She had stood up from her chair without reaching for her stick and had toppled to the floor with an unceremonious thump, catching at the table on the way down and surrounding herself with a gentle patter of slices of cake and pieces of fruit.
Lady Aldershot was frozen in her chair, face pale and quivering, paralysed by shock. Ursula’s arms waved helplessly in the air a moment, like the legs of a bug that had been tipped onto its back, before flopping down at her sides.
To Selina’s endless guilt, the first person to reach her was Malcolm.
“Lie still, my lady,” he commanded, kneeling beside her. His hand landed on Ursula’s crooked shoulder, gentle but firm. “Don’t try to move.”
“Auntie.” Selina’s voice sounded strange in her ears, high-pitched and fearful. As she knelt at Ursula’s side, Malcolm stretched out his other hand towards Selina. He placed it on her knee, drawing her attention for a split second. Selina’s panic reached its crest and began to fall away.
“Are you in any pain, Lady Ursula?” Malcolm asked. Ursula let out a low groan.
“My back.”
Malcolm nodded, calm and certain. “Lady Aldershot, please ring for a servant and ask him to fetch a doctor.”
“Auntie, I’m here.” Selina gripped Ursula’s hand. It felt impossibly small and frail. “Don’t worry. We will have you back on your feet in a moment.”
“I don’t know about that, my dear.” Aunt Ursula did not move her head. She stared up at the ceiling, her face pale and drawn.
“Can you move your legs at all, my lady?” asked Malcolm, reaching down to take Ursula’s other hand. Ursula’s eyes flickered towards him, and his face broke into that dazzling smile. “Please forgive my impertinence. You see, I’d love to ask you to dance this evening, and I want to see that those fine legs are in working order.”
“You are a flirt, Duke,” said Ursula appreciatively. Malcolm bowed his head.
“Guilty as charged.”
Ursula wiggled one leg, then the other. Malcolm patted her hand, real relief on his face. “Excellent. Shall we dance a jig tonight, or would you prefer a waltz?”
“Dear boy.” Selina saw Ursula’s fingers tighten around Malcolm’s. “My dancing days were done long before this little setback.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment.” Malcolm pulled out his handkerchief and wiped away some of the cake that had crushed itself against Ursula’s dress. “A little rest, and you’ll dance me off my feet, I’m sure of it.”
“Auntie,” said Selina, “do you think you can sit up?”
A look of fear creased Ursula’s face. “I’m not sure.”
Malcolm lifted her hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Put your arms about my neck, my lady, and I shall carry you somewhere more comfortable than Lady Aldershot’s floor.”
Ursula looked at Selina, waggling her eyebrows with irrepressible mischief. “Now that’s the sort of offer I haven’t had in years. Only a churl would say no.”
“Auntie.” Selina did not know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. She put a hand to her mouth, unable to look at Malcolm or Ursula. Percy roused himself from his slumber and moved towards them with his odd hopping walk, attracted by the spilled food rather than the fuss.
The footman Lady Aldershot had summoned arrived in the room, hurrying forwards when he saw Ursula on the floor. Malcolm dismissed him with a cool shake of his head, gathered Ursula into his arms, and stood up with painstaking care. Selina hovered at his side, useless as Ursula’s forgotten walking stick.
“Show the duke to the closest guest bedroom,” Lady Aldershot instructed the footman. “And then send for Dr Phillips, as quickly as possible!” She pressed a hand to her cheek. “He may not be able to reach us, with the roads in such poor condition.”
It was Malcolm’s turn to have difficulty meeting Selina’s eyes. “I’m sure the doctor’s vehicle will manage better than my frippery phaeton,” he said.
Aunt Ursula tapped his shoulder. “Young man, I believe you were about to take me to bed.”
“Auntie!” Hot embarrassment rose to Selina’s cheeks. Malcolm grinned, enjoying every bit of it.
“I do apologise, Lady Ursula. I won’t delay any further.”
Selina took her aunt’s hand and held it tight as Malcolm negotiated the doorway, the hall, the wide spiral staircase. The footman held the bedroom door for him, and he turned sideways to make sure Ursula’s head did not knock against the doorway. Selina was forced to relinquish her aunt’s hand, but she stood watchful guard as Malcolm reached the newly made bed and set Ursula down. The old lady let out a small cry of pain as he did.
“I am sorry, my lady,” he said, concern etching his brow. “I am a clumsy brute.”
“Not a bit of it, dear boy,” said Ursula faintly.
Selina turned to the footman, belatedly recovering her senses. “Send up a warming pan for my aunt. And a cup of strong tea.”
“Sherry,” Aunt Ursula corrected her. Malcolm stifled a laugh.
“Sherry is very beneficial for a bruised spine,” he said, with a manful attempt at solemnity. “I’m sure the doctor will agree.”
“Tea,” Selina repeated. The footman bowed and left, frightened by her severity. She had not meant to speak to him so harshly, but she could not bear either Malcolm’s levity or Ursula’s pain. Her distress had to express itself somehow, and the footman was the unwitting victim.
Lady Aldershot appeared in the doorway, her hands waving about in distraction. “Oh! My dearest Ursula. Are you comfortable? I will have a fire lit. We cannot let you get cold. Oh, my poor dear!”
With Lady Aldershot’s anxious assistance, Selina made Ursula comfortable among the pillows and blankets. A maid appeared and began setting the fire. Malcolm removed himself to the corridor, where Selina caught sight of him each time she passed the open door, standing guard like a sentinel.
The tea arrived. Ursula attempted to sit up to drink it, but the effort caused her too much discomfort.
