The accidental groom

Morning Side of the Dawn

Lizzie wondered if she should echo the sentiment. Alexander had just admitted killing a man. She realized- horribly-that the bloodstains on his chest weren't his own. Relief flooded her, and then guilt that she rejoiced at another's death. Alexander led her through the door into the great receiving hall. The ceiling, three stories overhead, was painted with classical gods lounging about the clouds, unperturbed by the upheaval below. He dragged her down the hallway and through double doors into a sitting room.

Behind them, Newton groaned. "Not the white settee, my lord."

"To hell with the settee." Alexander pulled Lizzie down beside him on the immaculate piece of furniture.

"Where's that brandy?"

Newton splashed brandy into a crystal glass and brought it over, muttering, "Blood. And it'll never come out."

Alexander swallowed half the glass and grimaced, laying his head against the settee back. "I'll have it recovered, if that'll make you feel better, Newton. Now get out of here."

Henry entered the room, carrying a basin of water and linens.

"But, my lord, your arm-" the butler started.

"Get. Out." Alexander closed his eyes. "You, too, Henry. You can bandage, dose, and mother me later." Henry raised his eyebrows at Lizzie. Silently, he laid the basin and bandages beside her and left. Alexander still held her wrist. She reached across him with her free hand and carefully pulled back the ripped sleeve.

Beneath, a narrow wound seeped blood.

"Leave it alone," he murmured. "It's only a shallow cut. It looks worse than it is, believe me. I won't bleed to death, at least not right away."

She pursued her lips. "I'm not your butler. Or your valet, for that matter."

"No, you're not." He sighed. "I forgot."

"Well, try to remember in the future that I hold an entirely different role in your-"

"Not that."

"What?"

He didn't listen. "I will never be able to forgive myself, but do you think you can?"

Silly. Her eyes pricked with tears. How could he deflect her anger with such silly words? "For what? Never mind. I forgive you for whatever it is." She dipped a cloth in the water one-handed. "This would be easier if you let me go."

"No."

She wiped at the blood awkwardly. She really ought to cut the sleeve off altogether. She cleared her throat to steady her voice before she inquired, "Did you really kill a man?"

"Yes. In a duel." His eyes were still closed.

"And he wounded you in return." She squeezed out the cloth. "What did you duel over?" She made sure her tone was even, as if she were asking the time.

Silence.

She looked at the bandages. There was no way she'd be able to tend to him, shackled as she was. "I'm going to need both arms to bandage you."

"No."

Lizzie sighed. "Alexander, you'll have to let me go eventually. And I really think your arm should be cleaned and wrapped."

"Oh Lizzie." He finally opened his eyes, frost gray and intense. "Promise me. Promise me on your mother's memory that you won't leave me if I give you back your wings."