A welcome sight for sore eyes.
“You all right?”
No, he was not all right. Every bone in his body ached, his head throbbed, and he was bleeding like a leaking barrel of ale. But he nodded. “Brett?”
Brett staggered over and seeing Daniel’s state, he shrugged off his redingote, knelt and pressed it to Daniel’s side. “Christ, he had a blade?”
Brett had a bloody lip, and one of his eyes was half closed, but he was still another good sight. “Did they get away?” Daniel managed to ask.
“They wouldn’t have.” Robbie grunted. “But they ran like the cowards they were, rather than stay and fight it out. Should I have followed them?”
“No time. We need to get him to a doctor,” Brett answered.
“Right. Where?” Robbie said.
“Are you asking me?” Brett snarled. “The ones I know are in Boston. A bit too far to carry him.”
“It’s not deep, just a scratch,” Daniel murmured as Brett doubled in his vision. “Just get me back to my room.”
Both of Robbie’s heads swam in Daniel’s blurry eyesight, their expressions looking dubious. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Because it’s a bad one,” Brett said. “He needs a doctor. Where is the nearest hospital? Get a hackney coach.”
“No, no hospitals. I don’t trust them,” Daniel panted.
“The earl is in residence. Let’s take him there,” Robbie suggested. “He’ll get him seen faster than anyone. Our peerage comes with benefits.”
“Glad to know they are good for something,” Brett muttered. “Hail a hackney.”
“No. Absolutely not . . . no,” Daniel protested feebly, blinking to clear his sight. Black spots danced before his eyes. He thought he recognized the constellation Orion, his large belt dazzling.
“Quiet,” Brett snapped. “You are outvoted. What’s his address?”
Daniel blinked at Brett, seeing his mouth move, but not understanding.
“Fortunately for you, I am sure your hackney drivers know the residences of your exalted peers. Cheer up, for there will not be any balcony scaling to reach your Juliet. We are delivering you right to her doorstep. No woman can resist a weak, wounded man. She’ll have to say yes to you. That is if you don’t bleed to death.”
“I heard that.” His response was barely a whisper. “Keaton House, Mayfair.”
“Your Juliet will thank you,” Brett said. “And you can thank me later.”
Juliet. Daniel smiled. Wherefore art thou. Something nagged him about the name . . . Robbie hefted him into his arms and he groaned, searing pain gripping him, erasing all other thoughts. He searched for Orion’s belt, but his world went black.
Chapter Sixteen
JULIA was settled in the library, curled up with a book, when the loud clanking of their brass doorknocker followed by a thunderous pounding shattered the silence. She jumped, and then wondered at the late hour. When the noise came again, the raps in rapid succession, she tossed down her book. She had given up on sleep a long time ago, plagued with memories of Edmund overlapping with those of Daniel. She welcomed the distraction from the Bryant twins. Her book was failing her.
She belted her robe securely and scooped up her candle. Emerging from the library and heading along the front foyer, she caught up with Emily and her father descending the stairs. The noise must have wakened her father, and Emily had always been a light sleeper.
“What in God’s name? What is the time? It’s the wee hours of the morning. Doesn’t this cursed city ever sleep?” Taunton grumbled.
They converged in the front foyer, just as Burke, their butler, arrived from the servant quarters, carrying his own light.
“My lord, shall I see who it is and send them packing?” Burke arched a brow.
Despite the hour, her father looked amused. “Ah, why don’t you carry out the former, and depending on that, we will execute the latter.”
“Very good, sir.” The pounding came again.
Burke opened the door, and Julia crowded with Emily behind her father, careful to not be seen as she peered onto the front stoop. Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes locked on the prostrate form of Daniel in Robbie Tanner’s arms. His face was bruised and bloody, one eye sealed shut, a large coat draped around his waist.
She brushed her father aside and gestured the men in, barely registering the tall, blond man who accompanied them. Her heart thundered, and it was all she could do to stop herself from snatching Daniel from Robbie and carrying him into a room to see what was wrong with him herself. He was too still. Terror, a heaving wave of it, sent her pulse racing.
“Lord Taunton,” Robbie said. “My apologies for the intrusion, and the late hour. We ran into some trouble over by the docks.”
“That is usually where one finds it. Is he all right?”
“He will be.” The blond man spoke with firm conviction, his accent identifying him as an American. “He looks worse than he is, but he has lost a bit of blood. We were hoping you could assist us with procuring a doctor at this late hour.”
Julia took charge of matters, seeing as her father stood stone still. “Please then, hurry. Let us get him settled in a room. This way.” Her fear was assuaged somewhat at the American’s calm assurance. “Burke, can you collect Doctor Malley? Also, have Petie boil some water and bring up towels. Gentlemen, if you would follow me.”
“So this is Lady Juliet. Despite the circumstance, I am honored,” the blond man said as he hurried after her.
“Straight ahead, down this foyer,” Julia directed Robbie, her eyes glued to Daniel’s pale features. At the man’s words, she tore her gaze away, noting his bloodied lip and swelling right eye. Daniel wasn’t the only one in need of a doctor. “I am Lady Julia, and you are?”
“Oh, my apologies, Brett Curtis at your service.” He gave a short brow.
“His business partner.” Her father beamed. “That explains your being by the docks. Most shipping firms are located down there.”
“Yes. Docks tend to be a necessity for large ships to displace cargo,” Brett said, his irony lost on her father.
Julia ignored their conversation as she opened the door to the guest room, and hurried inside to yank down the bedcovers. She moved aside for Robbie to deposit Daniel, then returned to his side. She gasped when the redingote draped around Daniel fell away, revealing his torn and bloodstained jacket.
“Good lord, what happened?” her father exclaimed. “That’s more than trouble. Gunshot?”
“Knife wound,” Robbie clarified.
Julia’s eyes shot to his, and seeing his worried expression, she sprang into action. “Grab me that towel from the commode, let us keep the wound covered.” It will be all right. He will be all right. She wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Because he is mine and . . . She blinked. He was not hers. He was . . . her friend.
Tears blurred her vision, and she fought them back. He was her arrogant, irritating, lovely Sancho Panza who had vowed to take care of her. Well, it was her turn to care for him even as her heart twisted at his stillness. Daniel was a coiled bundle of energy, and she could not bear to see him so calm, so quiet. Silenced.
She bit her lip as Emily handed her the towel. “Let us remove his waistcoat and shirt. Assess how bad it is.”
Brett was already removing Daniel’s Hessian boots.
“Be careful,” she cried as he gave a hard yank, jerking Daniel’s figure.
“I am, but short of cutting them off, it is the best I can do,” Brett said. Seeing Julia’s expression, his voice softened. “He will be fine. He said it was just a scratch. I think he is right, because it didn’t look too deep. He turned to his side at the last minute. He always was quick on his feet.” Pride laced his words.
“Why did he have to be?” she muttered, desperate to know what in the world had transpired at the docks. After Robbie had slipped his redingote from Daniel, she set the towel aside and quickly unbuttoned his jacket and his waistcoat, steppin
g back for Robbie to remove those as well.
“Ah, Julia . . . Julia, perhaps we should get Petie . . .” her father began.
“Yes, where is she with the extra towels and the water? I told Burke to . . . What is it?” She blinked distractedly when her father grasped her elbow, tugging gently on it.
“It is time to leave Lord Bryant to Petie and the doctor’s care when he arrives—”
“But they aren’t here yet.” She tugged her elbow free to continue her ministrations.
She untied Daniel’s muslin cravat and slipped it off, unbuttoning his shirt and sweeping it from his shoulders. Heat climbed her cheeks as her gaze feasted on the broad expanse of naked chest, his skin hot against her fingertips. Like a scattering of black and blue blossoms, the bruises bloomed over his taut, ridged stomach. But even bruised and bloodied, he was a beautiful specimen of a man. Drawing a ragged breath, she stepped back to let Robbie tug Daniel’s shirt from him.
“Julia,” her father cried. “You need to—”
“Do what I am doing,” she argued. At her father’s stunned expression, she gentled her tone. “I no longer have a reputation to safeguard, so if I am ruined, I might as well take advantage of the benefits of being so.” Seeing her father’s worry, she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Please, he needs my help. Let me do what I can while you see if the doctor is here. It will be all right. We are among friends here.”
“Well . . . I . . .” Taunton stammered.
“Daniel never stood a chance.” Brett spoke to the room at large, shaking his head. When Julia gave him a questioning look, his eyes were bright with admiration.
“Yes, well, you remain with me. I would like to know what happened.” She turned back to the bed and eased beside Daniel.
Petie bustled in, a maid with her, both carrying pitchers of water and clean towels. The buxom housekeeper pinched her lips and surveyed the scene. “Who needs to be in here and who doesn’t?” Her sharp gaze narrowed on Emily and Julia before piercing Robbie, her father, and lastly, Brett.
“Lady Julia and Mr. Curtis will be assisting you.” Her father kept his voice level and met her look with one of his own. She huffed out a breath, knowing when she was outranked. “Emily, why don’t you and Robbie come with me so I can be updated on matters.”
“Are you sure he should stay?” Emily said, giving Brett a suspicious look. “After all, he got him into trouble in the first place.”
Surprised, Brett protested. “I did not get him into trouble. It was three thugs who did, one wielding a knife. I extricated him from it.”
“Mmh,” Emily said, turning on her heel to leave with Robbie and her father.
“The blond beauty bites,” Brett murmured.
“That be Lady Emily Chandler to you, sir,” Petie said, giving Brett another of her looks.
“Lady Emily Chandler,” Brett mused. “Daniel neglected to mention her.”
Julia ignored Brett as Petie handed her a cloth soaked in hot water. Gingerly, she lifted the towel from Daniel’s waist and lay the cloth onto the bloodied wound, grateful that the bleeding appeared to have eased. Daniel’s body arched, and he twisted away from her. “Shh, it’s all right. You are all right,” she soothed gently, laying her palm flat against his chest, the feel of his strong heartbeat settling her nerves.
Brett leaned over the bed and grabbed Daniel’s shoulders, easing him back into the pillows.
Julia delicately washed his bloodstained skin, her heart in her throat as a groan escaped Daniel. She drew her first steady breath as she assessed for herself that while the cut was long and mean, it was not deep. More importantly, it looked pink and clean. “He will be all right,” she said. Mortified, her voice hitched, and she had to blink back tears. “He had so many layers on, it protected him.”
“Yes, and he has a thick skin,” Brett said.
Julia’s eyes lifted to his, and seeing his shrewd blue gaze regarding her as if he could read her thoughts, she looked away. For he could not. She didn’t know them herself. Was not ready to study them. “Yes, well, let us be grateful for that.”
“And also for the good doctor’s arrival,” Petie proclaimed loudly.
At her words, Julia swept to her feet and turned to see Doctor Malley bustle in.
“What have we here? So late at night.” He frowned, pushing his spectacles up his nose, his bushy eyebrows furrowed beneath his shock of ginger-colored hair. “Looks like I am redundant. Fine job, Lady Julia. Why don’t I take a closer look, while you see to that gash on his face.”
“Yes, of course.” Julia took Brett’s place, accepting the clean towel from Petie, and ignoring her censorious look. The woman was worse than her mother. Julia was too old to care. Another benefit she fully enjoyed at the housekeeper’s prudish expense. Julia cursed her unsteady hand as she pressed the cloth to Daniel’s cheek.
The cut was small and she quickly dabbed it clean, her eyes roving over his face. He had incredibly sharp, high cheekbones, she noted, studying the unbruised cheek. And long lashes. There was that dent in his chin. His lips were parted, and she knew from experience how soft they were and just what they tasted like . . . he . . . Her head snapped around. “What was that?”
“I was saying it does not look like he needs to be stitched. I am going to bandage the wound. Young man, if you could switch places with Lady Julia again and assist me by propping him up, we can wrap this around him.”
Flushing, Julia skittered from the bed, making room for Brett, but she was unable to retreat too far—in case Daniel needed her.
Brett slid his hands beneath Daniel’s shoulders and hefted him to a sitting position. An involuntary cry escaped Julia, causing Brett to set him back down. “What? What is it?” He looked at her. “Is he bleeding again?”
“No, no, it is not that.” She valiantly struggled to recompose herself. Brett’s expression was alarmed, and Julia realized he was strung as tight as she, despite his calm façade. “It is just . . . that is, he has . . .”
Baffled, Brett stared at her and then understanding dawned, and he relaxed. “That is a decade-old injury. Scar tissue,” he explained to the doctor. He leaned over and propped Daniel up while the doctor wrapped a bandage around his waist.
Julia stared, the questions coming fast and furious, for she recognized the signs of healed burns all too well. Cook’s right leg from thigh to heel was a mean mass of burned skin, her skirts having caught in a fire that Julia would never forget. Like her leg, Daniel’s right shoulder halfway down his back and along the back of his right arm was red, knotted, angry scar tissue. She swallowed.
He had been badly burned in a fire. A decade-old injury.
She feared she knew where.
“There,” the doctor was saying. He tugged up the covers and lay them over Daniel as he spoke. “Not much to do for that eye or cheek but ice or a cold piece of meat on it to reduce the swelling. He needs to rest and to apply a fresh bandage to this wound each day. There is a slight chance of infection, so let me know if he spikes a fever. The icing goes for you, too, young man. You are a matched pair. Dare I hope your opponents look worse?” He chuckled. “Now then, my work is done. Petie, can you see me out?”
The housekeeper warily eyed Brett and Julia, but seeing as neither gave her deliberate looks any heed, she tightened her lips and escorted Doctor Malley from the room.
“Mr. Curtis, it’s time you told me what transpired this evening.” Her voice was steady, her gaze locked on his. She had other questions, but she would save those for Daniel.
He lifted a brow, and after a silent study of her, he sighed and crossed to the water pitcher by the commode. He poured himself a glass and drank it. “We were leaving a tavern a few doors down from the offices of Curtis Shipping, when we were jumped by three men.” He paused and added. “One had a knife and he appeared to be targeting Daniel.”
Julia staggered back and sank onto the bed, the blood draining from her face. She had to moisten her lips before she could speak. “It wa
s not a robbery gone awry? You cannot possibly be sure—”
“I can be,” Brett cut her off. “I can be because this is not the first time someone tried to murder him.” His eyes were hard, his expression implacable.
“The fire? You think it was deliberately set? They said it was a candle that caught on curtains, an accident. They said—”
“I know what they said. And Daniel let them say it.” He set his glass down and swept a hand through his hair. “Look, this isn’t my story to tell. If Daniel wants to share it with you, he needs to do so, not me. He is my business partner, but more important, he’s my friend, and I have to honor his wishes.
“However, I can share one confidence. I did not want him to return. I tried to talk him out of it. But he had questions that needed to be answered that ten years later still plagued him. I agree he has a right to get those answers, but at what price? I helped him to leave after the fire, once he had healed, to build a new life in America. If you care for him, whether you accept his hand or not, you need to see that he returns to that life. He cannot stay. Someone wants him dead here, and if he remains, he is jeopardizing his life.”
Brett strode to the door.
“Wait,” she cried. He paused and faced her. Julia stood, her heart pounding. “Do you . . .” She hesitated, not wanting to ask it, but it needed to be asked. “Do you think Bedford could be involved? He and his brother did not care for each other. He told me that his brother had never been kind to him.”
Surprise crossed his features. “I didn’t think he ever spoke of Bedford or his childhood,” he murmured. “Feared he was ashamed of it.”
“Ashamed?” Julia said, a chill suffusing her.
“Well, explaining all the bruises. Daniel was such a small boy . . .” His voice trailed off. “But he had eyes in the back of his head because he was always one step ahead of every prank at Dunbar Academy. Being the sole American in the school, I quickly bet on his hidden talents to save my much-bruised body. We joined forces and extricated ourselves from our share of troubles over the years.” His eyes strayed to the bed and Daniel’s still figure. “We still are. And he’s still quick footed.” He grinned, but it faded and his eyes saddened.
The Heart of a Duke Page 17