The Convenient Bride (26 page)

“Leave him,” Lucy commanded. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere.
”

Once i
n the kitchen, Donald boiled some water while Max and Lucy argued over who was treating whose wound first.

“Mine is a graze, you’re still bleeding!”
Lucy argued.

“And I won’t sit still u
ntil I can see that for myself,” Max countered.

“Oh will you both shut up!” Donald snapped, f
eeling a little shaky and short-tempered after the shocking events of the last hour or so. He put down the bowl of boiled water that Lucy had asked for, spilling some of it over the kitchen table. “She’s right, Max, you are in the worse state, so sit down and let her clean and bandage the wound for you.”

Outnumbered, Max
did as he was told, and sat down to allow Lucy to peel his clothes off and examine him. Donald went outside to light his pipe and wait for the help to arrive.

“It went straight through, thankfully, so you’re saved the
pain of digging the bullet out.” She tore his shirt and blotted the blood away with part of it. “It isn’t bleeding too badly so I don’t think the bullet hit anything important,” she said, then tore another strip from his shirt and began to clean the area, dipping the cloth into the boiled water.

Although it was crude, Lucy used pa
rt of his shirt as wadding, then she managed to tie strips around his shoulder and across his chest to hold it in place.

Max’
s wrists were also bruised and bloody from where he had tried to saw through the ropes, so she cleaned and bandaged those too.

He watched as she worked, marvelling at her bravery earlier and touched by her compassion and
her loving touch as she tended to him.

He had wiped away most of the blood from his head wound and the cut was hidden by his hair. He decided not to mention it since he was anxious to examine her injuries.

“There, all done,” she finally proclaimed.

“Thank the L
ord!” Max shot up from his seat and immediately tore the sleeve of her riding habit and blouse.

Lucy waited patiently as he used the rest of his shirt to clean and bandage her arm,
pleased to see that she had been right; it was just a graze, albeit deeper than he would have liked.

He looked so worried as he played nursemaid
that she reached out and touched his cheek when he was finished. He looked down at her.

“I was so worried,” she
said, her tears finally falling.

Max pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.

“Promise me you won’t ever do anything so foolish again,” he told her, his voice catching as he remembered how close he had come to losing her.

“I promise, as long as you promise not to get kidnapped again.”

Donald checked on them from time to time through the kitchen window but each time he looked, they remained exactly as they had been, just holding each other, both crying tears of joy that they were alive and tears of sadness that they had witnessed such an insane act. The memory of Marie’s final moments would haunt them both but as long as they had each other, Donald felt that they would be fine.

Charles,
four of the Bow Street Runners, a handful of soldiers from the local garrison and a doctor arrived after about twenty minutes and Donald went inside.

“The cavalry has arrived,” he proclaimed. “Giles tried dragging himself to the wood but he hasn’t got very far.”

“You just let him?” Lucy asked.

Donald shrugged. “It s
eemed fairly clear that he wasn’t going to get away on that leg, so I couldn’t see the harm.”

The absurd image of Giles, usually so suave and debonair, trying to drag himself away struck Lucy as comical and soon her tears were of laughter. Max joined in
and eventually even Don began to laugh, which is how Charles found them.

“Well, it looks
as if you had fun in my absence,” he said, though his sharp eyes had taken in their temporary bandages.

Max and Donald quickly sobered up but Lucy continued to laugh.

“I'm sorry,” Lucy said in between her laughs. “I can’t- can’t help it.”

“Hysteria,” the doctor said. He w
asn’t their regular doctor and Max wondered where Charles had found him. “If she witnessed that ghastly scene in the courtyard, I'm not surprised.” He put his bag down on the table and opened it. “Now, let’s take a look at you and put some proper dressings on those injuries.”

Max and Lucy allowed themselves to be poked and prodded, then sat patiently as the Runners questioned them. They both said that they had been unable to see the faces of the
men who had been paid to help, and added that they were certain the men hadn’t signed up to murder and had in fact, not only aided Max and Charles to escape, but they had also protected Lucy.

Since Marie was dead, Giles was in custody and they had no description of the men who had been hired to help, Max knew
that they wouldn’t search very hard, if at all.

Thanks to the excitement of the last few days, Charles
’ cough was playing up so the doctor gave him another dose of laudanum and recommended complete rest for a few days.

Giles was
next seen by the doctor, had his leg bandaged and was then escorted to London by the Runners, to await trial.

Although it was dark,
two of the Runners went into the woods with oil lamps and using Lucy’s directions, they soon returned with the ransom money. Their horses were then rounded up from where they had been tethered and were put into the empty stables.

“I think perhaps you should stay here tonight,” the doctor said
as he was packing his medical bag. “You have all had something of a shock.”

“It’s not a long journey,” Lucy said. “And I think after everything that’s happened, I would prefer familiar surroundings.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Charles added.

So they saddled their borrowed horses and rode back to London,
although at a far slower pace than when they had left the city.

The
y made plans as they rode. Charles decided to send a message to his wife by overnight messenger but not wanting to worry her with a night time delivery, he would tell the messenger to deliver it in the morning, then it could be brought to Eleanor when she awoke.

Donal
d agreed that he and May would head back to Kent first thing in the morning, and carefully reveal everything that had been happening.

Max and Charles had to remain in London until they knew what was happening with Giles but if they could return home tomorrow, they would
, even if it would mean arriving late at night.

Donald split off from the group to collect May from Lucy’s house
and take her to their home, while Charles, Max and Lucy headed to the Stark house, since Lucy’s was still being decorated. Besides, their house still felt more like home to her.

They were all tir
ed and after a brandy for shock and a quick dinner of bread and potted ham, the housekeeper had prepared basins of hot water for them and they retired to their rooms.

They all kept some
clothes here to make travelling between houses easier and although most of Max and Lucy’s belongings had been moved to the house they had rented for the end of the Season, a lot had been left, since they didn’t own that house and couldn’t leave possessions there once they vacated it.

Max felt better after a wash, although now that the excitement was over, he was beginning to feel bone weary.
He was just towelling off when his door opened and Lucy came in. She looked as tired as he felt and she didn’t speak as she stripped off her night shirt and climbed into bed. He joined her a few moments later and within seconds of embracing each other, they were both sound asleep.

***

The next morning, Lucy awoke to aching muscles; she had never been in the saddle for so long before and of course, she had a few bumps and bruises, as well as her bullet wound. Still, what she felt was probably nothing compared to how Max and Charles would feel.

As well as Max be
ing shot and suffering a head wound, both men had been forced to sit in an awkward position, on a cold floor, for more than a day.

Max was still sound asleep so she quickly checked his bandages, pleased to see that only a few spots of blood ha
d seeped through the dressing. She slipped from the bed and pulled her nightgown on, then Max’s dressing gown, before heading down to the kitchen.

***

Max awoke reluctantly but as each movement hurt, he soon had little choice but to awaken fully. He immediately realised that Lucy was missing from his bed and his heart plummeted as he remembered the last time they had shared this bed, and she had left him before he woke up.

He wouldn’t blame her for being upset with him, after all, this
whole situation was his fault. If he hadn’t gotten involved with that woman, none of this would have happened.

Although he wanted to lie
still and wallow in self-pity for a while, he knew that he had to check on his father. The long term effects of their ordeal on his father’s illness weren’t known and he needed to check on him, so reluctantly, he swung his legs out of bed and stood up, slowly stretching his protesting muscles. His left arm hurt far too much to use but at least he was right handed, so he wouldn’t be too inconvenienced.

He grabbed his night
shirt off the floor but before he could see about putting it on, the door swung open. He heard a squeak and looked over to see Lucy entering with a large lap tray and the housekeeper, who was shielding her eyes from the sight of him.

“Thank you, Mrs Rooney
,” she said, unable to hide her smile as she kicked the door closed. Her expression soon changed to a mock frown. “Get back into bed, mister; you are supposed to be recuperating.”

Reli
eved that she was still taking care of him, he got back into bed and pulled the covers over himself. Lucy placed the tray on his lap then climbed into the other side of the bed.

“I thought for a moment you’d left me again
,” he confessed.

“Never,” she assured him. “Now eat up, you need your strength.”

“Did you cook it?”

“Please! I hardly know how to make tea, but I helped Mrs Rooney.”

He examined the tray before him and the first thing he noticed was the rose, in a small vase. He took it out and inhaled its scent.

“Did you pick
this?”

“I did.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her softly, then examined the rest of the tray. He found tea, coffee, orange juice, a huge cooked breakfast, six slices of toast, butter and jam.

“I can’t eat all this!” he argued.

“Of course not, half of it’s mine but we couldn’t manage yours, your father’s and a tray for me.”

She began cutting
up the food for him since, although he wasn’t complaining, she could tell that his left arm was causing him pain. Her arm hurt but she could move it without too much difficulty.

“How is Father?”

“He’s fine,” Lucy assured him. “He’s got some aching muscles but he’s fairing far better than you.”

“And his cough?”

“It doesn’t seem any worse and he doesn’t blame you for what happened. In fact, he rather admires your rescue of me, he told me you were growing into a fine young man.”

Max smiled
and when she was finished cutting, took the cutlery from her and fed her a piece of sausage, which she accepted with a smile.

“Now you eat
something,” she chided as she buttered a slice of bread.

Alth
ough she had her own cutlery, they ended up with Max feeding Lucy alternate mouthfuls of the cooked breakfast, while she fed him the toast.

“I feel better already.” He said when they had finished.

“I thought you might, I slipped a few drops of your father’s laudanum into the coffee. I knew you’d refuse otherwise.”

Max laughed. “I realised it was bitter but I thought that was because you made it!”

“It’s a good job you’re injured,” Lucy said as she raised her fist, playfully. “Now, come on,” she said getting off the bed and ringing the servants’ bell, then taking the tray from him. “I’m going to clean and bandage your wounds again, and then I’ll help you get dressed.”

“Very well,” he agreed, which surprised her. “As long as I get to return the favour.”

“She’ll be bringing dressings and bandages for my arm too,” she assured him. “Though I don’t believe you’ll be much good at bandaging with that arm.”

“Actually, I was thinking more of helping you dress.”

Lucy laughed. “Dear Lord, Max, isn’t getting shot enough to cool your ardour for at least a few days?”

Max sobered quickly and caught her arm, making her turn to him, her expression questioning.

“Nothing can make me stop wanting you,” he declared.