A Dangerous Nativity

Chapter 5, Scene 4

The line of a woman's back surpasses the grace of any cathedral, Will believed. At least this woman's does. He looked his fill at Catherine bent over his nephew, and smiled to himself. He found her gentle competence oddly compelling, also. They had laid Charles on a sofa in the tradesmen's parlor, while Will had shouted for cloths, hot water, and honey. She had cleaned and bandaged the wound in short order, all the while encouraging the boy and quieting his fears. Her strong hands wrung out the cloths she had used into a basin, before she handed both the basin and rags to a waiting footman and rolled the sleeves of her simple dress back down.

Will watched her smooth back Charles's hair, and longed to feel those strong, gentle fingers in his own. When she kissed the boy's cheek, he felt a wholly inappropriate surge of desire. He ought to be concerned for his nephew, not lusting after his extraordinary neighbor.

"Will I get honey? Randy said you would give me some," Charles reminded her.

"Of course!" Catherine answered with a chuckle. She reached for the honey pot. "You were very brave."

"I was, wasn't I, Uncle Will?"

Will didn't answer, lost in the woman's husky voice. That voice would reduce a man to begging.

"Uncle Will?" Charles repeated.

"Yes. You were very brave," the earl murmured.

When Catherine popped a spoon of honey into the boy's mouth, the adoration on Charles's face mirrored his uncle's.

"Chadbourn! Why didn't you come when I sent for you? Franklin told me those horrid boys imposed themselves on Charles. He said you ordered him brought to the stables, but I couldn't believe it."

Will spun around to see Sylvia leaning on the door-frame, breathing rapidly. He saw the moment her eyes found Charles and the white bandage around his right thigh.

"Dear God, what have you done to my son?"

She looked as if she might faint. Will stepped closer, but she proved to be sturdier than he thought. She pushed herself forward and fell to her knees beside her son. Catherine stood and moved away. Will put out a hand to steady Catherine, but she sidestepped him.

"My baby, what did they do to you?" She grabbed the boy's hand and patted it repeatedly. Charles looked like he wanted to pull it away. "What have you done, Chadbourn?" Sylvia spat over her shoulder. "He may never be normal. He may never walk. He may—"

Will saw stark alarm on the boy's face. "Nonsense, Sylvia, it's a clean cut. He will heal up fine." He glanced at Catherine, who eyed the parlor door. He didn't want her to bolt. They needed to talk.

"Randy says I may get an excellent scar," Charles, relieved, put in with pride.

"Randy? We don't associate with any 'Randy.' Those horrid boys did this, didn't they? Emery was right to run them off. You will call the magistrate, Chadbourn. I insist on it." She continued to chafe Charles's hand, while the boy tried in vain to tug away.

"No, Mama," Charles insisted. "Randy didn't do anything. I climbed up the fence to watch Freddy and slipped. It was my fault, but Randy says he slips all the time, and I just need practice."

"Randy says? Randy says? What does he have to say about it? That lot at Songbird Cottage are not received, Charles. You will not go near them again. You will keep yourself to the schoolroom with dear Franklin." She hiccupped a sob. "We must send to London for a physician."

"You might want a physician or surgeon to look at it," Catherine said quietly to Will. "There is an excellent medical practitioner in Wheatton. I doubt he will do more than I, however. Until then, I recommend you keep it clean. Reapply honey when you change the bandages tomorrow."

"You let this woman touch my son? With honey? We will send for Wetherby, of course. He will come from London posthaste, but this honey will horrify him." Sylvia rose to glare at Catherine. "She's from Songbird Cottage, isn't she? One of them?" She didn't wait for an answer. She lifted her chin and addressed Catherine directly.

"Get you gone. Stay away, and keep your sons away from mine," Sylvia spat.

Catherine drew herself to her full height and returned Sylvia's haughty look with one of her own. "I will gladly leave, and I will make sure my brothers know they aren't welcome here, as I had intended when I came." She turned to Charles, neatly giving Sylvia the cut direct, her slight bow acknowledging the boy's title, for his mother's sake. The smile she gave him looked genuine, but strained. "I hope this scratch doesn't trouble you unduly, Your Grace. Don't let it keep you from enjoying the out of doors. My lord," she said, with a nod at Chadbourn. She, and took her long-limbed stride to the door.

"Miss Wheatly, wait!" She didn't.