22. Chapter 22
“Iwill need to remove her shirt. Perhaps Vivian should come over and help me?” Mr. Davis asked.
Vivian stepped forward, but Andrew just held up one hand. “No, I will help you.”
“But Andrew,” Vivian murmured. “It is unseemly for her to be unclothed by a man who is not her husband. Think about her reputation.”
Andrew snorted. “Her reputation? She stumbled into my house with a gunshot wound. Her reputation is the last thing I am worried about tonight.” His instinct to take care of her was bone-deep. “No, I will help take care of her. She is going to be my wife.”
Everyone in the room froze at his pronouncement. Vivian glanced at her husband. Jack just shrugged his shoulders in response.
But Andrew didn’t care he had shocked them with his statement. The words that had tumbled unguarded out of his mouth were the utter truth. Emma belonged with him.
“All right, Andrew. We will go get her some fresh clothing, a nightshirt,” Vivian soothed.
“No one knows she is here, understood? Winston, you stand sentry at the door again.”
The three of them vacated the room.
“What’s next, Davis?”
“Let’s get this shirt off, and then if you can hold her steady. Perhaps you should sit on the bed and lay her head in your lap, I will start to get this closed up. After the wound is stitched, I will check her for any other injuries.”
Andrew sat cross-legged on the bed, cradling Emma’s head in his lap and brushing her hair back gently while speaking soothing words. How everything was going to be all right, how he would take care of her. Davis cleaned and sewed up the gash with efficiency.
Ten minutes later, Davis looked up. “That’s the best I can do. I tried to make the stitches as small as possible.” He wiped his brow with a handkerchief.
Andrew looked over and saw twenty neat stitches in black thread marching up her smooth, pale skin. The stitches were small, and the line of them about four inches in length.
“You did an amazing job, Davis. Thank you.”
“The ball missed hitting her bone by perhaps an inch. She is a very lucky girl. Let’s see where else she is hurt.
” He methodically examined Emma’s legs, arms, and even her scalp.
“She is bruised in several places as though she took a fall, which would also explain the dislocated shoulder. But most concerning is that she has lost a lot of blood. She needs to rest and to keep the arm immobile for at least two weeks.” He applied a bandage over the stitches and wrapped a length of linen around her arm to keep it in place.
“Keep watch over her tonight, and come and get me if her breathing changes or if the wound begins to seep blood. If she doesn’t catch a fever in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, she should recover nicely.
I will come back in the morning to check on her. ”
Davis got up and washed the blood off his hands in the basin.
There was a knock on the door, and Vivian appeared with fresh linens and a nightgown for Emma.
They gently pulled it over Emma’s head. Her eyes were glazed with pain and unfocused.
She didn’t make even the smallest sound as he guided her uninjured arm through the sleeve.
Vivian pulled off Emma’s boots and pants.
Then she pulled the flannel nightgown down over her legs.
Andrew ever so carefully gathered Emma up in his arms, holding her close against his chest while Vivian made quick work of changing the blood-spattered sheets.
Lying her back down, Andrew pulled the blankets up around her and stared down at her pale face.
His anger with her boiled over. He wished he could roar like a wild animal.
How could she put herself in such danger?
How could she think to run away from him, from her family?
He said he would take care of her. Why would she choose to reject his offer without even giving them a chance?
Fool! Stupid, precious fool. A hand tugged on his arm.
Turning, he looked over to find Vivian next to him.
“Andrew, we need to talk to you. Now. Come with me. Let’s go sit down.”
Andrew shook his head. “No, I don’t want to leave her alone.”
Winston came up beside him on the other side. “I will watch her for a few minutes, Your Grace. Go change your clothes. You are covered in blood.”
Andrew glanced down at himself. His jacket and shirt were indeed smeared with Emma’s blood. “Winston, thank you for standing guard. I will be back shortly.”
“We will meet you in the sitting room.” Vivian gave him a look that brooked no argument and disappeared through the connecting door.
Andrew changed clothes and splashed cold water onto his face.
Then he picked up Emma’s jacket, which lay discarded on the floor.
He headed into his private sitting room, which sat between his bedchamber and the bedchamber for his duchess.
He slumped on the settee, a bone-deep weariness weighing him down.
His brother handed him a glass with two fingers of brandy, which he promptly threw back.
The liquid burned his throat and warmed his belly, a familiar feeling he had missed the past few months.
Jack offered him another pour, but Andrew shook his head.
As much as his mind screamed for him to dull the shock of the evening, another more sane voice reminded him this was not the time to lose his wits.
“Andrew, do you know what in the hell is going on tonight?” Vivian, always the direct one, jumped right in with her questions. “How did Emma Whittingham come to arrive at our doorstep, shot and dressed as a street urchin? What was she doing tonight that would put her in the path of a revolver?”
Andrew reached down into the jacket on his lap and pulled out the sparkling diamond necklace. “This is what she was doing tonight.” Holding it up for them to see. “She has been supporting her family by stealing jewelry.”
An audible gasp came from both Jack and Vivian. “This is the secret you alluded to the other night?” Jack asked.
“Yes. Her father left them without a single penny which was not owed for some gambling debt. I don’t know all the details, but her guardian, the errant younger brother, knows about it and encourages the thieving.
I overheard them talking at the opera.” Andrew set the necklace on the table in front of him, its many strands of diamonds winking in the candlelight.
“I can only assume she got caught in the act tonight, and she was shot fleeing the scene.”
He studied their shocked expressions. “Are you very shocked my future duchess is a jewel thief?”
Vivian answered first. “Shocked, yes, but I admire her.”
Jack’s head swiveled to face his wife with a gaping mouth.
Nonplussed, Vivian continued, “There are not many opportunities for a gentlewoman to support herself and a family without resorting to selling her body. She did what she needed to keep her family afloat.”
“But I proposed to her just the other night, and she ran away. She chose to put herself in danger instead of accepting my protection,” Andrew protested.
“You proposed? When?” Jack asked.
“The night of the dinner party.” Andrew ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He ran over the last conversation he had with Emma. “Well, maybe not proposed, but I told her I would take care of her.”
“That’s hardly the same thing,” Vivian replied tartly. “For a woman who has spent the past several years trying to not end up as someone’s mistress, your offer probably did not sound gallant, Andrew.”
Andrew sat back to reflect on Vivian’s observation. He thought about the pain and indignation he had seen in Emma’s eyes. She had been frightened. But why? He had meant it sincerely, even if he had bungled the wording.
“I need to send a note to her sister Lucy. She will be worried if Emma is not home tonight.” Andrew stood up, every muscle protesting, to go over to his desk by the window. “Are Mother and Caroline home yet?”
“No, not yet. They shouldn’t suspect anything is amiss.
Their suites are down in the east wing,” Jack replied.
“I think the fewer people who know about what’s happened to Emma, the better.
Especially if you are determined to make her your duchess.
Are you sure about that, Andrew? You could choose any number of nice girls who would make you a suitable duchess. This lady is trouble with a capital T.”
Andrew glowered at his brother. “I have already had a suitable wife, as you well know. No, this time I marry for love.”
Jack exchanged a look with his wife. She gave a slight shake of her head. Then Vivian took his hand and guided him out of the room.
Emma woke up the next morning, her mouth dry and her shoulder and arm throbbing.
She forced herself to open her eyes and was relieved that instead of lying in the park, she rested in Andrew’s bed.
He lay next to her, fully clothed on top of the counterpane, his sharp features softened in sleep.
Instinctively, she reached out her hand to brush the hair from his face, and pain shot through her so sharply that she whimpered.
Andrew’s eyes popped open. “Emma? What happened? Are you in pain?”
Emma just nodded her head, trying to keep her right arm perfectly still as she let the pain ebb. Then she blew out a breath. “That was stupid of me. I lifted my arm without even thinking.”
Andrew propped his head up on one hand and looked down at her. “Try to be still. Do you want some laudanum?”
“No, I’d rather not. I think I’ll be all right if I’m careful.” She bit her lip as she searched his face for signs of his ire. “Are you very angry with me?”
“Extremely,” he said. But he traced a finger along one eyebrow and down her cheek with a gentleness which belied his fierce frown.
She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Andrew sat up abruptly. “You think I’m angry you came to me for help? Emma, open your eyes,” he demanded.
She did as he asked.