by Lynn Landes
“Let him give you something for pain,” Dillon insists.
“No, thank you,” she whispers in a hoarse voice, sniffing back tears.
Dillon frowns and looks at Declan for help. He nods and hands London his handkerchief.
“How many wounds does she have?” Declan asks.
“Her leg is not as bad as the hand,” Elliot replies for her.
“Leg?” Matthew asks. “Is that what I heard when you shoved me?”
“Yes.” She hasn't quite found her voice yet, and it comes out strangled. “I'm sorry about that, but I didn't think you could run, Matthew, considering your condition.”
“What were you doing at my workshop?” Declan asks and removes his hands from her shoulders. A chill runs over her body when she hears the anger in his voice.
“Lord Sheridan, now is not the time for this,” Dillon snaps at him.
London grins at his look of surprise at the reprimand and reaches down to remove her shoe. “Let me, London,” Dillon helps remove the stocking on her calf.
She ignores the shocked expression on Declan's face at the sight of her bare leg. Matthew leans forward, blocking his view and smiles when Declan moves around to get a closer look. Her pale leg is bruised beneath the hot pink burns.
“The bruising has improved.” Elliot frowns, “How is it when you put weight on it now?”
“Much better, you’d hardly know it’s there,” she answers.
Matthews snorts. “I doubt that. What in the world hit you?”
“It was flaming pieces of wood. It caught my skirt on fire, knocking me to the ground. It took me a few seconds to remove it, and it burned through the layers.”
“Do you need something for pain?” Elliot asks.
“No, thank you,” she insists again.
“Yes,” Declan and Matthew say at the same time.
London teases softly, “No, you big babies,” she teases. “It’s really, much better now.”
“I would suggest that you stay off your leg, rest and let it heal,” Elliot suggests she go without the tights for a few days and keep the hand clean. “I'll leave pain medication and instructions with your husband, should you change your mind.”
Husband? London sits back in shock.
“You will take London to the country house, Declan, where she can rest and recuperate. I will look after the business and workshop until you return.” Matthew sits back and yawns loudly. “It's all arranged. I had the house opened yesterday, and the staff will be minimal. One cook, one housekeeper, and two maids. I left the train tickets for you at the front desk. This old man is exhausted.”
Declan is silent as he thinks about the house near the ocean. It’s been years since he’s been there. It appears his grandfather had thought of everything.
Elliot and Dillon watch as London tries to put her shoe back on and move away when Declan jumps to help. He offers her a hand to rise and smiles when she pulls away.
“Thank you.”
Dillon walks over, “I took the liberty of packing a trunk for you. You know the one I keep at our brownstone.” She loops and arm through London's and guides her to the door. “You will find all your dresses steamed and a few treats from me, inside.” She grins and nods at the look of surprise on London's face.
“It's not like that, Dillon, and how did you know I would need them?” she asks.
“A little bird told me,” Dillon quips.
“A big bird named Matthew,” Elliot teases from behind.
“What?” London gasps and stares across the suite at the two of them and shakes her head.
“Be happy, love,” Dillon says and squeezes her in tight.
“Thank you both, and I promise to get your money back to you. I'm not looking forward to that conversation.” She sighs and rubs her nose. “I feel strange, not quite myself, and very exposed. I miss the invisibility of the Mouse,” she explains
“You aren’t now, nor have you ever been a mouse!” Dillon says fiercely. “You just need to remember that.”
“Time to retire,” Matthew announces. “This old man needs his rest.”
“Yes, you’ve been quite busy, Grandfather,” Declan says with a laugh.
“You’ve no idea,” he quips. “Young Reagan is going to keep Edmund on his toes,” he laughs and stalks to the door to say goodbye to the Doctor and his wife.
Declan looks at London, and the astonishment on her face has him laughing loudly.
“Lady Sheridan, I warn you now that Matthew may look old, but his mind is as sharp as ever.” He offers his arm to her and smiles when she shakes her head and laughs with him.
Chapter 16
The hotel is oddly quiet as they take the rising room up to the fifth floor. When the doors open, London says, “Goodnight, gentlemen,” and waits for them to exit so she can breathe in peace, but Declan just stares at her.
“You've made this old man very happy, London. I will see you soon,” Matthew hugs her and departs, leaving them alone.
“My room is on the sixth floor,” she explains slowly.
Declan grins, “It was on the sixth floor. Lady Sheridan will not be staying in the maid’s quarters. We will have your things moved in the morning.” He holds out a hand to her and frowns when she shakes her head no.
“We have a contract,” she backs away from him.
“I’m aware of that, London, but you can’t expect to just go back to being the Mouse. My Suite is a two-bedroom unit.” He ignores her look of surprise when he refuses to depart, but instead allows the doors to slide shut behind him. Declan frowns, “I give you my word, that you are safe with me, London. I owe you for protecting my Grandfather.”
“No,” she huffs in frustration. “This is exactly why I didn't want you to know about that.” She pulls the lever again, opening the doors and stepping from the elevator. Her leg is throbbing as she follows him to his suite. When she steps inside, she smiles in surprise. “It's lovely,” she covers a yawn and walks over to the French doors. Glancing outside, she has to fight the urge to not throw them open.
“Your room is over here. I hope it's to your liking.” Declan watches her carefully, noting the limp as she crosses the room.
London walks in and is surprised to find her trunk by the wall. It is unpacked, and all her gowns have been hung up inside the wardrobe. “You have a private bathing room. Tomorrow we…” he stops talking when he hears her stomach growl.
“Forgive me, Declan,” she blushes, “I haven't eaten since breakfast.”
“That’s unacceptable,” he turns and pulls the chord calling room service.
It's been so long since anyone has taken care of her needs. She watches as he walks to the door and places an order for room service.
“It’s our wedding night,” she hears him tell the staff. Walking over to the doors she pulls them open and walks out onto the balcony. The frigid air wraps around her and washes away most of her fear and worry. She glances at her throbbing hand and winces. Tomorrow she should be able to soak it in cold water.
A coat drapes around her shoulders, and she is instantly surrounded by his scent. “Thank you,” she whispers, drawing it tightly around her shoulders and looks over the gardens.
“Who are you?” Declan asks softly, staring down at the lovely young woman.
“I am no one, just a mouse lost in a maze,” she murmurs and avoids looking at him.
“Lost no more,” he answers and moves closer to her.
London stares up at him and can’t help but smile. Dark hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders, Declan is everything a woman should long for, but her dreaming days are behind her, aren’t they?
All her emotions are reflected in her beautiful eyes. He's surprised to feel an intense desire to protect and shelter her. When his eyes drop to her mouth, her smile fades. A knock at the door has them both jumping apart.
“Excuse me,” he hurries inside, leaving her on the balcony.
London paces and murmurs to herself. “Eat and go to bed. Onc
e he knows the truth who knows what will happen,” she glances through the doorway and watches the staff set a beautifully dressed table with a crisp white tablecloth, topped with crystal candle holders.
“Be strong, London,” she turns away from the vision calling to her and hardens her heart.
Declan watches the staff set the table and is stunned to realize that he's nervous. It almost causes him to laugh out loud. He stuffs the thought down and glances at the balcony where London is pacing. A grin spreads. It looks like she's nervous too. He thanks the staff, walks them to the door, and tips them generously for their time.
“Lady Sheridan, dinner is served,” Declan calls from the doorway.
London jumps and frowns, “You shouldn’t tease me, Lord Sheridan,” she insists and walks over to him, pulling off his jacket to hand back to him.
“I wasn’t teasing. Like it or not, you are now Lady Sheridan,” he grins and accepts it before offering his arm to her.
“Thank you,” she is quiet as they sit down and eat a light meal of fruit, biscuits, and soup.
“Have you ever been to Connecticut, London?” he asks.
“No, is it far?” she picks at her food, and he observes how she fans her hand to soothe the burn.
When she picks up her spoon to eat her soup, the metal presses into her wound, causing her to flinch and drop the spoon. “I forgot,” she murmurs with embarrassment.
He stands and quickly moves to her side. “Perhaps we could wrap your hand long enough for you to eat?” Without waiting for her to respond, he grabs a clean napkin and reaches for her hand.
The moment he touches her, both of them jolt as the energy in the room shifts to one of awareness. “Your hands surprise me. I thought they’d be soft,” she says.
“No. I suppose they aren't. Does that displease you,” Declan asks while he gently wraps her wound?
“No, but you are a Duke.” She pulls her hand back and murmurs a quiet, “Thank you.”
“If I had my way, I’d spend my days in my workshop.”
“Why?” London eats her soup and biscuit while he moves back to his chair to finish his meal. Curiosity has her longing to know more about the man.
“Why?” he sits back and finds her eyes on his. She doesn’t pretend to be interested, she truly seems to be waiting for his answer. Surprise colors his face. “Most people don’t care to know why?”
“I’m not most people,” she says and sips her tea.
Declan nods his head in agreement before responding. “When I work with wood, I seek to bring out the beauty that I see inside. Most often, it's an emotion or feeling that I have. A driving need to carve away the old and reveal the true beauty within.” He waits for her reaction to his words.
“You're a craftsman,” she replies with a smile of delight. “It's a gift from God, the ability to carve and create,” she smiles at him. “The Lord has surely blessed you.”
Declan is stunned by her words. “Thank you,” he says hoarsely. “Most people don’t see it that way.”
“People don't have the ability to see beyond the shell,” London laughs softly. “Sometimes, that can be an advantage.” She winces at the throbbing in her hand.
“I’ve been guilty of that myself. I can’t wait to hear your story London.”
“I know,” she averts her gaze and stifles a yawn.
“The doctor left medicine for you to take, London,” he suggests.
“I don’t need it.”
Declan sighs, “Surely you understand that rest is a required part of healing.”
“I’m acutely aware of that, Lord Sheridan,” she stands, and he follows quickly.
“Then what reason could you possibly have…”
“I have my reasons. You've been extremely kind to me considering the situation we've found ourselves in, but I won't be bullied, nor will I be told what to do. I would like to retire for the evening,” she whirls and hurries to her room, slamming the door behind her. London glances at the door and prays he doesn't try to enter. Part of her knows better, but her memory reminds her of the hard-learned lessons in the past few years.
London picks up a chair carefully, avoiding her wound and sets it beneath the doorknob, securing the room, and allowing her to relax.
Declan listens, and his face goes pale when he hears her setting a chair against the door. “She doesn't trust me.” His pride is wounded for a moment, but that quickly fades when he thinks about the day's events. It takes time to earn someone's trust, he reminds himself.
“Rest well, little Mouse,” he sighs as he makes his way to his own suite. Exhaustion and stress from the past few weeks have taken its toll. It's time to sleep, and tomorrow his new bride will learn what it means to be Lady Sheridan. He's smiling as he thinks of their first kiss and prays that it won't be their last.
Chapter 17
“Lord Sheridan, we need to talk,” she mutters as she paces inside her suite, her dark purple skirt rustles around her legs as she moves. London is nervous. How much does he really need to know? Definitely, he needs to understand the threat, but what about the shares of his business? Yes, of course, London. He's probably worried sick about it. Taking an envelope, she writes a letter and slips the ticker tape inside, showing her purchase of the shares. “This will make a perfect wedding present,” she smiles.
Stepping into the empty, quiet suite, she's shocked to find herself alone. Where is he?
A soft knock at the door causes her to jump. “Breakfast,” the voice calls out.
London opens the door and stares at the rolling cart and backs up to allow the maid inside. “Lord Sheridan asked that your breakfast be served in your suite.” She rolls the cart over to the table and stands up straight. “He also asked that we pack you and let you know that your train leaves in one hour.”
“We? Train?” she frowns.
“Yes, my Lady,” the maid moves back to the door and signals allowing in two more maids to help pack and make sure she’s ready to travel. “We will see you to Lord Sheridan once you’ve eaten.”
“Thank you,” she sits down and forces herself to eat some fruit and toast, while they work, packing her belongings. On the silver tray sits a folded-up newspaper. London gasps the moment she opens it and sees her picture on the front page!
“No!” London leaps to her feet and stares at the image of her smiling at her new husband. It’s a full-face photograph of her and Declan.
Ladies Maid strikes Gold! The headline is in huge, bold print, and London is shocked. “Who is this mystery woman who stole Lord Sheridan’s heart?”
London's hands are trembling as she reads. The moment Tessa sees this, she will go crazy! A smile crosses her mouth when she realizes that this means that Reagan is happily married to the man of her dreams. Her smile fades when she thinks of Tessa stuck with a potentially violent man who will do whatever it takes to win at business. Maybe it's a good thing they are leaving the city for a while.
***
Tessa shouts for her maid, only to huff in displeasure at the noise outside her chamber. “What's going on?” she demands after ripping open the door. Cook is standing outside her door with two maids, and they are staring at her, not sure if they want to answer her or not.
“Well?” she demands. “Where is my tray, and where is the Mouse?”
“I have your tray, Lady Hubbard.” Cook rolls the tray forward into her suite and suggests that she sit down for her breakfast.
“Thank you,” she sits and sighs while Cook pours her tea. On the tray is the morning newspaper. Cook hands the paper to her and steps back to watch.
“Surely the Mouse isn't still at the hotel after that fiasco last night… oh, that's right. My husband fired her. Well, no matter, we will find her and re-hire her,” her voice fades as Cook interrupts her.
“I don’t think that’s possible. This paper will explain.” The cook watches as Tessa sets her teacup down and opens up the paper.
The resulting scream of outrage is heard all over
the house. “I,” she jumps to her feet, “It can't be, no, that's not possible!” she screeches as she stares at the image of the Mouse and Declan on the front page. The dark hair is gone as well as the thick clothing, but she'd know her face anywhere!
“Get out!” Tessa shouts at the running staff. “Oh, you're a sneaky one,” she glares as she reads. “Look at her, smiling at him! He was going to be my ticket to more!” she slams the paper down, and her mind begins whirling. “Who is she indeed?”
Glancing back at the paper, she points, “You're going to pay, Mouse!”
***
Reagan rolls over, and his arms wrap around her from behind. “Good morning, Wife,”
Edmund says and presses a kiss to her temple.
“Good morning, Husband,” she laughs and rolls over into his arms. Looking into his loving eyes, she asks, “How did we get so lucky?”
“I have no idea, but I plan on thanking the Lord for you every day for the rest of our lives,” he kisses her softly. “We need to be at the train station before ten if we want to be on time. As much as I’d like to stay in bed with you, we need to get up.”
Reagan sighs, “If I must.”
Over breakfast with the family, Reagan is chatting with his mother when Edmund gasps. “No!”
“What’s wrong?” Reagan gasps.
“Is that your mouse?” he asks, handing the paper over to her.
Reagan reads, and her mouth drops open. She starts laughing and laughs until tears are streaming down her face.
“Good for you!” Joy erupts at the thought of her friend, finding peace and happiness.
***
Matthew sips his coffee and glances at the newspaper. “What a night!” They look happy, he thinks. He prays that they have an open heart and gives the rest to the Lord.
“Sir, the Police are here to see you as requested.”
“Excellent, show them inside the sitting room, and bring coffee. We're going to need it.”
Later, after Matthew explains, the Investigator listens and sits back with a frown. “They could have set the whole city on fire!”
