flinched. She patted Cecilia’s hand before turning to Gideon. “Quite certain, yes. As you know, my lord, I’ve seen my share of cuts and scratches.”
“But how can you tell anything with so much blood?” Mrs. Briggs had tended to his injuries when he was a child, and Gideon didn’t doubt her nursing skills, but he wasn’t taking any chances with Cecilia.
“Yes, head injuries do tend to bleed, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Briggs replied cheerfully. “It’s a bit alarming, I know, my lord, but blood doesn’t necessarily mean there’s a serious injury. I’ll be able to tell more once we’ve cleaned her up, but I shouldn’t worry. Cecilia’s sturdier than she looks.”
“She doesn’t look that sturdy to me,” Gideon muttered. To his anxious eye, she looked like a crumpled rag doll tossed aside by a careless child. “Her hands are torn up, as well, and she was limping up the drive.”
“Oh, dear, your hands are a bit of a mess, aren’t they?” Mrs. Briggs tutted as she inspected Cecilia’s palms. “I imagine those cuts hurt, don’t they, Cecilia?”
“Not too much, really.” Cecilia’s dark gaze was fixed on Gideon’s face over Mrs. Briggs’s shoulder. “They sting a little.”
Mrs. Briggs chuckled. “Well, you’re not the complaining sort. I knew that from the first moment I met you.”
They heard Amy’s voice in the hallway then, shooing the men away from the door. A moment later she appeared with the basin and cloths, which she brought to Mrs. Briggs.
“Thank you, Amy. Now, take Isabella back to your bedchamber with you for the night, dear. She’ll be better off there, where it’s quiet.”
Incredibly, Isabella had slept through the chaos. She murmured sleepily when Amy scooped her up, but she didn’t wake. Gideon followed Amy out the door, and motioned Haslemere aside.
“What happened?” Haslemere’s voice was grim.
“I’m not sure yet. Cecilia’s a little incoherent, but it sounds as if she may have gotten locked inside the kitchen garden. I’ll find out more when Mrs. Briggs is finished with her.”
“Locked outside, in this cold?” Haslemere’s mouth fell open. “Jesus, Darlington. She might have frozen to death.”
“I think that was the idea, Haslemere.” Gideon looked steadily into his friend’s eyes, so there’d be no mistaking his meaning.
Haslemere nodded, then turned to address his men. “Fletcher, I want you, Hobbes, and Thompson on horseback. The others can go on foot—”
“No. There’s no use in chasing after her tonight, Haslemere. You can be sure she’s long gone by now. But let’s keep two men on each bedchamber door, just to be safe. Duncan and Fraser can keep watch over Amy and Isabella, and two of your men on Mrs. Briggs’s door. The others can keep watch at the doors leading outside, and in a few hours we’ll switch off.”
“What of Cecilia? Who will watch over her?”
“Me,” Gideon said, in a tone that discouraged argument.
But Haslemere, being Haslemere, did argue. “That’s not a good idea, Darlington. Why not let Mrs. Briggs stay with her?”
“No. I’ll stay with her.”
“Darlington, be reasonable. Her reputation—”
“Do you truly think I’ll let Cecilia out of my sight after what happened to her tonight, Haslemere? I won’t risk her safety.” As for Cecilia’s reputation, no one here would carry tales into the village, but even if they did, it wouldn’t matter.
She was his, and he wasn’t giving her up.
Ever.
Haslemere held up his hands in surrender. “All right then, if you insist. I don’t envy you the wrangle you’ll have with Mrs. Briggs over it. She’s far more alarming than I am.”
Alarming? Gideon had once seen Mrs. Briggs take a broom to a footman who’d tried to steal a kiss from one of her housemaids. She wasn’t alarming, she was downright terrifying, and never more so than when a scoundrel tried to trifle with one of her girls.
But to Gideon’s surprise, she only gazed hard at him for a moment when he returned to the bedchamber and seated himself in the rocking chair with the air of a man who intended to stay there.
“Very well, my lord,” she said, with a small smile. “Stay if you must, but mind you keep to that rocking chair.”
With that she was gone, and Gideon and Cecilia were left alone.
Chapter Twenty-two
Cecilia lay in the middle of her bed, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering with cold, and…something else. Anxiety, or anticipation? She couldn’t have said which in that moment, only that her entire attention was focused on the man now seated in the chair beside her.
She waited, her belly leaping with nerves, for him