Page 33 of The Lyon’s Paw

Diana glowered at him, but he returned her frown with a steady gaze until her scowl turned into a sad grimace. “But Geoffrey, it’s so very awful. The pain of the ankle is nothing compared to the agony of that odious bucket.”

“You didn’t seem to think it so bad when Mr. Farley had you do it the first time.” He peered gently at her then slid his hand over to grasp hers. “It’s to make your ankle better, my dear.”

“I know.” She squeezed his hand, sending a little thrill up his arm. “And the first time I did it, I didn’t know what to expect, so it didn’t seem quite so bad.” Diana’s face took on a pained expression. “But now I know how horrible it feels and I dread it so much the ordeal is ten times worse than the first time.”

Geoffrey knew something of the misery dreading something incurred. “I do understand that, my dear. Unfortunately, there is no remedy either for the ice bath or the alarm it causes beforehand.” He played with her fingers, thinking what might be done to alleviate some of her fear. “What if you had something to look forward to afterwards? The treatment only lasts a quarter of an hour. If I could distract you during the administration of the remedy, then produce a treat of some sort, perhaps you could endure the procedure more easily.” He cocked his head. “Would you try that for me, sweetheart?”

“What kind of distraction?” Diana sounded doubtful, but at least she hadn’t said no immediately.

“We could play cards, perhaps?” With her competitive nature, at least where he was concerned, such a pastime might divert her handsomely.

Almost before he stopped speaking, she shook her head. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to concentrate well enough on the play with the cold soaking into my flesh.”

“We could move you into the drawing room and Joanna could play for you while you are undergoing the treatment.” He was certain Joanna wouldn’t mind being pressed into service in such a good cause. His sister liked Diana quite a lot from what she’d said.

“I would love to hear Joanna play again. I have missed it sorely.” His wife looked as though she was actually considering this scheme, but then shook her head once more. “I am certain your mother would wish to attend me, if for no other reason than to hear her daughter play. And I fear I simply could not endure having anyone save you witness my cowardice when it comes to this ordeal.”

On second thought, Geoffrey could appreciate his wife’s reticence where his mother was concerned. He wouldn’t wish to have to undergo any form of discomfort in his mother’s presence. Her opinions regarding one’s fortitude would have made a martyr cringe. Unfortunately, he was running out of ideas to distract his wife. “Can you think of anything that might divert you that I could help with?”

Diana tugged on her bottom lip, an enchanting picture and one that gave him ideas, though not of the sort his wife was likely thinking of. “When Uncle George had a painful spell with his gout, I would read to him. It seemed to take his mind off the ache in his knees.” She looked at Geoffrey hopefully. “Could you read to me while my ankle is undergoing the treatment? It might help me as it did my uncle.”

“Of course, my dear.” Relieved, Geoffrey took her hand and twined their fingers together. “I would be most happy to do anything to alleviate your pain. If this helps, I will read you Milton’s Paradise Lost, although I must confess, I did not fancy it at all when I was forced to undergo it at the hands of my tutor.” He curled his lip at the mere thought of the pages and pages of blank verse and the insistence of his tutor that Satan was not the most sympathetic character in the work, which Geoffrey heatedly debated for an entire year.

“That is just as well, my dear, as I have no interest in Milton whatsoever.” Diana chuckled. “My uncle’s tastes ran more toward novels, and I am eager to follow in his footsteps in that respect, for a ways at least. His favorite volume was Tom Jones, although I confess to preferring Pamela.”

“Have you read Miss Jane Austen’s works? Joanna is extremely fond of them.” He’d had to endure Joanna’s praises for the author’s newest works for almost a year now. “Several were published anonymously, but the latest ones have given her a name and my sister has discovered she is an avid read of her works.”

“Oh, I wonder if I am as well.” Diana’s face lit up. “What is the title of the newest of the books by Miss Austen?”

“Northanger Abbey.”

“That has such a mysterious sound to it.” His wife had quite perked up. “Like The Monk and The Mysteries of Udolpho.”

“Would you like for me to have a copy fetched and I’ll read to you while your foot is soaking?” Geoffrey tried to mask his glee with concern. He was happy to oblige his wife if it meant she would do as the doctor had commanded.

“Yes, I believe that will help distract me from this unpleasant ordeal. If not completely, at least a little.” She gave Geoffrey a keen glance. “I suppose it will depend on the skill of the reader if you can make me disregard my foot turning to a block of ice.”

Grinning, Geoffrey rose, then bowed to her. “I promise to do my utmost best to entertain you, my dear, so you will not feel a single twinge of cold.”

Diana looked up at him, her head tilted in that saucy way she had. “I will hold you to that, my lord.” She quirked an eyebrow upwards. “And if you do not succeed, you may find the bucket upended over your head, the better to make you aware of the level of distraction necessary in such dire straits.”

Geoffrey chuckled, but he hurried out of the room to order the volume and the bucket be fetched. He’d best hope his vocal powers were at their best today. He had no doubt whatsoever that his resourceful wife would indeed find a way to baptize him in the waters of the Arctic if he fell short of her standards of entertainment.

He shivered. Hopefully, he’d manage to stay dry this time.

Twenty minutes later, Diana found herself seated on the chaise next to Geoffrey, grimacing as she resolutely lowered her foot into the bucket filled with the coldest water imaginable. There were pieces of ice fetched from the icehouse floating around her ankle, bumping against the offending appendage with audacity, as though they wished to have the bucket to themselves. Diana wished heartily for that as well. “Best begin, Geoffrey,” she said, grimacing. “And pray, make it entertaining, I beg of you.”

“Absolutely, my dear.” Her husband hastily thumbed past the frontispiece and several more pages, before discovering the first page of Chapter One. He nodded to her, then began to read in a clear, loud voice. “’No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her to be a heroine.’”

“I suppose I know how that could be.” Diana wiggled her toes, although she had no idea if they did indeed wiggle. They had already gone quite numb. “I daresay no one who knew me when I was a babe would ever believe I would be an heiress married to an earl.”

“And why not?” Geoffrey paused in his reading to shoot her a curious glance. “Were you a very ordinary baby?”

“According to my aunt, I cried all the time, which I believe is typical. Even he, a physician, couldn’t stop me from wailing night and day.” Diana shook her head. “I doubt anyone who had seen me in my cradle, red-faced and squalling, would have said, “Ah, mark my words. That Diana Edgerton will be as rich as Croesus, and marry a lord. You wait and see.”

Laugher rumbled up from Geoffrey. “Oh, my dear, you seem to be entertaining me rather than the other way around. I beg you, let me continue before I find water dripping off my nose yet again.”

“Yes, by all means continue.” She’d actually not thought of how cold her foot was for almost a minute while she was talking with Geoffrey. “Let us see if there are any further similarities between me and Miss Morland. Perhaps I shall turn out to be the heroine of my story.”