“Well, this is quite a surprise,” she drawled as he strolled into her salon.
“Lizzie,” he said with a nod, before seizing a snifter of brandy from a passing footman. “How have you been?”
The elegant blonde strolled closer. “I have been wonderful.” She leaned in closer. “But no one can ever truly replace you in my bed. I would be more than happy to kick a young pup to the street if you wish to return.”
“I believe I will pass on that offer,” he said with a hint of disdain.
Lizzie’s face hardened. “Why?”
“Because we both know that young pup, as you call him, entered your bed before I had even left it.”
She forced her chin upward, turned, and walked away.
Braden smiled. He had wanted to do that for the past six months. Lizzie had only wanted him because he’d just inherited the title.
“Look who has returned from moldering in the country.”
Braden turned to see Jack Cranborne grinning at him. “Jack, thank God there is one friendly face at this damned party.”
Jack smiled and nodded. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m looking for Jonathon. Have you seen him?”
“He’s not here. In fact, I didn’t know he was in town. The last I’d heard he was spending the summer at Middleton Hall . . . with you.”
“He left.”
Jack’s smile disappeared. “How has he fared?”
“He was quite well out in the middle of nowhere. But if he has truly returned, I fear he shall fall back into his old habits.”
Jack’s lips turned downward. “I’d be happy to help you find him. Especially if it means getting out of here tonight.”
Braden laughed. “No one worth seducing?”
“Not a one.”
“Who is Lizzie with these days?”
“Stephenson.”
“Ned Stephenson? Isn’t he only twenty-two?” Braden could not believe Lizzie would have an interest in such a young man. There had to be an ulterior motive. “Why?”
“He was just named heir presumptive to an earldom of his uncle’s. Since his uncle is seventy and in poor health, it seems apparent that Stephenson will inherit before too long.”
“Makes sense that Lizzie wants to get her claws into that one. She’d much rather be a countess than a dowager baroness.”
“Exactly. And he’s young enough to control.” Jack shook his head. “I heard there is some action at Handler’s tonight. Perhaps Jonathon is there.”
“Give me a minute to just look around here.”
Braden scoured the rooms for Jonathon, but found no sign of him. He and Jack tried Handler’s gaming hell to no avail. While Jack played some faro, Braden made a few inquires but no one had seen Jonathon since spring. Braden walked back through the smoke-filled room, choking back a cough. He hadn’t missed this.
His friend sat at the faro table with a smile and a good amount of coins in front of him. One man left the table, so Braden slid into his seat. Immediately, one of the many whores sat down on his lap and whispered in his ear.
“I have an empty bed upstairs just waiting for you.”
“Not tonight, darling. Go try another man,” he choked out. Good God, the woman must have soaked in perfume. The disappointed woman slipped off his lap and walked toward another more willing victim.
“Anything?” Jack asked.
“No one has seen him,” Braden said, then checked his cards and frowned. The scowl on his face had nothing to do with his cards. If his brother hadn’t been at the most popular party of the night, nor at one of the most popular gaming hells, where the bloody hell could he be?
Unable to concentrate on his cards, he folded and scraped back his chair. “I’m going home,” he said to Jack.
“Now?” Jack replied, staring at his cards. With a groan, he tossed his cards down, picked up his winnings, and followed Braden out the door.
“You didn’t need to leave.”
“Safety in numbers, my friend. I wasn’t about to leave alone with this much coin in my pocket. You never know what might happen.”
“True,” Braden replied. Handler’s wasn’t in the best location.
They walked the quiet streets in silence but the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight. Braden had the oddest feeling that someone was watching them. The sound of pistol fire filled the air. Both Jack and Braden fell to the street. A burning sensation spread from Braden’s upper arm. “Dammit.”
They both slowly rose and glanced around but noticed no one.
“You’re bleeding,” Jack said, staring at Braden’s arm.
“All over my favorite jacket.” He gritted his teeth against the pain. “Come on, my carriage is just up the street.”
They rushed to the safety of his carriage and collapsed onto the velvet squabs. Braden pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his wound. It really was no more than a scrape, but it hurt like hell.
“Was the shooter after you or me?” Jack asked with a worried look.
“You won the money.” But even as Braden said those words, he wondered if he spoke the truth. He was the viscount now. Both his uncle and cousin had died in questionable situations. His uncle was killed in a carriage accident in Scotland and his cousin Randolph drowned at a hunting lodge in Suffolk. It couldn’t be proven that either death was not accidental, but for Randolph to die only two weeks after inheriting had put the suspicion on Braden.
And no one had approached Jack after the shooting in an attempt to steal his money. Dammit!
“Bloody hell,” Jack muttered. “One of us might have been killed. Should I take you to the surgeon?”
“No, take me home.”
“You need to have that looked at.”
“I will.” Miss Featherstone was about to earn her keep.
After her bath, Tia finally drew the last piece of glass from her foot. She bound the wound and lay back against the soft pillows. Her hands still shook from her interaction with Middleton. She’d only seen him a few times at the estate this summer. Their conversations had been brief and concerned the well-being of one of his servants who’d had an attack of gout.
Those short talks had never left her feeling as shocked as tonight when he walked into the bedroom while she bathed. She couldn’t help but notice the way he slid a glance at her naked body. His blue eyes had darkened to the color of sapphires. But it was her reaction that frightened her. With her hands covering her breasts, she felt her nipples grow taut under his heated gaze.
What was wrong with her?
She didn’t want Middleton. She didn’t even like the man. He was cold, dark, and the type of man who used women purely for his own benefit. Nothing like his brother. Oh, where could Jonathon be? And how was she supposed to find him if Middleton insisted on leaving tomorrow? She couldn’t run off from the house in his dressing gown.
Somehow, she had to figure out a way of leaving before they departed for Middleton Hall.
A knock disturbed her musing. “Yes?”
“I have a tray for you, miss.”
Tia forced herself off the comfortable bed. Padding across the thick carpet, she loved the way the fibers caressed her feet, unlike the threadbare carpets in her cottage at the estate. “Come in,” she called.
A tall footman entered the room with a tray in one hand. “Evening, miss. His lordship said you might be hungry.”
As much as she didn’t want to take his charity, her stomach growled in protest. “Thank you. Will you ask Lord Middleton to come to my room? I need to speak with him.”
The younger man frowned. “He left, miss.”
Tia glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven. Where would a man go at this hour? “Where was he going?”
“I believe he meant to attend a party.”
“Oh,” she said, slightly disappointed. She’d only wanted to confirm their departure time so she could plan her escape. “Thank you.”
Once the footman had left, sh
e ate her small meal and decided there was nothing else to do but go to sleep. If only it had been that easy. The minute she closed her eyes, his face flashed in her mind. She wondered why he wore mostly black. Perhaps he was vain enough to realize that it accentuated his blue eyes, which it did. Still, she didn’t like the man or his aggressive demeanor with her. She forced herself to think about Jonathon.
She fell asleep, dreaming of the man she loved, until shouting from the entryway awakened her.
“Wake her up,” a deep voice demanded as footsteps faded down the hall. “Now!”
Tia sat up in her bed and looked around in confusion. A knock hammered her door a minute later.
“Miss Featherstone, you must wake up.”
She glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was barely three in the morning. They couldn’t be leaving for Middleton Hall at this hour. “What is wrong?”
“You must come quickly. His lordship wants you.”
Tia blinked in confusion. Middleton wanted her? “Where is he?”
“In his bedchamber,” the footman replied from behind the closed door. “You mustn’t keep him waiting.”
She had no idea why she couldn’t keep him waiting. Instead of arguing with the servant, Tia grabbed the dressing gown and wrapped it around her. She wished he’d given her a shift to wear under it or she’d had the sense to ask for one.
Tia followed the young man down the hall. There had to be a good reason Middleton would demand her presence at this hour. As she walked into the room, she noticed him lying on his bed with only his trousers on. The footman quietly closed the door as he left.
“Absolutely not,” she exclaimed and turned toward the door.
“Miss Featherstone, get yourself back here this instant.”
Tia stopped. Turning slowly, she faced him. She stepped into his bedroom with her hands on her hips. A tremor of fear slid down her back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he drawled.
“I am returning to my bedroom. If you think for one moment . . .” her voice trailed off as he crooked a finger.
“Come here.”
What was it about the sound of his voice that made her do things she had no desire to do? “I am leaving.” But even as she said that, she moved closer to the bed.
“I did not ask you here to warm my bed.” A slow smile drew his full lips upward. “At least, not right now.”
Tia seemed unable to look away from his mouth. “Th—then why am I here?”
He cocked his head toward his right arm. Seeing the handkerchief with bloodstains, she gasped.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were injured?” Years of her mother’s training came back to her. “Where is your brandy?”
“You’re going to drink before you stitch me?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. Now, where is it?”
He nodded toward the salon. “Corner table. Your bag is in there too.”
Tia strode to the salon, picked up her bag, and then the brandy decanter. She walked back into the room and set to work on him. As she neared him, the smell of cheap perfume, cheap liquor, and cheap cigars overwhelmed her, making her gag. “You are disgusting. Let me guess . . . you were cheating at cards and someone called you out.”
“No.”
“Whoring and cheated her out of her money, so she took a shot at you?”
He chuckled in his low, husky voice. “Hardly.”
“Then how?”
One black brow lifted. “No idea. I was leaving a gaming hell with a friend and someone took a shot. My friend had won a substantial amount so we assume the shot was meant for him.”
“Disgusting,” she muttered again. She searched her bag for her needle and thread. After pouring the brandy into a glass, she dropped the needle into the glass. Then she poured another one, added a few drops of laudanum, and then handed it to him. “Drink.”
He reached for the snifter and drank it down in one gulp. “I doubt one more glass will have much of a numbing effect.”
“We shall see.” Tia brushed his hand away from the bloody handkerchief and stared down at the wound. The long cut wasn’t terribly deep, but she could see some fabric from his clothing in there. Without a thought, she poured a large amount of brandy over the gash.
A violent string of curses erupted from Middleton. “Bloody hell, woman. Are you trying to get revenge for earlier tonight?”
“No,” she said, as she wiped as the wound and then picked a few more strands of fabric out. “I am trying to make sure you don’t die from blood poisoning. Now just be quiet and let me work.”
Middleton clenched his jaw as she started to stitch him back together.
Knowing it sometimes helped to keep a patient’s mind off the task she performed, she said, “So why were you at a gaming hell tonight?”
“The usual reasons.”
“And the perfume?”
“Not the usual reason.”
She waited for him to continue but when he didn’t, she asked. “Oh?”
“Some poor woman thought I might be interested, so she came and sat on my lap.” He stared up at her with his penetrating blue eyes. “But I wasn’t interested in her.”
“I see,” she replied, moving her gaze back to the task at hand. “Unfortunately, this will leave a rather long scar.”
He looked over as she finished the last stitch. “You are a fine seamstress. Your stitches are straight and neat. I doubt the scar will be all that bad.”
Tia glanced over at the large, jagged scar on his lower ribs. “Compared to that one, anything would be better. Who did that to you?”
“A local surgeon. Probably the same man who I would have called tonight had you not been here.”
Tia shook her head. “I meant, what happened?”
Middleton leaned back against the pillows and scowled. “That was a long time ago. Just a slight duel over a woman.”
She knew when not to press a man for more and there was obviously a lot more to that story. She covered his wound with some strips of cotton to keep the dirt out. “As long as you don’t get an infection, you should heal well.”
“Thank you.” He reached for her hand and pressed a quick kiss to her palm.
She yanked her hand back and jumped off the bed. He still hadn’t shaved and the sensation of his bristly beard and soft lips against her hand sent shivers through her. She walked to the window and stared down at the dark, empty street.
“Why would you want to give up doing something you are so good at?” he asked quietly.
Leaning her head against the window, she glanced back at him. She couldn’t tell him the truth. He would, like her mother, tell her to forget what happened and learn from it. “It’s all I’ve ever known. From the time I was two, I was following my mother to tenants’ houses and watching what she did. How many people do you know who by age ten could stitch a person’s wounds or set a bone?”
He closed his eyes for a long moment. “Not many at all.”
“I wanted to see another part of life,” she whispered the lie. “See London and all the fancy people here. Do something other than heal people all day long.”
“Why else?”
“I need to find your brother.”
His scowl returned. “Why?”
“Because he needs me.”
Braden stared at his wise woman as she gazed at the street below her. Her reasons for going to London to get away from a life where she’d done nothing but help other people made some sense, but he felt she was hiding something from him. Perhaps she truly needed a little holiday to refresh herself. But why would she think Jonathon needed her? She couldn’t possibly know of all his problems.
Could she?
“Why?” he finally asked.
“Why what?”
He sighed and felt his head start to spin a little. Damn her. She must have sneaked some laudanum into his brandy. She should have asked him first. “Why does Jonathon need you?”
“I promised him I woul
d not speak of it to anyone.”
He scowled. Perhaps Jonathon had admitted his past transgressions to her. Braden doubted that his brother would have confessed his sins to someone he barely knew, but it was possible. Had their relationship progressed farther than Braden had thought? And why did that bother him? It certainly should not. They were both adults and could live their lives any way they wanted . . . as long as Jonathon had stopped the opium.
“Miss Featherstone, this is my brother we are discussing. I am worried that something might have happened to him. Now, what do you think you know?”
She shook her head. “He told this in confidence and I will not break that confidence.” Tia moved to the table to gather her things as if to leave the room.
Ignoring the biting pain in his arm, he reached over and grabbed her arm. Tugging her back to the bed, he forced her to sit down. He sat up and leaned closer until their noses were almost touching. He stared into her amber eyes. “Tell me.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything. And even if I do, chances are you will never remember it come morning.”
The spinning in his mind was driving him mad. Or was it her nearness? Either way, he needed some control. He forced himself to lie back against the pillows. “Why?”
“Because in about a minute, you will be fast asleep.”
Braden fought for control but that damned drug was making him sleepy. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
Her light laugh filled the room. “No, but now I am quite happy I did.”
He closed his eyes, but when he tried to reopen them he found his lids too heavy to lift. The bed squeaked as she rose. There was nothing he could do to stop her.
“Good night, my lord.”
And then darkness overcame him.
Chapter 4
Tia awoke early the next morning and rang for assistance. Her encounter with the viscount last night had emboldened her. Mrs. Abbott arrived a few minutes later with a sour look upon her face.
“Back in your bed, I see.” The woman folded her arms over her measly bosom.
Vexing the Viscount Page 3
