His Obsession by Ann B. Keller Page A

supporting his
companion. To her astonishment, Kate recognized Lord Winslow and
the Earl of Devonshire.
    “I found him at the crossing. I’m afraid he’s
broken his arm,” Richard grimly announced.
    “Frederick!” Helen gasped, hurrying toward
her intended. “Are you all right?”
    Winslow winced as Helen threw her arms around
his neck and hugged him. His face was noticeably pale and the
beginnings of a bruise already colored the edge of his jaw. No
doubt, there were perhaps other injuries that they couldn’t
see.
    “Easy, my love,” Winslow pleaded. “I am not
well.”
    “His horse threw him into the ditch,” Richard
explained. “I don’t know how long he’d lain there before I reached
him.”
    “Penelope, send for the physician,” Edgar
directed.
    “Hetty! Send for Dr. Smythe immediately,”
Penelope directed. “And tell Cook to put some water on to
boil.”
    “I’ll be fine,” Winslow hollowly
objected.
    Frederick Winslow might have thought he was
fine, but without further ado, his eyes rolled up toward the top of
his head and he crumpled to the floor. Richard half caught
Frederick as he fell, but he was only able to hold him under one
arm. At best, Richard only slowed him down a little. Helen gasped
and knelt beside her intended, raining kisses on his wet face.
    “Frederick! Frederick?” Helen gasped, patting
his chest ineffectually. “Is he all right?”
    “Looks like the lad fainted,” Edgar noted.
“Can you lend us your strong arm, my lord? Let’s get him upstairs
where the physician can tend to him properly.”
    Richard threw Frederick’s good arm over his
shoulder and began to climb the steps. Edgar assisted as best he
could, but with Frederick’s other arm broken, there was no way to
get a good hold on him. It was a good thing that Richard was so big
and strong, since he shouldered most of the burden. Nevertheless,
it was slow going.
    Helen rushed ahead of them to ready one of
the guest rooms for their new arrival, but Penelope and Dorothea
were so agitated that they were of little use. They hovered about
like a pair of excited little hens, calling directions and advice
to the servants and the men on the stairs, but doing little of any
significance. One of the maids brought Kate a pitcher of water and
some towels and she followed after them.
    Thankfully, Frederick began to come around as
they climbed, but he was only semi-conscious and of little help to
them. He flopped his arm about uselessly, but at least he was able
to walk a little. Edgar Overton steadied the two men as they
reached the summit, then helped the earl turn down the hallway.
    “We’ll need bandages and splints,” Kate
advised, following the earl and her father.
    “Dorothea, see to it!” Edgar commanded.
    “Me?” Dorothea cried in horror.
    “Dorothea!” Edgar repeated.
    “But – but --” Dorothea stammered, suddenly
finding herself completely alone in the hallway. “Oh, bother!”
    At Edgar’s suggestion, they helped Frederick
Winslow into the guest room and laid him on the bed. Helen
attempted to remove his coat, but the man was too badly injured and
her movements only caused him further pain. Quickly, the earl
withdrew a wicked looking knife from the side of his boot and cut
Winslow out of the confining garment. His shirt came next. Richard
paused when he saw some blood covering the left side of his rib
cage and along the broken arm, as well.
    “There seem to be additional injuries,”
Richard noted.
    Helen paled and stepped back, clutching
Winslow’s torn coat to her chest. Kate, however, remained where she
was.
    “Perhaps it might be best if the ladies left
the room?” Richard suggested.
    Dorothea glanced toward the bed, saw the
blood and turned a pale green. Penelope quickly bustled her out
into the safety of the hallway.
    Richard glanced up at Kate, indicating it
might be best if she departed as well, but she shook her head.
    “No, my lord,” Edgar countered. “Until the
doctor comes, Kate is