head slightly. “I’m sorry, did you say Mr. Stillman is here?”
“Yes, he is here. In my house.” Her tone was pleading and scared. She shook her head at the folly of it all and pointed to the ceiling. “On the third level, the east bedchamber.”
“Right,” Mr. Gordon said in a slow exhale of sound and breath. As always, he was perfectly calm. “And why, may I ask, is he here?”
Sabrina explained what had happened yesterday morning, relieved to be able to confide in someone. “I could not leave him there. He had nowhere to go.”
“Except, perhaps, back to Mr. Ward’s house.”
“Malcolm must have followed him from there, which meant he knew where Mr. Stillman had been staying, just as Mr. Stillman had feared.”
“Yes, that concerns me too, but for a different reason than it seems to have concerned you. The beating Mr. Stillman received rendered him incapable of escaping London, which was surely the point. Malcolm has no reason to debilitate him further, so allowing Mr. Stillman to return to where he’d come from poses no additional risk.”
Sabrina blinked. “I had not thought of that.” Why had I not thought of that? “But he also needed care. I had no way of knowing he would receive it if his friend were to take responsibility.”
“I suppose not.” Mr. Gordon’s tone was conciliatory rather than agreeable to the justification. What he did not say was that Sabrina had taken on unnecessary risk to herself by bringing him here. Which was true. There were doctors in London whom Mr. Ward could have brought in. Her taking on so much responsibility further complicated an already complicated situation. For a woman of sharp mind and wise instincts, she’d acted rashly.
“Regardless, he is here now,” Mr. Gordon said. “How is he doing?”
“He’s been mostly sedated since his arrival. Therese felt the least movement possible would best allow the bones to knit. She will be lessening his dosage of laudanum over the next few days so he can properly withdraw from his addiction to drink, which we already saw signs of yesterday when he first arrived.”
Mr. Stillman had been shaking and sick, begging for a drink, and seeing things that were not there. Therese suspected he’d been drunk for months on end. The laudanum would address his pain and help him taper from his dependency on drink, but he needed to find sobriety as soon as possible so his body could focus on healing.
“And he does not suspect you are Lord Damion?”
“I have not spoken to him since discovering him in the alley, but there is no reason he would suspect me. Therese, my housekeeper, is a bit of a physician and has been caring for him. No one here knows anything of Lord Damion.” She glanced at the closed door. They did not know of Lord Damion because none of that work ever took place or was spoken about here. She’d broken that protection.
“What does your staff believe warranted this act of . . . charity?”
“I told them I came upon him in a London alley when I was in search of a particular cobbler shop in the area where I had an early-morning appointment.”
“At eight o’clock on a Monday morning?”
She dropped her hands to her sides and sat heavily in a chair, her shoulders falling forward. “I know,” she said. “The story felt inconsequential in comparison to a man who may have died without my help.”
“Or been found within the hour by a shopkeeper who would have orchestrated a more natural solution. He’d have been taken to hospital, his friend contacted, and you would not be involved to this degree—or at all.”
“I did not think of that at the time.” She felt like a complete fool to have not seen all the flaws that were so obvious to Mr. Gordon. “And I cannot undo it for at least four weeks, according to Therese. Yet I set sail for Naples in five weeks, and I have no idea who might take him in after that.”
Mr. Gordon waved away her concerns. “His uncle’s response to our inquiry about the inheritance showed compassion for the boy. I’m sure he will take responsibility once Mr. Stillman is capable of travel. I will encourage that route when Mr. Stillman is once again communicating with me.”
Mr. Gordon sat in the chair next to Sabrina before removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He didn’t repeat his opinion that they should not have taken Mr. Stillman’s