Chapter 19
Acry of pain echoed off the walls at the same time Alan screamed, “No!”
The knife had buried itself in the toe of Miss Prudence’s boot. He ran toward her, so angry with himself he could barely see straight.
“Prudence,” a familiar voice rang out.
Grace slid around the stable door, her breath heaving as if she’d run from the house.
“What happened?” she cried out when she saw her sister rocking on the ground, gripping her ankle, tears streaming down her face.
Alan wished the floor could swallow him whole. He was a savage. A brute who couldn’t control his mind enough to not let a little noise bother him.
He dropped to the ground in front of her. “It’s my fault.” His voice broke on the words. “She startled me and I…” He couldn’t finish.
Grace’s eyes widened as she stared at the knife embedded in what was most likely one of Miss Prudence’s toes.
“I didn’t mean to, Grace. You must believe me. I never wanted to hurt anyone.” He wiped at the moisture on his face, but he couldn’t tell if it was sweat or tears.
Grace put an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “We’ll need a surgeon.”
He jumped to his feet. “I’ll go fetch one.”
“No,” she said. “I need you to carry Prudence to the house.”
His hand shook. “Are you certain that is wise?”
She rose to her feet and took his trembling fingers in her own. “Alan, I am not strong enough. It is cold and she shouldn’t be left in a dirty stable.”
He nodded. Only when he had Miss Prudence in his arms did he realize Grace had called him by his Christian name. He doubted it was from any affection. It was the fastest and easiest way to get his attention when she knew he was a complete wreck.
Miss Prudence whimpered as he trotted toward the house, Grace following at a close distance behind.
“I am so sorry,” he murmured. “So very sorry.”
She sucked in a breath and then blew it out. Through gritted teeth, she said, “It’s not all your fault. Grace is always telling me to mind myself, that I’m going to give someone apoplexy one day with my sudden movements. I never thought it would be someone as young as you, though.”
How could she be so forgiving? She’d even tried to jest with him, but he could not muster a smile.
If he’d recognized her two seconds too late, she’d be dead.
When he was calm, he only aimed to injure, but his addled brain was not nearly as accurate and didn’t always think through actions before completing them.
“It really is alright, Lord Gladsby.” Miss Prudence seemed to relax. “The pain is not as bad as it was at first, and I am certain I will not die from a sliced toe.”
He nodded, but his mind would not let go of his failure. Grace caught up as they reached the stairs that led to the large front doors. Taking them two at a time, she pounded on the doors until Thatcher opened them, allowing Alan to rush through with his armload.
Once Miss Prudence was situated on a sofa in the sitting room, he sent Thatcher for the surgeon. All the commotion brought the rest of his guests from other parts of the house.
“What on earth?” Mr. Lenning said when he entered.
Mrs. Lenning’s eyes widened at the sight of the six-inch throwing knife still protruding from Miss Prudence’s boot. She grabbed hold of her husband’s arm and leaned into him; her face a little pale.
“Shouldn’t someone remove it?”
Grace shook her head. “Not until Mrs. Gibbons brings us rags to press into the wound. We don’t know how deep it is or how much it will bleed.”
Mr. Lenning ran a comforting hand over Miss Prudence’s hair. “But what if it swells?”
Hamdon rushed in at that moment and assessed the situation quickly. His gaze rose to Alan’s and his mouth pulled down at the corners. Alan turned away, unable to look his brother-in-law in the eyes.
Advancing to the window, he took several deep breaths. A gentle hand settled on his shoulder, but he pulled away. He deserved no comfort, nor anyone’s pity. Spinning toward the door, he rushed out, only vaguely aware of Grace’s surprise at his rejection. It was all for the best.
Now she knew what sort of beast he was.
Grace sat with Prudence until she fell asleep. Somehow, the knife had gone in just to the right of her big toe, cutting the connecting skin between it and the second toe. It was a wonder so little damage had happened after Prudence told her the story.
It had been hours since anyone had seen Alan. Had she really been brave enough to use his given name? She wrapped her arms around her middle. She’d hardly dared to think of him as Alan, let alone use it without his permission.
Her gaze strayed to the window. The day that had started out sunny now mimicked her mood with grey skies and clouds that looked as ready to cry as she felt.
Alan had been so distraught over his reaction, so consumed with remorse. Was this what Lady Hamdon had meant by his need to push people away?
Grace had awoken early this morning thinking she’d heard someone call her name, but when no other sounds filtered into her room, she’d drifted off again until Prudence bounced her awake and begged her to visit the stables.
She should have said no. Should have reined in her sister’s enthusiasm. Who wouldn’t be startled by Prudence barging in so fast that she’d knocked over a stack of wooden buckets?
It was no wonder Alan had reacted so quickly, but according to Prudence, he’d also tried to pull back his hand. It was just too late.
Tugging her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Grace slipped out of the room, hoping an afternoon nap would return Prudence to her usual self, one that was slightly more careful about what corners she charged around.
The front door opened and shut. Grace peered over the balustrade to see who had arrived.
Alan peered down at the lower court but thankfully didn’t look up as he ascended the steps of the family wing.
She watched him, his steps purposeful, but shoulders slumped like it was hard to carry the burden that rested there.
In his arms, he carried a large wooden box.
When he entered his study, she decided on a course of action. He may not want to see her, but she needed to speak to him, whether he liked it or not. So she pushed against the bounds of propriety and crossed to the other side of the house.
Rapping on the door, she heard a curt, “Enter.”
She opened the door.
Alan retrieved a knife from the drawer of his desk and dropped it into the box without looking up. “I only have a few more to gather and then you can take them away.”
“To where?” she asked.
He whirled around in surprise. “Grace.”
The reverent way he said her name with heartache in his eyes stopped her.
He straightened. “Forgive me. I thought you were Gibbons.”
The pain in his expression pulled her into the room. “What are you doing?”
His gaze dropped to the box and his hands curled around it like he was cradling something precious. Grace drew closer to see the contents. Her jaw dropped. There had to be over twenty knives and daggers of different lengths.
“I—” His throat bobbed and he stared at the floor between them. “I am not a safe person to be around. Your sister’s injury is my fault, all because I cannot control my blasted fear.” His head shot up. “Forgive me, I should not have used such coarse language.”
“Use whatever language you must if it will help chase away the memories that torture you. Perhaps we should sit down and you can tell me about it.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I have already troubled you too much. It would be safer for you to leave.”
Against her own instinct, she threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “And if I will not?”
He winced. “I must insist that you do. I may be dressed in gentlemen’s clothing, Grace, but I am a monster. A creature who cannot always control his actions, especially when I sleep.”
His continued use of her name solidified a suspicion that had been dancing at the forefront of her mind.
It slipped so naturally from his lips that she was certain he thought of her in far more intimate terms than she’d allowed herself to hope.
A tiny smile pulled at her lips, and with it, the need to lighten the mood.
“Well then, it is good you are not sleeping now.”
He did not smile back. “Miss Prudence was injured while I was awake, not asleep. Can’t you see that? I am a danger to everyone around me.”
His hands began to tremble, shaking the contents of the box and making the knives clink softly against each other.
She immediately sobered. No amount of levity was going to reach through to his tormented soul.
Wrapping bravery around her like the shawl that covered her shoulders, she crossed yet another boundary.
Stepping forward, she gently pried one hand from around the box and held it between hers. He stared at her like she was mad.
She didn’t let go. “Truly, Alan, you do not look well. Please talk to me. I cannot promise to fix anything, but sometimes it helps to simply have a confidante.”
“Please, Grace. You need to leave.”
The quiet pleading in his voice brought tears of compassion to her eyes, but she battled them back and looked straight into his eyes. “No, I am staying right here.”