Sally dipped her chin in acknowledgment, bobbed a curtsy, and scurried away.
After Ashley grabbed the beefsteak, Sam and his boys carried Ravencroft through the garden and into the house. She discretely tossed the dirty steak into a bush for the neighborhood dogs to dispose of, and directed Sam to the back stairs, the shortest distance to her bedchamber. When they reached the narrow space, Sam slung Ravencroft over his shoulder and climbed the stairs as though the earl weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. Ashley sincerely hoped he didn’t have any broken ribs.
Sally was waiting for them at the open doorway, having spread a Holland cover over Ashley’s bed.
Sam’s boys trooped in after him, and they laid Ravencroft out on the bed with more gentleness than Ashley expected.
“I feel right terrible,” Sam said, tugging his apron back into place. “Yer man was doing fine ‘til I opened me big mouth and distracted ‘im, and that big cur got in a lucky punch.”
They both looked down at Ravencroft, who still hadn’t moved or made a sound.
“One of me boys can run to fetch a surgeon, if you like.”
Ashley patted the butcher on the shoulder and gently steered him toward the door. “You and your boys have done more than enough, kind sir. Indeed, your whole family. I’ll have one of my footmen fetch the surgeon.”
Sam gave a last glance at Ravencroft on the bed. “If you’re sure…”
“I’m positive.” She gave a nod to Sally, who escorted the men from the room and down the stairs.
Ashley closed the door, tossed the package of steak onto the dressing table, and set about getting the supplies to clean Ravencroft and better assess his injuries.
Careful of his bruised knuckles, she had washed away some of the mud and blood from his face and hands by the time Sally returned, carrying an armload of towels, washcloths, and other linens.
“We’ll need more water,” Ashley said. “Lots of warm water.” She’d already used most of the fresh water in the ewer, and now the basin was full of filthy brown water.
Sally flung open the window and unceremoniously emptied the basin onto the flower bed below. She soon had buckets of water heating before the fireplace, while Ashley sat on the edge of the bed and used a light-colored cloth to wipe the mud from Ravencroft’s hair. When it came away mud brown instead of blood red, she tossed the cloth aside with a sigh of relief. As soon as the water was warm, she continued washing him. There was so much of the red-brown muck, it seemed as if he’d dropped and rolled in it.
“We need to see if he has any injuries besides the knife wound on his arm,” she said, looking him up and down. She gulped. “We have to get these filthy garments off him.” Her hands shook as she reached for the buttons on his waistcoat.
Sally lingered near the foot of the bed. “Should I go fetch a surgeon?”
Ashley stood up to stare at the man on her bed, her hands propped on her hips to hide their trembling. She’d been acting purely on instinct since seeing Ravencroft go down in the fight. She’d been too flummoxed to correct the assumption of the butcher or his wife about her relationship with Ravencroft, and now it was finally sinking in that she was an unmarried woman with a man in her bed.
Ravencroft taking her away in his carriage after Lord and Lady Sedgewick’s ball was a turn about the park compared to this compromising situation. And she’d brought it on herself.
She took a fortifying breath. “First we’ll see how badly he’s hurt. I often assisted in the infirmary at the academy. Perhaps I can treat his injuries without anyone else needing to know he was here.” She’d clean him up and stop the bleeding, and soon he’d wake up and be able to leave. Perhaps even before the servants came back from their half-day off.
That seemed to ease Sally’s mind. She began to remove Ravencroft’s muddy stockings while Ashley unbuttoned his waistcoat. As the shirt was ruined anyway, she got a pair of scissors and cut it down the front so she could pull it aside. Red marks were already forming on his chest and abdomen where he’d have bruises.
She couldn’t help but take a moment to admire his physique. Though she’d seen farm laborers out in the fields during harvest stripped to the waist, this was her first view of a man’s naked torso up close.
Sally had reached under his trouser legs to untie the garters and peel off his stockings. She gestured vaguely at his waist. “Should we… Do you think we ought to…”
Ashley finished tugging his shirt from the waistband and peeled back the soft wool of his trousers a little bit. She took a deep breath in relief. Thank goodness he was wearing drawers.
“Yes. Not only do we need to see if his legs are injured, his trousers are filthy.”
Together they soon had him stripped to his drawers and lying atop a clean sheet over the coverlet. The muddy Holland cover was consigned to a corner with the other dirty laundry.
She’d never seen this much bare skin on an adult male.
He was stunning.
Still, she tried not to stare, to give him the same dignity she would want were their situations reversed. Ashley quickly and efficiently conducted her examination. No bones seemed to be broken and his nose had finally stopped bleeding. That left only the knife wound on his forearm that required immediate attention. He needed stitches. She wrapped a towel around the cravat she’d previously applied as a bandage, to sop up the blood that was soaking through.
She covered him with a blanket so he wouldn’t get chilled. “I’m going to check downstairs and see if we have the supplies on hand that I need.”
“Yes, miss,” Sally said. “Or should I keep calling you ‘my lady’?”
