Page 11 of Lady of Charade
“This is where I live. I would ask that you please not share the location or my situation with others, however. There are many people, particularly within this neighborhood, who are aware of my skills as a healer. I have no knowledge of how you came to be here, as I simply responded to a knock at my door in the middle of the night, likely the early hours of the morning when it was still dark. There you were, with injuries that you have likely already ascertained for yourself — wounds to your head and torso. I would hazard a guess that you took a decent beating, hitting your head when you fell upon the ground. The gash within your chest looks to be from a knife or sword, although you are lucky that it isn’t any deeper than it is. Still, I am worried about it festering, depending upon the weapon used against you.”
David furrowed his brow as she spoke, for her words were measured, emotionless. He had not encountered many women in his life who would see such injuries before them and lack any particular reaction.
“How does a woman such as you become a healer?” he asked, to which she smiled.
“That is a story for another day,” she said softly. “But rest assured you are in good hands. Now, tell me, Mr. Redmond, how did you find yourself in such a predicament?”
He sighed, lifting a hand to run it through his hair, only to find it wet. That’s right — she had been washing his hair. Why?
“It was bloody,” she said now, as though she could hear his thoughts, and he sighed again. He supposed if she had treated him, she deserved to know the truth.
“I was at a club,” he said. “The Red Lion. There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about the night. I played a bit of faro, lost a few games, won a few, likely came out about even. I saw some friends, had a drink or two… and then decided to return home.”
If there was something remarkable, that was it — he had rebuffed the flirtations of the working women, and he couldn’t determine just what had caused him to do so. It was as though suddenly their faces had been too painted, their bodices too low, their dresses too garish. Which was ridiculous. He had been attracted to these women with no qualms for so long — why was anything different right now?
He refused to believe it had to do with this woman sitting in front of him. He was not a man who pursued innocent women, for he knew they would not be content with a simple liaison. No, she would be looking for a man who would commit to her, could provide for her — the type of man she deserved. Not someone like him.
He must have been tired — that was it. Which would also explain how he had been taken so off guard.
“I departed the club and asked for my carriage to be brought around,” he continued, closing his eyes as he pictured it once more. “They surprised me, taking me off guard. One held my arms behind me, the other used his fists to ‘Teach me a lesson,’ I believe is how he phrased it.”
“Did you know him?” she asked.
“I did not. He was only the man who had been hired, not the one who desired to see me in such a state.”
“Do you know who that would be?”
“I do.”
He didn’t want to continue, didn’t want to sully this room, this woman, with any further discussion of what he had done or why the man was interested in seeing to his demise. He could sense, however, that Miss Jones was waiting for him to finish the story.
“It was Lord Houghton.”
“Lord Houghton…” she repeated, nibbling her lip as she thought on the name, and he noted when recognition dawned. She was the type of woman who easily shared her thoughts and feelings, for her expressions were vivid. Her brown eyes, which were warm and comforting, widened. “He is a proud man. Rather… stern.”
“Yes, that would be the proper way to term it,” he murmured.
“What did you do?” she asked, but then saw the disapproval in her eyes and realized she likely already had a fairly good inkling of just what he had done to deserve such treatment. At first, he felt ashamed at his actions, but before he refused to allow such emotion, he became indignant to the fact that she would feel she had the right to judge him. He knew nothing of her life — how could she sit there and suggest that he might be at fault with his own actions?
“His wife was… taken with me,” he said finally, unable to admit to anything further, and she nodded, as though her suspicions were confirmed, and he opened his mouth to ask her just why she thought she could judge him so, but then promptly closed it. For that would hardly be fair. She had obviously spent some time caring for him, and that was no way to repay her. He was relieved when she did not pursue his story further.
“I shall have someone send for your family,” she said. “I would go myself but I’m not sure I should leave you for any great length of time. What is the address of your home?”
“No,” David said immediately. “My family cannot come here, cannot see me like this.”
“You need help,” she insisted, but he shook his head, so vigorously that he winced.
“If my father became aware of my current state, he would lose the tiniest bit of respect that he still holds for me. My mother would be similarly disappointed.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“My brother, but I’d prefer he not be aware of this.”
“All right,” she said slowly. “What about the Duke? Or perhaps Lord Berkley?”
He could summon them, and he had no doubt that they would come to his aid. But when he thought of the lives they were currently living, the contentment they had found and their continued suggestion that he settle down himself, he had no desire to prove them right.
“I’d prefer not to bring them into this.”
