Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

LEWIS'S MINISTRATIONS

B etween them, Lewis and the duke slowly carried Gwinnie down the steep stairs to the first floor, the footman carrying the candleholder.

"Is there a bedroom on this floor," Lewis asked.

"Lady Oakley's," the footman responded.

"Which way," Lewis asked.

"Oh, but sir, you can't?—"

"Which way, my man, which way?" demanded the duke.

The footman looked like he was about to cry, but led them to a room at the end of the hall and opened the door into a beautiful pale-green bedroom. His jaw nearly dropped to see a couple standing in the middle of the room, passionately embracing.

"Out of the way," bellowed Malmsby, not even glancing at the couple.

"Oh, oh!" the footman squealed, fairly dancing in place as the lady worked to pull the sleeve of her white gown back over her shoulders, and she and the man scurried out the door, the footman following behind them.

Gwinnie turned her head to look at Lewis. They struggled against laughing. "Would it be bad of me to admit I needed that laugh?" Gwinnie asked.

Malmsby harrumphed. His mouth turned down in the frown he'd had since he'd joined Lewis on the stairs to carry her down.

"May I check your ankle?" Lewis asked. "You said you did not believe it was broken, but it should be checked."

"No, please do check it," Gwinnie said.

"Your grace?" Lewis asked, turning to her father.

Malmsby had begun pacing the room, but he nodded.

Lewis carefully pushed her skirts up so he could feel her ankle and leg. His breath caught in his throat, and heat coursed through him as he ran his hand over her ankle and calf. For his sanity, he quickly determined there were no broken bones. He quickly pulled her skirts back down and straightened.

"I don't detect any broken bones," he said, looking at the duke.

Malmsby thrust his lower lip out. "Good. I should go get the dowager duchess," he said grimly, walking toward the door.

"Wait, Your Grace, if you would please," Lewis said.

"What?"

"I'd like your assistance to get her shoulder back into place."

"You know how to do that?" Malmsby asked, his expression one of worry and doubt.

"Yes, I've done it many times." He looked at Gwinnie. "This will hurt, but it is best to take care of it as soon as possible. Can you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Good. Now I want you to relax as much as you can. Breathe evenly. I'm going to bring your arm along your side."

Gwinnie winced as he moved her arm. Her face contorted in pain, and she let out a sharp gasp.

"It's going to hurt a lot more in a moment," Lewis warned, his voice filled with empathy. "But I promise, it will feel better after. Just hold on, my love, my warrior woman— Your Grace, if you would stand on the other side of the bed and put a hand on that shoulder to keep it down."

"You think I won't be able to stand the pain and shall scream and thrash about?" Gwinnie asked indignantly, though her breathing remained fast.

"Sometimes movement is involuntary," Lewis said, smiling down at her. "And now I can see you tensing up in anticipation. You need to relax. I am going to turn your hand and arm, then slowly bring it up to the side, but you need to relax to let the head of your arm slip back into place. Do you understand?"

Gwinnie turned her head to look up at him. "I love you," she said.

"As I love you," Lewis said conversationally, as he moved her arm slowly. "And no one is going to try to kill you again," he promised. "I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you. I have too many plans for us."

"You do?" Gwinnie asked with a slight laugh, her eyes fixed on Lewis.

Lewis flashed her his cheeky smile that never failed to make her heart quiver.

Malmsby listened and watched Lewis and Gwinnie closely. He smiled for the first time since he saw his broken daughter sitting on the staff staircase.

"You are going to be stuck with me for years and years," Lewis continued calmly, keeping her attention on what he said over what he did.

The door to the bedroom opened with the dowager duchess and Lady Oakley rushing in. Malmsby raised a finger to his lips to tell them to be quiet. He listened and watched Lewis closely, his brows furrowed in concern.

Lewis knew the ladies were there but did not spare them a glance. His mind and soul remained entirely on Gwinnie. "I'm thinking we should leave London and move to Rosevale," he continued. "It is a beautiful property. Perhaps we can start a charity house there, what do you say?" he asked, as he gently pulled her hand toward him.

The shoulder slid back into place.

"Ah-h!" Gwinnie said, panting. "That feels so much better! And your idea has merit! Yes!" she exclaimed. She started to raise her arm to hug Lewis, but he stopped her, gently pushing her arm back down.

"No, love. Your arm is back in place, but it is not healed. In the state it is in, it could slip out again. You need to keep it in a sling for a few weeks." He sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at the women who'd entered.

"Lady Oakley, might you have a cloth we can fashion into a sling for Gwinnie?"

"I'm sure we do," Lady Oakley said, her worried expression clearing. "I'll go ask my housekeeper. She'll have just what you need, I'm sure of it."

"Gwinnie," exclaimed her grandmother. "I'm so sorry about Lady Harleigh. It's not like me to be taken in like that by someone. I'm quite aggrieved! I don't understand it. I thought her sincere! This is all my fault," she said, approaching the bed.

"In my experience with Bow Street, I have found that sometimes the craziest people are the ones who fool us the best," Lewis told her, to ease her guilt.

"She belongs in a place like Camden House," Gwinnie's father said flatly. "I will be speaking to the earl about this."

"Isn't that the sanitarium Soothcoor ended up owning after he was accused of murder last year?" Gwinnie's grandmother asked.

"The same. I assume the Harleighs have left?" inquired Malmsby.

"Yes, Lady Harleigh professed a headache," his mother said.

"I will deal with her later," Lewis said.

"With my accompanying you!" Malmsby insisted. "It was my daughter she tried to kill."

"We don't know that killing me was her goal," said Gwinnie. "I agree she wanted to cause me harm."

"You are too nice for your own good," stated her father.

Lewis shook his head. "Unfortunately, you are correct, Gwinnie. We don't know if this was a crime of opportunity or premeditated for death or injury."

"Leave her until tomorrow—or Monday even," Gwinnie suggested. "Give her time to think no one will accuse her of anything. I don't want to give her any of my precious time that I could spend with you, Lewis."

The housekeeper came into the room carrying a muslin sling with padding and multiple ties. "Here you go, my lady," the woman said. "Made this myself when young Mary, the scullery maid tripped and tried to catch herself with her arm. Clean break, the doctor said, but had to be held in place for quite a while to heal."

She crossed to the bed to fit the sling on her. There was padding on the outside to guard against bumps, and ties for around her neck and around her waist.

Gwinnie winced a little when it was first positioned around her arm, then she relaxed. "Why a tie around my waist?" she asked, as the woman passed the ribbon around her to tie at her side.

"So's you don't forget and try to move it. Keeps it tight against your body, it does."

Gwinnie thanked the woman, as did the others. The housekeeper blushed and waved her hand before her to tell them it was nothing, just doing her duty before she bustled out of the room.

"Can I go home, now?" Gwinnie asked plaintively, looking up at Lewis.

He grinned at her. "Yes," he said, leaning close, "I just wish it were my home," he whispered.

Gwinnie blushed as she looked at him, a small smile curving her lips.

"Let's see if you can put any weight on that foot," he said louder, encouraging her to slide to the side of the bed.

The duke came around to her side and he and Lewis helped her to her feet.

"I can put my toes down a bit, but otherwise, it's a hop."

"We'll support you," her father said.

"I'll have our carriage called," said the duchess, sweeping out of the room.

Gwinnie's father looked seriously at Lewis as they helped Gwinnie to walk out of the room. "I know Gwinnie said she wanted a courtship; however, under the circumstances of this past week, I prefer you marry her as soon as possible."

"Father!" protested Gwinnie in surprise.

"I should be delighted to, Your Grace," Lewis said.

"Don't ‘Father' me, Gwinnie, you two are in love. I'll pay for the special license," he said gruffly. "That way I'll know someone is watching out for you."

Lewis grinned. "Our thoughts are running along similar paths, Your Grace. I love Gwinnie and want to protect her body and soul. I petitioned the Archbishop on Thursday and picked up the special license yesterday."

"What?" Gwinnie exclaimed. "You haven't even proposed to me yet!" she protested.

"Good man," said her father.

Lewis stopped in the middle of the stairs, forcing the duke to stop too. "A courtship is to allow a man and woman to determine compatibility. We have more than determined compatibility. Do you agree or not," Lewis asked Gwinnie.

Gwinnie compressed her lips and gave him a side-eyed look. "Y-e-s," she said, drawing out the word. Her lips quirked up on one side. "Except for the matter of height," she said.

"Aargh!" Lewis cried out. "Excuse me, Your Grace, I need your daughter for a moment." He pulled her around to face him and kissed her soundly. He then let her go and stepped back. "Height is not an issue! — Thank you, Your Grace, for your indulgence. Shall we continue? I'm certain your coach will be here soon, if it isn't already."

The duke chuckled, the sound rumbling out of his chest. "I shall enjoy having you for my son-in-law. And don't you think it is time you started calling me Arthur?"