Clothed and upright, he was a great deal taller and more impressive than she remembered, with his wide shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs on elegant display. Then she noticed he was frowning.
He looked at her and tried to take a step, only to weave—causing Wally to dart in and steady him.
“Damn!” Godfrey muttered, then looked at her, simultaneously apologetic and woebegone. “Apparently, I’m not as strong as I thought.”
She went to take his arm. “You’ve been lying abed for a week. It’s hardly surprising that you need a little time to get your legs working properly again.”
With Wally on one side and her on the other, he essayed another step, then, with slightly more confidence, another.
Briskly, she said, “The drifts are still blocking the roads to carriages, so you can’t yet send any report. Taking the evening to exercise a little before viewing the painting isn’t going to make the slightest difference to anything.”
“But”—he took another step—“I am going to view the Albertinelli tomorrow.”
“Yes. Provided you can stand without assistance, you can definitely view it then. However, I would suggest that, for today, a few short walks to help regain the use of your legs will serve everyone better.”
Godfrey had to swallow the unpalatable truth that he wasn’t yet up to the hours of standing that the examination of the painting would entail. But she had agreed he would see it tomorrow, so… “In that case, I believe my first short walk should be to the stairs and down them. I would like to meet your father before I view the painting.”
She bit her lip. She looked adorable, and the impulse to kiss her welled. He firmly quashed it, but the temptation lingered.
She looked up and scanned his face, as if searching for signs by which to assess his strength. “I suppose we can take it in stages.” She looked toward the door. “Let’s see if you can make it to the gallery first, before we try the stairs.”
He obediently set out, with her supporting one arm and Wally gripping the other. He had to pause a yard from the door to marshal his strength and also his balance, but by the time he stepped into the corridor, his confidence was rising. “I don’t think it’s really a matter of strength.” He’d been eating well for the past few days. “I think it’s simply remembering how to walk.”
That seemed to be the case, as he conquered the long corridor with slow, regular paces. When they entered the gallery, Ellie suggested he sit for a few minutes on one of the padded benches, but he shook his head. “For the moment, I need to keep moving. Stopping will just set me back.”
With an uncertain look, she acquiesced, and they continued to the head of the main stairs. There, they paused, and he looked down the first flight to the landing, above which rose a large, rectangular, lead-paned stained glass window displaying what he assumed was the Hinckley coat of arms. The work was impressive; slanting winter light struck the design and sent beams of red, blue, purple, and gold dancing over the dark wood of the landing.
The stairs were quite steep.
He drew in a bracing breath. “So far, so good.” He glanced at the balustrade on his right, then drew his right arm from Wally’s grip and waved Wally forward. “Go in front—if I falter, you’ll be able to catch me.” And break my fall. “I’ll hold onto the balustrade.”
Wally nodded and stepped onto the stairs.
“Right, then.” Godfrey grasped the balustrade, glanced at Ellie, and smiled, then drew in another breath and took his first step down.
To his considerable relief, his legs behaved themselves, and their descent, although slow, passed without incident.
Ellie let out a surreptitious sigh of relief when Godfrey stepped onto the tiles of the front hall. He halted and looked around, clearly unsure which way to go.
She waved toward the corridor leading to the library. “My father—and most likely Mr. Morris and Mr. Pyne—will be in the library.”
Godfrey nodded. He drew his arm free of her hold, then looped it with hers. When she looked up, he grinned at her. “That’s better.”
She found herself returning his infectious smile. She wasn’t surprised that he wished to appear to be walking normally—without support—before the other men.
He set off again, and Wally trailed in their wake, ready to dart forward and assist if need be. But Godfrey seemed to have regained the required use of his legs, although she was