Anne Stuart (29 page)

The bedroom was icy cold, the bed stripped of linen. Together they dragged him forward, tipping him onto the bed, where he lay on his back in the darkness, so utterly still that Jessamine had to lean closer to ensure he was still breathing.

“
I’m off, then,” Nicodemus announced, making no move to leave them.

“
Where are the servants?”

“
They come in daily, except for Malkin, and he’s still guarding the door down in Kent. Come back with me, miss. He’s made it this far, he’ll be all right until Malkin comes back to look after him.”

“
Alone in this cold house with a bullet in him?” she said, not bothering to glance at him. “He’ll die.”

“
Lord, miss, he’ll die anyway. No need to bring you down with him.”

“
Light the candles, Mr. Bottom, before you leave us?” she requested in her calmest voice. “I need to see how badly he’s been wounded.”

His flesh was cold as she pulled the sodden shirt from him.

She knew what the dampness was—blood, soaking through the black silk. She was so intent on her patient that she only gradually noticed that the room grew lighter, concentrated only on how deathly pale Alistair’s face was beneath the smear of blood.

He looked far too young to be so wicked, she thought. Far too young to die. She turned, to find Nicodemus standing beside her, a stack of linens in his arms. “You’ll be needing bandages,” he said in a sour voice. “You get him cleaned up while I build a fire, and then I’m leaving, whether you come with me or not.”

She gave him a beatific smile. “Bless you, Nicodemus,” she murmured. “We’re going to save him.”

“
Don’t count on me for nothing,” Nicodemus protested. “I’m here to look after my own hide.”

“
Yes, Nicodemus,” she said, planting a kiss on his swarthy cheek before she turned back to her patient.

In the end she lost track of time. She was a skilled healer—Marilla had taught her what she knew of the healing arts, and she’d been an apt pupil. Some of what she had learned bordered on medical heresy—wounds, and the hands that treat them, should be clean, for one thing. It wasn’t until she managed to wash the blood from Alistair’s strong, wounded body that she discovered things weren’t as bad as she had feared. The bullet had passed through his upper arm, tearing a hole through his flesh, but there was no bullet to dig out and remove. Despite his fall, no bones seemed to be broken, and once she bandaged the wound, he seemed to rest a little easier.

“
Let’s get some linen on this bed,” Nicodemus growled in her ear, and she jumped, startled, realizing for the first time that the room was warm from the fire he’d built, and that the sun had risen.

“
Shouldn’t you have left by now?” she asked, running a
weary hand through her disordered hair.

“
We both should have,” he responded crankily as he spread a fresh sheet out. “You shouldn’t have insisted on staying, and you certainly shouldn’t be here now. I can only hope he’ll die of his wounds. Otherwise he’s going to kill me when he finds out I didn’t take you back home.”

“
Nicodemus...”

“
Now, you go along with you, miss. Go downstairs and get yourself a cup of tea, if this house possesses any such thing, while I put some decent clothes on his lordship. It ain’t proper, a decent young lady like yourself spending time with a naked man!” he announced, his proprieties outraged.

“
Is he naked? I was so busy worrying about his wounds that I hadn’t realized,” Jessamine said, leaning past Nicodemus to get a better look.

Nicodemus pushed her away unceremoniously. “For shame, miss!”

She managed a weary grin as she backed away. “You’re putting a damper on my education.”

“
One you need, miss!”

“
If there’s tea in the house, I’ll find it,” she said, starting out into the hallway. “And I’ll make you a cup as well, Nicodemus.”

“
Lord love you, miss, I’d rather find his lordship’s brandy. I think it would do the three of us the most good.”

“
Tea, Nicodemus,” she said firmly. “It’s too early in the day for spirits.”

It was a small house, tidy enough except for the drops of blood marking their passage from the back stairs up to the bedroom. The basement kitchen was dark and cold, and finding tapers and lighting the fire took a maddening amount of time. There was tea all right, but not much else, and Jessamine realized she was ravenously hungry.

She was on her second cup when Nicodemus made his appearance. “He’s resting comfortably enough,” he grumbled, pouring himself a cup. “If he hadn’t fallen, I doubt he would have even lost consciousness. The arm’s not that bad, though he lost a powerful lot of blood. As soon as he wakes up, our worries will be over.”

“
I didn’t know you were worried,” she said.

“
I’m still here, ain’t I?” he demanded in a self-righteous tone. “Though if I don’t do something about that bloody carriage, we’re all in the soup. Speaking of which, is there any food in this place?”

“
Not much.”

“
Then again, you probably can’t cook,” Nicodemus said with a sniff.

“
I’m not the frail aristocrat you seem to think,” she replied calmly.

“
True enough, miss. You wouldn’t have been able to follow the Cat if you were. Are you ready to come back with me? If we hurry, we might make it out of the city without anyone noticing the carriage. You can say you went for a walk last night, lost your way, and only just found the path back to the house.”

“
And you think they’ll believe it? Especially when Glenshiel doesn’t return?”

“
Who cares what they believe? They can’t prove it.”

“
I’m not leaving, Nicodemus,” she said. “It’s too late to worry about my reputation, and I think I’ve known that for quite some time. What I didn’t realize is that I’d destroy my family as well.” She leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes wearily. “I don’t suppose I could ask you to bring my sister back to London? I’m afraid she’s in for a rough patch out there in Kent, at Ermintrude’s mercy.”

The room was silent for a moment, and then Nicodemus
spoke, a rough kindness in his voice. “I’ll see her safe, miss. You’ll look after his lordship, then? He’s a very bad man, he is, but he don’t deserve to die.”

“
I’ll keep him alive if it kills me,” Jessamine said with a faint smile. She opened her eyes to see Nicodemus standing by the door, looking at her with an odd expression on his face.

“
I’ll take your sister back to Spitalfields so your mum can look after her,” he said. “I’m older than you, miss, and I’ve seen a lot more. Don’t expect disaster until it falls in your lap. We might be able to get out this mess right and tight.”

“
I hope so,” Jessamine said faintly. “I dearly hope so.”

“
Your sister, Miss Maitland, is a whore!”

Fleur let the embroidery drop into her lap. All morning she’d been awaiting such a denunciation, though perhaps not quite so baldly. She’d spent the day in her room, and up until that point no one had even bothered to inquire after her. No servant had come to make up the fire or bring her early morning chocolate. No one inquired after her welfare.

But now Sally Blaine stood in the doorway, Ermintrude smiling smugly beside her, and the accusing finger she pointed was trembling with rage. Behind the two sisters Fleur could see an entire crowd of interested bystanders, and it took all her self-possession to simply pick up her embroidery once more.

“
What are you talking about, Sally?” she managed to say with deceptive calm.

“
It’s Mrs. Blaine to you,” Sally snapped back, her artful coiffure quivering with indignation. “Your sister has taken off with the Earl of Glenshiel, and you may be sure an elopement was never a possibility. She has betrayed my hospitality and my honor, and I expect you’re no better than she is. I want you to leave here. Immediately!”

It was as Brennan had suspected, Fleur thought miserably
as Josiah Clegg elbowed his way past the two angry women with an admirable combination of deference and swagger. And where was Robert Brennan when she most needed him?

“
Now, now, Mrs. Blaine,” he said blandly. “You can’t blame the little miss for her sister’s transgression. Not that I blame you for being upset. Why, it’s an outrage, pure and simple. And being an officer of the court and sworn to uphold decency and protect the citizenry, I’ll see to it that Miss Maitland is returned back to London all safe and sound.” He followed this magnanimous offer with a bland smile, and his gold front tooth flashed brightly.

Fleur’s temporary calm vanished as she leapt from the chair, knocking it over in the process. “No!” she cried, but Clegg had already clamped one slightly grimy hand on her forearm.

“
You don’t have any say in the matter, miss!” Ermintrude said sharply. “You’ve trespassed on our hospitality and you’re not welcome here. You either leave with the Bow Street runners or you leave by foot. Either way, I have every intention of having your bags searched to make certain you haven’t stolen anything from us.”

“
Miss Winters.” It was Brennan’s voice, broad, calm, authoritative, that broke through the tension. “I’m sure you weren’t really suggesting any such thing. Not of an old family friend whom you were instrumental in inviting into your sister’s home.”

Ermintrude looked faintly flustered by Brennan’s commanding presence. “Er... I suppose not. But her sister...”

“
Miss Maitland’s mother is ill. She was called away unexpectedly and she left her younger sister in my care. I promised I’d see her safely home, being as how I was the one who brought her here in the first place.” He cast a slow, meaningful glance at Clegg.

Clegg made no effort to release her. “I can take care of her,
Robbie,” he said. “And maybe you’ll be explaining what happened to the Earl of Glenshiel?”

“
He went back to London to consult his physician, and he was kind enough to give Miss Maitland a ride in his coach. Why don’t you release Miss Fleur, Josiah? I’m sure you didn’t realize you were still holding on to her.”

Clegg glared at him, but after a moment relaxed his crushing grip. Fleur stumbled away from him, toward Brennan, then halted. For a moment it seemed there was no ally, no help anywhere. The other guests were staring at her with every expression imaginable, from lecherous smirks to disapproving frowns. Only Brennan seemed calm and unmoved.

“
And how did you know all this, Mr. Brennan?” Mrs. Blaine demanded.

“
Aye, you’ve been a busy lad this morning,” Clegg added. “What made it your business to find all this out? Seems to me you spent last night otherwise occupied. You had a woman in your room, don’t deny it, and I’m wondering whether it was this little girl right here. Was it?”

The other guests were enjoying the melodrama immensely. Clegg’s accusation drew shocked gasps from the hordes of people crowding in her door, and Fleur could feel the color rise to her face like a damning flag of slutdom.

“
Look at her!” Mrs. Blaine trumpeted. “She doesn’t even try to deny it! I have been grievously misled and betrayed in my efforts to help those less fortunate. Mr. Clegg, I want you to remove this creature from my house immediately.”

“
No, Mrs. Blaine.” Brennan’s voice was quiet, commanding, halting Clegg in his tracks as he lurched toward Fleur.

“
I beg your pardon?” Sally Blaine seemed astounded that a lesser mortal like Brennan would dare disagree with her.

“
Come now, Robbie,” Clegg murmured. “You’re not thinking clearly. I’ll take over the care of Miss Fleur.”

“
You’ll keep your hands off her, Josiah,” Brennan said pleasantly, “or I’ll cut out your heart.”

There was no missing the look that darkened Clegg’s affable eyes. It was a brief shiver of pure, mad rage, and for the first time Fleur began to understand Brennan’s worries.

“
What did you say, Robbie?” His voice was deceptively mild.

Fleur finally moved. “He told you to keep your hands off me,” she said firmly. “Yes, I spent the night in his room last night, yes, I’m a slut and a whore. But I’m Brennan’s whore.”

The look on Robert Brennan’s face would have been comical if it weren’t so aghast. He opened his mouth to deny it, then shut it again, defeated. There was nothing he could say to rescue the situation, or her reputation, and he knew it.

“
Well,” Mrs. Blaine said. “Well.”

“
Not well at all,” Brennan muttered.

“
You will take your... your strumpet and depart,” their hostess declaimed with impressive majesty. “And don’t expect any remuneration from my husband for your work these past few days. It seems as if you’ve been too preoccupied to keep my guests safe. It’s no wonder things have been pilfered right and left.”

Fleur met Brennan’s gaze. He was solemn, angry, and slightly dangerous, and for the first time Fleur began to question her unusual bravado. Perhaps this hadn’t been the best time to develop her self-assurance and her tongue.

He took her arm, putting his big body between her and Clegg, shielding her from the curious onlookers, and for a moment there was a look of great sadness in his blue eyes. “Lass,” he whispered so softly no one else could hear, “you’ve done for it now.”

“
I know,” she said, smiling up at him quite brightly. “I know.”