“Absolutely not! I will not have that blasted woman in my house playing physi
cian.”
He’d hurt his ankle and still he wouldn’t let her examine him? She really should help with him. She tamped down the idea of giving the man aid. He wanted her off his estate so he could rot for all she cared.
“Just get me a glass of brandy. That will fix me up.”
Brandy? At ten in the morning? That was not what he needed. She couldn’t ignore what she’d been raised to do. She pulled back the curtain and glared at him.
“You will not drink brandy at this hour. You need to get off that foot and elevate it.”
“What the bloody hell are you doing back in my house? And hiding behind a curtain!”
She paid no heed to the glare he leveled at her. “I was doing my job.”
“I told you not to come back here,” he said, hobbling for his desk. “No one needs you here.” He winced and sat in the leather chair.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It appears that you need me.”
He shook his head. A lock of black hair fell upon his forehead. “I only need you to leave. My ankle will be fine.”
“Let me see your foot,” she said, walking closer to him.
“Get out of my house,” he ordered.
She smiled brightly at him. “There is something you should know about me right now, Your Grace.”
“Oh?” His blue eyes were as hard as sapphires as he stared at her.
She closed the distance between them and then picked up his right foot. “I don’t take orders from anyone.” She leaned in closer until she could feel his heated breath and whispered, “Not even a duke.”
She gently pulled his boot off as he clenched his jaw. “Damn you,” he whispered.
“Damn me? Look at this ankle.” Already it was swelling and turning black-and-blue. “You’re lucky I didn’t have to cut your lovely boot off your foot.”
“I want you out of my house,” he said again.
She glanced up at him with a little smirk. “I know you do.” Returning her gaze to his foot, she shook her head. “I do not like the speed of this swelling. Mr. Roberts,” she called, knowing he was right outside the room.
“Yes, miss.”
“Get me some ice from the icehouse, crush it up, and wrap it in a cloth. Ask your wife to get me some of the willow bark I gave to her.”
“Yes, miss,” Mr. Roberts replied before leaving them alone again.
“You have them all wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?” he asked petulantly.
She pretended to examine his ankle, preferring it to the look of loathing she’d see in his eyes. “Perhaps I do. But while you are gallivanting about town without a care, I am here taking care of your servants and tenants.”
He released a long breath. “I do not gallivant about town.”
She looked up at him from under her lashes. “Oh?”
“No. I have responsibilities in London to attend to . . . such as Parliament.”
“You have responsibilities here too,” she said and then wished she had kept her mouth closed for once.
“Do watch what you say to me,” he warned.