Chapter 15
Darius winced as the surgeon removed the last slender shard of glass from his arm. He dropped the piece into a bowl that contained several other bloody fragments. The surgeon peered at Darius’s arms closely and wiped wet cloths over the wounds.
“May I borrow some of your brandy, Your Grace?” the surgeon asked.
“Yes, of course. It’s on the drink cart over there.” He nodded at the elegant wooden drink cart against one wall in his study.
“Hold this tight, please.” Darius kept the bloody cloth pressed tight to his arm while the surgeon retrieved the bottle from the cart and soaked a fresh cloth in the liquid.
“This will sting,” the surgeon warned. He removed the cloth Darius had been holding in place and replaced it with the brandy-soaked towel.
“Bloody hell!” The burn had hit him like a runaway carriage. He bit his lip to keep a second curse from escaping his lips. “That was a lot more than a sting,” he muttered as the burn slowly subsided. The doctor nearly smiled. Darius felt like a child for overreacting, but damn, it had hurt.
“I’ve noticed that pouring brandy or scotch on a wound works far better than bloodletting.”
Darius hoped the man was right. Bloodletting was an awful experience.
“Thank you, Dr. Bradburn,” Darius said as the man bandaged his arm tight with strips of cloth.
“No bathing this arm for a few days. Change the dressing once a day, and soak the wounds in brandy or scotch if it starts to feel too hot or look too red. You’ll have some scars, but nothing too terrible, I should think.”
“No worse than any of the other scars,” Darius said with a chuckle.
The surgeon studied Darius. “How are you feeling? The leg still giving you trouble?”
“Not as much. Perhaps more on the days it storms.”
“Possibly because of barometric pressure. I believe that one’s body fluids and muscle tissues can be affected by changes in the pressure in the atmosphere.”
“Interesting.” Darius touched his bad leg absently. It was a habit he’d developed since the injury. He was more than a little relieved that his leg hadn’t given in during the fight at the confectioner’s shop.
“May I ask what caused today’s injuries?” Bradburn packed up his materials in his black leather medical satchel.
“A minor disagreement with a few gentlemen who were anything but,” he said evasively. His felt renewed rage as he’d remembered Meredith telling him what those men had said, what they had wanted of her. “We made a mess of Gunter’s.”
“The flavored ice shop? I hope some of it’s still standing. I rather like their cinnamon and clove pastries.”
“I will be paying for the damages.” Darius flexed his left hand, testing the strength of the wrappings around his forearm. They held fast. “Allow me to see you out.”
He followed the surgeon into the corridor and escorted him to the entryway, where Mr. Chelsea handed him his hat and coat.
“Thank you again.” He shook hands with the surgeon and Chelsea escorted him out.
The townhouse was deathly quiet as Darius climbed the stairs and headed for Meredith’s bedchamber. Her door was closed. He lingered in front of it for a long moment before he finally decided to knock.
No one answered. He opened the door, whispering Meredith’s name. She lay on her bed, curled up in a ball, facing away from him.
“Meredith, sweetheart,” he said a little more loudly.
“Please go away,” she replied in a raspy voice that suggested she’d been crying for some time.
His answer was as brief as it was absolute. “No.”
His response tore a half-sob, half-laugh from her.
He stepped inside and closed the door. Dusk was settling on the garden outside, and the muted light was a mix of purple and deep rose.
The window was open, and a flowing breeze teased the air with hints of wildflowers.
Something tight and painful in his chest eased when he breathed in that scent.
Darius came around the far side of the bed to see Meredith. Her face still shone with drying tracks of tears, her nose was red and her eyes puffy. Yet she looked beautiful to him. She always did. But he hated that she had cried, and that he was at least partly responsible for it.
He sat down on the bed beside her. “Do you want to hear something amusing?”
Her vacant, weary gaze drifted from the distant window to his face. He saw a faint glimmer of interest in her hazel eyes.
“The Prince Regent says I’m not allowed to marry you.” Darius gave a half-smile as her eyes widened. “Not until you notify the Prince yourself that you have agreed to it.”
Meredith’s lips parted in shock. “He said that?”
“Oh yes.” Darius chuckled, though he felt little mirth at the thought of their monarch having put him in his place.
“Warren and I were told by the Archbishop of Canterbury that any special license for you to marry must be approved by the prince first. You specifically. I had no idea what that was all about. So naturally we went straight to Carlton House to seek answers.”
He paused a moment, reflecting on how much effort the Prince Regent had gone to over this matter. “You must have made quite the impression the night you met him,” said Darius. “I was forced to suffer a lecture about how I simply cannot command you to marry me.”
“Well, he’s right. You cannot force me.” Meredith sniffled and sat up a little, bracing her shoulder against the carved wooden headboard and pillows.
Darius tried to change the subject. “Do you wish to talk about what happened today?” He placed a hand on hers, meshing their fingers together.
“No.”
He smiled sadly. “Very well, then I shall speak. I was frightened today. When I saw you in danger from those men, it terrified me. Had anything happened to you, Meredith, I would have …” He cleared his throat.
“I could not bear it. If I lost you … I would want to burn the world down. As someone who prides myself on my self-control … being with you makes me feel wildly out of control.”
Her eyes grew luminous. “You truly feel that way?”
Darius nodded.
“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” she said in a quiet voice. “Mrs. Petersham and I believed a little outing would be fine.”
“And it should have been. I fear Lady Mary’s anger at me has sent her spreading rumors about you. But that is not your fault, it is mine. Warren and I were rude to her, which made matters far worse for you.”
He raised her hand to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers. Her lashes fluttered. His heart skipped a beat as a surge of intense feelings deepened within him.
He felt as though he was standing at the edge of an ancient wishing well, feeling the stones beneath his palms as he gazed deeply into the magical waters below. The chance to love Meredith would be like casting a coin into that enchanted pool and having not one, but every wish granted.
It frightened him to feel so much for one person.
He had lost so much in his life. He lost his mother as a boy, his father as a young man, and now his uncle.
What if he lost Meredith? He could not bear such loss.
Yet he had no words to tell her what lay in his heart.
Those words were birds with wings of gold flying high into a glorious sunrise escaping his lips.
At times he felt distanced from those he loved because words of affection were not easy for him to say, not because he didn’t mean them, but stating such a thing felt like playacting, when he preferred to show his friends by his actions how he felt.
And with Meredith…he didn’t know where to start in showing just how much he adored her.
She touched the edge of the white bandage covering his left arm. “You’re hurt.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he lied, but was moved by her compassion for him. “I know that I must have frightened you today with such a display of violence. But you must know that I would never hurt you.”
“I know,” Meredith said. “And as I said before, you didn’t frighten me. You saved me.”
How could she think of him as some noble hero when he’d done nothing more than fight like a brute? The mad thing was that he wanted to be her hero. To save her when she needed him, to keep her from harm, to give her everything of himself.
“Perhaps I should check you for injuries?” He tried to tease her, but his voice was too low and husky to be teasing.
She raised her chin, her lips parting as she held his gaze. “Perhaps you should.”
He hummed softly as he set her feet across his lap. Darius began to unfasten the ribbons at her ankles that tied her slippers on. He stroked her stockinged feet as he slid the ribbons free and removed the slippers one at a time.
He traced the delicate arches of her feet and brushed his fingers around her toes before they slid up her skirts to her knees, where he loosened the ribbons that held her stockings up next. She didn’t move as he rolled the stockings down off her legs and explored her soft skin.
“No sign of injuries here,” he murmured.
“Then you’d better check elsewhere, just to be certain.”
Meredith’s teasing sent a thrill through him. She slid her legs off his lap and got off the bed.
“Indeed, I should,” he agreed.”
She turned her back to him as she pulled her hair out of the way so Darius could unbutton the back of her gown.
Her breath caught as his fingers slipped along the skin of her upper back, and he was glad he had enough control not to rush this exquisite moment.
The gown fell into a puddle of fabric at her feet.
He leaned in, kissing her bare shoulder and neck as he undid the laces of her stays.
He bared her body in slow, gentle moves, stroking and kissing a dozen sweet places that drew soft and dreamy sighs from her.
Outside, a soft rain began to fall, enhancing the scent of the flowers that drifted in from the garden, perfuming the room with a floral enchantment. Meredith peered at him over her bare shoulder, her hair tumbling down her back as she raised her hazel eyes to meet his.
“Find any injuries?” she asked, her voice soft, breathless.