by Laura Landon
“You’re going to let your father see you like this?”
“Yes. There’s not enough face powder in all of London to cover these bruises. It’s best to get this over with now.”
“You might be right, but I—” Tilly stopped. “They’re home.”
Winnie heard her father’s voice from below. “Go down and tell Father what I told you. Tell him you think he needs to check on me.”
Tilly nodded, then left the room. It wasn’t but a few moments later that her bedroom door opened and the Duke of Townsend rushed inside with Anne close behind him.
“Winnie! Are you all right?” He rushed to the bed and looked at her. “Oh, my! Have you called for the doctor?”
“No, Papa. A doctor can’t do anything for these bruises. And they look worse than they are.”
“What happened?”
“I was clumsy, that’s all. I couldn’t sleep so I decided to go downstairs for a book to read. I tripped on my robe and fell down the stairs. I must have hit my face along the wall when I fell.”
“Oh, Winnie!” Anne said, sitting on the edge of the bed. She grabbed Winnie’s hand and held it. “You poor dear.”
“I know. I was so clumsy. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Are you sure you don’t need me to send for a doctor?” her father asked again. His concern was real and she felt terrible for deceiving him as she was doing. But she wasn’t the one who needed a doctor. Nick was, except she couldn’t tell her father that. Nor could she risk sending a doctor to him. Besides, Hodgekens was with him. There wasn’t anyone better than him.
“No, Papa. I just need to rest and stay out of sight.” She turned to her sister. “Oh, Anne, I’m so sorry. I won’t be able to accompany you to the Wolford musicale tomorrow night. Or the Ruskin’s ball. I can hardly show my face in public for at least the next two weeks. If not longer.”
“That’s all right, Winnie. Mary Jane and Sarah will stand in for you. They were planning on going with us as it was.”
Winnie turned to her father. “Papa, would you mind terribly if I went to the country until I’m able to show my face here in London? I can’t bear to think of locking myself in my room for the next two or three weeks. I’m afraid I won’t be able to take the solitude. And I can’t risk anyone in Society seeing me.”
“I don’t know,” her father said. “Gideon and Eve won’t be there. They’ve taken the boys to visit Eve’s father. They wanted to stay at the cottage at Shadowdown while we were in London.”
“I don’t need anyone to be there,” Winnie said. “I’ll have Tilly.”
The Duke of Townsend thought for a few moments, then smiled. “I suppose that might be for the best. But I won’t let you leave yet tomorrow. I want to have you here for at least a day so I can watch you and make sure you’re all right.”
“Thank you, Papa. I don’t think I’d be up to traveling tomorrow either. The day after will be fine.”
Her father and sister kissed her good night, then left her room. Winnie lay in bed listening until the house grew quiet and she was certain they were asleep. Then, she rose and slipped on her robe and slippers.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Tilly said, standing in front of the door to prevent her from leaving.
“I have to know how he is. I can’t stay here without knowing.”
“You’re dead on your feet, my lady. You need to be in bed.”
“I need to be with him,” she answered. “He’s terribly injured, Tilly. I’m afraid he might not live. I can’t bear not to be with him. It’s my fault he was beaten. It will be my fault if he dies.”
Winnie couldn’t keep the tears from falling. She had to be with him. Maybe there was something she could do. Maybe there wasn’t. But she needed to be with him.
She’d want him to be with her if she were dying.
Tilly stepped away from the door and Winnie made her way to the carriage house. She didn’t know what she’d find when she reached him. She only knew she had to be there.
She wouldn’t let him die alone.
CHAPTER 13
Winnie stepped through the carriage house door and gave her eyes time to acclimate to the darkness. The carriages were where they should be, and if there hadn’t been a narrow strip of light beneath a rear storeroom door, she’d have thought the building was empty. Until she heard an agonizing moan of pain.
A knot tightened in the pit of her stomach and shifted uncomfortably.
She made her way to the closed door and pressed on the latch. The door opened and she took in the surroundings.
Nick lay face down on the bed, his face turned to the side. He was naked from the waist up, and probably from the waist down, too, but a sheet covered the lower half of his body. Nothing hindered her from seeing the full extent of his injuries.
No one saw her at first, and she had a chance to see how badly he’d been injured.
She clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out at what had been done to his beautiful body. Long strips of torn flesh crisscrossed over his back. Every part of him exposed raw flesh from which blood flowed.
Jack Conway stood on one side of the bed, pinning his arm to the bed. Mack Wallace stood on the other side. A third man Winnie didn’t recognize, no doubt a fellow brigadesman, stood at the foot of the bed and pressed down on Nick’s feet to keep him from struggling.
Hodgekens dabbed at the torn flesh, first washing the blood, then pouring a liquid onto the open wounds. Every time Hodgekens applied more of the liquid, Nick moaned a low, brutal, keening sound, and bucked on the bed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks at the unbearable pain from which he was suffering and she wanted to run from the room.
She couldn’t. She had done this to him. He was enduring insufferable pain because of her. Because of what she’d done.
Winnie clutched her hands together at her waist and walked to where Nick lay. She didn’t know if anyone saw her approach, she didn’t look at the other men in the room. She focused her gaze on Nick and didn’t lift it.
When she reached his cot, she knelt at his side. “It’s me, Nick. Winnie.”
His eyes opened—barely. “Winnie,” he slurred.
“Yes, Nick. I’m here with you.”
He tried to shake his head, but she placed her hand on his cheek and stroked her finger down his face.
“It will be over soon, Nick,” she whispered. “Hodgekens is almost finished.”
She wasn’t sure if he was, but she knew it was important that Nick thought he was.”
“You can’t…be…here.”
“This is where I belong.”
“Leave.” He spoke through clenched teeth, and ground out each word. “Please.”
“I’m not going to leave you,” she whispered in his ear. “I need to be here.”
She reached up and placed her hand in his.
His fingers tightened around her hand. He may have asked her to leave with his words, but his actions told her he wanted her with him.
“As soon as you can travel, I’m going to take you away from here. We’ll go to the country. You’ll get better there.”
Hodgekens poured another stream of liquor over Nick’s back, and this time Nick wasn’t able to muffle his cry of pain. He released a long and loud moan that echoed in the small room.”
“Can’t you give him something?” Winnie said to Hodgekens.
“We already have, my lady,” the servant answered. “Mr. Wallace brought some laudanum, and we gave Mr. Stillman a healthy dose of it before we started. It should take affect any minute now.”
Winnie looked back to where Nick writhed on the cot. His face was drenched in sweat that ran to the pillow beneath him. She reached for a cloth and rinsed it in cool water, then wiped his face. She’d give anything if she could trade places with him. If she could suffer the pain that gripped him.
“Why, Nick? Why did you come after me?”
“They would have…hurt…you,” he growled as Hodgekens pou
red more liquor on his torn flesh.
His words were slower now, and his speech slurred.
“But you wouldn’t have been hurt. You would have been safe.”
Nick looked at her through pain ravaged pupils, then closed his eyes and slept.
Winnie brushed his hair back from his face, then reached for his hand again and twined her fingers with his. She needed to touch him, needed to have contact with him because a part of her was terrified that if she didn’t hold on to him, she’d lose him.
Hodgekens finally finished cleaning the tears in Nick’s flesh. Several of the lashes required stitching and Winnie didn’t think Hodgekens would ever finish, but he finally straightened and stepped away from the bed. He reached for a jar on the bedside table and applied a thick, horrible-smelling salve to his back.
“How badly are you hurt, my lady?” Hodgekens asked when he finished.
“I’m fine.”
The three brigadesmen focused on her face and Winnie turned to hide the bruises.
“Your face tells a different story, Lady Winnifred,” Mack Wallace said. “Perhaps, if you’re up to it, you can tell us what happened.”
This wasn’t the first time Winnie had had dealings with Mack Wallace. Her father had hired him and his brigadesmen to protect Gideon when her mother had hired Clyve Woodman to kill him. Mack Wallace had been hired again when their mother kidnapped Benjamin’s daughter, Claire. He and his brigadesmen had a reputation of being the best, and Winnie knew he wouldn’t give up until he knew exactly what had happened to one of his men.
And he wouldn’t rest until he arrested the men responsible.
She looked at him and nodded. “I went to The Soiled Dove because I needed money.”
“Was there a reason you couldn’t ask your father for the money?” Mr. Wallace asked.
Winnie lowered her gaze. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell anyone. Not yet. Not until Anne was safely married.
“The reason I need money is personal, Mr. Wallace.” Winnie looked at Nick’s raw, bleeding back and was attacked by another wave of guilt and regret. “You don’t know how much I wish I hadn’t gone. If I could do it over again… But I can’t.”
She swallowed past the lump lodged in her throat. “I thought I was being careful not to draw attention to myself, but Mr. Ellsworth, one of the owners realized how much I’d won.”
“You were cheating?” he asked.
Winnie lifted her gaze. “No. I don’t cheat! I just…win.”
Mack Wallace pulled a bench closer to the bed and sat. She had no choice now but to look at him, and allow him to study her.
“Perhaps you’d like to explain that,” he said, not as a request, but more as a demand.
Winnie looked at Hodgekens with a pleading in her eyes that begged him to explain what she could not.
“Lady Winnifred has the ability to remember which cards have been played, and what card is likely to be the next card played. She’s had the ability since she was a young lass and would sneak to the stables at night to watch the men play cards.”
“You count cards,” Mack Wallace whispered.
“It’s not that I count them,” she said. “I just…know.”
The two brigadesmen standing on either side of Mack Wallace shared looks of amazement.
“Go on,” Mack Wallace said.
“Nick had warned me to stay away from The Dove, but I didn’t listen. I thought I was being so careful. I wore a blonde wig, and clothes no one would recognize me in. I made sure I didn’t win large amounts at any one table, or from any one player, so I moved from table to table. I made sure to cash in my winnings while they were small enough not to draw attention. But Ellsworth realized that I’d won a great deal, and singled me out. He took me upstairs.” She stopped and looked at Nick.
If only he wouldn’t have come. If only he wouldn’t have recognized her and followed her. She’d been so careful. So certain he wouldn’t recognize her with blond hair. But he had.
She shifted her gaze to the long, jagged tears in his flesh. Forced herself to look at the damage Ellsworth had done to his beautiful body.
Mack Wallace broke her concentration. “Is that when you got the bruises?”
She nodded.
“Ellsworth did that?”
She shook her head. “The other owner was there, Harvey Willard. He accused me of cheating.” Winnie swallowed a lump of regret, then swiped at the drops of wetness that dared to spill over her lashes and run down her cheeks. “If only I hadn’t cried out when he hit me,” she said, lowering her gaze to where Nick lay on the bed. “If only I hadn’t screamed, then he wouldn’t have burst through the door to rescue me.”
Mr. Wallace gave her a few moments to collect herself, then asked, “What happened then?”
“Nick burst into the room. He had a gun. There were four of them, Basil Ellsworth, Harvey Willard, and two of their security guards. Nick locked them in a small closet and we ran.” Winnie lifted her gaze to where Jack Conway stood. “We made it to where you found us.”
Nick moaned and Winnie knelt beside him to comfort him. He struggled as if he were still being held while Ellsworth whipped him, and Jack Conway reached out to steady him.
“It’s over, Nick,” she whispered. “They can’t hurt you anymore”
“Winnie,” he moaned through his pain.
“Yes, Nick. It’s me. I’m here. You’re safe now.”
“Don’t…leave…me,” he slurred.
“No, I won’t leave you. I’m right here. I won’t leave you.”
He fell into a deeper sleep, and Winnie rinsed one cloth after another and placed it on his back like she’d seen Hodgekens do.
“What now?” Jack asked. “Nick can’t stay here.”
Winnie lifted her gaze. “He’ll come with me.” She stood and let the men see her face. “I can hardly go out in public looking as I do, so Father has decided to send me to Townsend Manor. I’ll pack tomorrow, and leave the following day. I’ll take Nick with me. He needs a proper bed, and proper care. Hodgekens will be there. There’s no one better to take care of him. And I’ll have the household staff at my disposal.”
Mack Wallace nodded. “Nick will need clothes. I’ll send his things by tomorrow.”
Winnie nodded.
“You’d best get back to the house, my lady,” Hodgekens said.
Winnie shook her head. “I’ll stay here. I can sleep tomorrow. I doubt any of you have that luxury.”
“You have the right of it,” Mack Wallace agreed. “We have a lot of investigating to do concerning Basil Ellsworth, Harvey Willard and The Soiled Dove. You’ll send word if you need us?” he asked.
Winnie nodded and the brigadesmen left.
“Will he be all right?” Winnie asked Hodgekens when they were alone.
“Only the good Lord knows the answer to that question, my lady. I’ll feel better after he’s gone through the first day or two. If no fever sets in, he has a good chance of making it.”
“Tell me what to do, Hodgekens, then get some sleep.”
Hodgekens nodded. “Keep rinsing the cloths I’ve put on him and keep his back moist. Then, every hour, put more of this salve on the worst of the cuts. Not too much mind you, just enough to keep the stitches from drying out.”
Hodgekens brought fresh water in for her, then left a second jar of the smelly salve on the table by the cot, and left.
Only when Winnie was alone with Nick did she allow herself the freedom to grieve like she was unable to when the others were here watching her. Only then did she allow her true feelings for Nick Stillman to surface.
She didn’t know if she loved him, but she thought perhaps she did. Not because he’d risked his life to save her. Not because he was the most handsome man she’d ever met. Not because he understood her more than anyone ever had and admired her for her differences.
But because he’d stolen her heart.
Even though she knew he would break it.
CHAPTER 1
4
“Winnie?”
Winnie bolted awake. She jerked to her feet and rushed to the bed.
“You’re awake,” she whispered. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes. Please.”
She reached for a glass with water in it. “Try not to move,” she said, bringing the glass to his mouth. She placed a towel beneath his cheek, then fed him one spoonful of water after another. Only part of each spoonful went into his mouth, but she was glad for the little he drank.
“Come down…so I can see you,” he said when he’d had enough to drink.
“There’s nothing to see,” Winnie answered. She knew he wanted to see how badly she’d been hurt, but her bruises were nothing compared to what they’d done to him.
“Let me…see,” he said again.
Winnie saw no sense in arguing with him, so she knelt by the side of the bed.
He looked at her face for a moment, then closed his eyes. “What did they…want?”
“They thought I was cheating and wanted to know how I’d managed to win so often.” She rose to her feet again, then rinsed a cloth in the water, and placed it on his back. He winced when the cloth touched him.
“Is that why they…tore your gown?”
“They thought I had cards hidden in my sleeves.”
“When are you…going to tell me…where she is?” he asked. “And why…you need the…money.”
Her hands halted their progress. She couldn’t answer him, so she ignored his question and continued to work.
“You know I’ll…find out. I won’t give up…until I do.”
His voice was getting weaker and the pain was worsening. “Don’t tire yourself out,” she said, working faster. “Asking questions won’t do any good.”
She heard him release a deep breath, and knew it was a sigh of frustration. She continued her ministrations, praying he would fall asleep again. But he didn’t.
When she finished with the damp cloths, she applied the salve Hodgekens had left. The pain made him forget his questions. He ground his teeth each time she touched him.
