Murder on Charles Street - Leighann Dobbs Page 0,44
something was wrong with her ankle. However, the very last thing she wanted was a fetid poultice such as Lord Westing’s maid had worn. Not to mention, she didn’t believe that smearing a few herbs over a twisted ankle would miraculously cure her.
“Don’t be silly. If you’re hurt, I can help. Dr. Gammon, he…” The older woman’s voice broke.
Katherine swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “I’m not hurt, truly. Go back inside. I’m certain by the time I reach my house, I’ll have walked off the stiffness.”
Mrs. Campbell looked dubious.
Wayland, at least, took her at her word. “Let me help you to stand.”
She noticed he didn’t pull away from the way she leaned against him. Rather, he encircled her back with a steadying arm and clasped her opposite elbow, using himself as a lever to help her regain her feet. She pushed herself upright with her good leg, leaning on him for balance. If he knew the extent to which she used him for a crutch—and he must, for she was no light woman—he didn’t betray her weakness.
She smiled into Mrs. Campbell’s face. “You see? No harm done.”
A dark look descended across Mrs. Campbell’s face, one of disbelief. “Are you certain you wish me to leave you in the company of…”
It hadn’t occurred to Katherine that the older woman hadn’t recognized her companion. Over the past six months, Wayland had become a constant in Katherine’s life. How bizarre that was to think. Prior to her first independent investigation, Wayland had been no more than the name her father used as a curse whenever they crossed paths in a peculiar case.
“Don’t worry. This is Captain Wayland. He’s a…” What was Wayland to her? After the way their lives had become so enmeshed, with his closest friend betrothing himself to Katherine’s closest friend, the word colleague no longer seemed to apply. “Friend.”
Wayland’s body next to hers felt like a sheathed sword, hard and capable of lethal action. Did he not think of her as a friend?
Katherine fought to keep her expression neutral. “I’m safe with him.” Whatever their relationship to one another, in that she was certain.
After a moment’s consideration, Mrs. Campbell nodded. “Very well, Lady Katherine. I will cede to your wishes. If you change your mind about that poultice…”
“I’ll send for you,” Katherine lied.
Without another word, the housekeeper picked her way back toward the gate, paying careful attention to the ground beneath her feet. If only Katherine had done the same. She grimaced.
Wayland leaned down, his whisper caressing the shell of her ear. “Can you walk?”
She tried to regain more of her balance. “Only one way to know for certain.”
The moment she tried to take a step, leaning weight on her injured foot, white pain enveloped her. When her vision cleared, she gasped for breath and found herself in Wayland’s arms as he took swift steps toward her townhouse. The movement jostled her ankle, sending ripples of pain up her leg with every one of his loping steps. She pressed her lips together. She didn’t have the breath to protest his familiarity.
At the back door to her townhouse, Wayland pounded on the wood. A flurry of barks emitted from inside. Moments later, Harriet opened the door, breathless. Her eyes widened as she saw who was standing there. “My lady?”
A flush darkened her skin as she averted her gaze, stepping back and looking anywhere but at the pair. “I… I have some mending to do…” She couldn’t seem to decide where to put her hands.
His voice short, Wayland explained, “Lady Katherine took a spill. I believe she’s twisted her ankle. Didn’t you hear the scream? She cannot walk.”
“Oh.” Harriet raised her gaze to Katherine’s face, finally registering the pain sure to be etched there. “Oh. Come with me. I’ll fetch a bandage.”
Wayland leaned his head closer, his voice almost intimate as he asked, “Where would you like to sit while I examine your ankle? I have some experience with injuries, and I’d like to check for broken bones.”
Katherine had to lean back to look him in the eye. “The parlor,” she said faintly.
He nodded, and with Emma and Harriet trailing after him, he carried her to the front of the house. As he set her on the loveseat next to the chuckling fire in the hearth, he said over his shoulder to Harriet, “The bandage? And it might not be amiss to collect some ice from the garden. It will ease the swelling.”
As Harriet hurried out of the room, Emma