“I would never ask it.” Not, at least, until she volunteered.
He opened the door, jumped out, and reached up to help her. As his hands circled her waist, a tongue of lightning streaked across the heavens, and a peal of thunder rolled over the city, loud enough to shake the windows.
And Gwyneth, nymph that she was today, looked up at the sky with a smile. Thad put her feet upon the ground and drew her closer than he ought. “You want to play in it, don’t you?”
“I have not dared since I was a child, but there is nothing in the world like it.”
He chuckled and led her toward Mortimer’s. “Come, my Miranda. Let us see to Mother first, and then you can frolic in Prospero’s storm.”
She took a step away and grinned at him over her shoulder. “You know Shakespeare. Impressive, for an uncivilized savage.”
Oh, was she lucky that Jack was even now pulling open the door for them, or he would have…
“Uncle Thad, Grandmama has a stained ankle.” Jack tossed himself at Thad’s waist with his usual faith that he would be caught.
Thad swept the boy up. “I daresay you mean ‘sprained,’ matey.”
Mother’s face bore lines of distress, but her cheeks had good color, and her smile wavered only slightly. “My best guess. It is swelling and throbbing, but the pain has ebbed a great deal already. Your father will wrap it tight for me, and I shall be up and about again in a few days’ time.”
Thad didn’t dare argue, knowing her as well as he did. She would be up and about, even if it required a crutch. He gave Jack’s back a pat. “Go to Gwyn for a few minutes. I must carry Grandmama to the carriage.”
The fidgety Mr. Mortimer shifted, drawing Thad’s attention to where he stood a few feet away. “Need you any assistance, Lane?”
“With the door, if you please. I do appreciate it, Morty.” He passed Jack to Gwyneth so he would not be underfoot. As he leaned down to his mother and slid his arms around her back and under her legs, he whispered, “Are you all right, Mum?”
Her arm encircled his neck, and she offered him a reassuring smile. “I did not want to alarm Jack, though it was quite debilitating at first. It still hurts, but it really has gotten better since Gwyn went for you.”
“Good.” He lifted her and turned toward the door. “Father is going to fret something fierce, you know.”
Mother breathed a low chuckle and tightened her grip on him as he started forward. Then she hummed. “No wonder Jack climbs you and your father as if you are trees. You have a lovely vantage point from up here.”
Leave it to her to notice such things when injured. “I think so. ’Tis why I decided to grow so tall, after all.”
“Wise of you indeed.”
Grinning, he maneuvered her carefully out the door, nodded a thanks to Mr. Mortimer, and eased his mother into the carriage door that Henry held open, battling the wind to do so. A few passersby paused to offer assistance, but he assured them he had matters well in hand.
Next he reached for Jack from Gwyneth’s arms. She relinquished him with a lopsided smile. “Is there anyone in the whole city of Baltimore with whom you are not acquainted, Thad?”
He settled the boy beside Mother and then pasted a thoughtful look on his face when he turned back to her. “Possibly. Though if so, I don’t know who it would be.”
“Clever, aren’t you.” She accepted his proffered hand and settled inside.
Thad turned to Henry. “Sorry about the weather, old man.”
“You know I don’t mind, Captain.” He nodded toward the opening. “‘Specially if it’s for your saint of a mother. Now get on in so’s we can get goin’.”
“Aye, aye.” He ducked and climbed in, giving himself a mental pat on the back for arranging the seating so that he had no choice but to be beside Gwyneth. Though his smile he aimed at his mother, tapping a hand upon his knee. “Allow me to be your footstool.”
It took only a few minutes for them to arrive home, for Thad to help her up to her room, and for Father to begin hovering, insisting she lie still, that she turn her foot just so, that she tell him exactly how it hurt, that she conjure up the names of who caused the mishap so he might devise a formula with which to torment them…
Thad shook his head and wandered to the window while Father wound a bandage round Mother’s foot and ankle. Gwyneth had said something about seeing that Jack was put down for his nap, and she must have succeeded in record time. For there she was in his backyard, circling around on the swing with her face tipped up to receive the drenching summer rain, her hair a river of burnished gold.