“I tied her hair back, I know I did. I always do it for those under the machines.”
“It must have come loose. Again, it’s not your fault. She should have never been under there, for you’re correct, she was too young to be working in the mill at all. That blame is on McRae.”
Rokesmith blinked, his eyes swelling with tears. “I don’t want her to die. She’s all I have.”
Aidan’s heart swelled with compassion, and he pulled the boy against him, giving him a comforting embrace. Strange that he would do this, but it was instinct, a wish to console the boy. At first, Aidan thought Rokesmith would pull away. But he leaned against Aidan and began to cry.
“Let it out, lad. Let it out,” he whispered softly. Aidan found his own eyes had filled with tears. In the midst of this tragic event, perhaps there was hope for his shriveled soul. But this wasn’t about him. “I promise you, if she lives, I will see to her safety. And yours. And I will do all in my power to see nothing like this happens ever again. To any child.”
Aidan meant it. By God, he would make it his life’s mission to bring down every cruel master who mistreated children. What good were power and money if not used to better the lives of those in need?
And how would his family feel about him bringing two orphans back to Wollstonecraft Hall? Because, damn it all, he would not leave Carter and Lottie to the fates.
Chapter 20
Cristyn had never seen such a horrible injury. Yes, she had lived a sheltered life, not only in Standon, but at the sanatorium.
“Fetch a basin of water, Cristyn, and cloths,” Paris said, his tone even.
Right, focus on the patient. Once she returned, she laid the objects on the shelf next to the examining table. Aidan’s blood-soaked coat had been tossed aside. The small child was unconscious. Perhaps that was a blessing.
As Paris cleaned away the blood, the extent of the injury became more apparent. The tear started on the left side of the forehead, near the hairline, and continued partway across her head—not as horrible as Cristyn had first thought. Large chunks of hair were missing, no doubt cut away to free her from the apparatus.
“This will take numerous stitches, but I believe we can close the wound. Whether she will survive the shock and the loss of blood is another question. Then there is the possibility of infection. I will need the razor; we will have to shave the hair close to the gash and begin stitching immediately.”
Once Cristyn collected the items needed, they worked together to clean the wound with antiseptic, shave the hair, and begin closing the jagged tear. They worked on each end of the wound, meeting the in middle. Through it all, the child slipped in and out of consciousness, and did not scream once. Brave girl.
They had no sooner completed when the girl’s eyes fluttered open. “Cristyn, some cool water with two drops of laudanum. She must sleep.”
They sat her upright enough to take the drink. Coaxing the girl with soft words, Paris held the glass to her mouth and she swallowed. In no time at all, she was asleep.
After wrapping part of her head in a gauze bandage, Paris wiped his hands on a towel. “I do not believe blood will collect under the skin and place pressure on the brain. But I cannot be sure.”
“Will she survive?”
“It is hard to say. You had better fetch Wollstonecraft and the boy.”
Cristyn walked toward the rear office and came upon Aidan comforting the lad.
“Let it out, lad. Let it out,” he whispered softly. Cristyn’s heart squeezed with sympathy at the sight. “I promise you, if she lives, I will see to her safety. And yours. And I will do all in my power to see nothing like this happens ever again. To any child.”
For all Aidan’s talk of being a heartless rake, she was seeing none of it here. She was moved beyond words at him offering solace to the distraught boy. Any man who would protect children was not without a heart and soul, no matter what he claimed.
“Aidan.”
He looked up questioningly.
“The doctor will see you now. Come, the both of you.”
They followed Cristyn to the exam area. Their gazes slid to the sleeping child.
“Is she…alive?” Carter asked.
“Yes. But there could be complications,” Paris replied.
“Such as?” Aidan asked.
“Pressure on the brain, infection, shock from the loss of blood. Because of this, I believe it best we move her to the hospital in Hinckley.”
“And what can they do for her that you and Cristyn cannot? If she goes there, you know that because she’s an orphan she will immediately be transferred to a workhouse infirmary and lost in the morass of a broken system. She is under my protection, and I will not allow her out of my sight.”
Carter gazed up at Aidan with admiration, and he patted the boy’s shoulder in reassurance. The sight made Cristyn’s heart skip a beat. Aidan claimed that he was not a hero, but she would beg to differ. And so would the boy.
Paris met Aidan’s gaze. “Well, I do have a bed in the rear she can use. What is her name?”
“She said Lottie, but I think she was given the name at one of the orphanages. She doesn’t know her age, either. Maybe six or seven,” Carter replied. “I want to stay with her. Can I, Mr. Black? Please, sir. Please, Doctor.” He looked pleadingly between the two men.
“I don’t see the harm,” Paris said. “It is best if someone sits with her. The boy and I will take shifts. What is your name?”
“Carter Rokesmith.”
“Carter, wait out front while we get Lottie comfortable,” Paris said.
“One moment,” Aidan interjected. “I will send for my man in Hinckley. He has a carriage. If the child takes a turn, we will transport her to the hospital immediately. It is a far better choice of vehicle than a ramshackle wagon. Carter, if I write a note, will you deliver it? You know where it is; you delivered an envelope to him before.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Unfortunately, I have to return to the mill. I will explain Carter’s absence somehow.”
Cristyn laid a hand on his arm. “Come, I will show you to pen and paper.”
Once they moved into the front room of the clinic, Cristyn impulsively stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him.
“What was that for?” Aidan whispered.
“You were wonderful with Rokesmith. I heard you pledge your protection. I didn’t think I could love you more, but…”
Aidan swept her up into a crushing embrace, kissing her hungrily, as if he were starving. Cristyn tunneled her fingers into his thick hair and he lifted her from the floor, holding her tight against him. The sound of voices broke them apart.
Reality caused the passion to dissipate as quickly as it had flared. Aidan sat at the desk, and Cristyn collected pen and paper and placed it before him. As she turned to leave, he clasped her wrist. “I need to see you. Tonight,” he rasped.
“I’m not sure how that can be achieved,” she murmured.
Aidan didn’t answer, as Carter had walked into the room. Aidan scratched out a message, then folded the paper. “Stay there and return with Samuel Jenkins. Understand?”
Carter touched his forelock. “Aye, sir.” He took the folded note and scampered away.
“I will have to acquire a room for Samuel. Hopefully there is a vacancy at the inn.”
“If not, maybe Mrs. Trubshaw could spare a room.” It struck Cristyn that Aidan’s time in Earl Shilton was coming to a close. “You’re nearly finished here, aren’t you?” The thought of him leaving caused her heart to ache.
“Yes, sooner than I had thought. Much depends on what Rokesmith will tell me—if he tells me.”
Cristyn gave him a sad smile. “I believe he will. He looks at you as if you were his hero.”
“What nonsense,” Aidan sniffed. He stood and walked toward her. He took her han
d and laid it on the fall of his trousers. She found unyielding hardness. “See what you do to me? One passionate kiss and I am desperate for you. Tonight, Cris. Come to me. However you can achieve it.” He dropped her hand, then departed. Cristyn stood in the window, watching him climb onto the wagon. Giving her one last sultry look, Aidan snapped the reins and disappeared down the lane.
Damn the warnings and sage advice from Paris and Mrs. Trubshaw, and even her father. Nothing would keep her away.
* * * *
Aidan had no sooner arrived at the mill when he caught sight of Mr. Meeker, his face flushed with anger and annoyance.
“Mr. McRae is beside himself. Taking one of the delivery wagons when it was needed to pick up bales of cotton? You’ve put us behind schedule with your foolhardy rescue mission.” The man followed the wagon until Aidan brought it to a complete stop. “He wants to see you. He is livid. Leaving the mill floor in complete pandemonium…you should have reported to Mr. McRae first!”
Aidan jumped down from the wagon and strode toward Meeker, grabbing a fistful of the man’s cravat. He squeaked in protest like the rat he was. “Shut your mouth, you miserable cretin. Or I will shut it for you.”
“How dare you threaten me—”
Aidan slapped the man across the cheek, effectively silencing him. “Next time, there will be more. Now, I will go and see the master, and you will stay well clear.” Aidan needed to contain his fury—at least until he knew the dark, undisclosed narrative of this blasted place.
“You struck me!” Meeker sniveled.
“I barely tapped you, don’t go on. But I will do it again if you interfere with me.” Exhaling a cleansing breath, he headed upstairs to McRae’s office. His coat was gone and his waistcoat and shirt were soaked with blood. Let the bastard see it. He knocked and entered. “You wish to see me, sir?”
“Close the door. Sit.” The words were curt, angry, as if he were speaking to a disobedient dog. “You dare show yourself in my office in this state?” McRae thundered.
A child had nearly died on the mill floor, and this was the man’s main concern? “I thought it best to return here immediately.” Aidan sat and crossed his legs, struggling to keep his voice and expression neutral.
“You’ve made a muddle of today’s delivery schedule. Caused chaos in the spinning room, leaving it unsupervised. The machines didn’t run for over an hour. So we are behind that schedule as well.”
“I’m assuming Miller had to clean and recalibrate the machine. That takes time. Also, you cannot expect workers to carry on as if nothing happened. The blood had to be scrubbed away.”
“You brought this mill to a complete standstill over some squalling little monster,” McRae snapped.
“What would you have me do, stand by and watch the child expire? Her hair was caught, part of her scalp torn away. She needed immediate medical attention.”
“I refuse to pay for her care. It would have been more prudent to have her replaced.”
Aidan narrowed his gaze. “What are you saying, exactly?”
“That in the future, if one of the imbecile orphans is caught up in the machinery, then that is their fate. I can procure any number of poor law brats anytime. Where is the boy who drove the wagon?”
“He was injured trying to rescue the girl.”
McRae frowned. “Now I’m deprived of two workers, and have gained nothing but inconvenience and extra cost.”
Aidan’s blood boiled hot. McRae would have let the child die. “I will take responsibility for both of them. And for their expense. You need not think on them again.” Aidan stood, pulled out pound notes from his pocket, and tossed them on the desk. “In fact, buy more slave workers, on me,” Aidan growled.
“There is no need to take that tone. You are under obvious duress, so I will allow it to pass…this once.” Nevertheless, McRae gathered up the pound notes like an edacious cardsharp. “Change your clothes and return to work. Tell those on the floor they will be staying an extra hour tonight, to make up the time lost. You may go.”
Aidan gave a mocking bow and left the room, before he said something he would regret.
As soon as his shift ended, he returned to the inn to pick up the food he had ordered. Luckily, he was able to secure a room for Samuel on the first floor. As he waited for the victuals, Samuel strode into the tavern room.
“Good evening, Mr. Black.”
“Good evening to you, Mr. Jenkins.”
He pulled Samuel aside. “You’re settled in?”
“Aye, sir. I sent word to the earl and viscount that I’ve moved to Earl Shilton, same inn as you. I also can report that there are a couple of constables in Hinckley. But more importantly, there is currently a small army regiment in Leicester if we need them.”
“Good man. Lay low until I have the information we require.” Aidan pulled out pound notes and thrust them into Samuel’s hand. “For your accommodations and meals.”
Samuel took the notes and nodded.
Once Aidan collected the food, he headed toward Church Street. Walking along the cobbled streets, he admonished himself for revealing too much to Meeker and McRae. In the past, he never would have shown such volatile emotion. And what had possessed him, in the middle of a crisis, to kiss Cristyn and have her touch him? Yes, his control as far as she was concerned had been completely shattered. Yet he refused to mention or even think on that most elusive and earth-shattering of emotions—love.
But what he felt for Cristyn had to be love, for it went far beyond lust or temporary passion. He hadn’t thought this would happen. He had already decided he would remain unmarried, for who needed such tangled turmoil in one’s life? A small part of him used the curse as a motive, but he now wondered if he used it to avoid examining what lay in his heart? Damn his vulnerabilities. Damn his cowardice.
Aidan was still cross when he entered the clinic. The place was eerily quiet. “Hello?”
Middlemiss came out from the back room. “Wollstonecraft.”
“How is the girl?”
“Still sleeping. I imagine she will slumber the rest of the night. There is no change; her pulse is still weak. If she lives until the morning, there is a good chance of recovery. Most of the scar will be hidden under her hair; there’s a mercy.”
“Then I pray she survives the night.” Aidan thrust the sack of food at the doctor. “I brought pies from the tavern.”
Rokesmith entered the room and stood next to Middlemiss. “I want to stay the night. With Lottie. Until she’s better.”
The doctor took the sack. “She will sleep the rest of the night, lad.”
“I don’t care.” He pouted. “She needs me.”
“What harm will it do? He should not return to the damned mill, anyway.” Aidan met Rokesmith’s gaze. “Is there someone who can see to the children in your absence?”
He nodded. “Aye, Sarah and Charlie know what to do. They’re almost as old as me.”
“Where is Cristyn?” Aidan asked.
“She has gone to her rooms, to refresh and rest,” the doctor replied.
That was all he needed to hear. “Thank you. I will check in on the girl later.” Aidan departed before the doctor could respond. He’d no sooner stepped outside when he saw Cristyn walking toward him. His heart skipped a beat. Then another. He clasped her elbow and steered her away from the clinic. “Have you eaten?”
“No, I—”
“Excellent. Then you shall come and dine with me.”
“At the inn?”
He lengthened his strides, and Cristyn struggled to keep up. “Yes. More specifically, in my room.”
“Aidan…”
He pulled her into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes. With her back to the wall, he faced her. “What you make me feel terrifies me. I had plans, you see, to live a dissolute existence, only I went too far. All was in darknes
s until you came into my life. I was broken, like a rusty, neglected toy ready for the rubbish—until you. I thought the feelings to be gratitude for your medical assistance—what else could they be?” Aidan cradled her face in his hands, staring into her eyes. “I am still trying to puzzle it out. Please, be patient with me. I am a work in progress, as if a sculptor were shaping me and the clay is not yet set. Am I making any sense?”
Her eyes grew moist. “Yes. I understand.”
God, he didn’t deserve her. But for the first time, he was speaking from his heart. “I am a selfish being. I always will be, especially when it comes to you. We haven’t much time; will you come to my room?” He nuzzled her neck and whispered hotly in her ear, “I need to be inside you.”
“Oh,” she whimpered. “I’m selfish, too. Yes. Now.”
Her breathless words caused a torturous groan to escape him. Reaching in his coat pocket, he slipped his room key into her hand. “Go up the back stairs and wait for me. I will procure some provisions.”
“I can’t stay long. I told Paris I would return to help with Lottie.”
“Food and sex, then I will escort you to the clinic. Or, better yet, sex then food.”
Cristyn laughed, and his soul soared at the sound. She took the key, kissed his cheek, and hurried away. He waited in the alley until his arousal had dissipated enough not to be noticeable, then walked briskly toward the front entrance of the inn.
Mr. and Mrs. Atwood were busy serving customers. “Mr. Black. What can I do for you?” Mr. Atwood said.
“More food. What do you have available?”
The innkeeper chuckled. “You’re certainly keeping my wife and me busy with your requests. I swear you’re feeding the village.”
“Not the entire village, surely.”
“I have ham sandwiches. Would four suffice? And some cheese?”
Love with a Notorious Rake Page 23