Rollo, no stranger to a fight and its aftermath, recognized shock when he saw it, and quickly said in his most soothing voice, "He put up a good fight, but with the three of those bullies, well, he will have a mighty headache. Who is he?"
"Lyonel Ashton, the Earl of Saint Leven."
Rollo whistled between his teeth. A bloody earl! "Ah, well, my lady, you're not to worry now. Captain Carstairs will see that he's well taken care of."
When they reached the Drake, Rafael shouted at the innkeeper, "Crispin, fetch a sawbones, quickly, there's a good fellow. I'll take his lordship upstairs."
Diana followed in their wake, automatically opening the door to Lyonel's bedchamber. She watched Captain Carstairs gently ease him onto the bed. "Now, let's have a bit of water."
She quickly fetched a cloth and soaked it in the cool water in the basin on the commode. She herself sat beside Lyon and laid the cloth over his forehead.
"Lyon," she whispered, touching her fingertips to the nasty lump on his head. "Please."
"We're sailing in the morning, Capt'n," said Rollo. "We must get back to the Seawitch."
"We will wait for the doctor," said Rafael, observing Diana's pale face and shaking hands.
At his words, Diana looked up. "Tank you, both of you. You saved us. It was so awful ---" She paused, hearing the voices outside the door.
"The doctor, I fancy, my lady," Rafael said, and moved to the door. "Ah, do come in and see to the gentleman."
Dr. Williamson was drunk, Rafael quickly realized as he watched him move uncertainly toward the bed and lean down.
"Need to bleed him," said Dr. Williamson, giving Lyonel only a cursory glance.
Rafael cursed. "You bounder, you're stinking drunk! What the hell do you mean, he needs to be bled?"
The doctor turned a bleary eye toward Carstairs. "I know what I'm doing, my good man. Get me a basin," he said to Diana.
Diana rose to her full height. She was eye to eye with the doctor. "You are drunk," she said, contempt filling her voice. "You will not touch him."
"Now see here, missie ---"
"Get out of here, you bleater!" As Rollo spoke, he firmly took the doctor by the arm and dragged him toward the door.
Diana stood very quietly, watching the ejection. "We are ourselves to sail in the morning," she said. She raised blank eyes to Captain Carstairs. "I don't know what to do."
Rafael could no more stand a woman's distress than the next man. "Where were --- are you sailing?"
"To the West Indies. Tortola or St. Thomas."
He blinked at that, and saw a future that would in all likelihood include him. He gave it up without a struggle. "Aboard what ship?"
"I am not certain, no, wait, it is the Nelson, a Captain Poutten."
"He's a fool," said Rollo, overhearing this last. "Lord, the man wrecked his last ship, bloody idiot. If I had to serve on his ship, I'd mutiny."
Diana looked from one to the other, helplessly.
"We're sailing to St. Thomas," said Rafael Carstairs, sealing his fate. "I also have an excellent doctor aboard the Seawitch to see to his lordship."
Diana's immediate worry was Lyon. "Can you fetch your doctor, Captain?"
"Why don't we simply repair to my ship? My doctor can take care of Lord Saint Leven." He grinned down at her. "If you wish to come with us, we will sail with the tide in the morning."
Diana wanted to throw her arms around his neck. She gave only a moment's guilty thought to the Tomlinsons. She simply didn't care. And, she thought, Captain Carstairs had appeared like Saint George. Who could dismiss the services of such a savior?
"Oh, yes, thank you," she said, relief spilling out of her voice like rain off a roof.