"I'll show you to a room immediately," the innkeeper nodded emphatically, his double chins wagging in his urgency. "Boy!" he called to what could only be his son who stood just behind him, eyes wide as everyone else's at the sight of Bane and George.

Bane glanced around the room that acted as the common area for guests and realized it was a bit shadier than he might've chosen for... a wedding night.

There was a group in one corner playing cards, a fog of pipe smoke haloing them and a pile of money between them.

Another table played host to two characters who had barely looked up from their conversation since Bane and George had burst through the door, hooded, they bent close to one another, a Board of Runes between them.

And still yet, there sat perched at every other bar stool working women who could be bought for the night's company - all eyeing George in horror. Bane looked at her too, for the first time since they'd come inside.

She was covered in small cuts across her face, there were pieces of glass in her hair, the growing promise of a bruise blossomed on her right cheek bone.

There was all manner of dirt, grass and leaves stuck at odd angles through her hair and clothes, dirt smudged her face where there was not blood or bruising, and a sleeve of her blouse had torn somewhere along the way so that it hung down pitifully, nothing like the respectable linen thing it had begun the day as.

And besides all this, he knew she was in pain, limping as She'd the whole way there, it had taken them three times as long than if he'd walked alone.

Bloody lovely job he was doing as a husband so far, he chastised himself as the innkeeper led the way to a set of stairs, his son following them from behind.

Anger surged through him towards George in that moment... would any of this have been a problem had she not turned out to be a liar?

He would not even have the burden of a wife with him now if She'dn't cast such a pitiful character being beaten by her male relatives.

Gruffly, Bane released his hold on her and followed the innkeeper up the narrow staircase ahead of her, leaving George to hobble up on her own.

"I will send someone for the magistrate directly," the innkeeper was saying, his oil lamp held aloft to light their way. The place was small, run down... Bane felt deeper regret still. What would George think of him? Bringing her to a place like this?

"We don't have a doctor for a few towns over, but the missus will do her best by your lady -" and then there was a sound behind them that had both men turning to look over their shoulder.

George was falling backwards, down the stairs.

The image of her body, limp, limbs at odd angles, falling down the darkened stairs... it was so much like that horrible moment when Cora...

"No!" Bane roared, lunging for her, but missing as she tumbled backwards still. The innkeeper's son dropped the linens he was carrying and held out both arms to catch her.

George landed awkwardly against him, her fingers clutching wildly for something to hold onto, eyes wide in panic and surprise. Bane felt his chest constrict against his will.

This sudden memory of Cora's death and an unbidden fear over losing George in the same way all of the sudden made him uncomfortable, and he instantaneously pushed it away, replacing any emotions that might've been trying to break through with anger alone.

"Get your hands off of my wife!" he bellowed to the boy below them on the stairs, who was holding onto George much more tightly than was strictly necessary.

Fear shot through the innkeeper's son's expression as he looked up at Bane, as if realizing for the first time just how much larger the nobleman was than himself.

In an instant, the boy released his hold on George... and she, unprepared for the sudden loss of support, tumbled backwards still.

"Oof!" she breathed out in pain as she landed at the bottom of the stairs in a heap.

Feeling like an idiot, Bane hurried to her side, shoving past the idiot innkeeper's son on his way... half tempted to throw him over the banister just for good measure.

"George, you alright?" he asked, despising the sound of concern in his voice. He was not her nanny for Saint's sake. But still he bent low to look into her face, waiting for an answer.

"You made him drop me," she accused, her face in an adorable scowl, though she was white as a ghost now, covered in a sheen of sweat, probably from pain.

"C'mon," he growled half heartedly, trying not to smile at her scolding.

Scooping one arm under her legs and another around her back, Bane lifted George from the despicably filth covered floor of the inn and cursed his luck for the hundredth time that day. How exactly this had happened to him, he was not sure.

"Here's your room," the innkeeper was blustering, he son rushing ahead of them to make himself scarce once they reached the landing of the second floor. The man swung open a door to reveal a small, dark and cold room with a modest sized bed and a quilt that had seen many winters.

"Fine," Bane answered dismissively, depositing George into one of the wooden chairs before the fire grate unceremoniously, "Get your boy to build up this fire - and tell the magistrate I will meet him at the scene of the crash directly, if you have a horse for me."

"Of course, my lord," the innkeeper bobbled, eyes round.

"You're leaving?" This a squeaked statement from George, and Bane felt a tug on his sleeve, ever so slight.

Turning back to her in surprise, he found her staring up at him, round brown eyes and full pink lips tipped upwards, one hand hanging on his sleeve.

"The magistrate -" Bane began, then hesitated when he noticed the way she quickly swallowed, and the odd amount of moisture in her eyes.

Guilt assailed him for the umpteenth time. Why on earth had he thought marriage to be one of his talents? He had no idea what to do for her.

"I - I - don't want to be alone," George all but whispered it, the words catching ever so slightly in her throat.

Bane Couldn't hide his surprise at this, in fact it left him speechless for several long seconds, staring at her.

"Should I have the magistrate come here after he is examined the crash milord?" the innkeeper suggested, even as he son hurried to light a fire in the grate, making so much noise that whatever thoughts Bane had been mulling over George's odd and instant attachment were driven out.

"Fine, tell him I will see him when he has retrieved the body," Bane answered brusquely, without looking up.

Feeling like a whipped beast, anger again rose in his chest towards George, but then - she smiled at him.

Not the smile of pity he received so often, nor the smile of beguiling and manipulation that most women cast at his title and wealth.

This smile was full of gratitude and relief... and Bane did not like what it did to him at all.

The innkeeper left them then, hurrying to do what Bane commanded, as most people did.

The boy hurried at his task, probably eager to be away from Bane as well, maybe even from George at this rate.

"Bring hot wine," Bane ordered as the young man was scurrying towards the door. He bobbed once, looking much like his father before him, then hurried away.

"I've never had wine," George muttered from beside him, and he watched her shift uncomfortably in the straight backed chair.

"It will help the pain," Bane said as an explanation, clearing his throat awkwardly as he took the seat beside her.

He busied himself, poking at the fire with the pretense of stirring it up, unsure of what to say.

"How bad is it?" he asked next, side glancing at George in the fire light. She'dn't moved to shed her coat or shoes, but neither could she seemed to sit still for long.

"You think I am a china doll?" she asked, but it came out like a hiss through her teeth as she shifted again, clearly aggravating her pain.

Bane chuckled, despite the circumstance, then shook his head.

"I don't know what to think of you, George," he murmured, almost without realizing what he was saying at all.

"You can be sure the sentiment is mutual milord," she bit back in reply, wincing as she did so.