“He isnot,” Matthew protested, pointing at the crude bandage on Vincent’s head.
Glancing in the mirror only long enough to locate the scarf, Vincent recognized his own handkerchief with his initials embroidered in the corner, folded and held in place above his temple with Miss Walden’s diaphanous black silk scarf.A scarf which had recently adorned her neckline.Had touched her breasts.He swiped it from his head and tucked it in his pocket as he turned back to his valet and friend.
“Please hold still, m’lord,” Lawrence said.He pushed his spectacles higher on his nose and peered at Vincent’s head.
Vincent allowed Lawrence to tilt his head this way and that in the early dawn light, and part a few strands of hair, some of which were painfully stuck together with dried blood.With Matthew watching intently, Vincent tried not to wince.
Lawrence muttered under his breath while he conducted his examination, then stepped back.“I don’t think it needs stitches, m’lord,” he finally pronounced.“I have everything we need.Be right back.”
As the valet strode into the dressing room, Vincent turned to Matthew.“See?Told you I was fine.”
Matthew visibly crumpled before his eyes in relief.Finally considering what this night must have been like for his friend on the other side of the cave-in, Vincent pulled him in for a hug.“I’m sorry for what I put you through,” he muttered into the crook of Matthew’s neck.
Matthew seemed in no hurry to break the embrace, wrapping his arms in a vise around Vincent, one arm nearly strangling him.“I heard the pistol shot, and they ran out but you didn’t.I thought … I feared the worst.”
Vincent held on tight, realizing he’d been oblivious to Miss Walden and Matthew’s fear, unconscious while they had both thought he had died.“I think Clyde deliberately fired wide of the mark.Fairly sure this is from a piece of rock he dislodged, not a glancing blow from his pistol ball.”He freed one arm to point at his head.
Taking a deep breath, Matthew stepped back.“Proving once again what I have said so many times.You have a hard head.”He managed a weak chuckle.“This time it was definitely in your favor.”He swiped his hands through his hair, disheveling it further.
Vincent grasped Matthew’s wrists before he could drop them to his side.“What did you do to yourself?”His hands were as raw and scratched as Miss Walden’s.Now Vincent also noticed how dirty Matthew was, his face and dark clothes coated with dust, streaks of dried perspiration down his temples.
“Tried to free you, you bloody nodcock.”He swallowed hard enough Vincent heard the gulp.“When I realized what had happened and that I couldn’t move enough rocks by myself, I came up to the house and roused Kendall.He took it from there in gathering the other staff.”
All perfectly logical.“Kendall and Bickford have been with Gert for years.I trust them with my life.That young footman, though, has not.”
Matthew shrugged.“I had a word with Kendall in the kitchen.He’ll see to it that no one will say a word about tonight, even Marshall.”Matthew lowered his voice.“He was another pair of hands helping to clear the cave-in enough to pull you out.You and your companion.”He dipped his chin and raised his eyebrows.
Vincent opened his mouth to explain he didn’t know why she had been there either, but Lawrence returned with his hands full.“Please sit down, m’lord.”With his chin he gestured at the chair before the vanity, and began setting out his supplies.
“Have your man take care of your hands,” Vincent said.Not only was he concerned for his friend, he didn’t want any witnesses if Lawrence made him shed a tear while cleaning and dressing his wound.
Matthew took the hint and gave him a last clap on the shoulder before exiting the bedchamber.
* * *
“Nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Aunt Gertrude said as Vincent entered the dining room for the midday meal.
Aunt Agnes sat in her usual place, as did Miss Walden, to Vincent’s surprise.Seated across the table from her, he could detect no hint of shadows beneath her eyes, or even scratches on her hands.Had he only imagined them earlier?
“I aim to please,” Vincent drawled.“Some of the time.”He added a wink.
Gert snorted.Whatever she was going to say, she cut herself off as Matthew shuffled into the room, yawning, and took the seat beside Vincent.
“Ladies,” he said, then hid another yawn behind his hand.
Conversation while they ate was unremarkable, other than finding out Gert’s memoir project had progressed to Uncle Digby’s transfer to Quebec, where they both tried to learn to speak French with the local accent instead of Eton’s.
Vincent couldn’t help staring at Miss Walden.After being awake all night, terrified, she’d cleaned up and then come downstairs and worked at transcribing the memoir as though nothing had happened?He silently toasted her with his teacup.
She dipped her chin in acknowledgment, then turned her head to continue her conversation with Agnes about the uses of different inks for drawing versus writing.
As the meal drew to a close, Vincent thought fondly about returning to his bed upstairs.He finally noticed Kendall refilling Miss Walden’s teacup… with a very dark brew.The little minx was drinking coffee instead of tea?With milk and not one or two but three lumps of sugar.No wonder she was not yawning, as Matthew did.Again.
Vincent debated if he should surreptitiously ask the butler for a cup of the same brew and continue pursuing answers about last night, or give in to his still-pounding headache and return to bed after he finished eating.
The last dishes cleared away, Aunt Gertrude gestured for a refill of her teacup, then dismissed Kendall and Marshall.As soon as they were gone, she leaned her elbows on the table, her fingers clasped together, and gave Vincent an arch look.
“Now, young man,” she said, looking at Vincent, then Matthew.“Would you care to tell me why half my staff was up all night long with you?”
