Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(69)

“You’ve turned duke. Hoity-toity. One moment I think you’re human, and then you remind me of your rank.”

“I apologize,” North said. “I didn’t mean to ‘turn duke’.”

Back when he was in the nursery, with four boys living in proximity, someone was always getting hurt. In those days, the cupboard in the corner held a good supply of clean white cloths, a bottle of vinegar, and a jar of his aunt’s comfrey salve. Sure enough, they were still there.

He brought them back, and poured warm water from the pitcher into a bowl. “Put your hands in the water. Please.”

She was wearing the dress he had come to hate, black, and frayed at the neck. The very sight of it put his teeth on edge.

Diana plunged her hands into the warm water and hissed under her breath as it met the raw wound on her palm.

North had seen men succumb to infections that had settled in wounds that had not initially seemed grievous. He gently washed her hand with soft soap, making certain that no strands of rope or dust were left. He dried her hand, then poured vinegar over the laceration, ignoring her squeaking protests.

“Infection is a terrible thing,” he said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the children. Her hands were beautiful, with slender fingers that felt incredibly fragile. His hands were battered and scarred, whereas even her calluses were delicate.

“This is merely a scrape,” Diana protested.

North patted her hands dry again with a clean towel and looked carefully for dirt that had escaped him. “Why weren’t you wearing gloves?”

She threw him a dark look. “Governesses do not have an unlimited supply of gloves, Lord Roland.”

A flash of heat went down his back. Diana, his Diana, had injured her hand in order to conserve a pair of gloves?

He added a mountain of gloves to the trunk of shoes he planned to buy for her, duchess or no. “I gather that you brought home a peahen?”

“A mate for Fitzy,” she said, watching as he carefully dabbed salve on her palm.

“Why didn’t you return to the castle and inform Prism that there was an appropriate bird for purchase?”

“She was tied to a fence with a short rope. She has no feathers left around her neck. Her tail is missing feathers as well; I think they were deliberately pulled out and sold. I couldn’t leave her.”

Tail feathers? Typical Diana, he registered. For good and ill.

“Did you steal it?” He rubbed her palm.

“Ouch!”

“I’m sorry.”

“I thought about it,” she said in a rush. “But the owner appeared. He was a horrid man, far too young to be so cruel.”

“Cruelty is not the preserve of the old,” North pointed out, vivid scenes from the war racing through his mind.

“I gave him money, and he said we should take her now, because otherwise he couldn’t be responsible for her safety. He said she’d pecked him one too many times. What could I do at that point?”

“If we’d still been in the village with the pony cart, we could have helped. Damn it.”

“There was no reason that you should have stayed,” Diana told him. “When we returned to the square, Mr. Calico had shut his caravan, so we began walking. It’s not far, but the peacock—did you call her a peahen?—was unexpectedly strong, especially for a bird that seemed half starved. Every time she spread her tail—”

“Does Mrs. Fitzy have a tail that might rival our castle cock?” North interrupted.

“No, she’s missing at least a quarter of her feathers,” Diana told him, frowning at the way he was winding muslin around her hand. “You can’t do that. I have to bathe the children as soon as they wake up.”

“You may not bathe the children, because you mustn’t get your hands wet at least until tomorrow.”

She snorted. “Please try not to be ridiculous. I have to bathe myself as well.”

“I shall help you,” he said, his voice silky. He tucked the end of the muslin under the bandage, and Diana pulled her hand away.

“No, thank you,” she stated.

“Where is your nursemaid?” he asked.

“Mabel? She’s probably in the dairy. She’s in love with one of the men who work there. Or perhaps with two,” she added. “She talks of them both.”

“Adventuresome,” North commented. “She can bathe the children after they wake from their naps. You mustn’t get your wound wet, Diana. An infection can be very dangerous.”

He could feel a tic in his jaw. Because, damn it, she had to be safe. “I’m not usually like this,” he said roughly.

The white bandage made a glaring contrast to her dusty dress. “Mabel will help me undress, but thank you.” Diana’s eyes crinkled at the corners because she was smiling, and God help him, her smile made him a bit dizzy. “Was there something else?” she asked, when he didn’t move.

“Mrs. Fitzy?” he prompted. “You were telling me of the peahen with the battered tail.”

“Yes.” Anxiety crossed her face. “Do you think that His Grace won’t want another peacock? I do realize that Fitzy makes a terrible racket. I didn’t think when I saw her tied to that fence, and all the feathers on her neck worn off from trying to break free.”