Malcolm suddenly grabbed Harry’s crutch and threw it to the side, something Harry had expected him to do before now. Malcolm wasn’t used to fighting his own battles, but Harry had been in more than his share of fights. He sat back on the desk and wielded the left crutch as Malcolm lunged toward the other side of the desk.
The crutch hit Malcolm behind the knees, sending him diving forward, arms wheeling for balance. Harry winced at the sound of the man’s teeth cracking together as his chin hit the edge of the desk on his way down.
Malcolm tried to catch himself and instead sent the stack of bank notes skittering across the desktop, along with a variety of other papers and ledgers. Malcolm hit the floor, money and papers raining over him. He moaned but made no effort to rise.
Balanced on the desk, Harry pulled his handkerchief from the inside pocket of his coat and wiped the last of the spittle from his cheek. Absolutely revolting. He placed the left crutch back under his arm and pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the throbbing in his right leg. At some point in the altercation, he’d hit his leg against something. He had a feeling the pain was going to get worse by the minute now that the intensity of the confrontation had passed.
The door of the office few open and Jack stood there, eyes wild and chest heaving. There was blood dripping from his nose, but the scrapes on his knuckles, and the fact that it was him and not one of Malcolm’s men, showed that Malcolm’s men had gotten the worst of it.
“Ah, Jack,” Harry said from beside the desk opposite of Malcolm’s moaning form. “You are just in time. Could you retrieve my other crutch and get me the devil out of here? I’ve had quite enough of this place for one afternoon. The exertion has me fearing I might be sick all over my boots soon, and this is the only pair I have.”
Jack sprang into action, retrieved the crutch, and then helped Harry center it beneath his arm.
“What about the money?” Jack asked as Harry took his first swinging step toward the door.
“Leave it,” Harry said.
Jack made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a cough as he looked at the scattered notes.
“I know,” Harry commiserated, but spoke loudly enough that Malcolm would hear. “But Lord Damion keeps his word.”
Jack followed as Harry swung his way through the club. One man was unconscious on the floor, while another was braced against the wall, his hand covering his eye as he bent forward at the waist. The third man was gone, and Joshua, hurrying behind Harry, said the man had run off.
Harry felt dizzy and sick, but the men assisted him back into the carriage easily enough. Joshua arranged him on the back bench so he could put his bad leg out straight. The bravado was wearing off, and delayed panic was setting in, along with the pain. What if more of Malcolm’s men were on their way? What if Malcolm reciprocated in a way that hurt Sabrina? Harry had downplayed the potential, but the truth was Lady Sabrina would suffer both socially and financially if her role as Lord Damion was made known. The portions of her work done under the name of that persona could also be affected if men realized they were partnered with a mere female.
Harry huffed at the thought of anyone attaching that description to Lady Sabrina. “Mere” anything did not fit her.
Joshua pulled the carriage door shut. His knuckles were bruised, but he smiled, and his eyes were bright.
“It worked!” Joshua said, then hit the roof so the driver would know to depart.
“Jack and his boys are away?”
Joshua nodded. “They were gone before you were even inside the carriage.”
“Good.” He shifted his leg and pain shot up his hip, causing him to inhale sharply.
“You’re hurt?” Joshua said, leaning forward to look over Harry’s leg. He’d assisted his mother with Harry’s care but had never seemed particularly interested in the more skilled interventions.
Harry nodded, clenching his teeth together and trying not to think of how welcome a shot of brandy would be right now for both his nerves and his leg. “I’ll be all right,” he said, but his words came out clunky. He was supposed to meet Uncle Elliot at his house in Mayfair now that the meeting was over. How much would he explain about whatever new injury he had inflicted upon himself?
“It’s too bad you can’t come back to Rose Haven,” Joshua said. “Mum could take a look at that leg and make sure everything’s all right.”
Therese.
Sabrina.
Harry stared out the side window of the carriage without really seeing through it, then he turned to Joshua. “I must ask your help in another respect, and I shall warn you that Lady Sabrina might not be happy with you at first for going along with it.”
Joshua, who had just brawled with merciless thugs without hesitation, looked frightened at the prospect of upsetting his mistress.
“I do believe, however,” Harry continued, “that, in time, she will thank you for doing as I ask.”
“She’s been very good to me, Mr. Stillman. I don’t want to go against her orders.”
“But did she actually order you not to return me to Rose Haven?”
He looked relieved. “That is all you want, to return to Wimbledon?”
“That is all.”
His brow furrowed with concern once again. “But Lady Sabrina is not expecting you.”
“Right, but circumstances have changed since she asked you to accompany me to this meeting.” Bless him for going along with everything so far. Bless him even more if he would go along with this as well. Harry needed to see Sabrina. He needed her to know how much had changed for them in the course of only a few hours’ time. “I am once again in need of medical treatment.” He paused and made a face he hoped looked as though he were in excruciating pain, then let out a breath. “I believe she would want me taken to Therese, just as she had last time I was in need of care.”
Sabrina heard the carriage returning from London while she wrote out her final schedule for Therese. She had only five more days in Wimbledon, then she would travel to Brighton by carriage and sail to Naples a few days after that. If anything could save her from the confusing emotions of this last week, it would be an ocean voyage to a place she had never been. Right?
She prayed it would be the remedy, for she could not imagine continuing to feel as she felt now. Replaying last night. Worrying about Harry. Wishing things were different, even though they could never be anything other than exactly what they were.
The carriage wheels stopped in front of the house while she sanded the letter. Why had they not pulled around to the carriage house? She was folding the paper when she heard commotion from the first level of the house. Joshua calling orders. Therese asking questions, though Sabrina could not hear the words.
Sabrina left the letter and hurried from her study, then froze at the top of the stairs.
Harry?
“It will be best to get him to the bedchamber,” Therese said, leading the way. Steven stood on one side of Harry with his shoulder under his arm while Joshua took the other as they carried Harry up the stairs.
Sabrina remained frozen. He was supposed to be gone. She was supposed to forget about him. Therese saw her and changed direction at the landing, coming to Sabrina’s side while the men continued toward the east wing.
“Apparently there was some trouble at the appointment Mr. Stillman had in London, and his leg has been injured again. Joshua thought I should look at it.” Therese did not wait for a response but quickly followed after the men.
Sabrina stood there, stunned and unsure what to do. When the spell broke, she hurried after them. Before she entered the room, she heard Therese yell from inside, “I must have those trousers off so I can see the injury.”
Sabrina stepped away, then began to pace until Joshua came out of the room, Harry’s trousers in hand.
“What happened?” Sabrina asked sharply.
“We jumped Malcolm and his men,” Joshua said proudly.
Sabrina blinked. “‘We’? You and Mr. Stillman? What on ear
th?”
“Ah, no, I mean Mr. Stillman had his part—wish I could have seen it—but mostly it was Jack and his boys and me.” He puffed out his chest slightly. “Not until Malcolm’s men made the first move, of course.”
Sabrina blinked, her thoughts moving so quickly she could not make sense of anything until she landed on one particular element that felt like the tug on a ribbon that would unravel the knot. “Jack?”
“He might be small, but he knows how to fight, and I’m guessin’ he’s taught his boys ’cause they came in full charge.”
“Why on earth would Jack be there?”
“Mr. Gordon sent for him.”
“Mr. Gordon?” she said with just enough of an edge to close down Joshua’s expression.
Joshua watched her a moment, confused, then nodded toward the stairs past Sabrina’s shoulder. “Mum wants her bag,” he said, then took the stairs two at a time back to the first level.
Sabrina stayed where she was, staring at the door. Steven came out and gave her a nervous nod as he hurried by. She nodded back at him a few seconds after he was already gone, distracted. Jack and Mr. Gordon working with Harry to jump Malcolm and his men?
Her heart thumped in her chest, pulled between a hundred thoughts, and she lost track of time waiting for Therese to emerge.
“Go on in, Sabrina. He’s asking for you. Joshua’s gone for my bag, but I need a few other things. I’ll be a minute.”
She did not know what to expect when she entered this room. Harry was in there. He was hurt. He had come back. And Jack had been at the appointment with Malcolm.
She finally gathered her courage and went into the room. Harry was lying above the covers on the bed, dressed in his shirtsleeves and with a blanket over his lap, covering him to the knee. The splint had been removed from his leg, which was propped up with a pillow. He did not look injured, which was a relief.
“Harry?” she asked hesitantly, emotions and questions buzzing like bees in her chest. She was used to taking charge, but she was at a complete disadvantage now.
“Would you please close the door, Sabrina? I would hate for us to be overheard.”
He knew that Jack was connected to both her and Lord Damion.
Mr. Gordon was somehow involved.
There’d been an altercation.
She could not determine which thought should occupy her mind the most and therefore continued to race through all of them as she closed the door to his bedchamber.
What else did he know?
“Will you come here?” he asked after a few seconds passed during which she’d stood facing the door, trying to prepare herself.
She turned and did as he asked, but she stopped a few feet away. The last time she’d gotten any closer than this had been too close. Just last night. She’d planned to never see him again. His cheeks were bright, and his eyes were as captivating as ever.
He reached out his hand toward her, and though she hesitated, she took hold of it. How could she not? He tightened his grip as soon as her hand was in his and pulled her sharply toward him. She stumbled forward, catching herself on the bed as his other arm reached around her back and drew her toward him.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, any further words of surprise cut off as his mouth pressed against hers, and she felt herself falling against him, half on the bed, half off. The same feelings that had overcome her the night before possessed her in an instant.
His arms held her tightly to him at first, but then relaxed as he lowered his head back to the pillow.
She was still bent over him. Still blinking. Still unable to make sense of any of this. He’d pushed her away last night, and yet now pulled her to him?
“I need some time to prove myself,” he whispered, reaching up to run his finger over her lips.
“W-what?” she said against his thumb.
“You told me that it would be what I did once all the same choices were before me that would prove myself capable of change. I need that time so both of us know that what I have learned these last weeks—and what I have decided about the man I want to be—is a possibility.”
“I don’t understand.”
He raised his mouth to hers again, and she lost all control. Again.
When he pulled back, they were both breathing heavily, though she felt light as a feather. “I want to marry you, Sabrina.”
She stiffened, but he tightened his hold around her back.
“There is a process called separate estate—you know of it, yes?”
He stared at her until she answered. “A . . . a trustee is appointed as an executor of one’s assets, which are then held outside of other agreements.”
“Which, in the case of marriage, means that a woman can keep her husband from having jurisdiction over her wealth and property. It is not perfect, I know, but Mr. Gordon has surely proved himself trustworthy enough to be named trustee. It means you can marry without fear that you would lose your security.”
“Harry.” She tried to pull away, and though he resisted a moment, he let her go. She stood, straightened her skirts, and tried not to meet his eye. Where had he learned of separate estate? From Mr. Gordon? Were her employees conspiring with him against her?
“I know everything, Sabrina—well, not everything, I suppose—but I know you are Lord Damion. I know that you know everything about me and yet you still see the potential of who I can become. What’s more, I believe you have fallen in love with me.”
She stared at her shoes, not knowing what to do or what to think. Mr. Gordon had betrayed her. She wanted to cry.
“When did he tell you?”
“He?”
She looked up, lifting her chin. She was not going to turn into a submissive female just because he knew her secret. “Mr. Gordon told you everything.”
Harry pulled his eyebrows together. “No. Once I confronted him with the puzzle I’d already put together, he told me of his suspicions for Malcolm’s interest in exposing Lord Damion, but I figured out everything else on my own.”
She didn’t believe him and took another step away from the bed.
“You don’t think I’m capable of figuring it out?” Harry said, sounding offended. “Well, perhaps all the talk you’ve given about my intelligence was only talk.” He paused for a breath and then explained the connections he’d made in the carriage ride toward London. Things Lord Damion had said. Things she had said. Connecting Jack to both of them.
“I confronted Mr. Gordon about it. Naturally, he wanted to write to you and get your advice, but there was no time. We had to settle the debt with Malcolm and, we hoped, put an end to his speculation in the process. Asking Jack to help us was my idea, but Mr. Gordon orchestrated it. He was very uncomfortable with my plan, Sabrina, but time was of the essence. I was about to go into a meeting with a man who nearly killed me once. We had to think and act quickly.”
It was a reasonable explanation, but she still felt defensive. “And the meeting?”
“It went well.” He smiled, and she relaxed a little bit. “I think you’d have been rather impressed with how I managed it, even though I did not get a receipt.” He slumped his shoulders but then straightened. “Malcolm was paid in full, however; both Jack and I were witness to that. Malcolm was trying to expose Lord Damion, who had poached some clients he had expected to be return customers for years to come.” His expression turned serious.
“I want to prove to you that I am a trustworthy man, Sabrina. I do not want to take charge of you, I just want to be with you and know everything about you. I want to walk with you along riverbanks and sit across from you at dinner. The best part of today was when I realized that maybe such a future could happen for us now that you do not need to hide yourself from me. Maybe if I prove myself, you could love me without restraint—within the proper bonds of matrimony, mind you.” He smiled again. “Maybe we can make each other happy, Sabrina. What do you think?”
Sabrina was an expert at orchestrating situations to achieve the result she wante
d, usually without anyone noticing the skillful maneuvering. Now she felt exposed and vulnerable. She did not know how to manage this and could not begin to craft the right answer to his question. The vision he had crafted was powerful. A life with him? A respectable life of love and devotion and security? Was it possible?
Harry took hold of her skirt, the only part of her he could reach. He tugged her toward him, and even though she could have pulled away easily enough, she didn’t. When she was close enough, he took her hand again. Easy. Confident. Comfortable.
She looked into his eyes and felt that familiar melting sensation that happened every time he smiled at her.
“I have nothing to hide from you, Sabrina. I am hopelessly in love with you, and I think you are in love with me, too, despite so many reasons not to be.”
Gracious, Sabrina thought, feeling the tears rise into her eyes. She never cried—not in front of people at least—but her defenses had been tumbled by this man who was so very honest and real and . . .
Did he really love her? Wasn’t he angry at her lies?
“You don’t know what you are saying,” she said in a stuttering whisper.
“I am saying that I love you. I am asking you to take my heart and keep it.”
She shook her head as the first tear slid down her cheek. “I am five years your senior and—”
“And I need a woman of wisdom to guide me forward. When I marry, I will inherit a mine from my uncle, and I shall need your wisdom so I can do my best to manage the property. Neither your assistance nor the mine is my motivation in this marriage; it is only an additional benefit. Your age makes no difference to me, and you are quite truly the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Having you at my side, as my partner, makes marriage and family seem like a grand adventure.”
Another tear fell. Pretty words or not, what he suggested was impossible. “I cannot have children, Harry.”
He startled and pulled his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”
She looked at the floor as her heart broke. She turned to leave, but he kept hold of her hand and wouldn’t let her go. “Sabrina? You can tell me. You can trust me.”
Rakes and Roses (Proper Romance Regency) Page 24