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“Will you tell me what happened?” she asked no one in particular.

The doctor pushed back on her left shoulder, and she grunted. “That hurts.”

“It may be displaced,” the doctor replied, and she had no idea what that meant. “What do you remember?”

“I remember going to Susan’s house. She is a widow I visit. I do not remember leaving. The next thing I knew I was waking up here.”

The doctor let out a breath. “My lord. Please…?”

This time the men helped her onto her back and then, with his arms under hers, Miles slid her up to sit while the doctor placed pillows behind her back.

Siobhan was mortified that she began to cry at the pain the movement caused, but at the same time she was relieved not to be on her back. Within moments the pain became unbearable, and they had to reposition her so that her hips were flat. It was not as painful, but at least she could look around and see more than just the ceiling.

“Your hip is very bruised. Not broken,” the doctor explained. “You should be able to sit longer in a day or two. For now, it is best you recline.” He frowned. “If your parents do not arrive shortly, I will pay them a visit to inform them of your bettered condition. I am certain you will be out of bed and about within a matter of days.”

Siobhan looked at Miles who listened with an unreadable expression. “Can I go home?”

“I would prefer you not be moved until the day after tomorrow at the earliest.” The doctor turned to walk away.

“Doctor Ralston, you have yet to tell me what happened,” Siobhan called out, stopping him.

“I will explain it to you,” Miles said. “Doctor, I will walk you out.”

He returned within moments and lowered into the chair next to the bed to begin recounting what he’d witnessed.

Siobhan strained to remember the incident. According to Miles, she’d been assaulted by two men and then one of them had tried to abscond with her. Closing her eyes, she did her best to recall the attack, but other than being at Susan’s house, there were no further memories.

Firtha brought her a light breakfast, which she gobbled up. Her stomach had felt empty all morning and she was grateful for the delicious food.

Just as she finished eating, her mother entered. “I had to see for myself that you are indeed awake.” She neared and sat, not kissing, or touching her with any kind of reassuring gesture, which was her usual behavior. Still, Siobhan felt saddened. She was in so much pain and was so confused about what had happened, it would have been nice to have an affectionate gesture. Instead, her mother looked at Firtha, and said, “Be a dear and bring tea. Perhaps some biscuits if you have them.”

Siobhan waited for whatever her mother would say next. In all probability it would be an excuse for not remaining long or returning that day. Of her parents, Siobhan preferred her father’s company. Although somewhat distracted, he never shied away from expressing his affections. Her mother, on the other hand, was always distant. Although she had no doubts that her mother cared for her, it was obvious that Zinnia Blair was not the maternal kind of woman. And, too, she favored Amelia, though the reason for this escaped Siobhan. Maybe because her sister was easier to control and not as wont to do as she wished instead of what her mother expected a young woman to do.

“Darling,” her mother began. “Doctor Ralston insists that you should not be moved. He informed me you cry out in pain when jostled.”

“I wish to go home,” Siobhan whispered. “It hurts, but I will withstand the pain not to continue this imposition on Lord Miles.”

Her mother sat erect, her expression calculating. “Already I suspect people are aware there is something amiss.”

“What do you mean, Mother?”

“For goodness sakes, you cannot be so naïve as to think you can remain in a bachelor’s home overnight and that there be no repercussions.”

“How can anyone possibly know I am here?” Siobhan’s head swam and she had to put her hand out. “Please Mother, do not continue. My head is hurting.”

Firtha walked in with a tray on which a teapot and cups were balanced as well as a small plate with iced biscuits.

“I will pour,” her mother insisted.

“Miss Blair cannot sit up to drink the tea. She must be spoon-fed.”

It was as if she’d informed her mother a snake was under the bed by the way she recoiled.

“I had breakfast. I do not require tea. Thank you, Firtha.” Siobhan would have rolled her eyes if not for fear of a worse headache.

“As I was saying,” her mother continued as she bit into a biscuit and sipped her tea. “It is most inappropriate for you to remain here in a single man’s home with no chaperone in sight.”

As usual, Zinnia worried more about what the gossips spewed than the fact her daughter was injured and had yet to attempt to walk.