“Quit your grousing and be thankful you’re still alive.”
“Thankful? Ha!” But then a gloomy look came over his face. “Poor Pugh. If I’d given him a pension and sent him to live with his daughter, he’d still be alive.”
“Don’t fret about it. It won’t help.”
“I’m not fretting.”
They needed to get to Glyncove Abbey.
“Lord Withinghall, how badly are you hurt?”
“I tried to stand, but there appears to be something wrong with my leg. It collapsed underneath me.”
“Perhaps it’s broken.”
“It isn’t broken.” He sat up and groaned.
“You’ve had quite a blow to the head. I don’t want you fainting, since I don’t think I can lift you.”
“I can stand.” His voice was aggressive and so was his glare. “Let me lean on you.”
She stopped applying pressure to his wound and let him put his arm around her shoulders. He got one leg underneath himself, but when he dragged the other leg beside it, he gasped.
“I think it may be broken.” He tried to walk anyway and took a step. But then he leaned heavily on her and said, “I’m going down.”
He was toppling over, so she held him up as best she could and helped him back down. He was deathly pale, and the blood was already running down the side of his face again.
“Don’t try to move.” Leorah grabbed the handkerchief and pressed it to his head wound again.
Lord Withinghall’s chest moved up and down, his eyes closed.
“Are you well?”
“Yes.” He did not move or open his eyes.
“Truly, you look very pale.”
“I don’t think I can walk.”
“No, definitely not. We have to decide how to get to Glyncove Abbey.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Are you insulted that I would consider myself your equal in trying to make a decision or think of a plan?”
He snorted. “First you tell me not to fret, then you try to start a quarrel with me.”
Leorah sighed. “I’m sorry. We obviously are in no position to quarrel with each other, and I am especially sympathetic about your broken leg.”
He opened one eye and stared.
She lifted the handkerchief, checking to see if the cut had stopped bleeding. The color was returning to his face. Being so close to him, she could see how blue his eyes were. He had very handsome eyes, distractingly fine, now that they were not glowering down at her or narrowing in disapproval.
“Miss Langdon, if anyone should find us like this, it will not bode well for either of our reputations.”
“I realize that, but I thought you might prefer to not be bleeding everywhere. Perhaps I should send for your valet to clean your face while I ring the bell for some tea. Then I’ll fetch my mother to sit with us in the drawing room so that no one thinks we are unseemly. No, I just remembered. My mother is miles away, we’re stranded on this country road, and you have a broken leg and a gash in your head.”
Leorah half frowned, half smiled, determined to keep up the pressure on his wound, even if he ordered her to stop. He’d helped her with her wrist, had saved her from further injury when the carriage overturned, and she was going to help him now whether he wanted her to or not.
They sat in silence for a while. A broken leg could be serious. If it did not heal correctly, he could walk with a limp for the rest of his life, and far worse things than that had been known to come from a bad break. And a blow to the head could also be serious.
“Is your vision clear?” she asked him. “Not feeling overly sleepy?”
How strange that she should feel so concerned about the crotchety viscount.
“I see very well, and no, I’m not sleepy. I’ve never lost consciousness in my life before today, and I’m not likely to lose it now . . . unless I try to walk.”
“Let me see if your cut has stopped bleeding.” She lifted the handkerchief and waited. No blood came. “It’s stopped. Good. I shall try and go for help.” She began climbing out of the carriage door.
“How do you plan to accomplish that?” he asked.
“I shall try to capture one of the horses and ride him to Glyncove Abbey.”
Without waiting for a reply, she stepped out of the broken door of the carriage.
She headed toward the top of the hill where she had seen the two carriage horses grazing. They were no longer there. She looked all around but didn’t see them. Had they gone into the trees? She didn’t think it likely. They must have gone over the hill and were now out of sight.
Leorah stalked to the top of the hill, muttering, “Of all the people in England to be stuck in an overturned carriage with . . .” And yet, he had not behaved as badly as she might have expected him to.
Leorah made it to the top of the hill, feeling more exhausted than she could ever remember. Breaking her wrist and then nearly dying seemed to have taken a toll on her strength. Or perhaps being in such close proximity with Lord Withinghall had made her tired.
The horses stood under a tree about a hundred feet away. They turned their heads, looked up at her, then started shying away.
“Don’t be afraid, horses,” Leorah murmured as soothingly as she could. “I won’t hurt you. You need me. You need me to get that harness off you.” But with each step she walked toward them, they moved away from her. She kept after them, walking slowly, but they continued to amble away from her. When she started running, they ran too and put so much distance between them that she stopped. How could she possibly catch them now?
Just then, raindrops pelted her, one on top of her head and another on her hand.
She turned and headed back toward the carriage. The rain came faster, assailing her face and shoulders. She finally broke into a run, back to the shelter of the inverted carriage.
Leorah climbed in, drenched, her hair dripping. She tried not to get Lord Withinghall wet, but several drops fell on him in the small space before she could huddle in the corner.
Lord Withinghall didn’t say anything. Leorah broke the silence. “I tried to catch the horses, but they shied away from me. I couldn’t get near them.”
He still didn’t say anything.
“Are you in pain?” She could guess the answer.
“Yes, I am.”
“Can I do anything for you?”
“I thank you, but no.”
“When the rain slacks off, I will try to walk back to where we tied up my horse.”
“That must be three miles or more, and it will be dark and muddy. You would probably miss seeing the horse in the dark. We’ll just have to wait for someone to come along this road and find us.” He groaned as he tried to shift his head and shoulders.
“There must be something I could do to make you more comfortable. Truly, you look very uncomfortable.”
“I’m not in a very good position, it is true.”
“You had some trunks at the rear of the carriage, did you not? I could fetch some clothing or blankets to place under your head.”