AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT warmed the room when next Jack woke. As he stirred, hunger roiling in his innards, he suddenly realized he was not alone.
His pulse leapt, then slowed as he recognized his attendant—not Lady Belle, but the woman who had shared Belle’s theater box. Though it was still daylight, she wore face paint and a gown cut so low that her jutting breasts looked likely at any moment to tumble free.
“Afternoon, Captain. I be Mae, Belle’s companion—and relieved I am to see you looking so much better! You must be fair starving, you having eaten next to nothing for nigh on five days. I’ve brought soup.” With that, the lady lifted the cover from a tray on the bedside table.
“Thank you, Mrs….” he said, easing himself upright.
“Mae be good enough, Captain. Now eat up,” she admonished, putting a spoon to his lips. “Belle said you was to swallow every last bit.”
“Lady Belle is resting?” he asked between spoonfuls.
“No, she be working on her account books. ’Tis an amazement to me, being as I could never add two figures together, but she’s fearsome clever. I should have helped her care for you much sooner, for which I do apologize, but such a sight you was at first, blood all over and looking like a corpse! I nearly swooned dead away. Even tidied up, you looked as if you was about to stick your spoon in the wall at any moment. Belle hardly left your side that first night, bless her, what with her feeling so guilty, though why she should blame herself I don’t know, for it stands to reason in a fencing match there’d be blades a’crossing. It worries me fierce, her taking them lessons—and why should she, when so many gents would fight the devil himself for her if only she asked ’em. Though she won’t look at none of ’em, more’s the pity. But here I am rattling on, which Belle told me most particular not to.”
Obligingly eating his soup during this monologue, Jack felt his spirits rise. The woman Mae might be as vulgar as she could stare, but in a few short minutes she’d already offered more information about Belle than he’d been able to discover from the lady herself in several meetings. With a little encouragement, Jack hoped, her “companion” might be induced to relate the history of everyone in the house.
“Nay, madam, I enjoy conversation.”
“None for you,” Mae said, presenting him another spoonful. “The doctor says you mustn’t strain yourself talking. Just swallow down this good broth Cook made you and keep that wound healing.”
Either he was more famished than he’d thought, or the soup was particularly delicious. Realizing his chances of questioning Mae were slim while the woman, with an amusingly serious expression, continued to shovel in broth, he settled for finishing every drop.
“Excellent,” he pronounced, liberated at last by the empty bowl. “I am much obliged, Mae, for your kindness.”
“’Twas a pleasure to serve a fine young gent like you, Captain.” Picking up the tray, the lady rose.
“Stay, please?” Jack begged. “I shall remain silent. I find your company charming, and a fellow can’t help but recover faster, attended by such beauty.”
A natural blush darkened her rouged cheeks. “Ain’t you the gallant one? If Belle wasn’t my dearest friend and me too old besides, I might have a mind to offer you more than soup! But Belle says you was to rest now, being as how your friends and the doctor be expected later. I’d be happy to come back later while Belle tends her business.”
He wanted to ask what business that was. But simply sitting upright and sipping soup had sapped his tiny store of strength. His chest aching again, he hadn’t the energy to force the words through his lips. For now he would have to be content at having discovered that the loquacious Mae might prove a font of useful information—once he had the stamina to chat with her.
“Th-thank you—” he struggled.
“Nay, don’t speak,” Mae said. “Just rest some now.” Her smile as open and friendly as a child’s, she tucked the coverlet under his chin.
With a sigh, Jack subsided into the pillows. Mae might be a stranger to gentility and his mother truly would have palpitations if she knew he was encouraging this aging harlot to visit. But aside from the behavior he’d witnessed in the opera box, Jack did find her charming.
Her sunny disposition glowed in her clear blue eyes and artless chatter, despite the garish dress and nearly bare bosom. His soldier’s knack for quickly evaluating character told him that whatever she said would be the truth as she knew it. The only artifice about her was the paint on her face.
Apparently the discreet Lady Belle had warned her voluble companion as well as her servants not to converse with him—for more than just a desire to spare his recovering lungs, he suspected. But if plumbing Mae’s knowledge would bring him closer to the lady who was fast coming to fascinate him, he thought as he drifted to sleep, he was quite willing to encourage this much older woman who’d virtually propositioned him in his sickbed.
A short time later he roused from his nap to see Watson escorting in the doctor.
“You’re much more alert than when last I checked you,” the military physician said approvingly as Watson helped him remove the bandages around Jack’s shoulder.
“I’ve not yet thanked you sufficiently,” Jack said, trying to gird himself for the discomfort sure to follow.
“Thank your strong constitution as much as my efforts, and the care your friends gave you,” the doctor replied as he examined Jack’s wound. “Still red and swollen, which is to be expected,” he pronounced, “but no signs of putre-faction. By the looks of that shoulder, you’ve had need of a strong constitution in the past. Saber?”
Though the doctor’s ministrations weren’t as agonizing as during his previous visits, sweat had broken out on Jack’s brow and he had to use all his meager strength to keep from crying out. “Yes. At Corunna,” he managed through gritted teeth.
“’Twas a fearsome time, I hear,” Dr. Thompson replied as he applied a clean pad over the wound and began re-wrapping the bandages. “I was in the Americas with 29th Foot myself. Didn’t return until just before Waterloo.” He laughed and shook his head. “How quixotic is life, eh? A man survives a saber blow at Corunna and the killing fields of Waterloo, only to nearly cock up his toes at a London fencing match! Well, let’s have a listen.”
After putting his ear to Jack’s chest for a few minutes, the physician said, “Still a hint of a whistle, but less than before. Thank you, Watson,” he said, turning to the butler. “I can find my own way out.”
Watson hesitated before bowing. “If you say so, sir.”
The doctor waited until Watson had closed the door. “Captain, I now know that this is…not your house. You are doubtless wishing to return home as soon as possible. If you have lodgings here in the city and someone to tend you, I believe you could remove there now, at an easy pace. If not, I suggest that you beg your…hostess to allow you to remain here a few more days. You can expect the weakness to continue, and both your wound and your lungs still bear watching. In any event, I’ll check you again tomorrow.”
“I’m greatly in your debt, Doctor. Let me give you my banker’s direction so that you may forward your bill.”
With a slight smile, Dr. Thompson shook his head. “The, ah, lady has already settled it. Stunning, isn’t she? At first I thought she was your wife, but…” The doctor bent an inquiring look on him.
Clearly the man was hoping for an explanation. Nonsensical as it was, for no man breathing could look at Lady Belle without desiring her, Jack felt an immediate rush of possessive jealousy. He could not, in truth, state there was an understanding between them, but if the doctor were trying to size up the nature of their relationship so he might make an overture to Lady Belle himself, neither did Jack wish to deny a connection. He settled for meeting the doctor’s eyes with a cold, unblinking stare.
Coloring, the doctor cleared his throat. “A lovely lady. One would never suspect she was…well, you know.”
More illogically still, Jack found himself resenting the doctor’s implication—though he couldn’t argue with the truth of it. “Lady Belle has been a gracious, kind and devoted hostess,” he replied stiffly.
“Yes, indeed,” the doctor replied, his flush deepening. “I didn’t meant to insinuate—”
“Then don’t,” Jack snapped.
“May I come in?” Aubrey peeped in at the doorway. “Watson said the doctor was finished.”
“I’m just leaving,” Dr. Thompson replied. “I shall see you—where tomorrow, Captain?”
“Here, for the present. Good day, Doctor.”
With a bow, tinges of redness still in his cheeks, the doctor left the room. His eyes following the physician’s speedy exit, Aubrey said, “Sawbones put you through torture again? You were rather short with him. Give you agonies or no, you ought to be grateful. Probably wouldn’t still be among us, had we not secured his timely assistance.”
Guilt nibbling at him, Jack managed a rueful smile. “You’re right, and I shall apologize later.” Not wishing to detail what he needed to apologize for, Jack continued, “But where is Edmund?”
Aubrey shook his head. “Another interminable meeting, his note said. He’ll be by later—and will be delighted to see how much better you look. Gave us quite a scare, you did!”
“I am better,” Jack said, noting that the pressure in his chest had eased and speaking was no longer as taxing.
“Must be Lady Belle’s tender touch. I hear she’s hardly left your side since you arrived.”
“So I understand. I’ve been mostly unconscious until this morning. I do know I owe her a great debt.”
“Aside from the fact that she wounded you—though I still don’t understand how, superb fencer that you are, you could have given her such an opening! But no matter. I don’t envy you the ordeal you’ve suffered, but now, what an opportunity is yours! Here in Belle’s own home, the focus of her solicitous attention. You’re a fool if you don’t use this chance to fix her interest.”
Jack was surprised into a laugh, which immediately changed to a groan as pain knifed through him. “I’m not a very commanding figure at present,” he replied when he could catch his breath.
“Find an excuse to linger. She’s already admitted feeling guilty over wounding you. Play on that until you’re recovered enough to charm her with your manliness.”
“Play on the lady’s guilt over what was my own damn fault in order to somehow winkle my way into her affections? Such artifice and trickery appalls!”
“Oh, Jack, don’t be so particular,” Aubrey advised. “What’s wrong with a little artifice, with a prize as luscious as Belle for the winning?”
“When,” Jack demanded, eyeing Aubrey narrowly, “did you become such a rogue?”
“Call me what you will, but I say you’re attics-to-let if you allow yourself to be hurried into exchanging Lady Belle’s sweet hands soothing your fevered brow for those of your mama or sister—meaning no disrespect to either lady.”
Jack’s lips twitched at the thought of having the ministrations of his mother, an earl’s daughter of impeccable reputation, or his virginal sister, declared wanting when compared to those of a practiced courtesan.
But perhaps Aubrey did have a point.
“The doctor informs me I’ve not yet healed sufficiently to be able to jolt halfway across England. If neither you nor Edmund wishes to take over nursing me, I must perforce remain where I am.”
Aubrey grinned. “That’s the spirit! I knew you couldn’t let this chance pass you by!”
Jack shook his head. “I believe you’re the one who’s attics-to-let. You know I can’t afford Belle, even if I should recover enough to ‘charm her with my manliness.’”
Aubrey gave an impatient wave. “If money were all she cared about, she would have snapped up Rupert’s offer long ago. Given the consideration with which she treats that idealistic cub, Ansley, I’m convinced she’s attracted to men of a nobler sort. And here you are, positioned conveniently right in her own house. I’ll wager ’tis but a short leap from this bed to hers.”
“And I’m in such prime condition for leaping,” Jack retorted. But despite his protests to the contrary, the scheme Aubrey proposed was insidiously tempting.
Maybe Jack could afford her. Or maybe she would respond to the admiration and attention of a gentleman who treated her with the respect due a lady. Given the strength of the wordless connection that arced between them, maybe she could be enticed to yield to him….
But enough heated imagining. ’Twas pointless to speculate over capturing Lady Belle’s fancy with Dorrie’s Season about to begin. He should be turning his thoughts to the wooing of a well-bred virgin, not contemplating a scandalous long-term liaison with a concubine—no matter how much she fascinated him.
And long-term it would be, for if Aubrey’s far-fetched scenario were to become a reality, he knew instinctively that a few weeks or months would not be enough for him to penetrate the mystery of—or slake his desire for—the beautiful Lady Belle.
Jack looked up to find Aubrey grinning at him. “I see you’re thinking on it. Reflect well, my friend. I won’t stay longer and tire you, but I’ll be back tomorrow. Perhaps then your comely hostess will grace us—”
Aubrey’s eyes widened and his lips paused in mid-phrase. But even before his friend’s reaction, before the slight stir of air from the silently opened door wafted to him the faint scent of lavender, an instinctive awareness had already informed Jack of Lady Belle’s arrival.
BELLE PAUSED on the threshold, her smile fading as her eyes took in and then skittered away from the expression on Ludlowe’s face. Despite the passage of years that should have inured her to it, she still recoiled inwardly at a man’s avid appraisal with as much ferocity as she had the first time Bellingham had paraded her in public.
Some, like Ansley, dazzled by the beauty nature had bestowed on her, believed her the repository of all virtue, a veritable angel come to earth—in spite of obvious evidence to the contrary. Some, like the captain’s friend watching her, mixed a healthy dose of lust with the awe.
And then there were the worst, the Lord Ruperts. Privileged by birth or wealth, accustomed to having the world rearrange itself to suit them, they felt entitled to take whatever they wanted, regardless of the wishes or feelings of those they considered lesser beings.
Would that it had been the baron at the point of her sword! She’d not have regretted thrusting home the blade.
Suppressing a sigh, she forced herself to pick up the thread of the conversation, which currently consisted of some stilted compliments by Ludlowe on her hospitality.
“Kind of you, Mr. Ludlowe,” she interrupted, “but I did only what any person of sensibility would have done. I’m just happy to learn from Dr. Thompson that he considers Captain Carrington well on his way to recovery.”
“How could he not be, with such an angel of mercy attending him?” Ludlowe said, his eyes still fixed on her with uncomfortable fervency.
“I came to congratulate you on the doctor’s encouraging opinion, Captain, but I don’t wish to intrude.” Belle turned, ready to make good her escape.
A rapid patter of footsteps distracted her from Ludlowe’s gallant reply. A moment later, Jem burst into the room.
Panting, a panicked look on his face and his hair even wilder than usual, he cried, “Miss Belle, you gotta come now. Someone done tried to carry off Jane!”