“Well, Mom, sounds like we should divide and conquer, then. You put on your Nancy Drew hat to uncover what happened in Granny’s past, and I’ll try to find this missing deed. I still have at least three boxes of papers and notes to go through from the attic.” Though Mom’s research sounded much more fun.
“Oh, notes!” Robbie popped up from his place on the couch. “That reminds me, a note was dropped off for you this afternoon, Eleanor. I left it on the counter near the cash register.”
Robbie slipped from the room and returned with a small envelope.
“Who sent it?” Mom asked as Robbie placed it in her hand.
“I don’t know. I just saw it lying on the counter when I was checking out a customer.”
Mom began peeling open the envelope and Clara turned to Robbie. “You wouldn’t mind bringing the last of the boxes down from the attic in the morning, would you?”
“As you wish.” He flourished a bow and crooked his grin, his attempt at an English accent rather appalling. “Besides, we’ve got to save our bookshop.”
Our bookshop. Yes, that was how she thought of it too. He’d become such a pulse to the place, she couldn’t imagine him not being as involved as she was.
A gasp from the other side of the room stilled Clara’s chuckle. Mom’s palm pressed against her mouth, her face two shades paler than a minute before.
“Mom?”
Without answer, Mom raised the card to them, her hand shaking. Robbie took it and turned so Clara could read along with him. The words splashed a chill through her chest.
Blackwell’s isn’t yours. I’ll have it. Soon.
Chapter 9
I remember three things: a rearing horse in my periphery, Victoria cocooned in my arms, and a sudden jolt of pain reverberating down the left side of my body as I crashed to the ground and awaited the hooves to finish the job.
A collision of voices echoed around me. Victoria wiggled against my chest, her little voice confirming she was alive. I attempted to move, but my arm wouldn’t respond. When I tried to push myself up, sharp pain sent me crumbling back to the cold ground.
Victoria was taken from my arms, her cries forcing my eyes open. She reached for me from her father’s arms. I attempted to move again, blinking against the rain splashing my face, but nearly fainted as the pain knifed all the way from my elbow into my head. My vision blurred.
“Careful there.” The soft voice sounded warm, familiar, and soon I was gathered up into strong arms and completely lifted off the ground.
“Get her to the car.” Came another voice, older. “We’ll take her to the house.”
“I think it’s a dislocated shoulder, Father.” The words resonated near my ear, and I was enveloped in the scents of vanilla and… chestnuts? The urge to nuzzle deeper into his warmth nearly took the last of my energy. I was moving, floating.
“Sadie!” Victoria’s cry resurrected my fading consciousness and I forced my eyelids open again, only to find myself staring into the face of Oliver Camden.
I was in his arms.
“I do believe, you brave girl, that you’ve dislocated your arm in the process of saving my sister’s life.”
My fuzzy brain attempted to make sense of his sentence. Dislocated my arm? The throbbing in my shoulder confirmed his statement.
“I can walk,” I whispered.
He tsked, his grin slanting. “Now where’s the fun in that.”
If I’d had more mental clarity, I would have argued with him, but instead I relaxed back into his arms, attempting to siphon through my pain to brand the moment into memory. I’d never been held by a man, except hugs from my uncle when I was a child, and this was altogether different. His warm vanilla scent, the sturdiness of his chest against my side, his hands beneath me.
With a slight shift, I soon found myself seated inside an autocar, Oliver Camden at my side, with Victoria on the other side of him peering around her brother’s arm.
Mr. Camden joined the chauffeur in front.
I attempted to adjust my body to reduce the pain, but nothing worked. Nausea roiled with unpredictable warning. I pulled in a slow breath, forcing my mind to alert.
I’d never been inside an autocar. Looked at them from a distance, but ridden in one? Not the servants’ lot. Still, I wished I’d had more wits about me to investigate the lush interior.
“I don’t see any wounds on your face or head.” Oliver leaned close and brushed some of my stray hair from my eyes. “Does anything else hurt?”
I shook my head and moaned as I moved, surprised at how my neck muscles connected to the ache in my shoulder.
“The doctor is to meet us at the house.” This from Mr. Camden.
“No.” I shot up straight and nearly buckled from the shock of pain. “No, we don’t need the doctor, surely.” How much would a doctor cost?
“No worries, dear girl.” Oliver held my gaze, almost as if he read my concerns. “Didn’t you know that doctors never charge fees for valor? It’s in their contracts.”
Valor. I looked away, stifling an eye roll that would likely hurt my shoulder too. But the sight of Victoria’s smiling face, even if she had a few smudges on her cheeks, made me feel a little better. She was safe. That was the important thing.
“Have you ever set a shoulder dislocation before?”
Oliver’s brows rose. “Well, yes, for a friend or two during horse riding and such.”
I’d reset my mother’s shoulder once. And helped the teacher with a boy at school. It was a simple procedure. Excruciating, if memory served, but fast and efficient, and proving no need for a doctor. “I can brace myself against the side of the car.”
His eyes rounded as comprehension dawned. “No. I will not hurt you that way.”
“I’m going to hurt at any rate, and this way we won’t have to include the doctor.”
“I can’t.” He shook his head, gaze pleading with mine.
