Noble Scoundrel - Amy Sandas Page 0,27
though hearing her thoughts aloud. “Just until we figure out what to do.”
“Frederick, you know that’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
She opened her mouth as she struggled for a proper argument in the face of her brother’s calm certainty. “For one thing, the décor is horrendous.”
As she’d hoped, the comment tugged a small smile from her brother’s lips as he cast an assessing glance about the room. “I thought you liked the color pink,” he said thoughtfully.
“For an occasional gown or in a bouquet of flowers. Not coating every surface of my surroundings.” She made a face of painful disgust. “Why on earth would Mr. Hale choose to live within such atrocity?”
Frederick shrugged. “It was all he could get on short notice after saving Claire and me. I don’t think he intends to stay here long. But you do make an excellent point. This place really is dreadful. Instead of staying here, it would probably be best if Mr. Hale came to stay with us.”
Katherine’s stomach flipped at the thought. “Frederick, why on earth would you suggest such a thing?”
“Because it’s the perfect solution.”
“Frederick...”
“Think about it, Kit. He is a trained fighter. Undefeated during his time in the ring and I’d suspect out of it, as well. We could hire him as a bodyguard.”
She sighed. It appeared her brother had developed a near-worshipful view of Hale. Following the loss of their parents and the trauma of his most recent experiences, Katherine could appreciate how he might be drawn to someone so strong and capable and fearless, but that didn’t mean they could invite the man into their household.
“I’m sure Mr. Hale is a very skilled fighter, but that doesn’t make him a suitable bodyguard.”
“He rescued me from the warehouse and kept me safe since.”
“It wouldn’t be proper.”
“No less proper than having our butler and footman residing with us.”
Placing Hale in the same category as a trained servant—someone skilled in appearing innocuous and unobtrusive—was seriously laughable.
“Just think on it, Kit. It really does make sense.”
Rising to his feet, Frederick gave her a steady gaze. Anyone else would have looked at him in that moment and seen a confident, sturdy young man, but Katherine knew him too well. His expression was neutral but tension hovered in the set of his shoulders and the way he clasped his hands behind his back. His eyes flickered with emotions he tried to conceal—fear, uncertainty, frustration. With a glance toward the door, he noted, “Claire’s nurse took her to the kitchen for some fresh-baked pastries. I just wanted to check on you before joining her. I’m sure I’ll still be there when you’re ready to leave.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left.
Katherine sighed. Her brother clearly hoped she would consider his wild suggestion. But he should know better. There was nothing to consider. Despite his obvious devotion to his daughter and his desire to repay the debt he felt he owed to Frederick, his involvement in illegal fights made Mason Hale no better than a criminal himself. Not at all the type of person she could entertain the thought of hiring to protect her brother—a duke, for goodness sake—while living in their home.
It was ludicrous, really.
Katherine carefully brought her feet to the floor and tried to stand. The throbbing in her ankle nearly had her sitting down again, but the leather of her boot provided some stability. Her shoulder ached as well, but the pain wasn’t nearly what it had been before Hale repositioned her shoulder.
Tentative steps brought her to a heavily filigreed mirror hung above a washstand. Her eyes widened at the sight that greeted her in the glass.
She hadn’t realized just how wretchedly tangled her hair had become during their flight. Without thinking, she tried to lift her hands to tame it and felt an instant rejection in her shoulder.
On a ragged exhale, she lowered her injured arm back into the sling.
Using only one hand, she tried to twist her waist-length hair into submission. It was a near hopeless attempt, but it gave her a distraction from the unwanted thoughts that kept crowding her mind.
No matter how much she tried to sort through the information they had about the attacks on Frederick, she only came up with two reasons to kidnap a duke...for ransom or to claim his inheritance.
Which put the Marquess of Warfield as primary suspect—despite the fact he wasn’t even in England—in the latter instance and an unlimited number of potential suspects in the former. She hadn’t thought many people were even