Chapter 11: The Ledger

"Faulty rigging," Honoria told the church, in a voice that carried to the back pew. "The lighting firm will answer for this.

"Nobody is to speak to the press."

Crispin came down the aisle to me with his arms open.

"Thea, you're in shock," he said. "Come home with me."

"I'm taking my driver to a doctor."

"Clement is staff. Mother's people will see to him."

"He took a steel bar for me in front of forty of your guests," I said, loud enough for every pew to hear.

"I'm taking him."

Forty faces watched.

Even Crispin could not drag me out of a church in front of that.

He stepped back, smiling with his teeth.

I put Clement's arm over my shoulder, and he let me, which told me how badly he was hurt.

The vestry was a small room behind the altar with a stone floor, a coat rail and a sink.

I sat him on the wooden chest under the window and found the first-aid box above the sink.

It was a good one, with proper gauze.

"You need stitches," I said.

"It's a scalp wound.

"They bleed."

"Hold still."

I cleaned it with my hands steady, because I had done my grandmother's knives for years and could do a delicate thing under stress.

The cut ran an inch and a half above his ear.

It wasn't deep, but it was ugly.

I stuck a dressing over it and leaned back.

"Tonight you don't protect me," I said. "And you don't lie to me.

"Not once.