by Kristi Jun
“What happened, Mr.—”
“Jackson, miss,” he said. “Never seen two men fight like that. It took several men to pull them off each other.”
Oh no. She was afraid to ask who the other man he was fighting had been. If she wasn’t so worried, she would give him a good slap, perhaps two. What was wrong with him? What was he thinking? Perhaps he wasn’t thinking; that’s what the problem with men was.
He nodded. “Hawk, I believe. An American.”
“Thank you so much for bringing him home.”
“It’s no trouble at all, miss. This is nothing compared to the trouble we used to get into,” he said, looking up at her as if realizing he should have used more discretion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s all right, Mr. Jackson.”
Kate walked over to the corner of the room and pulled the rope. When the butler entered the room, she asked for warm water, fresh towels, and some salve for the cuts. “Please call on the doctor as well.”
The butler gazed at Mr. Roberts for a few seconds. “Right away, missus.”
“He may have several broken ribs, too.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jackson.” She watched the man nod and take his leave of the house.
Once they were alone, she sat down next to Roberts and looked down at him. “What happened?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he said.
She scooted in to get a better look at him and he grunted in pain. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” he slowly let out. “It hurts to breathe.”
She hated seeing him like this. “Why would you do this?”
“What do you mean?” he barely spoke.
“Like this…you are…broken,” was all she could come up with.
“Broken?” he said. “I assure you, I look worse than I really am.”
“I will have a talk with Johnathan about this.”
“No,” he said, frowning in pain. “You will do no such thing.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“This isn’t your problem to solve.”
“This would have never happened if Johnathan wasn’t here,” she confessed. “And he is here because of me. You could have died.”
“Died? You are surely jesting,” he said. “He didn’t bully me into fighting him. I wanted to do it. See that smug face bloody up. Believe me, he isn’t doing all that well, either.”
“Men,” she said, shaking her head. “I do not understand your sex.”
The footman entered the parlor with fresh towels and warm water. She asked him to set them down on the table so that she could attend to Roberts. “Oh, how long will it take for the doctor to arrive?”
“The message has been sent for the doctor just now. It’s about thirty minutes each way, so I should think if he is home, over an hour, missus.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, that will be all.”
She watched the footman leave and closed the door behind him.
After the footman left them alone, she dipped the towel in warm water, squeezed the water out of it, and started to wipe away the dried blood on his face. “I am afraid this is going to leave a scar.”
“One more scar won’t hurt.”
“One more?” she repeated. “How many scars do you have? Mr. Jackson mentioned you were both…”
“Rum bites. Ruffians.”
“Rum bites?”
“Clever cheat,” he said with a grin. “In the game of cards.”
She raised her brows in amusement. She never imagined Roberts would resort to such base activities in his life.
“Do I surprise you?” He looked right at her.
“You cheat at cards?”
He grinned.
“What happened, Mr. Roberts?”
“Didn’t we agree you’d call me Thomas in private?” He took her hand in his and lifted it to kiss her palm. He closed his eyes and inhaled, as if taking in her fragrance.
There was something in his tone as he touched her, as if she were his warm blanket on a cold winter night. His hand was damp but pleasant. The calloused fingers gently rubbed against her flesh. She watched his face, the bloody lip, the cut across the ridge of his nose. She desperately wanted to lean in and kiss him, to sooth away the ache, but she didn’t. She was beginning to long for him, to want to be needed by him, to have him, but all these things were an impossibility for her.
“What happened, Thomas?” She continued to wipe away the blood on his face as she waited for his response.
“I had no choice but to confront him.”
“You could have walked away,” she said.
“No.”
“Johnathan doesn’t like to lose,” she told him.
“Neither do I.”
“So, you would fight to the death. Then what?”
“The American wanted one round and he got one.” He grunted again. “Believe me, I suspect he is in great pain right now.”
“This is all my fault.”
“How so?”
“If only you didn’t get involved in my affairs. Or come to London.”
“You seem to think I didn’t have a choice in this matter.”
“You didn’t, according to you,” she said. “You said you were doing this out of honor, and obligation to Lord Blackthorn. You were dragged into this, not of your own accord.”
“You are correct to some degree, but what I didn’t tell you is that I had a choice. I’ve known Lord Blackthorn a long time, and he would have understood if I said no.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this from the beginning?”
“I don’t know why,” he said thoughtfully.
“You don’t? Or you won’t tell me?”
“Perhaps I do have a soft heart for the helpless.”
“I am not helpless,” she said. “Wrongly accused, but not that.” His dark brows pulled together in deep thought and he clamped his jaw tight and looked at her. “What is it?”
“I know of someone who is wrongly accused.”
“I am sorry,” she said softly. His eyes went dark, almost somber. “Who is this person?”
He looked away from her, as if he didn’t want to reveal the identity of the person he was speaking of. Was it someone he loved? Surely, it couldn’t be a lover. Not after he kissed her. Or maybe it was, and he didn’t want to tell her the truth, that there was another woman in his life.
She sighed with a deep sense of disappointment. Not at him, but for herself. For not seeing this in the beginning. He’d been very displeased from the beginning, as if she somehow inconvenienced him. Perhaps he felt guilty that he wasn’t with her?
“It’s all right. I don’t need to know.”
“It’s my mother,” he said, looking at her again. “She is accused of a crime she did not commit.”
“Your mother?” she said. Part of her was relived it wasn’t a lover, but deeply saddened that it was someone dear to him that was suffering. “I am so sorry. Where is she now?”
“Newgate.”
Her eyes widened. “Newgate,” she repeated. The notorious prison. She heard rumors of this horrible place. “Shouldn’t you be with her? Or focusing on helping your mother instead of me?”
“I have someone assisting me,” he remarked with shallow breath. “I make sure she is well taken care of in there, at least, as much as she can be.”
Still, the guilt of having him here with her when he needed to be with his family was unbearable. And now he was suffering because of her. This must be the reason why he was on leave from Bow Street. Why else would he be? All the time she had him here, he could have been doing something to help his mother. She did not feel right about this, not in the least.
She needed to think.
For the next hour, she tried to focus on getting him cleaned and applied the salve on the cuts, all the while he was caressing her with his free hand. This intimate moment was unbearable and it made her feel guilty. She did not deserve this. Or
his kindness.
Was this the reason he decided to help her? Did this mean he believed her and that she had nothing to do with Ethan’s murder? Something between them had shifted here, and she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing.
“Dr. Winston is here, Ms. McBride,” the butler said at the door.
“Please bring him in.” She stood and backed away to give the doctor some room.
He was a short, stout man with sprinkles of gray on his head. He placed a bag on the floor next to Roberts and leaned in to take a good look at him.
“Roberts,” the doctor said. “Why am I not surprised? The last time I saw you, you’d been shot. What trouble have you gotten yourself into now, young man?”
Shot? She wondered about his life, the pain he must have gone through. Someone had mentioned he was in the war, so that must be where he was shot. There was so much she didn’t know about him, she thought as she felt her heart clutch with sadness and renewed interest.
“You don’t know when to quit, and it’s going to get you killed one day,” the doctor lectured. “Remember the stitches? You screamed murder when I stitched you up because you didn’t know how to walk away from the napper.”
“Napper?” she repeated.
“Rookery boys,” the doctor said. “He fought the leader. Big, nasty fellow.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Roberts said while grunting from pain.
“Why would they give you a choice?” The doctor looked closer at the cut under his eye. “You were looking for a fight. Remember that chit?” He chuckled. “Damn lucky you didn’t crack your head open, my boy. Damn gabey, if you ask me.”
So, he has a scandalous past, fighting his way through life. She would have never guessed even if her life depended on it. For some reason, she saw him as a law-abiding, respectful member of society living by his word and honor, fighting for injustice for those that couldn’t fight for themselves.
The doctor sat down and observed him, gently pressing on different parts of his abdomen. “Don’t hold back in front of a lady. I need to know where it hurts, so let it out.” After several more pokes and observations of him, he looked at Kate and said, “His ribs aren’t broken, but well bruised. Several of them.” Turning to Roberts, he added, “And you sprained your ankle. Keep off your feet for a while if you can help it.” Then he looked back at Kate. “Tie him up if you must, but he can’t be walking on this leg.”
“It’s not all that bad,” Roberts said.
“Rest and get better. I will come by in a few days to check up on you.” He turned to her and said again, “He mustn’t walk on that leg.”
“Thank you, Dr. Winston.” After he gathered his things, she walked him out of the parlor and to the front door. When she was about to open the door, he stopped her.
“How well do you know Roberts?” the doctor asked.
“I recently came to know him,” she replied. “Why?”
“Can I trust you?”
“Of course.”
“Normally, I would address this with Lord Blackthorn, but I believe he is on a holiday with this new wife.”
She nodded. “He recently wed a friend of mine.”
“I see,” he said. “Then you can be trusted. I ask that you keep what I am about to tell you private.”
“All right,” she answered, curious as to what he might reveal about Roberts.
“I fear for his life.” He paused, as if he was looking for the right words. “I have known him since he’d been yay high.” He gestured to his waist. “I don’t know if you aware of this, but his father was a cruel, violent man. I will spare you the details, but needless to say, his father had a temper, one that couldn’t be controlled, and he directed most of that anger on Roberts’s mother. Sometimes, I see that in him. He is a sound and honorable man, but he doesn’t know when to step away, and I fear he may pay for it one day.”
Just like today. Neither did Johnathan. Both men did not know when to call it quits. “Mr. Roberts reminds me of someone I know well.”
“Then you will understand why I am telling you this,” he said. “He can be quite destructive to himself. If I know him, something is troubling him a great deal, my dear. What he needs now is to rest in peace.”
“I appreciate what you are telling me,” she expressed to him. “Truly.”
When the doctor left the house, she concluded that her presence in his life was the last thing he needed. The doctor affirmed that. Today’s event proved it. In truth, she would only hurt those she cared about if she remained here. If she was involved in Roberts’s life further and remained here in London, Johnathan would only make his life miserable.
She needed to leave.
The decision was made.
CHAPTER 10
Roberts sat back on the settee and closed his eyes.
He heard murmurs of voices near the foyer, but he tuned it out, trying to focus on getting his breath to steady. He hurt to breathe, to move. But he surmised the American was hurting just as much, if not more.
The bastard tried to intimidate him. But it felt damn good to feel anything other than doubt and fear. To feel the blood pump through his veins with such focus that he’d forgotten all the predicaments that had troubled him a great deal in the last several weeks.
Kate entered the foyer and walked over to the rope to pull on it for assistance. “I will call on a footman to help you upstairs to rest.”
“I am done resting.”
“No, you are not,” she barked. “Didn’t you hear the doctor tell you that you need the rest?”
“The doctor is exaggerating,” he said. “Besides, I have a matter that needs my attention and I can’t be idle.”
“Stubborn man,” she said, frustration in her tone. “Why can’t you simply abide by my wishes, for once.”
“Not going to happen.”
“I want you to rest.”
“Why are you so insistent?” he said. “What has the doctor told you?” He suspiciously narrowed his eyes.
“He wants you to rest and heal.”
“What else?” he said. His family had known Dr. Winston since he’d been a boy. He’d often volunteer his time in the slums, attending to the families who didn’t have the funds to see a doctor. A good human being, one that deserved respect. And at one point a good friend to his father; that is, until Dr. Winston found out the truth about his father. If he knew the doc, he had said something to Kate.
“Nothing else.”
Clearly, she was a bad liar. He sat up and grunted in pain. When she came to assist him, he raised his hand and stopped her. “I can do this myself. Now, come sit by me and tell me what the doctor has been telling you about me.” He surmised everything. Had he mentioned he nearly killed a man when a customer was beating a harlot at a whorehouse when she tried to collect the money he owed?
“He advised me to make certain you rest,” she said. “And for me to be firm with you in that regard.”
“I see,” he said. “Will you attend to me in my room yourself?” He saw the twinkle in her eyes and he knew she wanted to. The last time he’d been with her, she nearly drove him mad with wanting, like some foolish, horny boy who’d never seen a woman. “Come upstairs with me.”
“I… I can’t.”
“You can’t? Or you won’t?” He saw her hesitate for a moment. He leaned in and tilted her chin up so she met his eyes and kissed her. “I am not going to touch you,” he admitted. “I simply want you with me so that I can rest in peace.”
“That doesn’t equate,” she said. “I am the last person to bring you peace and we both know it.”
He ignored her remark. “Are you going to make me beg?”
“All right,” she finally agreed. “But only for a moment, if you promise to rest.”
“Agreed.”
~ ~ ~
Roberts kept his promise.
He didn’t touch her.
She laid on his bed, her head resting next to him. His chest rose and fell in steady motion,
her hands on his chest feeling his heartbeat against her palm. She told herself this would be the last time she would be this close to him in the privacy of his room.
This strange tugging at her heart pained her. She didn’t want to feel this way, she didn’t want this need for him. This was an impossible relationship. He was a lawman, she was a former thief. Johnathan was bent on dragging her home and making her life a hell.
What Roberts needed was a respectable woman who could give him what he deserved—love and some peace in his life. She had neither to give, and she wasn’t certain if she had the capacity to fully love someone.
She lifted herself up on her elbow and watched him soundly sleep. The cuts below his eye and on the ridge of his nose was cleaned now, but it looked raw and painful. Her eyes lowered and saw his pink and inflamed knuckles.
Foolish, foolish man.
Recalling what Dr. Winston had shared with her earlier, she wondered about his past. Where did he attend school? What was he like as a boy? His favorite dessert? His favorite color? Has he been in love? When was his first kiss? She wanted to know all the answers to these questions, and she knew she would have gladly spent the day in his bed listening to him tell her about his life. And yet, her dream had a price.
A high price, actually.
Being here with him made her feel guilty, too. He said his mother was in Newgate suffering. He should be with her. She understood the longing to be part of something, but since she’d never had a family, she couldn’t fully understand his predicament. Surely having a broken home must be painful. But he had a mother he needed to be there for.
Not here with her.
He opened his eyes. “What are you thinking about?” he said in a near whisper.
“You’re awake?”
“Yes.”
“The entire time?”
“Maybe.”
“Why did you ask me to come up here with you?”
He ignored that question and said, “Tell me about Boston.”
“Boston?” she said. “We’re talking about you. Not me.”
“I’m certain Doc revealed my past to you,” he said. “So, it’s only fair you tell me yours.”
“How are you so certain he told me anything?” she said, looking in his eyes, and she finally understood. “You were listening in on our conversation, weren’t you?”