Chapter 12 #2
It was not always easy to know where one stood with him, mused Lucien. At times, he was almost sure that the duke thought him a dull-witted jackanape and tolerated him only because he was family.
And, in truth, he was fairly certain that Caroline felt much the same.
Caroline. The thought of the danger she was in caused his heart to clench. Lucien knew all too well that she would never shy away from trouble.
If only there were someone to whom she could turn for help.
But alas, he could think of nobody—save for himself—who would understand how to handle her feisty courage well enough to keep her safe.
Lucien gripped his reins harder and slanted a sidelong look at the duke, wondering whether the same fears were plaguing his uncle.
He spurred to a gallop, suddenly understanding his uncle’s overwhelming sense of urgency—as well as the look of worry on his face.
The two of them were all she had.
* * *
Caroline peeled back the torn fabric and cut through the ragged strips of fabric wrapped around Davenport’s shoulder. She frowned at the sight of the jagged cut, then took up a moistened sponge.
“Ouch!” muttered Davenport.
“Sorry. But it must be done.” She bent back to the task.
The wound was actually cleaning up rather nicely, and in the light of day, it didn’t look half so bad as she had feared.
After probing gently in a few spots, she was satisfied that no further ministrations were necessary.
A liberal dusting of basilicum powder finished off her efforts, and she began to tear the clean length of linen into bandages.
The earl had worn a scowl through the entire process. “I don’t know why females have to make such a fuss over a scratch.”
“A gunshot wound is hardly a thing to treat lightly, sir,” she replied tartly as she wound the last strip into place.
“There. Now perhaps you’ll stop growling like a bear at everyone.
I’ve asked Lady Davenport’s butler to bring you something to eat.
Perhaps that will also serve to improve your disposition. ”
The earl made as if to protest, then paused as he took in the dark smudges under her eyes and the sag of her shoulders. “Will you promise me that you’ll lie down and get some rest?” he asked quietly.
Caroline nodded, fighting to keep her eyes from falling shut at that very moment.
A knock at the door announced the arrival of the butler, who was carrying a large tray heaped with food and a steaming pot of tea.
The ambrosial scent of grilled ham, eggs, kippered herring and buttered toast filled the room.
Following in his wake were two maids with a hip bath, which they placed behind a screen in the corner.
“I took the liberty of asking Dawkins to bring you a full breakfast, as you must be famished by now,” she explained. “He’s also going to try and find you a fresh shirt.” A pause. “Oh—and I thought you might like a bath.”
Feeling a little lightheaded with fatigue, Caroline started to rise, but Davenport caught hold of her arm. He seemed to be searching for words…
“Th-Thank you,” he finally murmured.
She nodded again, not trusting her voice, then hurriedly left his room.
Drawing a steadying breath, Caroline somehow managed to find her way to the bedchamber that Lady Helen had offered. Without removing her clothes, she sank into the blissful softness of the eiderdown cover. But her sigh of pleasure turned into a groan as a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Hell’s teeth,” she whispered, wanting nothing more than to sink into oblivion.
However, before she could react, Lady Helen entered the room. “Forgive me for disturbing you, but I thought perhaps you might also wish a hot bath. I’ve taken the liberty of telling the maids to bring a tub here as well.”
She held up a silk dressing gown. “And I brought you something to wear while they give your garments a good cleaning.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
Lady Helen approached the bed. “Jeremy and I have had a long coze. He has told me something of what has happened.” She drew a deep breath. “I wish to help you in any way I can.”
Caroline was taken by surprise by both the words and the depth of passion beneath them.
“I have a carriage; I have money. You have only to name what you need.”
The offer was more than generous, especially coming from an utter stranger. Caroline blinked. “Lady Davenport, I hardly know what to say—”
“Please call me Helen,” interjected the widowed countess. “And you needn’t say anything. Just get yourself free of the monster who has done that to your face.” Her lips quivered. “I didn’t have your courage, but at least I may help a braver lady escape from a man’s tyranny.”
Caroline felt a flush color her face. It suddenly became very clear to her what Lady Helen’s life had been like as wife to the late—and vicious—Earl of Davenport.
And, however passive her own role in letting certain assumptions be made had been, she felt terribly guilty at eliciting such profound emotions under false pretenses.
Lady Helen misunderstood the cause of her discomfiture. “Forgive me if I speak of things that are still too raw to discuss. But be assured, you will find the will to face them. Take strength from the support of loyal friends. It isn’t necessary—or possible—to do it alone.”
“There are different types of courage, Lady…Helen. Somehow, I doubt that you are as lacking in that quality as you claim.”
The other lady smiled tentatively. “But no doubt you think me a veritable featherhead from my performance this morning. I fear I am reduced to acting as if I don’t have any wits about me when Julian is present.”
Caroline closed her eyes. Though her opinion of Lady Helen had altered considerably, she was in no mood to share any confessions of girlish rapture.
“You see, though he doesn’t think I realize it, I know I have asked far more from him than I had any right to do.
I’m immeasurably better for it, though he, most certainly, is not.
It wasn’t until very recently that I came to comprehend the complexities, and understand how difficult it is for him to forgive me—and himself. ”
A harried sigh. “I only wish that I could let him know in some way that I understand what an impossible situation I created for him—and offer him a heartfelt apology for putting that unfair burden on him. Perhaps it would help him get on with his own life. And perhaps we could then truly be friends, as we were in the past.”
Lady Helen gave a rueful grimace. “But I can’t ever seem to find the right words—they simply tumble out all wrong and I end up making a goose of myself.”
It was not at all what Caroline had expected to hear.
“So it makes for a terribly awkward situation.” She sighed again. “I’m not quite sure why I am telling you this, except Jeremy seemed to think it might…matter to you.”
Caroline’s blush deepened. “I don’t know why he… That is, I cannot imagine…”
She was saved from further stammering by the arrival of the tub and two young maids who were bearing buckets of hot water. Lady Helen left her to her bath, and as she shed her garments, her spirits felt a certain weight lifted from them as well.
Scalded, scrubbed and enveloped in the clean, sweet-smelling dressing gown, she had barely laid her head upon the pillow, her precious jacket tucked safely beneath it, when her swirling thoughts gave way to a deep, impenetrable slumber.