“The splint,” Georgie said, holding up a piece of Freddie’s shirt.

“Right. Of course.” Nicholas took it from her and looked down, both eager and relieved to have something medical upon which to focus.

He wrapped the arm, using the cloth to hold the makeshift stick in place. “You’ll want to see a doctor as soon as possible,” he said to Freddie. “He’ll be able to get you sorted with a proper splint.”

“You don’t think Mr. Oakes will wish to use a branch for the duration of his convalescence?” Georgie teased.

“It would work if it had to,” Nicholas said with half a smile. “But he’ll be more comfortable with something other than needs-must medicine.”

“Well, I’m impressed,” Georgie said, watching Nicholas as he fashioned a sling for Freddie’s arm. “Anyone can set an arm in the comfort of their home.”

“Anyone?” Nicholas murmured.

“Anyone with a little training,” she amended. “It takes talent to do it in the dead of night with nothing but a stick and a lantern.”

“And whiskey,” Nicholas said, holding up the flask in salute.

“I thought that was for his face.”

He took a swig. “And to salute a job well done.”

“In that case …” She held out her hand.

“That’s right,” he said. “You’ve never had it.”

“Mr. Rokesby,” Thamsely said with palpable disapproval. “Surely you are not offering spirits to Miss Bridgerton.”

Nicholas looked up at the butler. “We’re outside in the dead of night, tending to a man without a shirt, and that’s what you object to?”

Thamesly stared at him for a long beat and then snatched the flask right out of his hand. “As long as I have a drink first,” he muttered. He popped one back, then handed it to Georgie. “Miss.”

“Thank you, Thamesly,” she said, her eyes darting back and forth between the butler and Nicholas as if to say—Did that really just happen?

She took a dainty sip before handing the flask back to Nicholas. “That’s vile.”

“You get used to it.”

“Some for me?” Freddie asked.

“No,” everyone said in unison.

“Buggers,” Freddie said sullenly.

“Language, Mr. Oakes,” Thamesly said.

“Please don’t step on me again,” Freddie moaned.

“Keep your mouth shut and we have a deal.”

Nicholas caught Georgie’s eye, and they both stifled a laugh.

“If I might interrupt,” Wheelock said, “we do need to decide what to do with him. Much as I’d like to leave him to the wolves, we cannot simply abandon him.”

“There are wolves?” Freddie asked.

“You’re speaking, Mr. Oakes,” Thamesly warned.

“There aren’t wolves,” Georgie said, somewhat impatiently. “Good heavens.”

“One of us is going to need to see him home,” Nicholas said. “Or at least to a coaching inn. I assume he can take care of himself from there.” He turned to Freddie. “It goes without saying that you will never breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“If you do,” Georgie put in, “I’ll tell everyone you were felled by a housecat.”

Freddie looked ready to snarl, but Thamesly nudged him with his toe before he could speak.

“Load him into the cart,” Thamesly said. “I’ll take him to the Frog and Swan.”

“Are you sure?” Georgie asked. “It’s a two-hour drive at least. The Musty Duck is much closer.”

“Best if he’s out of the area,” Thamesly said. “Plus, he’ll be on the main road. It will be easier for him to hire transport to London.”

Georgie nodded. “If you take the cart, though, how will I …” She looked over at Nicholas.

“I will see you home,” he said. “Wheelock can ride with us, if it makes you more comfortable.”

“It will make me more comfortable,” Thamesly said.

“For heaven’s sake, Thamesly,” Georgie said. “Are you worried for me or for my reputation? Because if it’s for me, surely you know that Mr. Rokesby is as honorable a man as you will ever meet. And if it is for my reputation, my God, what is left to ruin?”

Thamesly regarded her for a long moment, then stepped on Freddie’s leg again.

“Bloody hell! I didn’t say a word!”

“That one,” Thamesly said, “was just for fun.”

Chapter 11

“A word, Mr. Wheelock?” Georgie placed her hand on the butler’s arm before he could go to help Nicholas and Thamesly load Freddie Oakes onto the cart.

“Of course, Miss Bridgerton. What is it?”

She gave her head a little tick, motioning to the side. “In private, if you don’t mind.” She didn’t think that Nicholas could hear her, but better to be safe than sorry.

Wheelock nodded his assent, and they moved a few steps away.

“Ehrm …” How to start? What to say? She settled on: “I have an unusual request.”

Wheelock said nothing, but his brows rose, signaling that she should continue.

Georgie cleared her throat. This was far more difficult than it should have been. Or maybe it was exactly as difficult as it should be. She’d made a big mistake this afternoon, and no one had ever said that fixing one’s mistakes was supposed to be easy.

“You might be aware that Mr. Rokesby has asked me to marry him,” she said.

“I was not aware,” Wheelock replied, his face betraying no emotion, “but I am not surprised.”

“Right, well …” She cleared her throat again, trying to decide how best to continue. She couldn’t very well tell Wheelock that she had rejected the proposal. He loved Nicholas like a son. In fact, she’d always suspected that the youngest Rokesby was his favorite of the brood.

“I didn’t give him an answer,” she fibbed. Not the correct answer, at least.

Again, Wheelock’s brows rose. This time, Georgie thought, because he judged her to be either insane or a fool for not having accepted Nicholas immediately.

“I should like to have the opportunity to speak with him about it this evening,” she said.

“It cannot wait until morning?”

She shook her head, hoping he would not press for further clarification.

“May I assume that you do not plan to disappoint him?”

“You may,” Georgie said quietly.

Wheelock gave a slow, considering nod. “It would be difficult for you to find the right moment if I accompany you to Aubrey Hall.”

“That was my thought.”

“But you don’t want Mr. Thamesly to be aware of the lapse of propriety.”

“That was also my thought.”

Wheelock’s lips pursed. “I try to live by a certain set of rules and standards, and this, Miss Bridgerton, goes against almost all of them.”

“Only almost?” she said hopefully.

“Indeed,” he said, quite clearly against his better judgment. He sighed, but it was overdramatized and obviously for her benefit. “I shall devise some sort of nonsense once Mr. Thamesly has departed with the cart. You shall have your moment alone with Mr. Rokesby.”