Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,14
your cab. Why didn’t you stop him? You’re unlikely to find another near here.”
“I’ll walk, once I’ve seen you safely inside.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“The windows are pitch-black. Allow me to go inside and light a lamp for you, ensure all is well.”
With a sigh, no doubt too tired to argue with him, she walked to the door, removed a key from a hidden pocket at her waist, and inserted it into the lock. He heard the scrape, a little clank, before she shoved open the door.
Following her inside, with the dim light from the streetlamps easing in through the windows, he could make out the shape of a lamp on the table. Removing the match safe from his waistcoat pocket, he struck a match, lifted the glass covering, and lit the wick of the oil lamp. The light revealed the only furniture to be the square oaken table and two straight-backed wooden chairs. “It doesn’t appear your brother is here.”
“He could be asleep in his chamber. Thank you for escorting me home.”
“I’ll wait until you’ve checked.”
With a sigh, she picked up the lamp. “You’re quite irritating.”
She wandered toward the hallway. He followed. It was short, hardly a hallway at all. She knocked on the door at one end. “Griffith?”
After another knock, she opened the door and lifted the lamp higher to reveal blankets and clothing strewn over the floor. No furniture at all. How did someone like her come to this?
Turning, she came up short at the sight of him standing there, the slight jerking of her head causing her to grimace with obvious discomfort. “He’s not here. He’s probably out searching for me. Unaware I’ve returned home, he could be gone for ages.” She paled. “Unless something horrible has happened to him, and that’s the reason he didn’t come for me tonight.”
In Whitechapel, something horrible happening was always a possibility, but her brother carried himself with the confidence of someone fully capable of taking care of himself. It was the reason he hadn’t continued to follow her when the man had shown the night before. “I know you’ve taken a dislike to me, but if you’ll let me tend to your wound, I’ll go out and find him.”
Her delicate brow pleated. “How will you manage that?”
“If he’s searching for you, he’ll be on the path between here and the tavern. I daresay he won’t stray far from it, even if he decides to explore alleyways and mews. If another reason is preventing him from being here, I can enlist the help of others to locate him.”
“Then go find him.”
“After I’ve tended to you.”
“It’s not that bad. My head barely hurts.”
“Against my better judgment I allowed you to leave without seeing the surgeon. I’m not going to dismiss my concerns when it comes to tending to your wound.”
“Very well, but be quick about it.” She marched into the kitchen with a little more vigor to her step, which relieved some of his worry.
When she started to pump water into a bowl, he took over. “Have you some scraps of linen about?”
While she went to fetch them, he finished with the task, set the bowl of icy water on the hearth, and crouched. Her footsteps signaled her return.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Preparing a fire.”
“It’s not that cold.”
He twisted around on the balls of his feet and looked up at her, could see the small stack of folded linens she’d placed on the table. “Ice has formed outside.”
She wrung her hands. “We save the coal for when it’s truly needed.”
“You might not be cold, but I am. In the morning I’ll send over coal to replace what I use. Besides, I need to heat this water up a bit.” He wasn’t cold, but he wanted her warm and comfortable when he left. He took satisfaction from her moving a chair nearer to the hearth in anticipation of the warmth he was going to provide. Normally, he wanted no appreciation from those he assisted, didn’t know why he wanted a grain of it from her. Perhaps because he saw it as a signal that she was coming down from Mount Olympus. He went to work.
“When we moved here, my brother didn’t even know how to lay a fire,” she said quietly. “We always had servants to do it.”
Naturally, she’d had servants. “Laid my first fire when I was eight. It was my chore every fourth morning.”
“You rotated it with your brothers.”
He wasn’t surprised she’d deduced that, or that she knew he had three