First Comes Scandal (Rokesbys #4)(40)

Georgie leaned in close, baring her teeth. “Oh, I am,” she said. “I am definitely enjoying this.”

“Bloodthirsty—”

“Don’t say it,” Nicholas warned.

“If it makes you feel better,” Georgie said to Freddie, “my enjoyment is primarily of an academic nature. It has very little to do with you.”

“Speak for yourself, Miss Georgiana,” came the voice of Thamesly. “I am enjoying Mr. Oakes’s pain and distress immensely.”

Wheelock’s head popped into view. “As am I.”

“The merry band of butlers,” Freddie muttered.

“Quite,” Wheelock said. “In fact, I would go so far to say that I am as merry as I have ever been.”

“Not such a difficult achievement,” Nicholas was compelled to point out. “You are not generally known for your merry countenance.”

Wheelock smiled, so broadly that Nicholas nearly flinched from the sight of it. “Good God,” he said, “I didn’t know you had so many teeth.”

“All thirty-two, sir,” Wheelock said, tapping against an incisor with his knuckle. “One does not need to attend medical school to understand the importance of good oral hygiene.”

“Can we get back to it?” Freddie asked, all piss and petulance.

“We haven’t even started,” Nicholas said. “You screamed last time before we could do anything.”

“Fine. I’ll take something to bite down on.”

Everyone paused and looked about.

“I have a stick,” Wheelock said. He held up a medium-sized twig. “I took the liberty of collecting it when I was looking for a splint. Which I also have.” He held up medium-thick stick, a few inches shorter than Oakes’s ulna. Nicholas nodded approvingly. It would be perfect.

Freddie jerked his head to indicate that he wanted the twig. Wheelock brought it to his mouth pointy-end first.

“Wheelock,” Nicholas scolded.

Wheelock sighed and made a great show of turning the twig the proper way. Oakes took it between his teeth and grunted for Nicholas to continue.

“Ready, Georgie?”

She nodded.

“One … Two … Three.”

There was a wrenching groan on the part of Freddie, but Nicholas got the bone into place on the first try. “Excellent,” he said to himself, checking the limb to be sure. “Splint?”

Wheelock handed him the stick.

“Can one of you rip his shirt in two? We’ll use one part for the stick and the other to fashion a sling.”

“I can cut it,” Georgie said.

“It’ll be quicker this way,” Nicholas told her. “I would have just torn it before, but I was concerned about jostling the break.”

“Oh. Good. I would hate to think all my work was for nothing. Or worse”—she paused to make a snip in the edge of the fabric to make it easier to rip—“that you were just giving me something to do for the sake of giving me something to do.”

“Not at all. You were indispensable.”

She beamed, and for a moment Nicholas stopped breathing. It was the dead of night, pitch black save for the lantern and the moon.

And her smile.

When Georgiana Bridgerton smiled like that, he wanted to reach into the sky and grab down the sun, just to hand it to her on a platter.

If only to prove that it did not compare.

“Nicholas?”

What was happening to him?

“Nicholas?”

This was Georgie, whom he’d never thought to marry. Georgie, who, when he did think to marry her, had said no.

Georgie, who—

“Sir!”

He blinked. Wheelock was glaring at him.

“Miss Bridgerton has called your name at least twice,” the butler said.

“Sorry,” Nicholas mumbled. “I was just … thinking …” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. What is it?”

“The splint,” Georgie said, holding up a piece of Freddie’s shirt.

“Right. Of course.” Nicholas took it from her and looked down, both eager and relieved to have something medical upon which to focus.

He wrapped the arm, using the cloth to hold the makeshift stick in place. “You’ll want to see a doctor as soon as possible,” he said to Freddie. “He’ll be able to get you sorted with a proper splint.”

“You don’t think Mr. Oakes will wish to use a branch for the duration of his convalescence?” Georgie teased.

“It would work if it had to,” Nicholas said with half a smile. “But he’ll be more comfortable with something other than needs-must medicine.”

“Well, I’m impressed,” Georgie said, watching Nicholas as he fashioned a sling for Freddie’s arm. “Anyone can set an arm in the comfort of their home.”

“Anyone?” Nicholas murmured.

“Anyone with a little training,” she amended. “It takes talent to do it in the dead of night with nothing but a stick and a lantern.”

“And whiskey,” Nicholas said, holding up the flask in salute.

“I thought that was for his face.”

He took a swig. “And to salute a job well done.”