A Hero and A Gentleman

by JoMarie DeGioia

  Reggie lowered his gaze to the floor. “Yea,” he muttered. “I know.”

  If the situation had not been so dire, Blake would have laughed at the man’s resignation. He took his leave, his mind working around all the possible places Robert could be rotting at the waterfront. And now he must wait on Reggie’s information. Reggie would see to the task in a timely fashion, out of fear if not responsibility. At least the man would give up Trevor to protect his own wide behind.

  When Blake told Taylor they must wait on Reggie, she would probably rain blows down on his head. He cursed softly. After his behavior last night, he didn’t dare guess her reaction. She might yell and carry on or grow cold and silent. He climbed into one of Jason’s fine carriages and closed his eyes.

  Robert’s alive. Alive! Pray God, let him stay that way. How would he ever face Taylor if he failed?

  Chapter 24

  Taylor sat in the garden behind Jason’s home, all but ignoring the array of blooms. She fingered the signet ring hanging on a ribbon around her neck. Robert was alive; Blake was trying to find him and she was sitting here like a useless lady of the manor. Wasn’t she a baroness? Little good it did her now. She was tied to a man who brushed away her love like an inconvenience. She missed her brother with an ache that would never cease. Oh, why couldn’t she go back to her life two months ago, when Robert lived at the manor and Blake was a faraway dream she could never dare hope to have as a reality? She wouldn’t focus on such maudlin thoughts. Her heart’s safety wasn’t at issue now; Robert needed to be found and with all haste.

  “Taylor,” Blake said.

  She turned to find him standing in the garden, uncertainty in his stance. Taylor gathered her courage and stood, brushing at the tiny wrinkles in her dress. She wouldn’t run into his arms as she longed to do. No, directness and distance would serve her better this afternoon. “What have you learned?”

  “I spoke with Sir Reggie, and he’ll have an answer for me soon.”

  Taylor nodded, little able to do anything else. Blake took a step toward her and she held up her hand. “Don’t think to comfort me. I’ll be fine, Blake.” She took a breath and lifted her chin. “So will Robert. I have to believe that.”

  “Your brother’s strong.”

  She gave the smallest nod. “We’ll find him and then we’ll make sure Trevor sees justice.”

  Blake snorted. When she lifted a brow in question he gave an artless shrug.

  “I have my doubts about that part,” he said. “No matter. Trevor will see a very particular kind of justice.” The cold glint in those dark blue eyes struck her. “As sure as there is breath in my body, that worm will pay for what he’s done.”

  Taylor knew enough of her husband to see the truth in his statement. She murmured her thanks and turned, crossing her arms in front of her in an effort to still her trembling. His footsteps sounded on the gravel behind her and he touched her arm. She jerked away from him, dangerously close to tears. “Blake, don’t.” She took in a shuddering breath. “Don’t.”

  “Taylor, I want to talk to you.” He exhaled sharply. “About last night.”

  She gave a shake of her head. “I don’t.”

  He grasped her arm again and turned her to face him. One glance into that beloved face, one touch of that strong hand on her and she was nearly lost. She squeezed her eyes shut and steeled herself as he drew her to him. Tender kisses fell on her brow, kisses and soft words. So easily she could succumb, with so little effort she could fall into his arms and act the wanton as she had last night.

  “No!” she cried.

  Blake dropped his hands from her and took a step back. She opened her eyes and regarded him warily through damp lashes.

  “Taylor, I—”

  “Don’t touch me again, Blake. I can’t bear it.”

  His brow furrowed, confusion clouding his eyes. He shook his head as if to clear it. “What you said last night, love. I was unprepared to—”

  Taylor held her hands to her ears. “I won’t listen to your lies. You’ll say anything today. To soothe yourself or me, I can’t hazard a guess.”

  “I don’t lie,” he growled. “I have never lied to you.”

  She lowered her hands and held them at her sides. “Lies of omission, then. You never told me you didn’t love me.”

  “Bloody hell!” he shouted.

  She turned and took quick steps toward the high garden wall. He joined her there, once more placing his hands on her.

  “Taylor, let me speak!”

  “Speak then.” She leveled her gaze with his. “Ease your mind, husband. For today I won’t permit you to ease your body.”

  He winced visibly at her words and released her. Tenderness filled those beautiful eyes, though she suspected it was borne of pity. He straightened those broad shoulders, readying himself for a disclosure she had little desire to hear.

  “Taylor, I—”

  “My Lord Blake,” the butler called.

  They both turned toward the butler standing at the open parlor doors. The servant held a note in his hands. “This just came for you, my lord.”

  Taylor swallowed a cry of relief as Blake took the note from the man and read it silently. He dismissed the butler with a nod of thanks and turned to her. She couldn’t read his expression, heavy lids hiding his eyes from her.

  “The note says that Reggie had a notion of Robert’s whereabouts.” Blake handed her the missive. “He confirmed it and gives the address here.”

  Taylor studied the practiced handwriting, the less-than-genteel wording. The address meant nothing to her. “I’ll come with you.”

  Blake flicked his eyes at her. He muttered something she couldn’t decipher and gave a reluctant nod. “Thankfully it’s still light. We don’t want to be in that neighborhood come nightfall.”

  That set Taylor’s heart to pounding. She wouldn’t turn missish. Not now. “I’ll go get my cloak.”

  “Let’s fetch Jason.” He called to the butler to rouse his brother and turned back to her. “We can use an extra pair of eyes.”

  “To keep on me, no doubt,” she grumbled.

  She hurried past him, stopping as he grasped her shoulder.

  “We’ll talk later, Taylor,” he said.

  Sparing him a quick nod of acceptance, she ran from the garden.

  * * *

  Blake cursed foully and slammed his fist against the nearest wall. What the devil ailed him that he couldn’t speak of his love for her? Bloody fool. He should have pressed her. He should have forced her to hear his declaration despite the possibility of a chilly response. But he’d taken the excuse of Robert’s discovery to yet again delay bearing his heart to her.

  “I’m ready,” Taylor said. He turned to find Taylor poised near the parlor doors. Her fingers worked the folds of her cloak, belying as always her show of calm. He saw a flash of gold and knew she still wore the signet ring.

  “Let’s find your brother then,” he said. “Jason!”

  “I’m coming.” His brother came downstairs and grabbed a sip of coffee from the cup his butler held for him, then shrugged into his jacket. “Let’s get this bloody mess over with and bring Robert home.”

  “Hire a hack,” he told Jason’s butler. He turned to his brother. “We don’t want to use one of your carriages on this particular errand, brother.”

  Jason arched a brow. “Dicey location, no doubt?”

  “The dankest corner of the waterfront.”

  Jason nodded, his eyes flicking in Taylor’s direction. Blake knew he didn’t have to ask his brother to watch out for her. He gave a silent thanks that he had such a loyal sibling. Robert was like that, too. Either man would take a bullet for him. As for Taylor? They would protect her with their lives.

  They climbed into the waiting hack and headed for the waterfront.

  The afternoon sun seemed to dim as they drew closer to their destination. The river ran sluggishly here, its stench given ample time to strengthen as it wound its way through th
e stagnant air. The clouds sat low in the sky, their color a swirl of blue-gray much like Taylor’s eyes when at last she spared him a glance. She and Jason spoke, in low voices and about nothing of import. Jason tried to rally her spirits, talking about the weather and the last ride he’d taken out on the Thompson estate. Neither of them attempted to make him part of the conversation.

  Desolation filled him at that moment in the carriage, the distance as real as if she was far from her perch beside him on the narrow seat. He glanced at the note from Reggie again—unnecessary, as he had already committed the address to memory.

  “We’re nearly there,” he said.

  Taylor didn’t look at him or make any comment. She merely wrinkled her nose as she peered out the tiny window of the hack. The street narrowed further, clogged with carts and wagons and streetwalkers whose occupation should be confined to darker hours of the night. No one paid their carriage much attention, as had been Blake’s intention. Taylor’s cloak served his purpose as well. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d thought of that concealment. Her mind was quick.

  “Put on your hood, love,” he told her.

  Again, she didn’t look at him.

  “You have to hide those lustrous golden curls,” Jason teased.

  She did as they bade her. Her lovely face was nearly hidden as well, and by keeping her close to him, no one would dare lay a hand on her.

  The hack slowed and Blake glanced past Taylor out the window. There the public house sat, but to describe it even by that simple name was absurd. No sign hung above the door, no welcoming sounds of clinking glasses or ribald laughter came from the filthy windows that squinted out onto the street.

  “Robert is here?” Taylor’s voice was small, dismay coloring her words.

  “Despite its appearance, Taylor, we can’t dare leave you in the carriage.”

  She looked at him then, her eyes huge. “I should say not! Robert needs me, Blake.”

  Her words came as no true surprise.

  “I meant that the streets are no safer than that pub,” he said.

  She recovered and gave a jerky nod. The hack rocked to a stop and she gathered the folds of her cloak around her. Blake took her elbow and assisted her down from the carriage, he was damned if he’d let his brother do it. She was his wife.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Blake told the driver to wait, promising extra payment, and he and Jason walked with Taylor through the open door of the pub. The stench was worse within. Despite its lack of occupants, countless years of dissipation scented the interior and made his eyes water. Taylor coughed behind one hand and Blake led her to the stout woman slumped against the far wall. As they neared her, she seemed to come to her senses. Her eyes raked over the three of them and, with a grunt, she straightened in her chair.

  “Madam, I have need to speak with the proprietor,” Blake said.

  The woman’s slack mouth moved as she lumbered to her feet. “I keep this pub,” she offered, her chins held high. “We ain’t servin’ much at this hour.”

  Blake glanced at the dirt-encrusted tables, the grimy chairs, and assumed that once darkness fell, both would groan under the weight of revelers looking for escape in one form or another. He ducked beneath one low beam and kept Taylor close to him. Through unspoken agreement, Jason took up the rear.

  “I’m looking for someone.” He fixed his gaze on the woman. “I was led to believe he’s here.”

  Nervousness flickered over her ruddy face and her blood-shot eyes darted about. Before she could think to concoct some tale he grabbed her by the arm.

  “Robert Shelby is here, Madam. We’re here to take him home.” Blake knew that her mind worked furiously. He thought to cease her brain’s taxing work, and withdrew a ten pound note. He thrust it into her hand. “Take us to him. Now.”

  The proprietress glanced about the pub, no doubt looking for assistance from some quarter. Blake could well guess the identity of such help, and wished to hurry her along. Waterfront ruffians were unpredictable at best, and he didn’t dare expose Taylor to any more danger even with Jason as added protection.

  Thankfully no hulking figures appeared in the doorway to what Blake guessed was the kitchen. But they had to move quickly. “Take us to him now,” he commanded with authority.

  Resignation filled her eyes. “I’ll take ya’ abovestairs.”

  The woman shuffled ahead as she led them to a narrow staircase tucked into one corner. Blake kept Taylor close behind him as they climbed the uneven steps, his hand tight on her arm. Loath to leave her vulnerable to whatever might befall them from below, he was more cautious of the danger waiting them above. A groan met his ears, low in tone and faint in strength. He felt Taylor stiffen behind him and restrained her as he felt her tense.

  “Robert,” she whispered.

  “Easy, love,” Blake said.

  The woman turned to regard Taylor in a fashion quite different from earlier, open speculation lighting her eyes. “Ya’ belong to him?”

  Taylor met the woman’s gaze without missing a step. “He’s my brother.”

  A nod shook the fat woman’s chins. “Better for him now, I wager.”

  That cryptic statement chilled Blake. Jason stayed silent but Blake could guess his thoughts were much like his. Robert was dead or very near it.

  A big man stood before a door, his arms crossed over his wide chest. Thankful he’d thought to put Taylor at his back, Jason kept her safe while Blake wrestled with the guard. The man was strong but likely still drunk from last night, for he went down when Blake banged his head against the crumbling plaster walls a few times.

  The woman barely clicked her tongue as she stepped over the unconscious brute and opened the door. Before they could enter the fetid chamber, she turned and made her way back down the stairs with more haste than Blake had seen her display earlier. He eyed her wide retreating back before turning to Taylor. “Come, Taylor.”

  Taylor rushed past him to the bed, a tiny sob escaping her. Blake bit back an exclamation of shock at his friend’s condition. Jason cursed under his breath as they both took in the scene.

  Robert was sprawled on the bed, filthy linens tangled about his long limbs. Ghastly pale, two spots of color nonetheless rode high on his cheeks. His eyes were closed, his mouth open as another weak moan came from his lips.

  “My God,” Blake said at last.

  “Oh, Robert,” Taylor sobbed.

  She gathered him to her, stroking his damp, dank hair from his brow. The smells were horrid, the conditions in which he’d been kept too vile to think about now. Robert was ill, that was certain. A fever held him, judging by his weak thrashing about on the pallet. But what troubled Blake most was the gurgling sound coming from his lungs with each aborted breath.

  “Robert, it’s me,” she said. “Taylor.”

  A sound came from his parched lips, though it bore little resemblance to any recognizable word.

  “Blake and Jason are here with me,” she said. “We’re here to take you home.”

  Robert gave no sign of lucidity as Blake joined her. Jason kept an eye on the stairwell in case anyone thought to stop them. Taylor stepped away from her brother and allowed Blake to take him. He lifted Robert with an ease that struck him. Robert was a big man, as big as himself. But all these weeks, this ill care . . .

  “We’ll take him to Jason’s house,” he said.

  Taylor nodded. “We’ll call a physician.” She spoke softly, almost to herself. “I won’t give in. The doctor’s opinion is sure to be optimistic.”

  He knew she spoke through her fear. He nodded and shifted Robert’s slack body in his arms.

  “The lovely proprietress is nowhere to be seen,” Jason said as they descended the creaking staircase.

  Blake didn’t view that condition as fortunate as Taylor might. They stepped out onto the street and made their way to the waiting hack. Taylor took Robert’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. He’d fallen silent, which was far more w
orrisome than his earlier groans of pain and discomfort.

  “Make haste, love,” Blake urged.

  Taylor pressed a kiss on Robert’s hand and released it to pull open the carriage door. Hurrying into the hack, she accepted Robert’s head in her lap as Blake carefully lowered his body onto the bench.

  “Oh, Blake,” she said. “Please let him be all right.”

  Blake could only nod. As he straightened, a bullet whistled past the open door.

  “What the devil . . . !” he shouted.

  Taylor moved to stand and he waved her back.

  “No,” he said. “Jason, take her and Robert home.” He glanced down the darkening street. “I’ll join you.”

  “Brother, don’t be a fool,” Jason growled.

  She reached out and grabbed Blake’s sleeve. “I won’t leave you here, Blake!”

  Another shot fired, the lead cracking against the side of the rented hack.

  The driver gave a shout and the horses pulled the carriage with a lurch. “Can’t hold ’em!”

  Blake looked at her and muttered another curse. Time held as his mind worked.

  “Please, Blake,” she said.

  To her obvious relief he jumped into the carriage and secured Robert’s legs on the seat. He pounded on the side of the vehicle. “Drive!”

  The hack’s driver made quick work of fleeing the waterfront.

  “Who the hell shot at us?” Jason asked.

  Blake swallowed his immediate answer. Taylor’s face was drawn with worry, her cheeks pale. There was nothing else for it. He was forced to leave the identity of the shooter a mystery and see to his wife and brother-in-law’s welfare. But he sorely wished to be on that dank street, alone with the villain that would dare harm a hair on Taylor’s head. Damn Trevor Shelby to hell.

  “I’ll find out, love.” And then he would kill Trevor Shelby with his bare hands. “Don’t worry.”

  Her gaze held his for a long moment, and he braced himself for an argument that never came. She turned her worried gaze to Robert’s still form, murmuring soothing words Blake knew the man couldn’t hear. His stomach clenched at the tenderness, the severity of her brother’s injuries set aside as she sought to ease him.