Page 31 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
“All done.”
She let out a whoosh of air and closed her eyes. She opened them and stared directly at him.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said evenly.
He was impressed. Charlotte really was a remarkable woman. Grown men had cried hysterically when James tended to their wounds, but she, an earl’s daughter, released nary a tear nor a sob.
She was made of sterner stuff.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Aknock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” James said.
After cleaning Charlotte’s wound, he had loosely tied a bandage around her neck and now collected the remaining supplies. The maid entered.
“I’ll leave you to change out of your soiled clothes.” He reluctantly left the bedchamber and grabbed the bottle of brandy on his way out. He went downstairs in search of Gabe’s study to collect his thoughts. Once he discovered the room, he put down the brandy and collapsed into a wing chair near the fireplace. He did not care that the fire had not been lit. The coolness of the room was refreshing. The night’s events bounced around his mind haphazardly.
A glass and decanter sat next to the chair. He lifted the lid and passed the vessel underneath his nose. The smell of tobacco and caramel assaulted his senses, and he knew this was a better spirit than the brandy he had just given Charlotte. It was likely the cognac Gabe reserved for himself. James needed a bracing drink, so he poured himself a glass without hesitation. He would ask for forgiveness later.
James took a sip and savored the flavor. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand across his face. The whole night was his fault. His honor had flown out the window, and he had proposed a salacious tryst to Charlotte.
How could I have done such a thing?
But he knew.
Charlotte intoxicated him, despite being his better.
Just like in the backstreets earlier in the night, his mind argued with his guilt. The blackguard must have been lurking outside Lady Hardwicke’s town house, irrespective of anything James had done, and it was actually a good thing he was there to save her.
James clutched the glass more tightly. That bastard was dead, but he must not be acting alone. Charlotte was hiding something from him, and he could not fathom what she had done that would warrant a price on her life. Anger unfurled inside him that anyone would dare touch a hair on her beautiful head. Although he was not good enough for her, he would never let any harm come to her.
James sipped his drink and mulled over the supposed atrocities a lady of thetoncould commit.
Was the cutthroat a hired assassin by a jilted lover or the angry wife of a paramour?
No. James could not believe those scenarios. Charlotte seemed like an innocent. She definitely kissed like one.
Theft?
Although he did not pay much attention to theon-ditsof theton, Charlotte did not seem impoverished.
Murder?
She did not seem like a killer. Moreover, he could not imagine a situation that would arise in her cosseted life where she would take the life of another.
James was stumped. He looked down at his glass and realized it was empty.
Right.
Time to check on the enigma that was Charlotte.
“Come in.” Her voice permeated through the closed door after James’s knock. She still did not sound like her usual self, though he could sense strength in the tone of her voice. He cracked open the door, noting that the maid had left. He saw a bundle tucked into Gabe’s massive bed. Although he would have to spirit Charlotte back to her aunt’s house before dawn, there was yet time for her to recover more before she had to leave. She would stay put in this bedroom while he slept in a guest chamber.
He walked into the room and closed the door softly behind him, treading lightly on the plush Axminster carpet toward the bed. He took a moment to assess her. The maid had unpinned her chestnut hair, and it fanned out gloriously over the pillow. She stared up at the ceiling, and James noted a hint of color in her cheeks. The ruffled neck of a white nightgown encircled her elegant neck and peeked out from beneath the counterpane.
James reached the side of the bed. “How do you fare?” He reflexively lifted his hand to reach out to her, but then pulled it back, knowing she was not his to touch.
