Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Priscilla paced at the foot of her mother’s bed as the doctor leaned over her, listening to her lungs and gingerly touching various spots on her rib cage.
He finally straightened and Priscilla stopped pacing, her hands clasping in front of her.
Eugene was absent from the doctor’s visit, a development for which Priscilla was most grateful. She assumed it was his guilt keeping him away, but she focused on the doctor and her mother for the time being.
Honestly, she was shocked he’d called for a physician at all, but she reckoned even Eugene had a few decent tendencies.
“Well,” the doctor said, frowning as he looked at Priscilla. “The news isn’t good.”
Her heart stopped. “What is it?”
“She’s got a few cracked ribs.”
One of her hands came to cover her mouth. “Mama,” she said, her other hand reaching for her mother’s.
The doctor shifted. “You said she caught her foot on the rug and fell back?”
The lie sat sour on Priscilla’s tongue as she glanced over to her mother’s closed eyes. Her chin moved up and down the tiniest bit and Priscilla knew she was to continue the falsehood. “That’s right.”
“Then why are the ribs damaged in the front and not the back?”
Pricilla was in danger of becoming a watering pot as more tears filled her eyes. She was done covering for Eugene. Done attempting to make the situation better by placating him. “The earl has a—”
She stopped as the doctor’s mouth pressed together. “Say no more. Is there anywhere besides here that she might recover?”
“Move her?” Priscilla asked, her eyes growing wide as she looked down at her mother’s pale face. She did not wish to stay here, but how could she take her mother anywhere else? And what would Eugene do if she did?
She should have taken advantage of Wyatt’s offer to elope yesterday. If she had…
The thought of him made her insides tremble. She’d written to Ralph, thanks to the card she had with his address. In the hastily scribbled note, she’d asked him to bring Wyatt right away.
“Not too far.” The doctor shifted closer. “But surely, someone else can take you in here in town. Ensure she can recover without further harm?”
Priscilla looked to the door with a nod. “There are only the legal considerations. The earl is my guardian and while my mother is free to leave, I—” She’d have to write Brax. She’d need his help now.
The doctor stood straighter. “I am the grandson of a marquess. I’ll vouch to the earl’s incompetence if I have to.”
Those words made Priscilla’s shoulders go limp as gratitude washed through her. “Thank you.”
A soft knock sounded at the door as the butler entered. “Lady Priscilla, the Viscount Ware—”
“Is right here,” Wyatt said, stepping around the other man. The butler made a face but said nothing as Wyatt entered the room.
Relief made her draw in a ragged breath. “You came.”
“I did.” He looked over at her mother, his mouth forming a hard line that pulled at his scar. “Can she be moved?”
The doctor nodded. “We were just discussing that very action. I’ll help.”
“Good.” He turned back to the door and waved his hand, Ralph coming in behind Wyatt.
Priscilla took a step toward him, pulled by some force closer to him. There was no present danger here in the room, why did feel the need to be at his side? “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Their eyes met and as she moved closer, he reached out a hand, touching her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’ll always be here for you, Priscilla.”
“What are we going to do about Eugene?”
“I’ll take care of that. Ralph can take you both to the carriage.” He looked over at her mother. “He’s very strong. If anyone can carry you without jostling, it’s him.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, her breath catching. She wanted him to stay with her.
“I’ll be right back.”
She resisted the urge to hold onto his retreating fingers and not let them go.
She’d been strong without him, but now that he was here…
she didn’t wish to part from him again. If she was honest, she wished to curl up in Wyatt’s arms. Feel his lips against hers and know that she and her mother were safe.
And she wanted this saga with Eugene to be over.
None of this had been part of her plan.
This was supposed to be a business arrangement. She shouldn’t need him like this.
But she’d been trying to be strong for so long and…her hand caught his, her eyes surely pleading.
He stopped, stepped closer as he cupped her jaw in the warmth of his palm. “We’re leaving. I just need to make certain that Eugene does not attempt to follow.”
She leaned into his hand, her eyes closing. “I was so frightened. I—”
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Ralph will stay right here. Where is he?”
“Eugene? Likely in his study.”
He gave a quick nod. “The butler will show me the way.”
The servant croaked out a protest.
“Be careful.”
He quirked a brow. “It’s Eugene who should take care. He’s about to know what it feels like to be bullied.”
Her eyes widened as her lips parted. Now that was something she’d like to see.
* * *
The butler did not look pleased with his assignment, Wyatt reflected as he followed the man down the hall.
If he was to guess, Eugene had hired his own servants when he’d taken possession of the house.
Which meant that while the butler was likely loyal to Eugene, he also lacked a spine. Evidenced by the fact that Wyatt had only needed to brush his fingers along the hilt of his pistol before the man began to scurry down the hall, half running toward the earl’s study.
Wyatt followed with long strides, easily keeping up with the man.
He’d watched Priscilla’s face and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she’d needed him to be her hero in this moment.
For both their sakes, he had every intention of being exactly that.
The man stopped, pointing at a closed door before he continued to hasten away, down the set of servant’s stairs at the back of the house. Wyatt drew in a deep breath before he stepped up to the door.
Pushing it open, he noted that Eugene sat behind the massive desk, a glass of sherry already clutched between his beefy fingers.
At the interruption, Eugene looked up, his eyes growing wide before they narrowed again. “You!”
“Me.” Wyatt growled back stepping into the room and closing the distance between them in short strides.
Eugene stared for a moment before he began to fumble with the desk drawer.
Did he think to draw out a weapon?
Wyatt was on him before he even had it opened two inches, yanking him up from his chair and pulling him bodily across the desk, allowing him to land in a heap on the other side.
“Just so that you know, I’m going to break your nose.”
“W-w-what?” Eugene squeaked attempting to scramble up from the pile he’d splatted into on the floor.
“You can stand up and take it like a man or you can attempt to scurry away, but know I’ll make it hurt worse if you do.”
This was the sort of choice he’d never been given and he thought it more than fair, but Eugene didn’t seem to appreciate his offer, spluttering and coughing as he backed toward the door. “This is my house. You can’t—”
Quick as a flash, he grabbed Eugene by the cravat, hauling him close once again. “How dare you lecture me on behavior.”
A rage he’d been holding back for years seemed to build inside him.
“I have every right!” Eugene fired back. Wyatt thought his jaw might have hardened. His eyes certainly did.
There was a part of him that wondered if mercy was in order. His father hit without consideration and Wyatt never wanted to be that man.
But Eugene was just as likely to come back at them if Wyatt didn’t instill the fear of his fists into the Priscilla’s tormentor, and Eugene was a grown man. He should face the consequences of his actions, and Wyatt had some ladies to protect.
This had been exactly why he’d trained. Why he’d chased criminals through the night. Perhaps he was always supposed to be ready to save this one woman, this one time.
And with that thought, he raised his fist, energy coursing through him, his muscles exactly certain of how to move to inflict some damage. He let his fist fly, planting it directly into Eugene’s face.
Blood spurted everywhere as satisfaction washed through him. Eugene’s strangled cry of pain echoed out into the hall.
Eugene’s hands flew up to his face, covering the now-crooked, spewing mess. “Good thing for you, the doctor is already here,” he said, as he pushed Eugene away again. Did he wish to hit him again?
Yes. Several times.
But his years of control stopped him. He was here to exact a specific punishment for a particular crime. Not give out a bloody beating.
Still.
He’d make sure that he and Eugene had no misunderstandings between them.
The other man staggered back, moving around the desk as Wyatt followed. “If you touch Priscilla or her mother again, I’ll give you ten of those. And if you get the police involved, I will see you imprisoned for you what you did to them.”
Then he walked back out the door. It was time to take Priscilla home.