outside moaned like a beast inside the stone chimney and the draft lifted the clinging cobwebs around the hearth.
When at last Lord Alcester spoke, his voice was low and subdued. “He’s dead.”
Adele swallowed hard as Alcester pinched the bridge of his nose. All the color left his face and he looked as if a severe headache had just taken root inside his skull.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
As soon as he met her gaze, his color returned. “Yes.”
He stood up and she found herself trying to read his thoughts but couldn’t.
“I’ll need to wrap your wound.” He was gone before she had a chance to utter a single word.
A moment later he returned with a cloth in a bowl of water and a bottle of whiskey. He shrugged out of his long black coat.
“This house was abandoned long ago. There’s nothing downstairs to use for bandages. My shirt will have to suffice.”
Adele sat forward to protest—partly because she couldn’t fathom the idea of this man walking around shirtless—but the movement caused a stabbing sensation in her leg.
“Sit still,” he said. “You’ll worsen the bleeding.” His voice seemed strained and impatient. Was he annoyed with her?
“I’m sorry,” she replied apprehensively. “I wanted to tell you that we could use my petticoat for bandages. It has a bullet hole in it anyway.”
He considered that for a moment and nodded.
Adele swallowed. “If you would be so kind as to avert your eyes while I remove it?”
“Do you need assistance?”
Assistance! Her pulse drummed at the suggestion. Based on his reputation, he was probably a master at removing women’s underclothes.
Adele was astonished by the sudden depraved direction of her thoughts. It was exhaustion, surely. She’d hardly slept in three days. Think clearly, Adele. He is merely offering to help in order to spare you pain.
“I can manage, thank you,” she replied.
He left the room but remained just outside the door while she struggled to reach up under her skirts and free the ribbons at her waist. With more than a little discomfort, she slid the garment down over her hips.
“You can come in now.” She held the petticoat out to him.
He took it and began to tear it into strips. “If you’re in pain, you’re welcome to take a few swigs of that whiskey.”
She eyed it uneasily. “No, thank you.” She wanted to keep her wits about her in the coming hours, for she didn’t know what those hours might bring.
While Lord Alcester stood tall above her, ripping and tearing at the petticoat, he glanced around the bare room with assessing eyes. “You spent three days in here?”
“Yes.”
He met her gaze. “After I clean and bandage your wound, we’ll move you downstairs where you’ll be more comfortable.”
“I’m perfectly fine here,” she replied.
The sound of fabric ripping filled a long, drawn-out silence between them. Adele felt a great need to add conversation to that silence, for she needed to distract herself from her anxiety.
“I don’t even know what it looks like downstairs,” she said. “I was unconscious when I arrived, and sick when I woke up.”
Lord Alcester stopped ripping. “Sick and unconscious?”
“Yes. I was drugged on the ship. He kept me drugged until I woke up here.”
“Were you hurt in any way?”
She understood his meaning. He was wondering if she had been violated. She was wondering that herself, with more than a little concern. She knew nothing about such things regarding the female body.
“I’m not certain,” she replied. “I didn’t feel....” How could she put it? “I felt no pain anywhere. Except for a headache. But I suppose a lady couldn’t be sure about a certain kind of pain. Or could she?”
What kind of question was that?
Alcester’s expression revealed no hint of awkwardness. He knelt beside her, dipped the cloth into the bowl of water and gently squeezed it out. His eyes lifted to meet hers and he responded with composure.
“It depends,” he said softly. “Pardon my candor, Miss Wilson, but did you notice any bleeding when you woke up?”
“No, but couldn’t he have...?” Lord, this was awkward. “He disposed of my nightgown. Couldn’t he have…tidied up afterwards?”
She’d never had a conversation quite like this before.
“I suppose, if he were an exceedingly neat person.” Lord Alcester smiled gently at her, and Adele knew he was trying to minimize her concerns.
Continuing to rinse the cloth in the bowl, he said, “My suspicion is that you are probably fine. I believe you would know if something was wrong. But if you wish to be certain, a physician can