“What appears to be the problem, Lord Spurnrose?” she asked, looking him up and down. Though she could not see any obvious signs of injury, it was clear from the look on his face and his paleness that something was most definitely wrong.
“It … it … is … nothing,” Lord Spurnrose insisted through gritted teeth. “Nothing … I … can’t … handle.”
The stubbornness and pride, the sheer agony she could hear in his voice, was more than a little infuriating to Melissa. Had they been alone and had she known him better, she might have struck him for being quite so stubborn.
“My Lord, it is rather obvious that you are in a great deal of pain,” she told him firmly, glancing over her shoulder to see that the common folk had given them a little space to talk though they hung back as if awaiting further orders in case she might need anything. “Mr Anders tells me you had a fall from your horse.”
She glanced at the huge black stallion a little way along the track. If he had fallen from a thing like that, he was lucky not to have been seriously maimed. She wondered whether he might have actually broken anything.
The sound of muttering behind her was followed by the approach of footsteps and a moment later, Mr Anders spoke over her shoulder. “My Lady, I’ve sent one of the lads to fetch a cart for the lord.”
“I do not need any cart,” Lord Spurnrose snapped stubbornly, and Melissa had to grit her teeth to stop from immediately scolding him as though he was a petulant child. She had seen his like before, the kind of man unwilling to accept any help because he could not bear to be looked down upon. It was both infuriating and upsetting to Melissa, reminding her a little of her husband and how he had refused to tell her the truth about his own illness until it was too late.
“Thank you, Mr Anders. It is greatly appreciated,” Melissa said, offering the farmer a kind smile. It was clear from the look on the man’s face that he understood Lord Spurnrose’s reaction, yet, Melissa still felt the strong urge to scold the nobleman for his rudeness.
“You’re welcome, My Lady,” the farmer stated, bowing over the hat in his hand once more. Melissa desperately wanted to tell him that he need not do such a thing as remove his hat every time he spoke to her, but now was not the time to talk about such things. “I’ll be over here with the lads if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Mr Anders, but there is no need for all of you to remain,” Melissa insisted.
“We will remain for as long as you might need us, My Lady,” Mr Anders protested, bowing his head once more and moving away before she could offer any protest.
Hearing how Lord Spurnrose sucked in a deep breath, grunting as though he was in a large amount of pain, Melissa quickly turned back to her patient.
“I really do not need a cart, My Lady,” he said through gritted teeth when Mr Anders had retired to the small group of younger men some distance away. Flit remained with them as though he, too, knew where he was not needed.
“And I do not need a stubborn nobleman trying to tell me what he does and does not need without allowing me to examine him first,” Melissa responded, meeting his gaze with confidence as she tried her hardest not to think of the last time they had been face to face.
“I do not need your examination, My Lady,” Lord Spurnrose protested, turning away slightly as though he wished to hide himself from her gaze as she had only ever seen a child do when in her care. “I had a tumble from my horse. It would not be the first time.”
“I shall be the judge of that, My Lord,” Melissa insisted just as stubbornly. “Why don’t you tell me how you came to tumble from your horse?”
“How does it usually happen?” Lord Spurnrose said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Clearly, his pride had taken a beating, and he was acting stubborn only because he could sense the other men standing close by. Melissa wished she could order them away, but if the worst came to the worst and she needed their help, she wanted them close by.
Only the clear sense that he was in pain stopped Melissa from scolding him or even refusing him help. She had dealt with enough men like him in the past who did not like to ask anyone for help. In fact, Mr Anders had once been one of those very men when he had barely broken his hand during a farming accident, but since the day when she had fixed him up, he had been much more amenable to her help.
“My Lord, did my medicine help you with your stomach pain?” Melissa demanded though she kept her tone as cool as possible.
The lord turned to meet her gaze then, almost looking confused about what that had to do with anything. Then the realisation seemed to come over him, and he sighed with exasperation. “Yes.”
“Then you should know well that I can help with any pain you might be experiencing now,” she pointed out, and before he could protest, she reached up and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes travelling upwards to his brow. She removed her hand and shook her head.
“You don’t have a fever. Are you dizzy or light-headed?” she asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, not daring to blink for fear she might miss any hint that he was trying to lie to her.
“No.”
She watched his face closely for a second, wondering whether there had been any sign of a bluff. After several long seconds, she was certain that there hadn’t been.
“Are you in pain anywhere?” Melissa asked. Even though she could guess from his looks that she already knew the answer, she desperately wanted him to be truthful with her.
Lord Spurnrose turned his pale face upon her, and she could see how his jaw clenched. It was abundantly clear that his stomach was still causing him trouble, but he remained silent, his gaze reluctant.
“Have you used all the medicine I provided you?”
The way the lord’s face fell at the question suggested the answer even before he nodded. “I used the last of it this morning, and the pain began again this afternoon.”
“And is that the only pain you have at the moment?” Melissa asked. “Do you have any pain in your limbs or anywhere else?”
