“I am Lady Catherine,” came the reply, slow and hesitant as though the name would mean something to him. “I found you, Lord Rutherford. I had no other choice but to bring you here.”
Lady Catherine.
The name sounded familiar, but he could not place it. Whoever she was, he was grateful indeed for her, for she had obviously come to his aid when he needed it the most.
“Sleep,” she told him, her fingers running over his forehead again, but lighter this time, as though she were trying to encourage him toward rest. “I will return when you awaken.”
That felt like a promise—and it was a promise that he could cling to. It brought him a sense of peace, knowing that she would be by his side, all kindness and gentleness, when he awoke. She had told him he was safe and for whatever reason, Stephen had found himself believing her without question, even though he could not place her name or her voice. With a long breath, he let himself slide into sleep, his eyes closing tightly as he drifted away once more.
“Lord Rutherford?”
It took Stephen a little time to pull himself to wakefulness but there was certainly a good deal less pain prodding at him now than there had been before. Tugging himself out of sleep, he forced his eyes open and looked upwards to find the lady in question.
“You are in less pain now, I hope?” Her voice held a little eagerness which he could not disappoint. “The doctor came to change your bindings and you did not waken, which he told me was a good thing, even though I feared the opposite.”
Blinking rapidly, Stephen waited for the lady’s face to become distinct, finding himself looking into the face of Lady Catherine—a face he now recognized and which sent a spiral of dread through him. Now he understood why he had known Lady Catherine’s name, looking at her with a clear gaze and finally realizing why he had felt that flicker of recognition even though he had been unable to place her before.
“Lady Catherine,” he whispered, his throat aching and his voice rasping as his hands clenched together, wondering silently if he had enough strength to push himself upwards. “I do not understand. I—”
“You are surprised that you recognize me now, I think, Lord Rutherford,” she said, putting one hand gently on his shoulder so that he had no other choice but to remain where he was, unable to sit upright no matter how much he wanted to attempt it. “But you need not be so. I did tell you that I would come to the aid of anyone who needed it and now, it seems, you require such a thing yourself.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and let his breath rattle out of him. “I do not understand,” he said slowly, his fingers slowly unclenching. “What is it that occurred?”
Lady Catherine did not immediately answer and when he opened his eyes to look at her, he was surprised to see the flicker of frustration dancing between her brows.
“I do not know,” she told him, much to his own irritation. “I have done all I can to help you in your recovery but beyond that, I can do nothing. We will be happy to bring you through this mystery, of course, but we must know all we can from you first.”
Stephen looked away, half wishing he had been able to stay asleep for longer than he had done. “I do not recall,” he said tightly, speaking with a hardness to his voice that he knew she did not deserve. “All I remember is waking up in a good deal of pain.”
Lady Catherine let out a small sigh and, for a moment, he thought she would turn on her heel and stride away, but she did not. Instead, she turned and pulled a small chair closer, bringing it near to the side of his bed before she continued to speak.
“If you would like to sit up, I can have the footman come to assist you.”
“I do not need their assistance.” His voice was sharp and, as though to prove his point, he pushed down hard on the edge of the bed with his hands and tried to push himself upright.
Nothing happened save for a stab of pain to thrust itself fully into his side, making him yelp like an injured animal. When he looked back at Lady Catherine, he expected to see her smiling, glad to see him in agony, but instead, she was half out of her chair, leaning over him and waiting for him to settle back down again before she touched him.
“The footmen can help, Lord Rutherford,” she told him quietly. “You have had a severe injury and there is nothing wrong with seeking a little help.”
He did not want to listen to her, but the more he struggled, the more he realized that what she had said was to be considered. With a sigh, he looked away but muttered his request for their aid. In a moment, two footmen were by his bed, one on either side. With their strong hands under his arms, they braced themselves and then pulled him upwards quickly, with Stephen catching his breath as his side burst with pain again.
“Be careful,” Lady Catherine said anxiously, out of her chair now as she watched the footmen pull the covers up around his chest. “Lord Rutherford, are you all right?”
He could not speak for a long moment, gritting his teeth against the pain that rushed through him and screwing up his eyes tightly. It took a few moments for it to begin to disperse, leaving him a little less overcome. Swallowing hard, he let out a tight breath, opening his eyes and looking at Lady Catherine’s worried face.
Why did she feel such concern for him when he had behaved with such cruelty and callousness? He could not understand what circumstances had brought him here, under what he presumed was her father’s roof, and why she had been so willing to help him.
“Lord Rutherford?”
“I am well,” he stated with as much firmness as he could. “Tell me, Lady Catherine, why am I here?”
She looked at him steadily for a long moment that seemed to drag, leaving him filled with irritation mixed with anticipation. When Lady Catherine sighed and rubbed at her forehead, Stephen felt himself begin to grow nervous, fearful about what she was to say.
“You do not recall anything?” she asked, and he shook his head fervently. “I discovered you, Lord Rutherford, with a knife in your side and your blood spilling out onto the couch beside you.”
The way she said it, the calmness that seemed to exude from her, took away a little of the shock that rushed through him at her words. He stared at her, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow, feeling a twinge of pain in his side as he looked at her steadily.
“It is true,” she told him softly, sitting back down in her chair and gesturing to one of the footmen for something. “If I had not discovered you, then I fear that you would not be long for this world.”
Stephen closed his eyes tightly, his chest tight as he tried to find something to say in response to what Lady Catherine had revealed.
“You do not know how you came to be at Lord Featherstone’s ball?” she asked, bending forward as though to try to find something within his memory that, at present, remained out of his mind. “You do not remember anything that brought you there?”
He shook his head, his brows furrowed low. “No, Lady Catherine, I fear that I do not remember anything.” His eyes caught hers again, only to see them slide away, her teeth biting the bottom of her lip. Again, Stephen felt his stomach tighten, knowing that, from the look on Lady Catherine’s face, there was something on her mind that she was not yet informing him about.
“Lady Catherine?” he asked tentatively, half afraid, half eager to find out what she had hidden from him. “What is it?”