The Indebted Earl Erica Vetsch (iphone ebook reader txt) 📖

The captain grunted. “I wondered who looked after the sloop.”

“That would be Miles. The old earl seemed to like the boy. Which is more than I can say for how Rothwell felt for most everyone else. Though it’s bad form to speak ill of the dead, milord, your uncle was as cross-grained a man as I’ve ever dealt with.”

They finally reached the top of the cliff, and the captain halted. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.

Sophie released Thea’s and Betsy’s hands. “Penny, why don’t you take Mamie and the girls to the house? We’ll be along presently. If you would put some water on to boil, that would be helpful.”

Charles opened his eyes and squinted against the glare of the sun.

“Does the light hurt your eyes, or is your vision blurry?” She put her hand on his shoulder.

“Yes and yes. Give me a moment to get my bearings.” He blew out a long breath and walked toward the house.

She’d noticed Charles’s gait when they were heading down to the beach. His shoulders swayed, and his stride had a roll to it. A seaman’s walk. Even now when he couldn’t move as quickly as he would like, he still looked as if he would be more comfortable on a ship’s deck.

“I think you should go right to bed, Captain. Sir?” she asked the vicar. “Is there a physician in town?”

“No, the closest is Lyme Regis. We do have a local healer though. Would you like me to fetch her?” The vicar held the kitchen door open.

“I don’t need my bed.” Charles held on to the jamb for a moment, closing his eyes.

“It’s either that or the divan in the parlor, but you must lie down.” Sophie took his upper arm and guided him through the kitchen. Penny lifted a worried face, a folded towel in her hand.

“The water’s not hot yet.”

“That’s fine. Bring it when it’s ready. And a pitcher of cold as well.”

The vicar knew his way through the house, leading them down the hall to the parlor unerringly. The room was still in a dusty state of neglect, but he seemed not to notice.

“Let us help you out of that coat, Lord Rothwell.”

The captain’s head came up at the use of the title. His shoulders went down as if pushed by a weight. He shrugged, and Sophie and the vicar helped him remove the tight jacket.

“Boots too.” Sophie motioned to the vicar as the captain lay on the divan. She found a pillow for his head and peeled away the handkerchief. A lump the size of a hen’s egg rose along his hairline, bisected by a rather nasty cut. It wasn’t deep though, and the bleeding had stopped.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Perhaps a minute or so?”

The vicar leaned over the back of the couch. “Do you feel unwell? Are your ears ringing? Perhaps you feel shivery?”

Sophie raised her brows.

“My father was a doctor.” He looked into Charles’s eyes. “By the daze in your expression, I would say you’re concussed.”

“What is the treatment?” Sophie had no nursing experience beyond tending Mamie’s occasional cold. “Perhaps we should send for the doctor.”

“Nonsense.” Charles shook his head and then seemed to regret it, slamming his eyes closed and holding his crown as if he feared it might come off. “It’s just a knock.”

“Rest is the prescription. He should be kept still, and he shouldn’t be allowed to sleep too long at a stretch.” The vicar pushed away from the couch. “Beyond that it’s a matter of managing the symptoms, I suppose, until they decrease.”

“I’m sorry to meet under such circumstances, but I am grateful you were here. I don’t know how I would have gotten him up that staircase.”

“I would have walked,” the captain grumbled.

Penny appeared with a steaming bowl of water, and Thea followed, toting a china pitcher. Mamie came in quietly, but Betsy marched in with a stack of tea cloths.

Sophie nearly burst into laughter. Betsy had somehow appropriated the captain’s bicorn and wore it sideways, the points nearly touching her shoulders and the brim covering her eyes so she had to tip her head back to see where she was going.

“Thank you, ladies.” She drew a side chair close to the sofa and pulled a small table near. “Set the water here.” Removing the towels from Betsy’s hands, she lifted the edge of the hat and tweaked the child’s nose.

“Is he going to squawk when you clean him up?” Thea plonked the pitcher down. “That’s a big bump.”

“I am not going to be so undignified as to squawk. I shall be stoic and British to the core.” The captain frowned at Thea, and she grinned back at him.

“At least you haven’t addled your brains. The scully at Miss Fricklin’s once told me of a man who fell out of a haymow and smacked his head, and ever after he couldn’t talk right or walk right.” She lurched around the room with one shoulder high and one leg dragging.

“You are a gruesome child.” The captain used the back of the couch to pull himself into a sitting position.

“I know.” Thea shrugged, uninsulted.

“You should lie down for this.” Sophie dipped the edge of a cloth in the hot water.

“Nonsense. Just clean the cut, bandage it if you have to, and let’s be done with it.”

“I shall take my leave if you are certain you don’t need me for anything else. Perhaps I could call tomorrow or the next day for a proper visit?” The vicar backed toward the door.

“Of course. And again”—Sophie dabbed at the cut—“I’m sorry we couldn’t be more welcoming this time.”

“I’ll see myself out.”

When he was gone, Sophie turned to the girls. “The captain needs quiet and rest. I’d like you to go upstairs and dust and straighten up the nursery. Please don’t squabble, and don’t move any furniture by yourselves. If you could keep watch out the window for Mrs. Chapman’s return, you can come down the back stairs to help her