Free The Dangerous Lord Darrington by Sarah Mallory

Beth, but I heard the most dreadful clatter as I passed his room and the door was open so I peeped in, just to ask how Mr Davies went on, and I could see that his valet was having difficulty because his master had thrown his spoon across the room.’ She twinkled. ‘I fear poor Mr Davies is quite uncomfortable, you see. He told me his wrist hurt far too much for him to feed himself.’
    ‘Couldn’t hurt that much if he could hurl his spoon at his valet,’ remarked the earl.
    ‘I fear the pain from his injuries had made him short-tempered,’ said Sophie innocently. ‘So I offered to help him with his porridge. He was very grateful, I assure you.’
    ‘I am sure he was,’ murmured Beth. She suspected that few gentlemen would object to being attended by a pretty young lady and she had to admit that Sophie was looking particularly fetching this morning in her yellow muslin gown and with her soft brown hair curling around an open, smiling face.
    ‘I have no objection to Sophie visiting the sickroom,’ pronounced Lady Arabella. ‘It is not as though Mr Davies is infectious and I am sure the sight of her will raise his spirits. But I must insist that she does not do so unaccompanied.’
    ‘No, indeed, Grandmama,’ Sophie assured her earnestly. ‘Peters was in attendance all the time. And I should like to help—perhaps I may read to Mr Davies later…’
    ‘Let us wait to see what Dr Compton says when he calls this afternoon,’ put in Beth quickly.
    ‘Well, I do not see that he will object,’ returned Sophie. ‘And since Grandmama approves, I shall go back to sit with Mr Davies when I have broken my fast. Peters is going to let me know when he has made his master presentable, for Mr Davies insists upon being shaved before I visit him again.’
    Sophie applied herself to her breakfast, unaware of the effect of her words upon her sister.
    ‘It does appear that Davies is vastly improved this morning,’ murmured the earl as he helped himself to another slice of cold beef.
    Beth did not reply. She hoped he was improved enough to leave the Priory. She had cares enough without adding a blossoming love affair between her sister and the invalid.

    She was just emerging from the wine cellar when Kepwith announced that Dr Compton had arrived.
    ‘The earl was waiting for him on the drive, madam,’ the butler informed her. ‘He has taken him up to the sickroom.’
    ‘Has he indeed?’ declared Beth, angrily shaking the dust from her skirts. ‘And who gave him the right to do that?’
    Kepwith bent a fatherly eye upon her. ‘Now, Miss Elizabeth, you know the doctor never stands upon ceremony in this house and would have gone up anyway.’
    ‘That is not the point,’ she declared, stripping off her apron and hurrying to the stairs.
    She entered the sickroom just as the doctor was pulling the bedclothes back up over the patient.
    ‘Well, now, things are mending very nicely indeed,’ he declared. ‘Your ribs will be sore for a few weeks, I dare say but I think if you are careful there is no reason why you shouldn’t sit out of bed…’
    ‘Does that mean Mr Davies could manage a carriage ride?’ asked Beth hopefully.
    ‘To take him home, you mean?’ replied the doctor. ‘Well, I don’t see any reason why…’ his jovial gaze went past Beth and after an infinitesimal pause he continued ‘…why he shouldn’t be fit enough to travel in a—um—a week or so.’
    Beth swung round. The earl was standing behind her, his countenance impassive.
    ‘I thought, Doctor, that you said Mr Davies was much improved,’ she said suspiciously.
    ‘He is, my dear Mrs Forrester, but one cannot be too careful with a fracture such as this.’
    ‘It is still as sore as the very devil,’ added the patient, giving Beth a soulful look.
    ‘But I am informed the earl’s travelling carriage is very comfortable,’ Beth persisted. ‘And I am sure we can find mountains of cushions to protect Mr Davies’s leg.’
    ‘Out of the