Read Fenella Miller for Free Online

Unwanted tears brimmed, now this gown was ruined from his gore and she had nothing else to wear apart from the one she'd travelled in yesterday.
    Unexpectedly his gloved hand closed over hers. "Don't cry, I'm not worth your tears. I know you are loathing every minute of this. Please, madam, let me lie here on my own. I do not deserve your assistance."
    "Do not say so, Mr Bucknall. I do not blame you for being irascible and for having let yourself go, what you have suffered…to have lost your wife and child and been injured yourself…no one could blame you for having lost your way."
    His harsh bark of laughter chilled her to the marrow. "Pray, madam, spare me your misguided and unwanted sympathy. I am as I choose to be, I find it suits me to be, as you so kindly put it, irascible and unkempt." His elbows dug painfully into her knees and then she was free. She could not hold back her exclamation of distress.
    "Mr Bucknall, I beg you do not move, already the blood is seeping through the pad I pressed on it." Hastily she wriggled away and scrambled to her feet. Ignoring the fact that he was watching her every move she snatched up the hem of her gown and ripped another strip from her chemise.
    "Hold this against the pad that is already there. Press it hard, it will stem the blood." He didn't argue, must have sensed the urgency in her voice. With the final strip of her ruined garment she bound the second wad of material against the wound, praying it would do until the physician arrived.
    When this was done she tore down the nearest curtain and folded it into a makeshift support. "Rest on here, sir, I shall fetch a footstool for your feet. I remember now, when my husband received a similar injury, the doctor raised his feet. I've no idea why this is efficacious, but I shall do the same for you."
    The padded stool was ideal for the purpose. However his booted feet proved remarkably difficult to arrange. Each time she managed to place one to her satisfaction and turned to lift the other the first mysteriously returned to the floor. As she was on her knees with her back to the patient she had no idea if he had swooned and this was why things were so difficult.
    After the second attempt she glanced over her shoulder to be met by a smile that caught her breath. He had been deliberately teasing her. "You are impossible, have your feet any way you choose, it is no matter to me if you bleed to death."
    This time his laughter was genuine and added to her discomfiture. "I beg your pardon. There, see, both feet neatly arranged as instructed. Please, go about your business, madam, I shall do very well here until the quack arrives. He lives but a mile from the end of the drive, he should be here in no time."
    Crossly she stared at him. His colour was better, his extraordinary eyes quite definitely twinkling. She was not going to remain in the room and be made fun of. She curtsied, but kept her head lowered not wishing to meet his eyes. "Excuse me, sir, I must rearrange my appearance before going into the village. I am sure that Mr Foster will be back momentarily to take care of you."
    Leaving the door open she hurried out, not stopping until she was safely in her own chamber. In despair she looked at her gown, the bloodstains would never come out. She rallied, with luck the damage would be hidden by her apron. However, she could not go to the village as she was, she must put on her travel stained gown.
    This had once been a pretty shade of blue, it was now somewhat faded from frequent washing. She had sponged it down last night, it didn't look too bad, and at least it was less like something a menial would wear. Maybe there would be sufficient money to buy herself a length of material, if the village shop stocked such items. She was an excellent seamstress and had always made her own clothes and those of her children With the long summer days it would be possible to sew after she had finished her duties for the day, if Mary helped her with the