At last she finished, noting the bleeding had already slowed now that she’d stitched the wound shut. She knotted the end, leaving the knots in full view so they could be cut later and the thread pulled out. She used several strips of her underskirt to bind his leg.
Unable to resist, she brushed the back of her hand along his forehead, noting the sweat now beading on it. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Marcus. You may call me by my given name.”
“Marcus,” she repeated. It suited him. “Shall I tend to the next cut?”
“Yes.” The only sign of his pain was a tightness around his eyes and the sheen of sweat on his forehead. The man had an impressive threshold for pain.
Wanting only to be done with this so she might find someone to aid him, she repeated the steps, first cutting away the fabric. The knife must’ve deflected off his ribs here. She touched his warm skin, the intimacy of this striking her despite the knowledge he needed help. The sculpted tone of the small area she could see of his upper body surprised her. This was no ordinary lord like the soft, pudgy ones she’d seen outside the seamstress shop, but one who was far more active than most.
She drew the edges of the cut together, dabbing at the blood so she could better see. Again she threaded her needle and knotted it carefully, then began her task. As she first pierced his skin, he drew a sharp breath. She bit her lip, hoping not to cry. Tears would only block her vision and prolong the task. She swallowed them back, deciding not to look at him until she was done. It would only make her slower if she tried to be more careful. That wouldn’t aid either of them.
At last she finished and looked at Marcus. “All done,” she announced.
His eyes opened and that golden gaze held hers. “Thank you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe you could bear that. It must hurt terribly.”
He said nothing, only continued to watch her.
“I’ll bind your side then find help.” She tugged his shirttail out of his pants, the warmth of the fabric surprising her. How he could be so warm after lying on this cold, hard ground amazed her. In truth, most everything about this man did. That was unusual in itself. Men rarely impressed her.
Carefully, she pulled the binding under him as he arched to allow her access. She’d never before touched a man like this. But now was not the time to think of such things. Marcus was far from being out of danger. Though she’d slowed the bleeding, he needed to see a doctor.
“I’m going to find someone to help you.” She started to rise, but he grabbed her hand, drawing her closer.
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t thank me until you know you’ve survived.” She didn’t know what she was doing and could only hope she hadn’t caused more harm than good.
“I only have this chance because of you.”
She reached out to touch his cheek, only to realize her hand was covered with blood. If only she could give him some of her strength. “Hold on. I’ll find help and we’ll get you somewhere safe.”
He nodded and released her other hand, allowing it to slide slowly from his.
Tessa rose, glancing back one last time before she hurried out of the alleyway. She could only hope help was nearby.
CHAPTER TWO
Four Weeks Later
Marcus set down the newspaper with a sigh. Obviously the solitude he’d enjoyed at breakfast had been only momentary. “What is it, Samuel?”
The hulking footman who’d been with Marcus since boyhood looked down his nose at his employer. “Many pardons, my lord. I merely wanted to inquire as to whether you gave any more consideration to the item we discussed yesterday.”
“The one you’ve brought up every day for the past four weeks?”
“That would be the one, my lord.”
Marcus clenched his jaw, wondering if it was possible to break a tooth when annoyed. “I hardly think there is any way to find her.”
“You said yourself she was the angel. That she looked just like descriptions of Lady Jordan, your many times over great grandmother.”
“And I’ve regretted saying it to you every day since,” Marcus muttered.
“What did you say?” The footman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Nothing, Samuel. I must’ve been hallucinating from pain. The woman was indeed an angel for stopping to assist me, but I hardly think that is cause to propose marriage.”
“But one of the reasons you came here was to find a wife. Surely her coming across you in the alley was a sign.”
Samuel’s family had served the de Wolfe’s for generations. He was far more than a servant to Marcus. He was a friend, sounding board, and bodyguard, all rolled into one. Of course he knew the story of how Lady Jordan had stumbled upon his great-too-many-times-to-count grandfather, William de Wolfe, lying half dead on the edge of the battlefield in Scotland. His grandfather had expected the Scottish lady to finish him off. Instead, she’d tended his wounds, and therefore, saved his life.
It had taken time and heartache, but they’d claimed their love for each other. The love of a lifetime, something very rare. Their own happily ever after.
Marcus rubbed a hand over his chest at the sudden ache there. He’d had such a love with his own beautiful bride, Mary, God rest her soul. Their story wasn’t quite as romantic as his ancestors’ though, for they hadn’t gotten much of a happily ever after. He and Mary had been childhood sweethearts and married when they’d come of age. She’d been his best friend and then his love. When she’d fallen ill while expecting their first child, he’d been concerned. But never had he thought she might die, taking their babe with her. His heart had died as well that day. He’d had no desire for a woman since her death, three years ago.
As Earl of Warenton and a descendent of the great de Wolfe family, duty required him to marry and produce an heir. The idea of doing so made him ill. He had no love left to give. Trying to pretend he cared seemed too great a chore. So his next marriage would be purely a business arrangement. That was the only way he’d been able to force himself to follow through with his plan to find a wife during his time in London.
The social season had not yet started, which made making a match more difficult as there were fewer opportunities to meet young ladies. Surely that would make it simpler to pick one. Already he had one or two on his list of possibilities. He only needed a presentable looking lady with good bloodlines to keep the de Wolfes’ strong and the ability to produce an heir. It would be helpful if she wasn’t overly annoying.
Before he could shift his focus to wife hunting, he needed to find the man who’d left him for dead in Whitechapel and who was stealing from him. As the two crimes were connected, he didn’t expect it to take long to resolve either now that he had recovered. This time when he investigated, he’d take more precautions.
When Samuel had finally come looking for him, it had been pure luck that he’d found Marcus in the alleyway. Unfortunately, Marcus had rambled on about the ‘angel’ who had saved him, the one who bore a remarkable resemblance to the Lady Jordan, with her honey-blonde hair and green eyes.
“Even if I wanted to find that woman—”
“You mean the angel,” Samuel interrupted.
Marcus held onto his patience, well aware Samuel had good intentions. “Yes, the angel. I have no way to do so. She was obviously passing through the area for some reason. By her educated accent and appearance, she doesn’t live there.”
“So you’re saying she’s a lady?” Samuel asked, brows raised. “That’s perfect.”
“Nay, I’m merely saying she couldn’t possibly be a resident of Whitechapel.”
“But you know she’s a seamstress or the like. After all, she had a bag with needle, thread, and scissors. She has to be a seamstress.”
“Do you have any idea how many are in this city? Thousands. Finding her would be impossible.” Nor did he have any desire to. She had caused something deep inside him to flicker to life. Something he’d thought dead and
gone. Something he’d prefer to stay in ashes.
“We’ll find her. ’Tis meant to be.”
The determined glint in Samuel’s brown eyes nearly made Marcus groan. While he’d always admired the man’s single-minded pursuit of goals, it had never before been directed at him.
“If it’s meant to be, then perhaps we’ll come across her again.” He hoped his words appeased Samuel, who was now intent on seeing the de Wolfe legend come to life. “Besides, we have far greater things with which to concern ourselves.”
Samuel nodded. “This time, I’m not letting you out of my sight, my lord.”
“Yes, well, this time, I won’t be so foolhardy as to underestimate our adversaries.”
“On that we agree.” Samuel looked down at his black suit that served as livery for the Earl of Warenton’s household. “I’ll change into something more appropriate for the docks if that’s where we’re going.”
“Good idea. I want to speak with Captain Thomas again. I need to discover what’s going on with my ships without alarming anyone. As far as I know, he might be in on the scheme.”
Over the past several months, based on the profit and loss statements his man of business had sent, shipping profits had been steadily slipping. Upon further study, Marcus realized the numbers didn’t add up. Perhaps Jack Hiddleston didn’t realize Marcus actually read and analyzed the reports he sent on a monthly basis.
Marcus had written him with lists of questions several times, but none of Hiddleston’s answers had proven satisfactory. That was when Marcus had decided he needed to come to London to see to the problem himself. Something was amiss. He could sense it. But attempting to uncover the problem when he was so far away in Northumberland at Wolfe’s Lair was impossible.
The Lair was a sprawling castle that had been in the de Wolfe family for centuries. It had been added onto and renovated many times over the years. Living there never let him forget who he was, or the obligations he had to the family and its future.
Hence why he needed a wife, whether he wanted one or not. The pain and darkness he’d lived through when Mary had died was nothing he cared to repeat. But he needed a wife all the same.
“Are you certain you feel well enough to venture to the dock?” Samuel asked.
“Stronger every day.” In truth, Marcus’s injuries still bothered him but he could no longer wait to discover what was happening with his business. His ship was scheduled to depart again in a week. He wanted to know for certain what cargo it carried before that.
His doctor had admired his angel’s sewing ability, decided against re-suturing as Marcus had lost enough blood, applied iodine, and bandaged both cuts. The scars Marcus bore were a reminder that he’d nearly lost his life, but they also reminded him of the lovely angel who’d saved him. Soon the scar would fade, leaving nothing but a faint mark, much like his memory of the woman who’d saved him—if he could convince Samuel to release his insistence that they find her.
“Let me know when you’re ready to venture to the dock.”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll be back shortly.” The footman hurried out the door to change into his street clothes, which drew less attention than his uniform.
Marcus would never find someone as loyal as Samuel, but his pigheadedness about the de Wolfe legend was about to drive Marcus crazed. He could only hope Samuel would shift his focus to the problem with his ship instead. That was what they both needed to concentrate on.
~*~
Tessa took a sip of lukewarm tea in the tiny sitting area in the small apartment above the shop, enjoying a brief rest from the busy morning. She and Aunty Betty had been working since eight that morning, helping their five apprentices with mending before they started lessons for the day.
Mending was a skill every girl needed, whether they worked in the industry or became a wife and mother. Taking in mending helped the shop pay the bills, but that wasn’t the future Tessa planned for the girls. They needed far more desirable skills than that. Skills that would pay better and actually provide them with a living rather than merely an existence.
She glanced over her shoulder to make certain none of the girls had come upstairs. Then she leaned forward to catch her aunt’s attention.
“Did you hear the girls talking while we were assisting Mrs. Attwater earlier?” she asked.
“No, I don’t believe I did.” Aunt Betty glanced up from a magazine. It was the one indulgence she allowed herself. She enjoyed admiring the pictures of the fine gowns and also gained ideas as to what might sell in the shop. While they didn’t normally design dresses, they’d done a few, mostly so the girls could learn to fit gowns properly. They also sold a few items, including handkerchiefs and undergarments.
“Sally told them she heard of a new way to earn easy money quickly. She said she is meeting someone this afternoon to learn more.”
“What can that be about?” Aunt Betty appeared taken aback. “I thought she was happy here.”
“As did I.” Several times in the past week, she’d entered the shop and noted a hush falling over the girls. Obviously they’d been speaking about something they didn’t think she’d approve of.
She and her mother’s sister barely carved out a living from their little shop as most of their profit went toward paying wages to the girls, something that made their apprenticeship unique. Far more important to Tessa than earning money was teaching the girls a trade to keep them off the streets. If not for Aunt Betty, Tessa would’ve been forced onto the streets herself.
Each year, Tessa searched orphanages and workhouses for girls who might need their assistance. Girls who had little chance of working at any place other than a manufacturer. Conditions were often terrible in such factories. Some girls didn’t survive. Others aged far too quickly. All in all, it was a hard life, though still preferable to working in a brothel. Tessa didn’t wish either occupation on anyone.
Tessa and her aunt taught the girls a variety of special needlework to embellish clothing—anything that paid more than simple mending. They chose the girls carefully, for the shop hours were long and the work mind numbing at times. The girls had to have the desire to learn in order to spend the needed time to improve their skills enough to go on to work at a fine dressmaker’s.
As each girl completed her apprenticeship, Tessa found another to take her place. One they could mentor and guide along to a better life. She only wished they could help more.
Sally’s talk of easy money worried Tessa. She feared the girl was being lured away into something terrible with false promises.
“There’s no purpose in questioning her about it. That will gain you nothing,” her aunt warned with a shake of her head.
“True. The girl has a stubborn side to her.” Tessa would gain more ground if she knew exactly what Sally was getting into. “If you hear her making any plans, will you please tell me? Perhaps I can follow her and see where she goes.”
“Very well, dear, but do take care. Who knows what that girl is up to? She’s developed a bit of a wild streak.”
“Indeed she has.” Sally turned fifteen a week ago and now thought herself grown up enough to make her own decisions. She no longer appreciated advice from Tessa and Aunt Betty. At the age of four and twenty, Tessa felt ancient compared to Sally.
She finished her tea and set down her cup. “I intend to keep a close eye on her. I would feel terrible if something happened.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Aunt Betty put aside her magazine. “We’d best see how the girls are progressing. I’ve a mind to show them a new embroidery pattern we could stitch on silk scarves and sell in the shop. They might be a lovely gift.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Tessa said, pleased to have something new to share with the girls. “Perhaps we could encourage their activities by offering them some of the profit from the sales.”
“That would be a helpful lesson, wouldn’t it? A fine example of business. Shall we see how they receive the notion?”
Tessa mad
e her way to the first floor where the shop was located with Aunt Betty directly behind her. Once again, the girls’ conversation halted when they entered the room. Tessa’s concern increased. That couldn’t be a good sign.
She shared a worried look with her aunt.
“Mrs. Davison has a splendid new project to share with us,” Tessa announced, forcing a smile to her lips. If she couldn’t find joy in this job, how could she expect the girls to do so?
The rest of the morning passed quickly, and the girls seemed quite enthusiastic over the new project. Several designed their own patterns for the embroidery embellishment once Aunt Betty showed them what she had in mind. Tessa would need additional silk to make more scarves before long, assuming they sold well.
When the time came for the mid-day meal, Sally rose from her chair. “I’ve an errand to run during our luncheon.”
“Oh? I assume you won’t be late returning.” Tessa tried to give them some freedom but it was important they learn to respect time and be prompt.
“Not at all, miss. I’ll be quick as I can.” She gave one of the other girls a wink while she retrieved her cloak from the peg behind the door.
Sally had only just closed the door behind her when Tessa rose. “I must pick up that cloth we ordered.” She gave her aunt a meaningful look, hoping she understood that she wanted to follow Sally.
“Yes, of course,” Aunt Betty agreed, giving her a nod. “Do be careful out there.”
Her words gave Tessa pause, but she pushed aside her doubt and hurried out the door, hoping to catch sight of Sally. If Sally ventured into one of the more dangerous areas of the city, that was all the more reason for Tessa to follow her. She might need assistance.
World of de Wolfe Pack_Trusting the Wolfe Page 2
