She had cared for the man. Cleaned his wounds, Bathed him. Changed his sheets. Her face grew warm as she remembered the first time.
Putting a hand to her cheeks, she looked away as she forced her heart to calm down.
But it had been the scars that had been a surprise. A small jagged scar on his upper calf as if it had been carved by a rusty knife. He had several burn marks on his back. Old scars that would never go away. Three small round scars on his side made her think he had been shot before. Perhaps a scattergun. How did a noble Lord end up with such scars?
Plus, his hands were rough. With thick calluses. Again, not the hands of a noble lord.
It was as if he were two different people. Her memories were of him dressed in the finest fashion. A star of the ton. Invited to every event, a desperate hope for every hostess. Well spoken. Respected, even admired by other men and desired by most women
Yet, behind all of that. He was a rough, solid, hard man with a dozen secrets.
As if knowing he was being observed, his eyes fluttered open and locked into hers. Unable to pull away, she held his stare for a long moment.
At last, he smiled slightly and said, “Hello Angel,”
Her insides turned over, he had called her that several times. At first, she had thought it was deliria. But now, she saw that he was fully aware, yet still used the term.
“Good morning, John,” she said, as she paused to see if she had heard him correctly the night before when he had told her to call him by his given name. It felt so wrong to call an Earl by his first name. As if she were dishonoring a thousand years of history.
His smile widened as he nodded slightly.
“Are you hungry,” she said as she got up to retrieve the bowl of broth.
He frowned at the food and shook his head. “A man can die from too much broth.”
She laughed, if he wanted something stronger, that was a good sign, wasn’t it?
“I will have the cook make you some eggs,” she said as she put the broth away and moved to leave the room.
“Toast,” he said from the bed. “A lot of toast, butter, marmalade.”
She smiled. He was going to be all right. No man asked for marmalade on his deathbed.
“Bacon,” he added before she could leave. “A man can’t live without bacon.”
She laughed. Yes, he was feeling better.
When she returned later with his tray of food, she paused just inside the room and looked at him. His brow was wet with sweat and his face was as white as chalk. Her insides turned to solid stone as she hurried across the room.
He opened his eyes and smiled weakly. “I tried to get up. Not a wise decision.”
Her forehead narrowed as her eyes shot him an angry look. “You must be careful. I won’t have you wasting my efforts to get you well.”
He nodded as he swallowed while glancing at the food tray in her hands. Amanda rolled her eyes, men always seemed to be hungry. As she placed the tray on the side table and prepared some toast and marmalade, she asked, “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
He studied her for a moment then sighed, “I told you, I was shot.”
She turned with the toast but held back, silently raising an eyebrow, letting him know he wasn’t getting fed until he informed her of the truth.
Lord Warwick smiled slightly then said, “Very well. But I can’t tell you much. It is too sensitive.”
She studied him for a moment then said, “Was it French spies or a jealous husband.”
His face blanched. She laughed, “Your connection to smugglers. Your connections inside the government, a few things Olivia let drop.”
He continued to stare at her, his eyes big. “Am I that obvious? No wonder I was shot.”
“I take it that it wasn’t a jealous husband? I would have thought your rakish activities led to this.”
“Of course not,” he said as if seriously offended. “I would never be with a married woman unless her husband didn’t care. There are some things even I find unacceptable.”
She laughed as she handed him the small plate with toast and a few slices of bacon. “So, the French.”
His shoulders slumped, “No one must know.”
She nodded, that was perfectly understandable. “But why now, why here in London.”
He took a bite of toast and continued to examine her, looking at her as if she were a stranger asking for a loan.
“John,” she said with a slight smile. “I am not a French spy. If I were, I wouldn’t have worked so hard to keep you alive.”
He swallowed his bite of food and nodded. “Angel, If a woman as beautiful as you were a French spy we would surely be lost. I can assure you, that is not my concern.”
Her cheeks grew warm as her stomach turned over. His word seemed flirtations. Not the normal interaction. And why did a simple compliment make her heart flutter?
Their eyes met and once again Amanda forced herself to remember that the man was a rake. A seducer of women. The kind of man who left a trail of broken hearts behind him. No, do not fall into that trap she told herself as she pulled her gaze away from his.
She swallowed hard and regained some control. “Don’t try to change the subject. Why did they shot you? I believe I have a right to know. You are under my roof. I am taking care of you.”
He finished the last bite of toast and said, “I was scheduled to meet with a man. A man who was going to provide me with critical information. Facts that could lead me to someone important. Someone, I believe who is controlling several other people and providing France with information.”
Amanda paused for a second as she digested this news. “And did you obtain the information?”
Warwick frowned as he shook his head. “No, he was dead when I got there. And I was shot before I had an opportunity to search his body for the paper he had promised me. I wouldn’t have found anything anyway. The report was obviously already removed and the body left to hold me in place long enough to get a clear shot.”
Amanda winced, this was serious. Men were being killed. But then how was that any different than on the continent where thousands of men were being killed all the time.
Because this is England, she thought. Things like this were not supposed to happen here.
Swallowing hard, she buttered another piece of toast and handed it to him. He took it from her hand with a smile. She raised an eyebrow, silently demanding that he continue.
“There isn’t much more,” he said. She knew he was lying to her, but now was not the time to deal with it. His face was becoming drawn with the effort of simply eating and answering her questions.
Reaching out, she took the empty plate from him and helped him take a drink of water. As she slipped her hand behind his neck, he looked up and caught her attention, holding it in place for a long moment.
Her world fell away and there was only Lord Warwick and those penetrating eyes of his.
Eventually, she remembered what she was doing and helped him drink. When he was finished, she lowered him back to his pillow and stepped away. Being too close to him was disconcerting. Especially now that he was awake. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her insides shiver. Something that felt predatory, almost wolf-like, as if he viewed her as his prey.
Yet, there were other times when he would look at her with tenderness and kindness. Again, two different men, she thought to herself. Who was the real John, Lord Warwick?
A soft click behind her drew her attention. Molly ducked into the room, her white face silently foreshadowing her concern.
“What is it Molly,” Amanda asked.
The young maid swallowed. “Lady Simpson. A countess. Is here, downstairs. She’s asked for you, Mum. She also asked if Lord Warwick might be here.”
Chapter Four
Amanda’s heart shuddered to a stop. Lady Simpson, here? Why? It didn’t make sense, she barely knew the woman. They had talked a few times. But nothing that indicated Lady Simpson had any
interest in a banker’s daughter.
She glanced at Lord Warwick. He looked back sternly.
“She can’t know I am here,” he said. “The woman is a born gossip.”
Amanda shook her head at him. He was worried about being discovered. It hadn’t even occurred to him to think what it would mean to her reputation if people found she had spent the last week nursing Lord Warwick in her home.
She would be disdained and cut from any social life. People would think they were lovers. No man would ever respect her enough to marry her.
The thought sent a cold chill down her spine as she told Molly to stay with Lord Warwick and quickly set her hair right.
As Amanda started down the stairs, she saw Lady Simpson fiddling with her reticule as she waited in the entrance hall. Tall, with raven black hair and porcelain white skin. Striking, she looked exactly the kind of woman who would peak Lord Warwick’s interest.
“Miss Waters,” Lady Simpson said as she turned to watch her descend the stairs.
“Lady Simpson,” Amanda said with a quick curtsey and a deep frown. “Welcome. This is a surprise.”
The tall woman gave her a fake smile. The kind of smile Ladies of the ton used with women they believed to be of lower status. The kind of smile that reminded everyone of who was who.
“Yes, well,” Lady Simpson said as she pulled at her glove. “I was hoping you might be able to assist me.”
Amanda nodded, completely confused, all the while her stomach churned. She needed to get this woman out of here. So many things would be ruined if she discovered Lord Warwick’s presence.
“Of course,”
Lady Simpson took a quick breath. “I was hoping you could tell me the whereabouts of Lord Warwick.”
Amanda’s heart jumped. What? Did this woman know that Lord Warwick was upstairs? How? Her mind floundered for a second, looking for the trap.
A thump upstairs made her jump. Had the woman heard, would she attribute it to her maid. Or did she know the truth already?
“I would normally have approached Lady Bradford,” the countess continued. “You know, one countess to another. But she has not yet returned to town.”
Amanda had to scramble to remember that Olivia was now Lady Bradford.
How could she answer the woman? And why did she want to know Lord Warwick’s location? Where they lovers? Was that it? Suddenly, a flash of anger flared inside of Amanda’s chest.
“I am sorry, Lady Simpson. I can’t help you,” Amanda said, holding the other woman’s stare.
The countess looked at her for a long moment, as if judging her integrity. At last, her shoulder’s slumped. “A shame, I really needed to talk to him.”
Amanda knew she needed to steer this woman away. An image of women turning their backs on her flashed into her mind. She needed to get her out of her house as soon as possible.
Shrugging, she said, “I am sorry, but Lord Warwick and myself don’t exactly travel in the same circles. Have you tried the gambling dens? Or perhaps one of the bordellos. From what I hear, he spends quite a bit of time there.”
Lady Simpson stepped back, obviously shocked.
“There is no need to be crude,” the woman said, shaking her head with disbelief that Amanda could even think of criticizing a British Lord.
Amanda gave Lady Simpson her best smile. The one she reserved for women she thought unintelligent and not worth her time.
The two women looked at each other for a second then Lady Simpson backed down and pulled at her gloves again.
“Yes, well. I thought perhaps... But it seems I was wrong. Please forgive me for intruding on your day.”
Amanda turned to open the front door, “It is of no matter, you are always welcome here, Lady Simpson.”
The woman looked at her again then at the front door. At last, she thanked Amanda one last time then departed, her head held high. As if she should be thanked for visiting.
Amanda closed the door behind her and then rested her back against it. What was that all about? Then, pushing herself off the door, she rushed upstairs.
“Why does that woman want to talk to you?” she asked as she stepped into the room. “Do you have any idea what would happen to me if people discovered you had been under this roof for a week. They would believe I was your mistress.”
Molly sent her a confused look for a second then scurried out the door.
Lord Warwick winced. “You are right of course. I will leave you at once.” Twisting, he tried to get his legs over the side of the bed.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said as she rushed to him and gently pushed his legs back onto the bed. “And don’t believe you have to fix everything. I asked if you were aware, not to fix things.”
“Besides,” she continued. “I won’t have you leaving until we know it is safe.”
Lord Warwick frowned then slumped back onto the bed.
“I will let you rest, we can talk about this some more later,” she told him.
He sighed slightly and closed his eyes, then opened them again to say, “I need to send a note to my mother.”
Amanda’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The last thing she would have imagined was this man worrying about what his mother might think.
“I will get you some paper and ink.”
Lord Warwick scoffed, “I can’t write, my arm is not working as it should. Not yet. I will need you to write it for me.”
“Of course,” she said as she saw the look of doubt in his eyes. He was worried, she realized. Worried about what he would be able to do once his arm and hip healed. Would he be the same man? His concerns were written all over his face for just a flash, then quickly, he put them behind him and feigned that British aristocratic nonchalance he was famous for.
She retrieved her portable writing desk from her room and arranged it on her lap as she waited for him.
He thought for a moment then said. “Please, just write, ‘Caught two fish, but the waters are beautiful,’ then sign it Toad.”
“Toad?” she asked.
He laughed slightly. “It is a name my brother gave to me. A prank he pulled on our governess that I was blamed for.”
Amanda smiled to herself. What had it been like to be raised with brothers? As an only child, she had often wondered what it would be like to have a sibling.
Finishing the note, he gave her an address then instructed her to make sure she had a street urchin deliver the note. Under no circumstances could she be seen approaching his home.
Amanda nodded as she sealed the note.
“Anyone else, the government perhaps?”
He shook his head no. “One of the men I suspect works in the foreign office. I can’t risk it.”
Her stomach tightened up. A man in their own government might be supplying the enemy with information. The sense of betrayal was immense. This man travels in a different world, she realized. No wonder he presents so many different fronts.
Glancing up from the letter in her hands, she found Lord Warwick already asleep. The small effort of writing had wrung the last bit of energy out of him.
She would let him rest and check his bandages when she returned. In the meantime, she would make sure this note was delivered. No mother should have to worry about her son’s wellbeing.
But before she stood up, she sat for a moment and watched him. He was so different than the man she had thought he was. So not the callow rake, not the frivolous lord. All form, no function. No this was a man who placed his life on the line daily. A man who risked everything to fight for something greater than himself.
A man to be admired, she realized with a start. So not the Lord Warwick she had always pictured in her mind.
Chapter Five
Lord Warwick felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as Miss Amanda, his angel, bent over him to check the bandage on his hip. The soft scent of lavender and rose washed over him.
Peering intently at his wound, she scrunched up her nose to keep her spectacles from falling
off. She was just too adorable, he thought.
She had been kind enough to leave the blanket placed to provide him with some sense of modesty. But after ten days of nursing. He felt as if this woman knew his body better than he did himself.
“They are looking good,” she said as she gently probed and touched. He cringed internally as he fought to maintain control of his body. Something about her touch made him forget he was a gentleman and just want to sink into a heaven where Amanda’s touch was all he felt.
“The infection is going away.” She said without looking up. “I think that ointment the doctor gave us really helped. The wounds are closing.”
All he could do was grit his teeth and wait until she was done. God, please hurry he thought. If he became physically aroused at that moment, he would never be able to look her in the eye again.
At last, she pulled the blanket and sheets back over him. He sighed internally.
“I need clothes,” he said as he adjusted himself in the bed.
“Clothes,? Why? You are not well enough yet.”
He glanced up at her, there were times he could swear that she enjoyed keeping him there. Helpless, under her control.
“Regardless. I need clothes. I need to be up and about. There are things I must do. Besides, I have been a burden long enough.
She stepped back and placed both hands on her hips. “John, you have not been a burden. And I refuse to allow you to damage what we have accomplished. No, it is too soon.”
He bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from barking at her. No one told him what he could or could not do. Even if she was his angel. But instead, he tried to smile sweetly.
“Amanda, tomorrow I will be getting up. Hopefully, in a few days, I will be leaving this house. If you want me to do so naked. I will. But I believe your neighbors might be shocked. I know that Molly will be.”
Amanda frowned fiercely, she obviously hated being thwarted. One of the many things he liked about her. But in this matter, there would be no discussion.
At last, she threw up her hands and said. “Fine, but it is on your head.” Then she turned and stormed out of the room. Slamming the door a little more than she intended to.
Challenging A Rake (A Rake's Redemption Book 4) Page 3
