The Viscount’s Veiled Lady. Jenni Fletcher
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ankle instead. If you’ll permit me to take a look?’
‘I really don’t think—’
‘But I do,’ he interrupted firmly. ‘This is my farmhouse and I intend to see that you’re properly tended to. Now it’s either me or a doctor and, if you’d prefer for nobody to know where you’ve been, I’d suggest you pick me. I can only answer for my own discretion.’
‘All right. You do it.’
‘Then may I?’
She opened her mouth as if to protest some more and then nodded instead, sitting very still as he reached down and lifted her foot carefully on to the stool beside him.
‘I’ll need to remove your boot.’ He looked up, already untying the laces, and she nodded again, her undamaged cheek a noticeably darker shade of pink than it had been a few moments before.
‘There.’ He slid her boot off and pressed his fingers around the swollen ankle, feeling the heat of the injury even through her stocking. ‘It’s not broken, but it’s a nasty sprain. It needs binding, but we’ll need to remove your undergarments first. I can do it if you...’
‘No!’ Her voice seemed to have leapt to a higher pitch. ‘I’ll do it. If you could just...?’
She made a spinning gesture and he turned around obediently, staring out into the hallway as he listened to the rustle of her petticoats behind. It was a strangely enticing sound, one he wasn’t accustomed to hearing, though as a rule he considered himself immune to the charms of womankind. He’d never been as enamoured of the entire female sex as his brother, had always considered himself a one-woman man, or at least he had before he’d decided he was better off on his own. Still, he couldn’t help but imagine the actions taking place just out of sight. She must be drawing her skirt up, untying her garter, rolling her stocking down...
‘Ready.’
‘Good.’ He cleared his throat before he spoke, though his voice still sounded uncharacteristically husky as he spun round again, trying to focus all his attention on the injury. Her ankle was red and swollen, though he could see the lower part of her leg now, too. As calves went, it was surprisingly shapely for someone he remembered as having a boyish figure. She really had changed in that regard, he thought, wrapping the bandage gently around velvet-soft skin. When he’d left she’d still been a girl, whereas now—he risked a glance up at a distractingly full bosom—now she was undoubtedly a woman. The thought was somewhat alarming, making his blood stir and his pulse throb in a way he hadn’t felt for...well, for a considerable amount of time. Years, in fact. The years it had taken for her to grow up...
He tied the ends of the bandage more tightly than he’d intended, irritated by his own errant thoughts. Had he gone quite mad living on his own? She was Lydia’s sister! He didn’t want anything to do with Lydia—and that included her family—and he definitely didn’t want to be thinking about her sister’s legs, stockinged or otherwise!
‘What did you mean about being late?’ He asked the question to distract himself.
‘Mmm?’ She jerked her head up, looking somewhat startled. She must have been chewing her lip, he noticed, because it looked fuller and redder all of a sudden. Wetter, too, coated with a sliver of moisture...
‘In the yard you said that you had to go or you’d be late.’ He cleared his throat again, more forcefully this time. ‘Late for what?’
‘Oh, I forgot. I meant for the tide. The sea will be up to the cliffs in another hour. If I don’t hurry, then I won’t make it back to Whitby before dark.’
‘You mean you walked here along the beach?’
‘Yes.’ She seemed nonplussed by the question. ‘It’s not far, but I really ought to hurry.’
‘It’s a good mile and I doubt you could hobble as far as the village tonight. You shouldn’t put any weight on that foot for a few days.’
‘A few days?’
She muttered a swear word and his lips twitched in amusement. He couldn’t have put it any better himself.
‘Well, Miss Webster...’
‘I’m sorry.’ Her expression turned guilty. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘I’ve heard worse. I believe I actually said worse earlier.’
‘Oh, yes—’ her expression cleared again ‘—so you did.’
‘Then I suppose I can’t blame you for running away. Between that and my lack of clothing, I must have appeared like some kind of monster.’
‘I thought you were a convict.’ She dug her teeth down hard into her bottom lip, turning serious again. ‘But perhaps you might let me borrow your carriage? Just to take me to the outskirts of Whitby. I’ll make my own way from there.’
‘I don’t have a carriage, only horses, and you won’t be making your own way anywhere. I might not look like much of a gentleman, but I hope I still have better manners than that. I presume you can ride?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll escort you home.’
‘No!’ She sounded positively alarmed. ‘I mean, there’s no need for you to put yourself out. I can go on my own.’
‘I’m sure you can, but I’d like to have my horse back afterwards.’
‘Oh...yes, of course.’ Her expression wavered uncertainly. ‘Then perhaps we could wait until dark and you might leave me in the street?’
He lifted his eyebrows, regarding her dubiously. ‘Embarrassed to be seen in my company, Miss Webster?’
‘No-o, but the truth is that my parents don’t know anything about my coming here. They’d think it was shockingly indiscreet for me to call on you.’
‘They’d have a point. It’s unfortunate that your sister doesn’t share their scruples, but it won’t be dark for another few hours. Won’t your parents be concerned if you’re not home before nightfall?’
‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head with conviction. ‘They’re used to me coming and going, and Lydia will cover for me, I’m sure, under the circumstances.’
‘Quite.’
He glanced down at his hand, surprised to find it still resting on her foot. He must have kept it there without thinking and now the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips was making him even more unsettled. Positively uncomfortable, in fact. Maybe his sister-in-law was right and he was starved of companionship. Not that this was the kind of companionship she’d likely had in mind. Even sitting so close to a woman now was making his collar feel uncomfortably restrictive. Or perhaps he was just used to wearing loose farm clothes. In either case, he ought to let go of Frances’s foot. Now that he’d bound the injury, he really shouldn’t still be touching her at all, especially when he was so acutely aware of the shapeliness of the legs beneath her petticoats. Except that pulling his hand away now would only draw more attention to it...
‘Lydia only wants to talk to you.’ Her voice sounded strangely breathless all of a sudden.
‘So she sent you with a request that I’ve already refused, twice, without either your parents’ permission or any care for your reputation?’
She shuffled in her chair, the movement of her foot beneath his fingertips causing an immediate, and this time unmistakable, reaction in his lower body.
‘I didn’t know that it was twice, but she said that she just wants to explain...about her marriage.’
He was actually glad to feel a rush of anger, dampening his other responses and finally giving him an excuse to pull his hand away. ‘You mean to explain why she married someone else within a month of my leaving? Can she explain that, Miss Webster? Or are you going to tell me it