Emily Hendrickson Read Online Free Page A

Purvis, that was high praise.
    The onlookers, disappointed that they had to wait for explanations, drifted away from the scene to confer in soft accents down the hall.
    Feeling sorry for Lord Leighton, even if he had entered her room in a havey-cavey manner, Elizabeth deftly eased him from her lap, ignoring the look of reproach he bestowed on her. She tucked a pillow beneath his head, wondering aloud, “Would it not be better to place him on the bed?”
    Purvis surveyed that piece of furniture, then nodded. “He ought to be able to manage that distance, surely.”
    The patient made an inarticulate sound that both women ignored.
    “Up with you,” Purvis said to the unfortunate fellow, then firmly guided him to the bed with Elizabeth on his other side.
    His right arm curved around her slim shoulders and pulled Elizabeth extremely close to his side. She considered giving him a sharp set-down, then chided herself for that unkind thought. The poor man could scarcely behave in an unseemly manner when he was in such pain, much less have amorous notions. As though to emphasize this, he groaned when Purvis nudged him against the edge of the bed. Elizabeth felt his body slump against her as Purvis threw back the covers. Those strange stirrings deep within her began to flicker again, and she ruthlessly thrust them aside, wondering how on earth she could feel like this at such a moment.
    Instead she slipped her arms about him to offer support, pressing her slim body against his side to keep him from toppling over. To compensate for shooting the man, she tenderly helped him stretch out, noting how tall he was, how broad were his shoulders with his coat tossed aside. No padding needed in his coats.
    With a speaking glance, Purvis thrust a robe into Elizabeth’s hands. Impatiently she donned it, then returned to her duties.
    Tucking her very own down pillow under his head, she then assisted Purvis in cutting away the left sleeve of his shirt, firmly nudging away any reactions to all that bare flesh. A young lady was rarely exposed to naked limbs.
    With surprising skill Purvis set about examining the wound. She barked out an order for brandy, insisting Lord Leighton needed it. Elizabeth went to fetch it, glad to be away from the sight of all that blood for a moment. Wonder of wonders, James stood outside the door with a decanter of the late Lord Montmorcy’s best on a tray. It took but moments to pour a glass for Lord Leighton, not that she felt he needed one.
    Leighton drank deeply, then gave Purvis a grin. “Do your best,” he said, his voice oddly faint to Elizabeth’s ears, which made her feel even more wretched. She averted her eyes from the sight of Purvis cleaning the wound.
    In the twinkling of a bedpost, Purvis completed her examination. Her self-satisfied grunt brought Elizabeth’s gaze back to her. As though in response to an unasked question, Purvis glanced up to meet her eyes. “My previous mistress had a husband who liked to duel.”
    Elizabeth considered that statement in silence, assisting Purvis with what she required, while avoiding the sight of his injury. Taking the water pitcher from the dresser, she poured some of the cool liquid into a bowl. Then soft cloths, jars, and bottles were extracted from the depths of the basket, to be used and replaced in order.
    When Elizabeth risked a glance at their patient, she met his eyes. His low moan of pain tore at her heart and she looked away.
    The sight of all the bloody water and the stained cloths turned Elizabeth’s stomach, and she felt utterly miserable. When he looked at her, she could have wept with vexation, for his gaze held no reproach, only appeal.
    At last, Elizabeth surveyed the bandaged man who occupied her bed. That dark hair flopped in a frightfully endearing manner over his pale brow. She succumbed to the temptation to brush it off his forehead. To her consternation, she found her eyes caught in his steady gaze.
    “I am sorry, sir. Never mind that you