Page 87 of Heartbreaker

She shook her head. “For . . .”For being here.“For being a friend.”

Lucia’s dark eyes saw more than Adelaide wished, but she did not ask the myriad questions that flashed in her pretty face. Didn’t wonder at the way Adelaide gripped the duke’s hand. Instead, she said, “He was so furious that you took a blade to the neck; it would not surprise me if he woke up strictly to ensure you were mended.”

Adelaide gave a little laugh, swallowing around the thick knot in her throat.

Lucia bustled about for a moment before sliding a look to Adelaide and saying, “And the girl? What of her?”

Lady Helene, whom Adelaide should be tracking even now. Who needed the Belles’ protection more than ever, if her horrid father had hired The Bully Boys to bring her home. “She’s close enough to the border—with Danny headed back to London, I expect she and Jack will get there tomorrow. And marry.” She looked to Henry, unconscious. “For love.”

Jack, whom Henry loved beyond measure. Jack, whom Adelaide must keep safe if Henry could not.

“Happy news in the midst of an absolute mess.” Lucia paused. “But they have to be told they cannot return to London, or they go to the wolves a matched set.”

A new son-in-law would not stop Havistock from silencing Helene. Instead, he was another concern for the marquess, already on the list of heads he was hoping someone would claim for him, if Danny was to be believed. Lucia was right. Adelaide should leave Henry there. Should stick to the plan. Get to Helene and Jack and use the Belles’ vast network to tunnel the newlyweds to safety.

Staying was madness. It would change nothing. She had done all she could, and now they had nothing to do but wait. Rosemary oil could not help Henry now. Staring into his face, blooming with bruises and a newly broken nose, she told herself to leave.

“I need help.”

Lucia’s brows rose. “Adelaide Frampton, asking for help? Youmustlove the man.”

Love.Was that what this was? This panicked need to see him safe, along with the people he cared for? This unmooring at the idea that he might not wake? At the idea that she might not speak to him again?

Surely not. This was awful.

Pushing the thoughts aside, she looked to her friend. “I need messages sent to Helene and Jack. And to Duchess.”

She didn’t have to look to know that Lucia’s brows rose in surprise, but she was grateful when the other woman said, quietly, “Done.”

Adelaide nodded, riveted to his stillness before she whispered, “What do I do now?”

“You let Tobias carry him to bed.”

“And?”

A shrug. “Pray?”

Adelaide huffed a single, wild laugh. “I tried that on the drive here. I am not very good at it.”

“Luckily, it is a skill that does not require finesse.”

The highwaywoman turned away to fetch the man who stood sentry outside the door—protecting the woman he loved inside—and Adelaide stood watch over Henry, riveted to his chest and the way it rose and fell, evenly, if a touch too quickly.

Focusing on his bruised and battered body and the now too pale look of him.

Hating the way watching him restricted the breath in her chest, as worry and frustration and nerves coursed through her.

She’d spent a lifetime running from this feeling. From the way it made her weak. Vulnerable. Out of control.

But there, alone in that kitchen, surrounded by the silence of the English countryside and the flickering light of a few dozen candles and him, filling the space even in slumber, she could no longer run.

She was out of control.

Doing the only thing she could think to do.

Sayingplease.

Chapter Fourteen

---