Husband Wanted (HC #1)

3: The Man at the Door

Bartholomew and Simon were the first out of their chairs when they heard Elizabeth's shriek, but Vincent was first out of the room as he'd been seated closest to the door. In contrast, Matt finished his drink before he moved. He wasn't uncaring – despite his cavalier attitude, he did care very deeply for all his siblings – merely confident in two things: Beth was over-reacting, and his brothers would have the matter well in-hand. He rose to his feet, curiosity rather than concern driving him into the foyer. He stepped around a few stunned maids, no doubt drawn by his sister's scream, and discovered that his confidence was partly mislaid.

His brothers did indeed have the situation under control. Simon was sitting beside Beth on the staircase, her face buried in his shoulder as he rubbed a soothing hand across her back. She was trembling, with tears or shock Matt could not be certain, but his eldest brother was most assuredly the best person to be comforting her in either case. Vin was directing the servants, a task he was also well-suited for, sending maids and footmen scurrying in all directions. One footman approached him from the service door, already draped in a heavy oiled cloak and sturdy boots. Vin pointed him out the door.

It was only when he looked to Bart that Matt conceded his sister may have reacted appropriately. His brother staggered back into the house, drenched from head to toe and straining against the weight carried between himself and another footman. Bart was by no means a small man, and Matt craned his neck to see what was so heavy. He would never admit it, but he too almost let out a startled squawk.

Hanging between them like a peculiarly shaped sack of flour was a half-naked, saturated man. He was limp in their arms, head lolling lifelessly to the side and revealing the beating his face had most certainly taken. His left eye was swollen and discoloured, his cheek and lip were split and smeared with blood too encrusted for even the rains to wash away. And if Matt was a betting man, he would have placed money that the man was missing an ear.

Good sense finally kicked in, and he rushed forward to grab the man about the middle. Excepting breeches, he was without clothing and quite difficult to grip, the mixture of blood, mud and water he was caked with threatening to send him slipping from Matt's grasp. He ended up looping his arms around the man's waist and grasping his own hands together in an effort to keep him from falling. The man was obviously damaged enough. His chest was littered with scratches, one particularly deep gash across his ribs beginning to bleed heavily as they moved him.

Bart led them towards the stairs, nodding gratefully at his brother's assistance, but Vin's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Perhaps... I..." As Matt's muscles began to tremble, he wished – not for the first time – that Vin could get to the point a little more quickly. "The servants' quarters are more convenient." As if cued, their butler Mr Grayson appeared at his side. "Grayson has a spare room that would be appropriate."

It was challenging enough to fit the bulky man through the servants' corridor, and Matt was relieved they did not attempt to navigate the steps. Thankfully, the spare room in the staff accommodations was nearby, and they were heaving him onto the bed less than a minute later. As he stepped away, Matt realised that the injuries to his upper-body were superficial in comparison to his lower extremities. The left leg of his breeches was soaked in blood, and he couldn't be sure that the leg was bent at an entirely natural angle.

As his stomach roiled uncomfortably, Matthew turned towards the door, only to find Phillipa standing beside him. He opened his mouth to chastise her – she was supposed to be asleep – but she spoke first.

"Someone had best apply a tourniquet to his leg."

Bart stiffened at her voice, turning sharply to frown at her. "What are you doing down here? Should you not be asleep?"