My Fair Lily(41)

“Well, yes. That is a fact.” She swallowed hard. “Oh, my goodness! Ewan, is that blood on your shirt? Your blood?” She leaned closer, but it was hard to see in the dim light of the carriage. “Take off your coat. Now. Or does it hurt too much? I’ll do it.”

Her uncle held her back. “Lily, leave him be.”

“But he’s hurt!”

“I can see that.” He thumped on the carriage roof and ordered the driver to take them straight to the Farthingale residence. “My medical bag is there. Ewan, our footmen will help you into the house.”

Lily shook her head. “There isn’t a spare bed in the house. And there are too many Farthingales about. Laurel and I will help him next door to Eloise’s while you grab whatever supplies you need and meet us there.”

Which is what they did, Eloise’s footmen assisting Ewan into one of the several available guest quarters, while Lily, Laurel, and Eloise hurried upstairs before them to ready the chamber. Ewan looked pale. Angry, but pale. He was now clutching his side with his swollen right hand. There was a widening crimson stain on his dark brown jacket, but Lily allowed herself a small breath of relief. The stain appeared too far above his liver and other vital organs for the villain’s knife to have struck one of them. Still, if he were stabbed, the knife point might have pierced his lung. She studied the rise and fall of his chest to assure herself that he wasn’t wheezing or having other difficulty breathing.

“Does Meggie know about this?” Eloise asked.

Laurel shook her head. “No, she wasn’t with us.”

“The girl must be told. She’s fragile and will fall into hysterics when she hears the rumors. And she will. These things have a way of burning through London with the speed of a wind-driven fire. I’m of no use here. I’ll fetch her. Lily, why don’t you come with me? She won’t be so frightened if you’re there to calm her.”

“No, I want to stay.”

Lily kept her gaze on Ewan, expecting him to protest, but he didn’t. Her heart lurched. He was more seriously injured than he’d let on. Though she’d only known him for a little more than a week, she understood his nature. Were the injuries minor, he’d be on his feet ordering everyone to stop fussing over him. But he was silent. “Please, Eloise. Laurel will go with you. I need to stay here.”

Ewan finally did protest, a weak attempt that quickly died out when he saw the determination on her face. “Och, lass. It won’t be a pretty sight.”

“I know. That’s why I want to be here. I can help my uncle tend to you.”

Lily waited until her sister and Eloise left the room and then helped Ewan off with his jacket. “Uncle George will be here soon. Can you raise your left arm?”

“Aye.” He surprised her by obeying, which meant he was hurt even worse than she’d thought. “Good, now your right. Can you lift it?”

“Aye, lass. Let me do it myself.” A request that she ignored because he was pale and she was now terrified that he might actually die from his injuries.

She set his jacket aside and moved to his shirt, the fine white lawn bearing a fat, crimson stain along the front. She helped him to remove his shirt and used it to apply pressure to the site of the wound that was still spewing blood. Oh, God! “Ewan, why didn’t you tell me how bad it was?”

***

Ewan was worried. He’d been stabbed between his ribs, and though it was not a life-threatening injury, it was serious enough to worry about fatal complications if not properly cleansed and treated. He didn’t want Lily here, yet her gentle touch and the no nonsense manner in which she moved around him was incredibly soothing. Her hands trembled as she carefully lifted his shirt to see if the blood had stopped pouring out of him.

“Oh,” she said in a choked whisper.

Guess it hadn’t stopped yet.

She looked ready to cry, her beautiful blue eyes laden with unshed tears. For him. Just for him.

“Lass, it’s just a nick.”

She blinked her eyes—still beautiful—and cast him a look of exasperation. “The heroes in Eloise’s books are just like you. Strong, ready to suffer in silence so as not to overset the delicate sensibilities of the young lady in question. Their behavior is supposed to be manly, but I think it’s idiotic.”

He tried not to laugh. Damn, even the smallest chuckle sent pains shooting up his ribs. Hot, intense pains as though someone were jabbing a hot poker in him. “Why idiotic? It seems quite noble to me.”

“Noble and foolish in the extreme. How is the young lady in question to know how seriously the man she loves is hurt? And if she doesn’t know, then how can she do something about it? The answer is that she can’t. She has no choice but to watch the man she loves fall into manly unconsciousness and die in manly silence at her feet.”