Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
“Is there anything else we can do, Mrs. Avington?”
Adelaide looked sideways towards Windles and Nexton. The two servants stood side by side, united in concern for the master of Granville. Which of them had asked the question again? Adelaide hadn’t noticed.
She hadn’t truly noticed anything, not the state of her muddied hem or the scratches on her hands, since Richard flew off his horse before her very eyes.
He was alive, at least. But there were always risks involved in any sort of accident, particularly when broken ribs or potential internal injuries were involved.
Adelaide took a moment to consider everything in the room before shaking her head. “I will tend to him myself tonight. Have clean water at hand always. And send for more willow bark tea if our supplies run low.”
“Yes, Mrs. Avington,” said Nexton.
“Shall I assist you with your gown, ma’am?” Windles offered.
Adelaide cast a look down at her dirtied attire. Her coat had suffered most of the mud splashes as she’d flown to Richard’s side upon his landing, but bits and pieces of the land still clung to her.
But it didn’t matter. Nothing so trivial as a torn or damaged hem mattered in light of Richard’s condition.
“I can see to it myself,” she said as her eyes trailed back to Richard, who lay on his bed, temporarily reposed in a shallow sleep.
He’d remained conscious long enough after his fall for Adelaide to feel assured of his life not being in any immediate danger—and she’d even joined her husband in assuring Harold that it would not be a problem if the latter kept to his originally scheduled departure.
But assurances were often easier to give than to believe.
Adelaide laid a gentle hand on Richard’s bare forearm.
Injury left little room for modesty. And it was almost ironic, in a sad way, that it took a hard and dangerous fall for her to see her husband in such an unclothed state.
The surgeon, once called, had not hesitated in ordering for the removal of Richard’s gentlemanly trappings for a proper examination.
As his wife, Adelaide had been permitted to remain.
And she remained here still, in his bedroom—with no intention of leaving unless he woke up and explicitly ordered her to do so.
“Please ask Mrs. Mindel to arrange for trays to be sent to us,” she said without turning this time. “I shall remain here until the colonel is better.”
Windles moved forward. “Mrs. Avington, that could be days still. Surely, a good night’s sleep—”
“No, I am not leaving.” Her heart clenched. Surely, it could not be too late to embrace her role now? Why had she not attempted to bridge the gap between them sooner? Adelaide sniffed. “You may go. I will remain with the colonel. I’m sure Mr. Knoll will do what needs to be done for the estate.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Nexton, though it likely pained him to relinquish his master’s care to Adelaide.
“Send broth for the colonel. And keep the fire warm.”
“Very well, ma’am,” said Windles.
The two chief attendants for the master and mistress of Granville retreated, and the rest of the maids followed after them. The door shut behind the minor entourage, leaving the room entirely quiet apart from Richard’s breathing.
Adelaide stepped towards the bed and lowered herself beside it. The anxiety that had been kept at bay as she ordered the servants about now threatened to surge within her. But she would not let it.
Kneeling beside the man who had pledged his life to hers, Adelaide clasped her hands and prayed.
The hours stretched. Adelaide stayed through it all—caring, praying, and holding on. A broken rib was not a fatal blow. She had seen her mother survive it enough times to know. But what if it had been worse?
For the past months, Richard had readily played her champion, whether she had been his wife or a mere acquaintance. Time and time again, he’d swept to her rescue without a moment’s hesitation.
It felt wrong for him not to have anyone to champion him.
A pained look crossed her husband’s brow, and Adelaide reached out to soothe it. Tending to him in the midst of his injuries was intimacy of an entirely different kind. It was one she had long owed the man who’d willingly sacrificed for her again and again.
Adelaide sniffed. Her father had been the worst of men—selfish and cruel and a villain to the core. How could she have failed to realize that her husband was the entire opposite? How foolish had she been to have kept Richard at arms’ length for the transgressions of a man he had never even met?
“Halt—halt—” Richard mumbled, his slumber restless for a moment before easing back to something smoother. Adelaide clasped his hands, afraid of moving the rest of him.
“I’m here, Richard. I’m here. I am well—and you will be too.”
Cannons boomed as lightning flashed. Voices screamed. Richard twisted, turning as much as he could from side to side to survey the damage. Faces blurred, shadows danced. A woman screamed. Was that Macy? Or was it Adelaide?
He gritted his teeth and forced himself forward, even as his feet felt mired in thick mud. He had a war to fight and a woman to save. A horse neighed. “Halt! Halt!”
Richard pulled to the side. Was that Harold? Pain pierced his chest. He waited for the burn of the gunpowder, or perhaps the tear of a bayonet’s blade. Instead the pain lingered, tightened, and then eased.
“I’m here, Richard. I’m here.”
A soft voice cut through the chaos. Coolness swiped against his brow. Delicate fingers intertwined with his. Slowly, the burning eased.
“Safe—safe—” he mumbled.
“Yes, Richard. You are safe. I am safe. We are safe.” Something touched his forehead—feather light, almost a kiss. “Rest. I am well. We are well. I will make sure of it.”
Something soft—fabric, or hair, brushed against his shoulder. More touches, more kisses. It was soothing, comforting, and as lulling as a siren’s call. The scent of sweet pea wafted around him.
“I should have told you everything sooner.” A woman sobbed. Was that Adelaide?
“Don’t cry,” he said. Horses neighed. Cannons boomed. There was an odd land between slumber and wakefulness, and he seemed to be traversing it by foot. “Don’t cry.”
“I won’t. I won’t.”
He felt it now, a distinct kiss against his cheek, and then his jaw. He wished to turn over and embrace her, but someone had a foot against his chest.
“I love you,” she said, the words crisp and clear through the fog of his mind. It was like a sun ray through the densest storm clouds. “And we will be well, Richard, I promise.”
It was a beautiful promise, more precious than the ones she’d uttered on their wedding day. Even in his sleep, Richard smiled.
Adelaide was well. Adelaide was here. Adelaide loved him.
The pesky pain in his side persisted, but he felt his urgency fade into the background. Tomorrow, he would rouse. Tomorrow, he would kiss her back.
His bed creaked and swayed. A warm presence brushed against his side.
“Adelaide?” He called out into the darkness.
“Yes, Richard?”
“We are well.”
“Yes, we are well. And we will be well.”
She promised.
He believed her.
He drifted into a dreamless sleep.