“Absolutely not!” she exclaimed, and he shrank back ever so slightly, stunned at how much conviction she held within her tone. “I cannot allow you to be alone like this. Your head injury needs to be monitored, and your wound addressed. As it is, I am fearful that it might not properly heal. I do not currently have what I need to treat it in order to prevent infection, so I made do with what I have.”
“Can you find what you are searching for?”
“I would have to ask around, as I am sure it is available somewhere within London. However, it can be mighty expensive, and I haven’t the means to purchase it.”
Once again, David was intrigued by who she was and just how a woman who attended all matter of social events with every level of the nobility could be living in such a place with apparently so little funds at her disposal.
Suddenly the fact that she was sitting there, judging him, when he knew nothing about her or what had brought her to her current place in life, rankled him. He was tired of others thinking him less than worthy simply because he enjoyed life—what else was he supposed to do? He had nothing but time on his hands with no real purpose to fill it.
“Find what you need and I’ll pay for it,” he said, a bit more harshly than he meant to. “You believe I deserved this.”
She sat up straighter at that. “I make no judgments,” she said with a shake of her head. “People come to me requiring various treatments, and I only ask for the circumstances in order to ascertain how to best treat their injuries. For example, in your case, I am now aware that you were injured with a blade that is likely quite unclean, which I believe increases the chance of infection.”
Sarah rose. “Well. I will dress and be off to find what you need. You must, however, promise not to try to escape again untreated. While you are more than welcome to leave at any time, of course, I would far prefer that you would do so accompanied by another who can ensure that you do not pass out in the middle of the street and find yourself back on my doorstep. It is already mid-day, so I should not be long.”
He saluted her as one would within the army, and he caught her attempt to hide her smile as she swept across the room, moving a privacy screen between them.
David swallowed. Was she going to dress within the same room as him, where he lay with half his body exposed? It was not as though he was modest, but despite his injuries, he was still a man, and she a woman to whom he couldn’t deny he was inexplicably attracted.
He watched her from the corner of his eye as she crossed beyond the screen, opened a wardrobe, and selected a practical muslin gown of a drab gray. Why did she own such a dress? It was more of what one might find on a woman of middle class. But then… here she apparently lived. She hurried behind the screen, and David couldn’t help but listen to her movements, identifying each rustle or slip of fabric with her current action—her wrapper removed, followed by her nightrail, both tossed over the top of the screen.
She must be standing there naked, he realized, and he felt his pulse quicken as he tried to keep the image from his mind, but he couldn’t help but picture what she must look like. He wondered if her soft, creamy skin was freckled anywhere besides her nose. She was compact, he thought, remembering their dance together. And despite the softness of her looks, he sensed she held strength within her, in both the physical sense as well as her own power.
He heard another rustle of fabric and pictured her clothing herself in her chemise and gown. Would she wear stays? His fingers itched as he imagined untying the laces as quickly as she did them up.
David cursed at his thoughts, attempting to dismiss them before she came out and found him in such a state. He sat up slowly and inched his way across the room to sit up against a wall. He had just finagled himself into a somewhat comfortable position when she emerged from the screen, her hair now pulled back behind her head in a loose chignon.
“You’ve been busy,” Sarah acknowledged. “Now then, let’s get you in bed, and then off I’ll go.”
Her words sent heat coursing through him once more, and all he could do was stare at her.
Chapter Six
Sarah had nearly sighed aloud with exasperation when she emerged from behind the privacy screen. Mr. Redmond was sitting back against the wall, having obviously expended a great deal of effort to find his way there, when she was only going to help him into the bed anyway.
“What did you say?” he asked now, his eyes wide as though she had said something to completely shock him.
“I said, ‘Let’s get you into bed,’” she repeated, placing her nightrail and wrapper in the wardrobe before walking over to him, sitting behind him and lacing an arm around his back. He stilled at her action, and a tremor ran through her at the contact of their skin. She closed her eyes. She was a healer, and she was being ridiculous to think of anything besides this man’s health.
“Come,” she said, standing with him, and she could tell he was attempting to keep his weight from her as he reluctantly stood, and together they walked toward the bed.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, waving away her help. While Sarah didn’t believe him and was aware that it was likely primarily pride at stake here, she released him, and he nearly fell onto the bed. That head injury bothered her, but she was well aware there wasn’t much that could be done besides be grateful that, at the moment, he remained conscious.
“There’s a bottle beside the bed,” she said. “If you find yourself in too much pain, take a spoonful, but no more. I’ll return shortly, and will bring with me some sustenance for you as well.”
Satisfied that she had done all she could for now, she made for the door but stopped when she heard him speak behind her.
“You know, if you wanted me in your bed…” he said, causing Sarah to whirl around.
“I did not—” she began, ready to defend herself, but then she saw the grin on his face and knew he was teasing her. So here was the charm she had been warned about. She was pleased to see it emerge, for it meant his head would likely be fine.
“From what I have heard, Mr. Redmond,” she quipped, “It would take hardly any effort at all.”
On that note, without providing him a moment within which he could offer a retort, she let herself out the door, laughing as she began walking down the Cheapside street.
*
David couldn’t help but chuckle at the cheeky woman. She was certainly an enigma. On the surface, she was quiet, gentle, and unassuming. How many times had he likely passed her by at a social event and not even taken note? Yet now that he had, he could hardly think of any other woman. She had a quiet strength about her, and it seemed a sense of humor as well. She attended social events of the ton, and yet apparently lived here, in these dingy rented rooms. He wasn’t entirely sure where they were. But from the bustle of noise outside the door and the bells of what sounded like St. Paul’s in the distance, if he had to guess they were in Cheapside, which was respectable enough—better than some of the other options, at least, though far from the world in which he had been raised.
And she was a healer, which made no sense to him at all. He had heard of midwives and the sort, but most of the people he knew preferred to see physicians. How in the world would she have picked up her knowledge?
Now that she had departed, his distraction gone, he found that the pain became much worse. He eyed the brown bottle beside the bed, not entirely sure he trusted it. His hesitation increased when he opened it and smelled the contents, which nearly caused him to gag. That, however, caused his chest to ache, and so he finally submitted and took a spoonful of what he determined was laudanum, washing it down with the rest of the water in the glass beside him.
The last thing he could recall until he woke sometime later was the image of a shotgun propped against the wall beside him. He had stared at it curiously, until his eyelids closed despite his best efforts and he fell into a dreamless sleep.
The opening of the door woke him, and when he sat up in bed, he could see Miss Jones struggling to open
the exterior door while carrying apparently heavy baskets. He attempted to leap up to help her, but his body seemed to be holding him back.
“Stay where you are,” she commanded, shutting the door behind her. “Thankfully, I found what I needed.”
She worked quickly, efficiently, storing what she needed and preparing her potions on the table in the middle of the room.
“You’re a witch,” he said before thinking about what he was saying, hoping she wasn’t insulted. She turned with one eyebrow quirked.
“I have been called that before,” she said. “My mother received far worse by others—until they found themselves in need of her skills.”
“She was a healer as well?” he asked as Sarah approached the bed, her arms full of nasty smelling paste. Why did it all have to be so putrid?
“She was,” she said softly, and David sensed her mother had passed, so he said nothing further on the subject, for the moment at least. Miss Jones set everything she required on the small table beside the bed, before leaning over him and beginning to remove a couple of bandages.
Despite the smell of the potion she had placed next to him—which contained a great deal of vinegar, if he was not mistaken—when she leaned over him, he could smell her as well, as a tendril of escaped hair tickled his nose, her fresh scent of orange and lavender filling his nostrils. It reminded him of Clarence’s warning to stay away from her—which made him laugh. Of all the doorsteps in all of London, hers was the one he had ended up on, and in the sorriest state of affairs.
“Are you not concerned about your reputation?” he asked suddenly, then, and she began to shake her head, but before she could say anything she bit her lip, concern filling her eyes as she stared down at him.
“Damn it,” she muttered, the curse surprising him, though he was more focused on the fact that she was staring at his open wound.
“Something troubling you?” he asked, purposefully keeping his tone light.
“This wound… it’s not looking as healthy as I’d like,” she said. “Hopefully I’m not too late and can, at the very least, keep it from festering.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said, as much for his own peace of mind, but she shook her head, picking up the bottle she had mixed.
“This might hurt,” she said, and seconds later was pouring the contents of it on the wound, causing him to cry out in shock at the pain it caused. “I’m sorry,” she said, pressing a cloth hard upon it. “But it will be far better than a worrying infection.”
He nodded, attempting to find his breath, but his lungs appeared to have been melted by the vinegar potion she poured on him.
Thankfully she soon packed a clean cloth, wet with likely some other concoction, upon the wound, and then covered it with yet another bandage.
“Sleep,” she decreed, and despite his best efforts not to, he did as she commanded.
*
Sarah was worried. This entire situation was now completely out of her control. Not only was an unattached man, a renowned rake at that, asleep in her bed, but he had a concerning wound and a head injury. They were treatable, but she was unsure if she should do as he wished, or if she should go ahead and contact someone. She would normally tell Elizabeth or Phoebe of such a thing, but they, of course, would tell their husbands, whom Mr. Redmond had expressly decided he did want to be aware of this situation. Were Julia here, she would speak to her, but she was with her husband, a jockey, on a racetrack somewhere around England.
Sarah stared down at Mr. Redmond now, who was sleeping once more. She began to clean up behind her as she determined her next course of action. Once he awoke, she would convince him that he must, at the very least, contact his family to put them at peace of mind that all was well. Were they not worried regarding his whereabouts?
He stirred in his sleep, and Sarah placed a hand against his forehead, finding it warm. She frowned, wet a cloth, and sat next to him, attempting to ignore the feel of his slightly heated skin through the muslin of her dress as she accidentally slumped against him on the uneven mattress. She lifted a hand to bring the cloth to his forehead, but as she did so she gasped when he reached out, grasping her wrist in a strong grip. Before she knew what was happening, his other arm wrapped around back, pulled her in close, and her lips were pressed against his.
Sarah was so shocked she had no idea how to respond. She should likely push away from him, but his lips upon hers were exactly what her body yearned for, as he expertly kissed her, coaxing her mouth open before she even knew what he was doing. His tongue teased hers, and with a groan Sarah gave in, responding to him in equal measure. Then his hand left her wrist, running down her back to cup the curve of her hip, and reason flooded in through Sarah’s consciousness. She pushed back away from him, stepping away from the bed so quickly she nearly stumbled.
This was a patient. A man who was slightly feverish and not in his right mind. She had taken advantage of the situation, spending far too much time admiring him and enjoying his closeness, and now guilt rushed through her. She took one breath, then another, and then turned to the door. She needed a walk, some time out of this room and away from the man who wouldn’t leave her thoughts.
*
David smiled when he heard the door close behind her. He wasn’t sure what had caused him to kiss her like that—he knew he shouldn’t have, that this was a woman who would never be more than an acquaintance, and was now his physician of sorts. He had awoken to her light touch upon his forehead, and then she had leaned over him, her bosom so close to his face, her scent filling his nostrils, and there was nothing in the world that could have kept him from knowing what those lush pink lips upon his would feel like. So he had taken what not only wasn’t his, but also what he had no right to even ask for. The problem? Now that he had a taste, he yearned for more, and he wasn’t sure any other flavor could ever satisfy him.
It was no use—he had to get out of here. For if he stayed, he was liable to seduce her, and that would certainly make a mess of things, especially after all she had done for him. Were it not for her, who knows where he would have ended up last night?
Despite the pain in his chest and the sore bruises that covered him, David looked around the room for the remainder of his clothing, finally finding it in one corner. It looked to have been washed, but there were still blood stains upon it that would likely never come out, and as he lifted the shirt, he noted that it had been cut clear through to the bottom. Well, it was of no use. There was nothing else in this room for him to wear but Sarah’s dresses, and he couldn’t walk through the streets of London completely shirtless. He gingerly put it on, finding that dressing took far longer than he could ever have imagined.
He eased himself to the edge of the bed, pleased to find he could stand, and shuffled to the door, unsure of just how he would find his way home with no carriage or money, and then nearly fell back to the ground, where he had spent far too much time as of late. For there, in front of him in the corridor, was Miss Jones, standing with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face.
“David Redmond,” she said, “Whatever do you think you are doing out of bed?”
Chapter Seven
A short walk around the neighborhood had thankfully cleared Sarah’s thoughts. The kiss never should have happened and was clearly just a feverish mind assuming she was someone else. Sarah returned to her rooms at a good clip, now determined to ignore the fact that the kiss had even happened, for Mr. Redmond likely would have no idea of what had occurred. Instead, her fresh outlook provided space to consider how she should treat his injuries. He should be well soon, and then he would leave and she could continue her quest, and all would be as it was.
Then she had opened the door and was shocked to find him standing there awaiting her. The man should hardly have been able to get out of bed, let alone dress and determine that he was fit enough to leave.
“I ah… thought I’d take a walk myself,” he said with a shrug. “Its a bit stuffy in here.”
Sarah nodded slowly. “That it is, Mr. Redmond.” She sighed. “I will accompany you, and we will go for a few minutes, then, but if you feel a moment of weariness, we return. Is that fair?”
“Very well,” he said, with a half-grin. “I shall obey your command.”
“You will if you want to get well,” she said sternly. “Follow me.”
They passed the small door to the left where she stored and prepared her food. Sarah walked across the bedroom to her wardrobe, rummaging through a bottom drawer for the man’s shirt she had stored. She had a few items on hand, in case of such situations.
“Here,” she said, holding it out to him, refusing to look at his bare chest peeking out between the two halves of his torn linen. “It is not nearly as fine as your own, but at least it is still in one piece.”
She locked the door behind them and held out her arm. He hesitated, but she insisted, and he finally took it, though she could tell he was attempting to resist from leaning on her.
“So tell me,” he said, looking around them at the neighborhood as they emerged from the alleyway in a slow shuffle. Sarah’s building was fairly small and away from the busier street, but not far from her were similar lodging residences, as well as storefronts and markets offering a variety of wares. “How is it that you have come to stay in such… accommodations by yourself? I would suspect it of a young man, perhaps, but a lady?”
Sarah knew the question would be coming, and she had prepared for it.
“I am in London visiting family,” she said. “Lady Alexander has been kind enough to act as my chaperone, but unfortunately she does not have the capacity for me to stay within her residence. Therefore, I found my own lodgings.”
David looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and she could sense his confusion. She knew it was not an altogether commonplace situation, yet how else was she supposed to explain?
Lady of Charade Page 5
