothes that shrouded a leg jutting at a sickening angle.
He nodded, forcing back the instinctive need to flinch.
That queasy feeling was still with him when they finally made it home four hours later. Eyes heavy with sleep, he yawned as the carriage pulled into the drive. He had ridden up with Bates to protect Henrietta’s reputation. He lowered himself to the ground. He didn’t envy his driver’s position, and it occurred to him how spoiled he had lived the last few years.
He’d never considered what a servant’s life entailed, or even cared.
He squeaked the door open and found Henrietta sleeping on the seat, her cheek resting against her hands, her lips soft with sleep. A catch of breath buried itself in his throat.
Her eyes fluttered, opening in a slow movement. “We are home?”
“Yes, we’re home.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t think she noticed.
What was worse than falling for a woman determined to leave? A woman with her own goals and dreams?
Even if she didn’t have those, he could not trust himself to be responsible for a family. His body did what it wanted, when it wanted. What if he had a seizure in public? Worse still was the threat hanging over him from the apothecary. Until he established a plan for what he was going to do with Louise, he was trapped.
No, he should not have danced with Henrietta. He should not have flirted with her. Perhaps he should not have hired her, but he could not regret such a move when it protected Louise and helped further Henrietta’s dreams.
After all, at the time he had none of his own.
Now he was dreaming of a life that could never be.
* * *
When Henrietta awoke the
