All About Seduction(15)

“Be grateful Mrs. Broadhurst is of a mind to look after you,” muttered George as he bore the stretcher toward the mansion.

That was part of the rub. “I don’t want—” her to see him like this.

“Martha can’t take care of you and your da.”

Jack’s head spun. He’d longed to speak with Mrs. Broadhurst, to hold her hand, but not as a helpless invalid, needing care, garnering her pity. And how was he going to make it to London in a fortnight? It was as if the Devil himself conspired to keep him in this wretched village. He groaned and gripped the sides of the door.

Partially denuded tree branches with their browned leaves clawed at the blue sky. His vision blurred, but he clung to the blue, hurtling prayers to a heaven that seemed to give him just a glimpse of hope before allowing his dreams to be crushed. For a second it was as if he floated along, before a body-wracking shiver made his teeth rattle.

Time seemed disjointed and he couldn’t tell if he was hot or cold. The shivers must mean he was cold, only he felt more numb than cold. He seemed almost nothing, as if his life force had ebbed away in the red pools left on the mill floor.

“Hang on, Jack,” urged George, his face crinkled in concern as he strained to bear the weight of hoisting Jack up the stairs.

“No,” he moaned.

The view above him changed to ornate plasterwork in a recessed ceiling high above. Activity exploded around him as servants ran hither and thither. And Mrs. Broadhurst was in the center of it all, looking flushed and issuing commands in a calm voice.

“Quick, help me roll the carpet,” she instructed a footman as she dragged two straight chairs to the wall.

Jack strained to watch her almost cursing at the men carrying him to move out of the way. Was he still bleeding? He couldn’t find the energy to look as people swirled around him. Maids in their black dresses with white aprons and caps, footmen in their old-fashioned breeches and black coats, moved every which way, leaving him dizzy. Bobbing in between them was Mrs. Broadhurst.

She scooped off the tablecloth, thrust it into a startled maid’s hands. “Take this away.” She snapped her fingers and bent with the footman on the other side to roll back the rug. Another footman worked on rekindling the fire. A maid brought in a washbowl and water, another stood dumbstruck in the door with a stack of towels, and a third with an armful of linens plowed into the stopped girl.

“Coming through,” shouted the man at his foot.

The men lifted and slid him onto the table like a haunch of meat. Pain shattered the numbness and he fought to contain screams. He couldn’t appear so weak in front of her, but the pain bit and snarled like a demon tearing him to bits.

“What is this?” boomed Mr. Broadhurst from the doorway.

“There was an accident at the mill.” Mrs. Broadhurst gestured toward his mangled leg.

“Good God, Mrs. Broadhurst go change at once. You cannot receive guests covered in blood. And get these men out of here.”

Mrs. Broadhurst lowered her lashes and then put her shoulders back. She planted a hand on Jack’s chest, keeping him pinned down. “Thank you, gentlemen,” she told the men from the mill. “You may return to work now.”

Was he to be without allies? He searched for George or one of his brothers or brother-in-laws, but the faces swam. All he could focus on was her pinched but determined face.

As the room emptied, Broadhurst glowered. “Get him out of here too.”

“No. He stays.” She stood defiantly in front of her husband.

Jack’s breath caught.

“I don’t think you heard me.” Mr. Broadhurst glared at his wife, while the servants slunk about with their shoulders to their ears. “I want him out of here before more guests arrive.”

Mrs. Broadhurst straightened. “I don’t care for your tone, sir. If you entertain the slightest hope that I will acquiesce to your wishes, you will consider your actions carefully.”

“You cannot bring millworkers into the house.” Mr. Broadhurst’s cold tone implied millworkers were lower than cockroaches and might infest the house if allowed to enter.

Jack shivered, wanting to get away, far, far away. He tried to roll to his side, but the doctor pushed him back.

Mrs. Broadhurst grimaced. “There was an infant in the mill. Because this man tried to stop her from getting hurt, he is now maimed. We owe him comfort and care. And if you cannot concede to that, I will attend him in his home—leaving your guests without a hostess at all.”