Page 66 of The Hired Hero
“Good lord, Julian.” Lucien was staring at his arm.
The earl looked down at his bloodsoaked sleeve and drew in his breath. “Would you mind telling your cousin that next time she takes it into her head to save the Empire, she may want to hire a regiment to keep up with her—it’s beyond the power of one mere mortal.”
Their startled expressions dissolved in a haze as he passed out cold.
* * *
The painin his arm had subsided to a mere throbbing. As Davenport finished buttoning his shirt, he felt gingerly at his ribs. They, too, were less tender. Just a day’s rest had him well on the mend, and a bath and shave had made him feel nearly human again. Clean clothes helped as well, he thought, as he knotted the borrowed cravat. It was fortunate that Lucien was nearly his height. At least he could appear in public without disgracing himself, a feat impossible to accomplish in his own tattered rags.
He stared in the mirror. So, everything had worked out in the end—the traitor had been caught, the documents were safe and he and Caroline had both come through it all more or less unscathed. Why, the maid who had delivered an early-morning tray of tea had informed him that Lady Caroline was already up and about, despite the pleadings of the doctor and her family.
So why did he feel so glum?
A soft knock came at the door. It opened before he could voice a response, and a slim figure stole in with barely a rustle.
It took him a moment to recognize her. Gone were the breeches and loose shirt, replaced by an elegant gown of figured hunter-green silk. Even so, the willowy curves were unmistakable, and the cut of the bodice, though hardly revealing, showed a good deal more of her flesh than he was used to seeing. The bruises had disappeared from her face, leaving her complexion unmarred for the first time since he had known her. And the color had returned to her cheeks, only heightening the depth of her eyes, which were now fixing him with an all-too-familiar intensity.
He turned away to adjust his collar. “You must leave off visiting a man’s chamber,” he said in a gruff tone. “Surely, you must know that sort of behavior can no longer be tolerated. The consequences would be…” His voice trailed off.
“Lucien told me you are leaving this morning.”
“That’s correct.”
“Were you not going to say goodbye?”
He shrugged.
The mirror reflected a glimpse of her brows drawing together. There was a pause, then she went on doggedly. “I never had a chance to…thank you.”
He brushed out the wrinkles on his sleeve. “Consider it done. Now, you had better leave before anyone…”
Caroline approached and put a hand on his arm. “Why are you acting as if we are complete strangers? I owe you my very life, and…”
“I am being well paid for it,” he said curtly. “That is, I assume you will honor your word. After all, it is evident you can well afford it.”
The shock of his harsh words was immediately evident on her face. But she quickly schooled her features to reveal nothing further. “Your appearance and dress may have improved,” she said coldly, “but your manners most certainly have not—you are still the most irritable, odious man I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.”
She dug into the pocket of her gown and withdrew a sheaf of banknotes. “Pray, count them to make sure you have not been shortchanged! I believe I have taken into account your horse. And I have added something extra for blood having been drawn—that was not in our original agreement.”
She flung the wad at his chest and stormed from the room. The exit was not quite as noiseless as the entrance, for the door shut with a slam.
Davenport winced at both the sound and his own behavior. He stared at the notes scattered over the expensive Aubusson carpet.
Damn the lady for having such an effect on him. Damn her for making him feel hot and cold, for sending his world spinning off kilter, for forcing him to confront emotions he wanted desperately to leave unvisited.
He booted away the fortune at his feet, then he stalked from the room as well.
* * *
“I wonderwhy Julian bolted so quickly this morning,” remarked Lucien as he helped himself to another slice of sirloin and refilled his cup from the steaming pot of tea the footman had just deposited near his elbow. “It looked like he could have used a decent meal, regardless of his hurry.” He speared a kipper. “I know for certain that the Davenport townhouse is closed up tight. Any idea if he is staying in Town for long?”
Caroline didn’t look up from slowly turning a piece of toast into crumbs. “I have no idea what Ju—Lord Davenport’s plans are. I can’t imagine why you should think he would inform me of his intentions, whatever they may be.”
Her cousin’s eyebrow shot up. “Well, the two of you did weather some rather tight spots.”
She didn’t answer but raised her cup to her lips, studiously avoiding his gaze.
“When am I going to hear the full account? I’ve gotten only bits and pieces of the story from Uncle Thomas.”
