he would have to think of some other way to be rid of her.
Once more that painful squeeze in her chest. Foolish hurt.
Mentally, she gave herself a shake. At least she knew the truth. At least she was now thoroughly on her guard. But it seemed as though her plans to leave would have to be put off until her ankle was better. It seemed she was well and truly trapped. And at the earl’s mercy.
He must have sensed her scrutiny, because his glance flicked to her face. He tensed, his expression becoming guarded, as if he feared she might read his thoughts.
‘I am sorry to be such a nuisance,’ she said bitterly.
Beresford folded his arms over his wide chest with an implacable glare. ‘You should have thought of that before wandering off alone.’
‘Not broken,’ the doctor announced, apparently oblivious to the animosity. ‘Badly sprained. I recommend binding it up and plenty of rest.’ The doctor smiled at Mary. ‘No dancing for a while, I am afraid, Miss Wilding.’
Dancing was another thing she didn’t do. Or at least not well. What man wanted to dance with a woman who could look right over his head and who had a tendency to want to lead? She smiled, albeit a little wanly. ‘Thank you, Doctor.’
With quick efficient movements, he bandaged her ankle and foot.
Jeffrey peered around the earl. ‘How are you feeling, Miss Wilding?’
The doctor flicked her skirts over her lower limb. ‘She is well enough.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I will give you some laudanum for the pain.’
She shook her head. ‘Laudanum makes me feel sick.’
‘Then I’ll have the housekeeper make you some willow-bark tea.’
‘You will take the laudanum as the doctor ordered,’ his lordship snarled.
‘Cuz, if she doesn’t want it, she doesn’t,’ Jeffrey said in placating terms.
Not placating at all apparently, for the earl bared his teeth. ‘Thinking to rule the roost, are you, bantam?’
Good Lord, were they fighting over her? Nothing like an injured woman to bring out the protective side in men, she supposed. She’d heard of it, but never experienced it for herself. Being the target of such discord created a very odd feeling in her breast, to be sure. A sort of warm glow. How irrational.
Unless the earl was hoping to have her drugged and helpless. The warm glow seeped away, replaced by ice in her veins.
‘Willow-bark tea will do just as well,’ the doctor said absently, packing up his bag. ‘Not everyone responds well to laudanum, my lord.’
A triumphant gleam lit Jeffrey’s eyes, but she didn’t think the earl could see it since Jeffrey stood behind him.
‘Let me show you out, Doctor,’ the earl said. ‘I have some questions for you.’
Mary glowered at his back as he left. No doubt he was planning to get a more detailed prognosis. Or to convince the doctor to leave the laudanum.
‘Is there something I can get for you, Miss Wilding?’ Jeffrey asked. ‘Tea? Something to read?’
Oh dear. He was also going to treat her like an invalid, when she would really rather just hop around and do for herself. Still, she would go mad sitting here staring into space if they insisted she remain lying on her bed. ‘A book, if you please. I was reading one in the library. It might still be on the table where I left it.’
‘At your service, madam.’ He flourished a bow and sauntered off with a jaunty whistle. He’d forgotten he was a man about town, at least for the moment. It was nice to see him with a little less cynicism.
She relaxed against the pillows, resigned to wait for his return. From where she reclined, she could see blue sky and clouds out her window. This was the closest she was going to get to the outdoors for a while. There would be no escape for several days. Provided she survived that long.
Her mouth dried.
A prickle of awareness at her nape made her glance up. She expected to see Jeffrey with her book. It was the earl, his expression far from happy.
‘There is no need to fuss over me, Lord Beresford. Please, do continue about your business. I am sure you have many important matters requiring your attention.’
He recoiled slightly. And she had the strangest sense she had hurt his feelings. A pang of guilt made her regret her sharp words.
‘What happened back there in St Ives, Miss Wilding?’ He didn’t sound hurt, he sounded as if he thought she was lying.
She frowned. Was he worried that he had