Free With This Ring by Amanda Quick

luck tonight.”
    Beatrice reached the bottom step. “What is wrong with your arm, Monkcrest?”
    He paused at the door of the library and looked at her over his uninjured shoulder. In the glow of the hall lamp his saturnine features appeared even more forbidding than they had earlier in the evening. Pain and bad temper had fused into a dangerous flame in his eyes.
    “There is nothing wrong with my shoulder, Mrs. Poole.” “Rubbish.” She set the candle down on a table and crossed the hall to where he stood. “That is blood on your cloak, is it not?”
    “I recommend that you go back to your bed, madam.” “Don’t be absurd. You require assistance.”
    “Finch will deal with my shoulder.” Leo stalked into the library. Elf hovered close on his heels, whining softly. Finch hurried after him. “Really, m1ord, this sort of thing must cease. It was one thing when you were a young man of twenty, but quite another now that you’re forty. ”
    “I am not yet forty,’ Leo growled.
    “As near as makes little difference.” Finch lit a lamp and rekindled the fire.
    Beatrice stood in the doorway. “I have had some experience with this sort of thing, Finch. Please bring clean linen and hot water.”
    “Ignore her, Finch.” Leo sank wearily down onto a stool in front of the hearth. “If you value your position in this household, you will pay no heed to Mrs. Poole.”
    Beatrice assumed her most reassuring smile and turned it full force on Finch. “His lordship is not himself at the moment. Do as I say. Quickly, please.”
    Finch hesitated briefly and then appeared to come to a decision. “I shall return in a moment, madam.” He rushed off in the direction of the kitchens.
     
    Beatrice walked briskly into the library. Elf rested his head on Leo’s knee and watched her with an intent gaze.
    “Let me see your shoulder, sir.”
    Leo glowered at her. “Do you always get your own way, Mrs. Poole?”
    “When the matter is sufficiently important to me, I insist upon it.” She eased the cloak off his shoulder and tossed it aside.
    Leo clenched his jaw but he did not resist. Beatrice caught her breath when she saw the blood on his white linen shirt.
    “Dear heaven.”
    “If you intend to faint, Mrs. Poole, kindly do it somewhere else. In my present state, I don’t think I can catch you.-
    “I have never fainted in my life.” She was relieved to see that the red stain had already begun to dry. “You are fortunate. The bleeding appears to have nearly stopped. I shall need a pair of scissors to cut the shirt away from the wound.”
    “In my desk. Top right drawer.” Leo reached for the brandy bottle with his right hand. “What experience?”
    She went quickly to the desk. “I beg your pardon?” “You told Finch you’d had some experience with this sort of thing.” He splashed brandy into a glass, tossed it down in a single swallow, and refilled his glass. “Considering the fact that you have forced me into the role of your patient, I think I have a right to know the extent of your medical expertise.”
    “MY father was a vicar before he retired.” Beatrice opened the drawer and found the scissors. “My mother was, of course, a vicar’s wife.”
    “Meaning?” Beatrice started toward him with the scissors. “She took her responsibilities very seriously. She not only in-
    volved herself in acts of charity, she frequently assisted the village doctor and the midwife.”
    “And she taught you what she learned?” Leo eyed the scissors warily.
    “When I was old enough, I accompanied her whenever she was called out to attend the sick or injured.” Beatrice clipped the shirt away from the wound with swift, careful movements. “I naturally learned a great deal.”
    “Your mother is, I take it, the irritating sort who devotes herself to good works?”
    Beatrice smiled slightly. “My mother, sir, is the sort who takes command of whatever project she feels requires her attention. If she had not married my