Page 66 of A Treacherous Trade
Once I settled into the hackney, I waved to the women, expressing my gratitude once again for their help.
“What address should I give the driver?” Indira asked.
I didn’t know why I recited the one I did…
Maybe because of something the giant in the alley had said before he struck me.
And here I was told you were clever.
Someone hadsentthis man to hurt me.
Which meant I was getting close to the truth.
ChapterFifteen
Iwas just stepping out of the tub when Grayson Croft arrived home.
Amelia had taken one look at me, filthy and trembling on her doorstep at half-four in the morning, and pulled me inside. She forbade me to speak until she’d poured tea, heated a bath, stripped me down, and settled me in. She’d washed my hair as I scrubbed the filth from my face and body, the water soaking the pervasive cold from my bones.
This was why I hadn’t gone home.
Because death often waits until dark, a lamp was left for me, a fire in my bedroom grate, and supper in the larder.
But my house would have been cold and quiet.
Or worse, I’d have had to immediately concoct a story to calm Aunt Nola, who might have woken little Teagan with her hysterics. Mary would have drawn me a bath, but between her daughter and my aunt, some of the chaos would have fallen to me to contain.
I loved every soul that lived in my house, but I couldn’t face them all. Not tonight.
Amelia had explained that Croft was called away to another scene where two men had conducted an illegal duel whilst drunk. One of them had not survived.
Declaring my gown beyond hope, she’d hurried out to find something for me to wear. Not a minute had gone by before I heard the front door open and close and Croft’s worried call up the stairs.
“Amelia? What’s going on? Every light in the house is blazing.”
“Don’t come up,” Amelia sang back down to him, her Northern accent thickening around her brother’s.
“You have someone up there?” he asked.
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen. It’s not what you think!”
“Better not bloody be.” I could just picture how he said this, out of the side of his grim mouth as he marched into the kitchen.
Amelia appeared in the doorway as I clutched the towel to my body. “Put these on and join us when you can, dear. I’ll make sure my beast of a brother behaves.”
I slipped on the high-necked nightdress, the wrapper, and the large knitted shawl Amelia had thoughtfully provided. No doubt she’d guessed that the gown would be a bit tight, as I hadn’t her petite frame. She provided me the shawl to protect my modesty as she’d not brought me my underthings or corset back.
The gown dragged a bit on the floor, as I hadn’t her statuesque height, either. After I violently worked the knots from my hair, I left it to dry down my back in frizzing waves and returned the brush to the dressing table.
All this time, I’d avoided looking in the mirror, but curiosity overcame my reluctance.
My bottom lip felt like it had distended to the heft of a tin of lard. The cut throbbed and stung, and I had to be careful not to make certain expressions or it’d begin to bleed again.
Unable to see much detail without my spectacles, I leaned in close to the dressing table mirror to examine my face.
It felt worse than it looked, really. Though the skin was still pink, and I was flushed from the heat of the bath, I could tell where the bruise would be tomorrow. My cheek was swollen as well, and I’d barely paid it mind. It hurt a great deal less than where my teeth had dug into the inside of my lip.
I appeared much younger than my nigh thirty years like this—my eyes dulled by a patina of exhaustion, but rounded with the shock of the day. My hair drying wildly. My lips pale from strain except for where the skin had broken.
