by Wendy Vella
Cam came to stand at the foot of the bed.
“Good day, Mr. Wand, Mrs. Wand.”
“If you will help, sir, I’m sure the boy will be happier if you clean him.” Essie smiled to Mr. Wand.
Between them they washed the boy gently, and she applied some of Mrs. Wand’s salve to his bruises, which Essie asked the recipe for.
“I would ask you to rip a rag into strips and find me several sticks, long enough to splint Tiny’s broken fingers and leg, please.”
Mr. and Mrs. Wand bustled away.
“Dev?”
“Here, love.” He moved to her side, his hand at her back.
“How is his color?”
“Weak.”
“I need you to check the boy now. Is anything happening inside him that I cannot see?”
Max came back into the room as Dev was bent to inspect the boy’s chest.
“What is he doing?”
“Ah….” Essie could find no words.
“He is very good at seeing where bruising forms,” Cam said calmly. “Often before it even comes out. He is checking the boy’s neck to ensure his airways have not been crushed.”
Essie held her breath as Max looked from Cam to Dev. She saw the doubt, but he said nothing as the Wands returned.
Exhaling, she hoped Cam’s words had appeased him.
“He is sleeping, but this will cause him pain, so please hold him.” The boy had already suffered so much, and now she was to inflict more hurt, but it was necessary if he was to use his hands properly and walk again.
Max stood across from her, his hand resting on Tiny’s shoulder. Cam settled his on the ankles, and Dev simply stood silently in support at her side. Essie picked up his abused hand, took the first finger, and straightened it, hoping she had bones aligned. She did so with the next one. Tiny woke crying when she reached the third.
“It’s all right now.” Max bent over the boy. “Tiny, Miss Sinclair is fixing your hand now, so you may have use of it in the future.”
“Yes, nose picking is not a skill anyone should learn to do with their feet,” Cam said.
Blurry with pain, the boy looked to the end of the bed and found a small smile.
“You’ll not mind him, Tiny. The man’s an idiot, but I hear most families have one,” Dev added.
Essie tamped down the distress over causing the boy pain, and splinted his fingers and leg. When she was done, she looked at her eldest brother, who shook his head to indicate the boy had no internal injuries.
“Well now, I believe I have finished torturing you, Tiny. I will leave instructions with the very capable Mrs. Wand for your care, and perhaps if you will allow it, I shall come back and check on you soon?”
The boy nodded, but no words came from his lips. Exhausted and in pain, his eyes fluttered closed once more.
“A very small amount of laudanum if you have it, Mrs. Wand. A little broth if he wakes, and if possible keep him drinking boiled water. I shall send over something for his pain and healing as soon as I return home.”
“I will see it done, Miss Sinclair, and I thank you for caring for him. Often I have to do so myself, as doctors won’t come here.”
Essie shot Max a look. His face was shuttered.
“If you have need of me while I am in London, then please send word. My brother will give you his card, Mrs. Wand.”
Dev did as she asked.
“Well! I’ve never had a lord in here before!” Mrs. Wand blushed.
“I assure you we are no different from the next man, and put our trousers on one leg at a time,” Dev said, bowing. His words caused the woman to giggle.
They left Tiny in her care and retraced their footsteps through the house silently. Max, Essie noted, followed.
“Is that a printing press?” Dev said as the reached the storeroom on the lower level. He and Cam moved to inspect a piece of machinery in the corner. Essie kept walking through the door and into the shop, sure Max had followed her brothers. She needed a moment alone. Making her way to the window, she looked over the street.
Seeing what had been done to that sweet little boy had upset her, but he had needed her help. Hurting him had not been easy either, as it never was when she must harm someone to heal them.
“Essex, are you all right?”
She didn’t turn to face Max as he spoke.
“Thank you, yes, and my name is Miss S-Sinclair.”
“Your hands are clenched.”
She did not release them, as she knew they still shook.
“If it upsets you to tend them, then why do you do it?” He moved to stand at her side, and Essie felt his eyes on her.
“Because boys like Tiny need to know that there is good as well as evil in this world.”
“Yes, they do.”
“How c-could that man cause that s-sweet boy so much pain?”
“Breathe in, Essie. That’s right, now exhale.”
She did as he said, listening to his deep voice. His fingers brushed the back of her fist, and she unfurled it and began to feel calmer.
“I would wish you to never again experience what you did today. However, I doubt you will listen to my words.”
“That is not my way.”
“And yet I wish it were, as tending those who are very ill hurts you.”
How was it he knew this about her when no one else did? Essie watched Bids through the window as he stroked the muzzle of one of her brother’s horses. Why did she feel calmer standing here beside the man who created so many conflicting emotions inside her?
“Thank you, Mr. Huntington.”
“For what?”
The sound of glass shattering was followed by Max throwing her to the floor. His big body smothered her seconds later.
“Don’t move!”
She was saved from answering by her brothers, who hurried into the room.
“Get off my sister!”
She tried to push Max aside, but he would not move.
“Someone shot at me, get down!”
Her brothers dropped to the floor and crawled to where she lay.
“Are you sure, Huntington?”
Essie exhaled as Max braced himself above her. His eyes held hers briefly before going to the wood behind the counter. Rage filled the tawny depths.
“If I’m not mistaken, that is a bullet.”
Dev followed Max’s gaze, then nodded. “It is.”
The shop door burst open suddenly, and in ran Bids.
“My lord!”
“Here, Bids, we are all well,” Dev said to his driver.
“A man rode up, fired at the window, and then fled. I could do nothing to stop him.”
Max got to his feet and then lifted Essie to hers. Her brothers followed.
“Did you see his face, Bids?”
“It was covered,” the driver said, shaking his head.
“All right. Prepare the horses now, Bids. We shall join you shortly.”
“Very well, my lord.”
She felt the tension radiating off the three men who surrounded her
“Is this the second attempt on your life, Huntington?” Cam asked the question.
“It is.” His eyes moved from Cam to Essie. “Are you well, Miss Sinclair? Did I hurt you?”
“No, I am quite well, thank you.”
“And who do you believe is trying to dispatch you, Huntington?” Dev asked. He moved to Essie’s side and rested a hand on her shoulder. The gesture was to assure himself and her that she was all right.
“If I knew that, my lord, I would have dealt with the matter. However, I have men looking into it.”
“Thank you for protecting my sister, Huntington.” Cam stepped forward and held out his hand. Max shook it.
“Considering your sister saved my life, and you and your brother came to my aid today, no thanks are necessary.”
“Let us leave now, as my sister has had enough shocks for one day.”
“I’m all right, Dev.”
“I’m
not,” he muttered.
Max walked them outside, his eyes, like her brothers’, looking around them. Essie was hustled into the carriage.
“I suggest you expedite the matter of finding who is trying to kill you, Huntington, before they succeed.” Essie shivered at Dev’s words. The thought of Max dead made her light-headed.
“Trouble follows that man,” Dev muttered, once the carriage had started moving.
“It is hardly his fault someone wants him dead,” Cam said. His eyes were on Essie. “Are you all right? My heart nearly stopped when we found Huntington on top of you. It is not a moment I wish to recreate ever again.”
“The bullet was not aimed at me, Cam.”
“Accuracy is never to be relied upon in any weapon, sister. That bullet could easily have lodged itself in you.”
“God, that thought makes me feel sick,” Dev growled.
What made her feel sick was that someone wanted Max dead, and if they kept trying, one day they may succeed.
Chapter Seventeen
Max kicked a pebble along the path before him. Yawning, he hoped tonight yielded more sleep than the last one. He was tired for no other reason than every time he closed his eyes he dreamt about Essex Sinclair. He’d not seen her for three weeks, which, considering he now lived on the same street as the Sinclair family, was quite something.
She had personally brought over tonics and ointments for Peter to his warehouse, along with woolen things for him to wrap around his neck or place on his chest. She had also helped Silver with his headaches. Tiny was improving from her care, too. He knew this because Edward told him that according to Mrs. Wand, Miss Sinclair was an angel, which of course Max already knew.
That she had come to visit his properties the days he was elsewhere had made him wonder how she’d known he would be absent. He’d tried to tell himself it was better this way, because she was safe if Max was not there. Safe from a stray bullet. The thought of what could have happened to her that day gave him chills. No, it was better he kept his distance from Essex Sinclair. She was trouble for him, as he was for her. She made him wish for what he could not have. It didn’t help that he ached for her, either.
“What fates had aligned to place me minutes from the woman I cannot not stop thinking about,” Max muttered in disgust. “I have kept my distance, so why does the burn inside me not ease?”
Max looked to the right as he heard a dog barking, and to his delight saw Myrtle. She was coming his way fast. He climbed over the fence that would put him inside the park, and dropped to his haunches.
“Hello, girl.” She put her paws on his shoulders, and he scratched behind her ears. Max was ridiculously pleased to see her. He was sure her blue eyes were smiling up at him.
“Hello.”
Looking behind the dog, he found the owner of that voice approaching.
“Good day, madam.” Max raised his hat as she giggled. He smiled, because who wouldn’t when presented with such a delight? The little girl had black ringlets, sparkling green eyes, and... hell, another one.
“My name is Somerset Sinclair, and I saw you walking into a house on our street.”
Of course she was a Sinclair; he recognized those green eyes.
“I did not realize the entire street was owned by a single young lady.”
She snuffled this time.
“My uncle, brother, and sister have houses there, so it is almost ours, don’t you think?”
“I would certainly think you have a stronger claim than any of the other residents, Miss Somerset.”
“What is your name, sir?”
“Mr. Huntington, but you can call me Max.”
“I like Max, it’s a nice name.”
“I’ve always been pleased with it.”
“My dog is called Myrtle and she doesn’t usually like strangers, but she likes you.”
“I’ve been to Oak’s Knoll. Your sister treated an ailment of mine there, and I met Myrtle then. She fell instantly in love with me.”
She seemed to consider him for a moment. “I’ve heard your name mentioned in my brother’s house before.”
“I hope what was said flattered me,” Max teased.
“My brother said you have a smart mind.”
“Which brother?”
“Cambridge.”
“That was nice of him, don’t you think?”
She smiled, showing a row of little white teeth.
“Cam is not always nice, in fact he can be quite wicked. However, he lets Dorrie, Warwick, and me do whatever we like to him. Yesterday, we dressed him in one of Essie’s scarves and a bonnet.”
Max laughed at the vision. “An ideal elder brother, then.”
“Somer!”
The shriek came from behind the little girl. Myrtle left Max and bounded to greet the newcomer.
It seemed his return home was to be delayed. He wondered why he was to be constantly reminded of Essex Sinclair. Was it any wonder he could not remove her from his mind?
He watched another little girl running toward them. Legs churning, arms pumping, she reached them in no time.
“Dorrie, this is Max. Mr. Huntington, Max, this is my twin sister, Dorset.”
“Pleasure.” Max was now on his knees, as Myrtle had returned and wanted her belly rubbed. He was enjoying the interlude in what had been a taxing day. Just thinking about her made his body tense. The woman would not be dislodged from his head, no matter how hard he tried. Of course, he could try harder by moving away from her and having nothing to do with her family, the voice inside his head reasoned.
“You can call him Max, because he likes it, Dorrie.”
The twin was cut from the exact same cloth, except her face was thinner.
“Hello, Max.”
“Miss Dorset.”
“We are to eat our picnic now, Somer, and Ellie is attempting to stop Warwick from starting before you arrive. Emily and Samantha are trying to stop him also, but the task is not an easy one.”
Both girls’ faces were serious, and Max found them both utterly charming.
“How wonderful, a picnic with your friends on such a lovely day,” Max said.
“Emily and Samantha are the duke’s sisters, and he is married to our sister,” Dorrie said, in that way children had of explaining things. They were very thorough, and if you interrupted they just went back and started again.
Max had not known the Duke of Raven had sisters, but then why would he? He had conversed with the man only briefly, and not on a personal level.
“He should be the size of Mrs. Tiffen by now with the amount of food he eats. It is quite disgusting, Max.”
“Mrs. Tiffen being?” Max questioned, as he tried to hold back the laughter.
“She is a friend of our aunt’s, and when she comes to tea, we have to get to the cake first or she will eat it all,” Dorrie said.
“Yes, and she pinches our cheeks.” Somer sighed. “But as she is too large to move from her chair once seated, we have worked out that if we stay several feet away, she cannot reach us.”
“Warwick is the same. Dev, our brother, says he has hollow limbs where he stores all the food.” Dorrie picked up the conversational reins.
“He is a growing lad.” Max felt duty bound to defended his fellow man... or boy, in this case.
“Our aunt says that. But we are growing too,” Dorrie said. “Just not at the same rate. Warwick has large feet.”
“Does he? Well then, he will likely be a large man.”
“My brothers are big, but do you know what, Max?”
“What, Somer?”
“They are soft inside, my aunt says. Because they spoil us terribly.”
Max felt an uncomfortable tug of longing to have just once experienced this feeling of family. Looking into the earnest green eyes of these little girls, he wondered what it would be like to have a child of his own. Someone who relied on him for their support and survival.
Dear Christ, what am I thinking?
“W
e’re very intelligent,” Somer said, looking at Max. Her eyes weren’t sly, she was just stating what she believed to be a fact. “Ask us a question, and we’ll answer it.”
“Surely you don’t know everything?”
“Most things,” Dorrie answered.
Two little faces looked up at him expectantly.
“Plus we speak several languages, but if you do not, that’s all right,” Somerset said, and Max wasn’t entirely sure, but felt he’d just been classified as a simpleton.
“Somer, Dorrie!”
Another small girl was now hurtling toward them. This one had hair the color of wheat, and as she drew near he saw twinkling blue eyes.
“This is Samantha, Max. She is the duke’s sister.”
“Lady Samantha.” Max rose and bowed.
“Oh, she’s just Samantha, and this is Max.”
The blue eyes looked up at him, assessing, enquiring as the twins had been.
“Hello. You have the same hair and eyes as a lion.”
“Do I?”
The girls conferred silently, and then nodded.
“You’re also very large.”
“Well, I promise I neither growl nor bite. Especially not pretty little girls, and especially not on such a lovely day.”
“We’re very bright,” Samantha said.
“I just told him that,” Dorrie added.
“Well then.” Somer looked at Max expectantly, which he guessed was his cue.
“Spell able,” he said in French, sure they would not know the language and were just boasting about speaking several. To his surprise they all made pffft noises, and in unison spelled the word with ease in French.
He went for quartet next, in Italian, because he was absolutely sure that these sweet-faced little girls could not know the language. Again they recited it letter perfect.
“You are not really trying, Max,” Somer said. She was now sitting on the grass, small legs out in front of her, while her sister was at her back, braiding her curls. Samantha was plucking grass and building a pile in her skirts. A charming mix of youth and age, the girls were comfortable with him, much to his surprise. But then children, he’d realized early in his life, were not jaded by experience if they had people watching over them to ensure no darkness touched them.
He wasn’t entirely sure how long he stood there leaning on that fence quizzing them, but he had to extend himself, and was thankful for the tutors he had employed when he realized that to go forward in the world, he needed knowledge.