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Of course, when he put it like that, it did sound ridiculous.
“Nae, on the way back. I was half asleep and stumbled on a flagstone. Went down hard on my ankle, clumsy oaf that I am.”
“Very hard, if you broke it,” Kendrick said. “But let’s have a look.”
As he folded back the covers at the foot of the bed, Mrs. Johnson appeared with a basin of steaming water and cloths.
“Just put them on the table, please,” Samantha said.
The housekeeper placed them on the small side table, and then backed out. “I’ll be in the kitchen, my lady.”
Samantha gave her a distracted nod, too horrified by the sight of Donny’s ankle to respond.
When she and Mrs. Johnson had gotten him into bed, they’d propped up his foot on pillows and wrapped his ankle in cloths wrung out in cold water and vinegar. Mrs. Johnson or Lucy, their kitchen maid who was Donny’s niece, had been diligently changing them every thirty minutes since. But his ankle looked even more ghastly now than when they’d cut off his boot. The swelling was worse, and the gruesomely purple bruising had spread across the top of his foot.
Of course, she shouldn’t be surprised, given how badly Donny had fallen while fighting off that nasty pair of footpads. The poltroons had surprised them, which was her fault. She’d been talking to Donny about a possible lead instead of paying close attention to her surroundings. When one of them had leapt out of a pitch-black alleyway and yanked her almost straight off her feet, Donny had turned to defend her. He’d clubbed her attacker with the butt of his pistol, but then stumbled on a broken cobblestone and gone down sideways, brutally turning over his ankle.
Fortunately, Samantha had quickly recovered her footing and slashed their other attacker with her blade, sending the pair scrambling away. Then she and brave Donny had to traverse a steep set of stairs and make their way to Grassmarket before they could find a hackney. God only knew how much damage had been inflicted on Donny’s foot by having to walk that far on it.
Kendrick glanced over at her, frowning. “All right, Lady Samantha?”
“Yes. Perfectly fine.”
“Tell me if you’re not. I don’t need you fainting on me.”
As Samantha bristled, Kendrick ignored her as he washed his hands and turned back to Donny.
Bossy man.
However, he was obviously a competent one as he gently and skillfully examined Donny. When he probed the arch of the foot, Donny sucked in a harsh breath.
“I’m sorry—that’s obviously very painful.” Kendrick handed Donny a cloth to wipe his perspiring face.
“Obviously,” Samantha responded. Then she winced. “Sorry.”
Kendrick smiled at her. “Pain is actually a good sign. If his ankle was broken, Donny would more likely experience numbness and tingling rather than this degree of pain.”
Donny emerged from behind the cloth, looking hopeful. “Oh, aye?”
“Aye. But I need to be sure, so that means I’m going to have to move your foot. It’ll hurt like the devil, so feel free to yell.”
Donny scoffed. “As if I would ever yell in front of my lady.”
Samantha patted his shoulder again. “You go right ahead, dear.”
Kendrick shot her another quick glance before returning his focus to his patient.
His hands probed the entire ankle and then the heel. “Does it hurt when I press on the bone?”
Donny shook his head.
“How about here?”
“Aye,” Donny gasped.
“Can you wiggle your foot? Ah, excellent, thank you, Donny. Now, when you went down, did you hear a pop?”
Donny peered at him, apparently confused.
