The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,53
your aunt sewed your skin together. Maybe I’m hoping to hear how your hand is healing after holding it still so the doctor could set the bone. Maybe that is why I am here.”
She was spitting mad, but another person would not know that from the tone of her voice or the expression on her face. She sounded as serene as if thanking a servant for a glass of wine. But he could tell she was furious. Her eyes gave it away. And then he thought about what she’d said. He leaned forward in his chair.
“Are you saying you were at the match?”
“Yes. I was at the match. At the end . . . at the end, when MacAvoy could not wake you, I held your hand and called your name.”
“What is the matter with you? A fight is no place for a gentlewoman. Good Lord! There are drunks and rowdy—”
“I was there. I went home safely.”
She had been at the Jackson fight; she had seen him humiliated. She had seen him beaten. “And you’re waiting for my thanks? You’ll be sitting there for a long time.”
“You are on your dignity, are you not?”
“On my dignity! Good God, woman. I have no dignity. Look at me, just look at me,” he whispered furiously.
“I am looking at you, James.”
“I’m nothing. I’ve got nothing. I’ll never be anything.”
He could have cried, having voiced those fears, especially to her. The most beautiful, desirable woman he’d ever met. He looked away so that she would not see the pain in his eyes. She reached down and picked up her little bag and opened it. Peering inside, she pulled out a book.
“I thought I’d read a bit to you from Pride and Prejudice. It’s a favorite book of mine.”
“You’re going to read to me?”
“Yes. Please get comfortable and put your feet up here,” she said and pushed the hassock under his legs.
She began reading, and to his dismay, he could not stop her. Did not want to stop her. Listening to her soft, aristocratic voice let him relax. He laid his head back against the chair and stared at the fire.
Lucinda read the first chapter and glanced up to see James had fallen asleep. She took the plaid blanket from the back of her chair and laid it across him. His eyes were no longer swollen shut, but the skin around them was bruised and turning various shades of yellow. The stitched cut seemed to be healing nicely. She turned and went to the window where the women were stitching at a large quilt.
“How is Mr. Thompson?” Aunt Louisa asked as she was seated.
“He is sleeping,” she said and pulled a needle from the pincushion.
Aunt Louisa chuckled. “I realize that. I was wondering how he was feeling.”
“He’s tired and weak right now. And not in the mood to talk, although he did listen as I read.” She noticed Muireall staring at her.
“His body continues to heal,” Muireall said as she eyed the stitches she’d made and then glanced at Lucinda.
“He’s bored now, as he heals, and maybe feeling a little blue-deviled,” Elspeth said.
His sisters were aware of his mood as well, it seemed, even if their remarks were subtle.
“He’s more than a little blue-deviled,” Kirsty said. “He’s not himself. He’s melancholy, I think.”
Lucinda glanced at him, thankfully still sleeping soundly, as she believed he would be angry to hear them talk about him. “Has MacAvoy been to visit him?”
“Last time MacAvoy came by, James told me to tell him he was sleeping,” Muireall said.
“I am so worried about him. And Alexander blames himself,” Elspeth said.
“I’d like to shake that boy until his brains rattle,” Aunt Murdoch said. “I’ve been sewing him back together and binding his ribs since he left off his short pants. He was strong even as a young boy and got himself into scrapes in the old country too.”
“I had hoped to speak to him before his bout, but I was not able to. And we have guests coming tomorrow, and I’ll be unable to visit for at least a few days,” Lucinda said as she rose. “I am going to help him upstairs to his room. I’d like to stay and speak to him, if he’ll allow it.”
Aunt Louisa studied her needle. “Do what you think is best, dear.”
James was beginning to stir when she got to his chair. “Will you allow me to help you up to your room?”
He looked up at her, and she thought he might argue, but