The Socialite - J'nell Ciesielski Page 0,109

faded sign. Why couldn’t they have a full moon tonight? “Troyes twenty kilometers and Chablis six. Which way are we to go?”

Barrett braced a hand against the post holding the sign, his head down. “What was Chablis?” Ellie stood beside him, arms wrapped around herself, silent.

“Six.”

“Chablis, Chablis. That sounds familiar. Like a friend’s name I knew once, or something.”

Kat dropped her gaze to him. “Maybe you read it on a map once? Perhaps it coordinates with a rendezvous point for us?”

His head rocked back and forth. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Kat frowned. He wasn’t usually so uncertain. “If it sounds familiar, then it’s possibly the way we’re supposed to go.”

“Or not.” Rolling his head up, he blinked several times at her as if to focus. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Maybe it’s on the unwanted list. I mean . . . places we’re not wanted . . . no, places we don’t want to go.”

“You’re acting strange.” She held a hand to his damp forehead. “And you’re burning up.”

Straightening, he stepped away from the post. His feet tripped together and sent him tumbling to the ground before Ellie could reach him. Bright red soaked the entire left side of his shirt. Kat dropped next to him and peeled back the shirt to reveal an oozing gash the size of her palm.

“Why didn’t you tell me how badly you were cut?”

“Because it’s nothing. A scratch.”

“A mere scratch doesn’t give you fever, clot-headed man.” Wriggling out of her slip, she pressed it to the gaping wound. “Ellie, I need yours, too, to wrap around his torso and hold this one in place.”

Without a word, Ellie shimmied out of her silk slip and ripped it down the seam, carefully wrapping it around Barrett’s torso and tying off the ends in a knot. The last of their finery staunched the blood flow. At least for the moment.

Unscrewing the lid to the canteen, Kat pressed it to his lips. “You need to drink.”

Barrett flapped a hand to push it away. “No, you take it.”

“No. We need to bring down the fever and keep you on your feet. We can’t drag you the whole way to town, and we need to find something to disinfect and properly bandage this wound before infection sets in.” She pressed the canteen to his trembling lips. “Drink.”

He glugged back the tepid water and pushed it away as shivers ran down his body. Screwing the lid back on, Kat slung the strap over her shoulder and hooked an arm around Barrett before motioning Ellie to take his other side.

“I’m not a child.”

Kat slipped his arm over her shoulder, careful she didn’t bump his wound. “Sometimes I wonder, but we can move more quickly and safely over the terrain if we keep you upright from the start rather than tripping behind us.”

He blinked heavily. The sooner they got moving the better. He was ready to fall like a tree, and once he was down she was sure they’d be unable to move him again. Fear twisted around her heart. They would make it. There was no other choice but to make it even if she had to drag him the entire way.

* * *

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Kat’s fist ached from bombarding the oak door repeatedly.

Ellie shivered on the other side of Barrett as the early air of morning swept around the corner of the wooden building. “No one’s home.”

“It’s a brothel. Someone is always home.” Bang! Bang! Bang!

Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor inside. Several locks and chains slid behind the door before it cracked open. Yellow light flickered out. “Qu’est ce que tu veux?”

“Je suis désolé de vous déranger.” Kat gestured to Barrett’s mostly limp body slumping against her. “He’s hurt, and I need to dress the wound properly.”

The door widened to reveal a large-boned woman with thick skin drooping around her face and neck. The remains of garish red lipstick stuck to the corners of her downturned mouth while thick kohl rimmed her eyes. A black shawl with too many holes to count wrapped around her wide shoulders to cover her stained nightdress beneath. “It’s after four in the morning. I just put my girls to bed.”

“S’il vous plait, no one else will help us.”

The madam’s eyes narrowed at the now-crusted-over bandage wrapped around Barrett’s abdomen, then slowly grazed up to his lolling head. Her suspicious eyes snapped open. “Mon Dieu! Bring him in.”

She stepped aside as Kat and Ellie urged Barrett inside. A lantern flickered on a small Queen Anne side table, casting

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