“What is going on?” Mrs. Abbott demanded.
“Take care of Miss Featherstone,” Hart replied. “My wife is helping his lordship.”
“But Miss Featherstone should be helping him. She is the wise woman,” Mrs. Abbott said with her arms on her hips. “She saved him twice since she’s been here.”
“It is my turn now, Mrs. Abbott,” Mia said in a stern tone. “I am Tia’s sister and also a wise woman. My sister is in shock. Please get her a blanket or shawl and cover her. Make her drink that brandy.”
Tia watched Mrs. Abbott’s head nod up and down. She felt as if she was in a dream, watching the scene unfold before her from a great distance. The housekeeper sat next to her, then forced the glass of brandy to Tia’s lips. She sipped a little down, savoring the warmth it created in her belly. Mrs. Abbott then removed the glass from Tia’s hand and slapped her across the cheek.
Tia’s head hit the back of the chair. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”
“Forcing you out of your daze,” Mrs. Abbott said. “I trust you with his lordship. I don’t know if your sister is a good wise woman, but I know you are. Now get over there and take care of him.”
Feeling like she’d been scolded by her mother, Tia hung her head as she walked to the bed.
Mia smiled over at her. “I actually didn’t suggest that, but I am quite happy she did it.”
“Do be quiet.” Tia examined his head, putting aside her feelings for him as she scrutinized his injury.
“The cut isn’t terrible, but could probably use two stitches. Do you want me to do sew him up?” Mia asked.
“No,” Tia replied. “If he’s going to have a scar on his head, it will be from me.”
Hart chuckled in the background. “Other than the cut to his hard head, how is he?”
“He will be all right,” Mia said to her husband. “If he survived boxing with you, he has to have a hard head.”
“He boxed with Hart?” Tia asked as she readied her needle. She hated sewing head injuries, but thankfully her sister was right that the cut was not large. “Hold him down.”
Hart approached the bed and then held onto Braden’s head as Tia sewed the wound. “I don’t know how you ladies do this,” he said, looking away from the blood.
“You get used to it,” Tia replied. “All done.”
“You don’t always get used to it,” Mia said. “I do it because I have no choice.”
“You still get queasy from the blood?” Tia asked her sister.
“Sometimes. With head injuries, always because there is so much blood. I hate it.” Mia took the needle from Tia and set it in some brandy to clean it. “Another reason I was quite pleased that Mrs. Abbott forced you out of your shock. You are far better at this than I.”
“Thank you.” Tia washed the blood out of his hair, then put a patch of linen over the wound to keep it clean. “Now we just have to wait for him to awaken.”
“I am awake. I think,” he said groggily. “What happened? And why does my head hurt like hell?”
Tia took his hand and squeezed it. “You were in a carriage accident.”
“In town?” he mumbled. “Doesn’t make sense.”
Hart sat in a chair near the bed. “He’s right. It doesn’t make sense. There was no extra swaying on the trip to the Eldridges’ home this morning. The carriage was in good order. No sign that a wheel was going to break.”
Tia turned her head to Hart. “Why were you at Lady Eldridge’s home this morning? Middleton said you were going to a section of town that was inappropriate for women.”
Braden squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart, I needed to ask her if she knew where Jonathon was staying. That is all.”
“Did she?”
“She swears he only sends her coded messages,” Braden said. “But why did the carriage lose a wheel? We did hit a rut, but not a deep one. Bring Mr. Sanders up to me.”
“Braden, you need to rest,” Tia insisted.