“He went home,” Olivia told him. “What happened?”
“It was part of the performance,” Edward explained. “Miss Butterworth was on a cliff, and-”
“Who is Miss Butterworth?” Olivia’s mother asked from the doorway.
“I’ll explain later,” Olivia promised. That idiotic novel was going to be the death of someone. She turned back to Sebastian. “Mr. Grey, I think we should call for a surgeon.”
“Vladimir will fix it,” Prince Alexei announced.
Sebastian looked up at Olivia, eyes wide with alarm.
“Mother,” Olivia called out, motioning her to come over. “I think we need the surgeon.”
“Vladimir!” the prince barked, letting loose a stream of Russian.
“Don’t let him touch me,” Sebastian hissed.
“Do not think that you shall go to bed tonight without explaining every last detail,” Lady Rudland murmured in Olivia’s ear.
Olivia gave a nod, grateful that she’d have a bit of time to come up with a plausible explanation. She had a feeling that nothing could top the truth, however. Or at least the truth with a few carefully selected deletions. She was very grateful that Huntley had got caught up in the drama of the afternoon; that, at least, would explain why Lady Rudland had not been informed of her daughter’s many visitors.
“Get Harry,” Sebastian said to Edward. “Now.”
The young man excused himself and ran off with alacrity.
“This is what Vladimir does,” Prince Alexei said, shoving his way close. Vladimir was right next to him, looking down at Sebastian with narrowed, assessing eyes.
“He mends broken arms?” Olivia asked, looking over at him with considerable doubt.
“He does many things,” Alexei replied.
“Your Highness,” Lady Rudland murmured, bobbing a quick curtsy. He was, after all, royalty, and protocol must be observed, regardless of twisted limbs.
“Pereloma ruki u nevo nyet,” Vladimir said.
“He says the arm is not broken,” Alexei said, grabbing hold of Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian yelled out with such force that Olivia flinched.
Vladimir said something more, to which Alexei murmured a response that was clearly a question. Vladimir gave a nod, and then, before anyone had a chance to react, both men caught hold of Sebastian, Alexei around his middle and Vladimir at his arm, a bit above the elbow. Vladimir gave a pull and a twist-or maybe it was a twist and a pull. There was a horrific sound of bone on-good Lord, Olivia didn’t know what the bone was on, but it must have been something hideous, because Sebastian let out a blood-curdling cry.
Olivia thought she might be sick.
“Better?” Prince Alexei asked, looking down on his shuddering patient.
Sebastian looked too stunned to speak.
“He is better,” Alexei said confidently. He then said to Sebastian, “It will hurt for several days. Maybe longer. You…ah…how do you say it?”
“Dislocated,” Sebastian whimpered, tentatively moving his fingers.
“Da. The shoulder.”
Olivia shifted her weight to get a better look past Vladimir, who was blocking her view. Sebastian looked awful. His entire body was shaking, he seemed to be breathing too rapidly, and his skin…
“Do you think he looks a bit green?” she asked, of no one in particular.
Beside her, Alexei nodded. Her mother stepped forward, too, saying, “Perhaps we should-oh!”
Sebastian’s eyes had rolled back, and the next thunk they heard was his head hitting the carpet.
Harry was at the bottom of Rudland House’s front steps when he heard the scream. It was cry of pain, that he knew instantly, and it sounded like a woman.
Olivia.
His heart leaped with terror, and without a word to Edward, he charged up the steps and into the front hall. He didn’t knock, he didn’t even stop running until he skidded into the drawing room, barely able to breathe.
“What the hell happened here?” he gasped. Olivia looked fine. In perfect health, actually. She was standing next to the prince, who was speaking in Russian to Vladimir, who was on his knees, tending to…Sebastian?
Harry looked at his cousin with some concern. He was sitting up, propped against the leg of a chair. His skin was pasty and he was clutching his arm.
The butler was fanning him with the splayed-open copy of Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron.
“Seb?” Harry asked.
Sebastian held up a hand, shaking his head, which Harry took to mean, Don’t mind me.
So he didn’t. “Are you all right?” he asked Olivia. His heart was still racing with terror that she’d been hurt. “I heard a woman scream.”
“Ah, that would have been me,” Sebastian said.
Harry looked down on his cousin, face frozen in disbelief. “You made that noise?”
“It hurt,” Sebastian bit off.
Harry fought not to laugh. “You scream like a leettle girl.”
Sebastian glared at him. “Is there any reason you’re saying that with a German accent?”
“None whatsoever,” Harry replied, little snorts of barely suppressed laughter popping from his mouth.
“Er, Sir Harry,” came Olivia’s voice behind him.
He turned, took one look at her and burst out laughing. For no reason except that he’d been holding it in, and when he saw her he simply couldn’t do it any longer. She seemed to have that effect on many of his emotions lately. And Harry was coming to realize this wasn’t a bad thing at all.
Olivia, however, was not laughing. “May I introduce my mother,” she said weakly, motioning to the older woman next to her.