“Good thing we’re on the garden side and not the street side,” Ashley muttered, long inured to such sights and sounds from assisting in the academy’s infirmary.
Ravencroft moaned and collapsed, his head and left arm hanging over the edge of the bed.
“My lord?”
He was still.
She knelt on the floor to see his face, which was pale, his eyes closed.
She pushed on his shoulder and upper chest to roll him over onto his back again. Sally was no help, as she still had her head out the window, taking deep breaths.
“Open the hall door,” Ashley instructed, “and swing it open and shut several times.”
Her hand to her mouth, head tilted back, Sally hurried to do as asked, pointedly looking anywhere but near the bed. Fresh air began to waft through the room.
Ashley tipped the basin out the window, rinsed it, and flung that water farther onto the shrubs below. “Probably good as fertilizer,” she said looking down, hoping rain would disperse everything before the gardener noticed anything unusual.
Back at the bed, she stared down at her patient. Was there anything else she could do to speed his healing or ease his pain? She grabbed the tin of ointment she’d made and set about gently massaging it into each bruise that was beginning to bloom, starting with his cheek. By tomorrow he’d be lucky if he could open his eye at all.
Sally closed the door and came to stand beside her as Ashley pulled the blanket down low enough to expose Ravencroft’s naked torso.
“He’s a handsome gent, ain’t he?” she said reverently. “Not so big he’s scary. Not scrawny, neither.”
Holy Hannah, Ashley couldn’t agree more. Muscles indicated by the planes and curves of his arms and chest, even at rest, proved Ravencroft often engaged in activities more physically strenuous than playing musical instruments.
“There weren’t no padding in his stockings. Some of the gents me brother has worked for wear trousers so they don’t have to pad their calves to look good in breeches.”
Come to think on it, Ashley had never seen Ravencroft in breeches. He’d worn the matching neckcloth when he performed, but was the only one in the quintet to wear trousers.
Not trusting herself to comment, Ashley dipped her fingers into the ointment and spread it on a bruise on his abdomen—his flat, taut abdomen—and noticed another bruise forming on his right shoulder that wrapped around toward his back. “Help me roll him onto his side,” she said.
One pushed, the other pulled, and together they eased him onto his left side, resting his injured arm on a small pillow. The heavyweight linen of his drawers covered him from his waist to just below his knees, and Ashley couldn’t resist a quick glance of confirmation. No, indeed, Ravencroft’s calves would not need padding to look good in breeches.
Sally took a deep breath of the pungent aroma before she moved the tin closer to Ashley’s reach. “Smells like the stuff me mam used to make,” she said with a smile. “Every cut or scrape or bruise, out would come her little tin.”
Ashley treated the bruised shoulder and upper back, massaging it into his skin. “An army surgeon was kind enough to share his recipe with me. I hope I got the proportions correct. I used to make much larger batches at the academy.”
“You followed the drum, miss?”
Ashley shook her head. “His daughter was one of our students. He brought her back after Christmas break and quarantined with us for a fortnight because we had an outbreak of influenza.”
Realizing she was stroking Ravencroft’s shoulder just because it felt nice, she shifted her gaze to check for other injuries. She winced in commiseration when she saw the bruises forming on his lower back, including two fist-sized marks just above his waistband. “That’s close to the kidneys, I think,” she said softly.
Sally swore. “That’s dirty fighting, is what that is,” she said. “Those buggers are lucky Sam the butcher didn’t catch up to them.”
With Ravencroft cleaned, bandaged, and ointment applied to all the bruises they could see—she wasnotremoving his drawers unless she saw blood soaking through or a bone at an unnatural angle—they got him under the blankets proper and his head and shoulders propped up with extra pillows. “Raising his head will help the blood drain and lessen the bruising on his face,” Ashley explained. She prepared a compress with cool water and witch hazel, dabbed it on his cheek and along his jaw, then settled it over his left eye, careful not to cover his right in case he woke up.
No, forwhenhe woke up. He was definitely going to wake up. Any time now.
“Too bad it’s not winter. Ice would help reduce the swelling better.” Ashley stretched, her hands braced in the small of her aching back. “I think that’s all we can do for him, at least for now.”
“Right then, time to take care of you, miss.” Sally came around to the same side of the bed. “I might can save this dress, but I need to get it soaking right away.”
Ashley held out her mud- and blood-stained skirts with a grimace. She hadn’t considered how dirty she was getting or even thought to put on an apron, as she used to do at the academy.
When Sally reached up to undo a button, Ashley stepped out of her reach. “Let’s go into the dressing room first.”
Sally glanced at Ravencroft and grinned. “Yes, miss.”
