Chapter Twenty-Five
The first thing Alice noticed was the blood.
It dripped from the gash on his cheek and trickled onto his split lip. The handkerchief she pressed to it was soon stained. Her hand shook so badly she nearly dropped the linen. Alice felt her stomach twist with ice-cold fear.
Dear God, he looked terrible. What if there was something more sinister than what she could see going on inside him? Something that would snuff out the life of this man.
No, don’t think like that. He would be all right—he had to be.
Bruises already mottled his face, and one eye was swollen. He had to have damaged ribs, because those men had battered them with their fists. Alice had seen it all from the shadows, where she and Bobby were hidden.
“Wh-where are you hurt, my lord?”
His eyes remained closed, lashes dark against his pale skin.
“Jamie,” he breathed. “My name is Jamie. And you are Alice. I think after what we’ve shared, we are beyond titles.”
Alice’s heart clenched. He was speaking. He was alive. That had to be good—didn’t it?
She moved the handkerchief higher, pressing it firmly against his cheek. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t flinch.
“And I hurt everywhere. But I have felt this way before, so this too shall pass.”
She wanted to shake him. Foolish man. He was bleeding, broken, yet still determined to sound as though this were nothing more than a trifling inconvenience. Is this how the beast that was Kenneth Jackson in Blackwood Hall had left him feeling?
Alice could not think of that now, because that would mean she would think of Charles and his suffering.
“Where did you find Bobby?” he rasped.
“’Tis a long story.”
“As you see, I am not going anywhere until we stop.” His lips twitched faintly.
She’d seen so much violence tonight. Her entire body had trembled witnessing it. But Alice was strong, and she wouldn’t let it show. She’d learned to hide just as this man had.
“When I saw you fighting that night in that warehouse,” she said, “I came across him. I asked whether he had heard the name Kenneth Jackson before. Bobby said he had not. I offered him money if he would come to me with any information about him. Children are often seen and not heard.
Jamie’s head moved, the smallest of nods, slow and stiff as if the motion cost him dearly.
“He came to my father’s townhouse with information that Jackson lived at Well Yard off Marylebone Lane.”
Jamie’s lashes lifted. His eyes, dulled with pain but still sharp, locked on hers.
“You should not have gone there alone, Alice.”
Her chin tilted, anger and fear roiling inside her. “Neither should you, considering it is you before me bruised and battered, and I was not alone. I had Bobby. I found him watching the property.” She pressed the cloth harder. He hissed between his teeth.
“Had those men set upon you,” he said tightly, “the outcome might have been more than a few broken ribs and bruises. The boy could not have saved you.” The words were muffled behind the cloth.
“I had planned only to observe,” she shot back. Alice then asked the question that had been bothering her since she’d seen him fighting with those men. “How is it you were there tonight, my lord?”
The carriage lurched over a rut, and his whole body stiffened. The hiss of pain was loud in the small space. Alice winced.
“My lord—”
“Jamie,” he interrupted, breath rough. “Say my name, and I might tell you the truth. Not that it will please you. But in the interests of honesty… and the belief that you won’t harm me in this condition, I will.” His cracked lips curved slightly in a smile again.
“Jamie.” The name felt foreign on her tongue, and forbidden.
She eased the cloth away, noting the bleeding had slowed, and then took the seat across from him.
“There now, that wasn’t so hard,” he murmured, opening his eyes. Pain glimmered in their green depths.
She folded her arms, fighting to keep her face composed. Alice would hear the sound of those men punching him forever, she was sure of it.
“I had you watched.”
Alice froze. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Finally, she found her words. “I beg your pardon?”
“When you refused to speak with me,” he said without the slightest trace of guilt, “I paid someone to watch you. In case you threw yourself headlong into trouble again, which you did tonight.”
The sheer audacity robbed her breath. He sat there, bloody, bruised, impossibly handsome despite it all, and confessed to such high-handed behavior as if it were no more than commenting on the weather.
Alice squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to regain her wits.
When she opened them, her gaze was narrowed.
He was big, broad, steady, and a man built to be leaned upon.
A man people like his friends and family trusted.
But not her. Never her. She had loved and trusted once, and when Charles died, it had nearly destroyed her.
“Speak, Alice, before you explode,” he said mildly. “My sisters hold their thoughts when I annoy them, and the suspense of their retribution is terrifying.” His words came out slurred, his lip swollen, but the arrogant grin remained.
“Your sisters have my sympathies if they must endure you as their brother.” She surged forward, trembling with fury. “How dare you! And how bloody dare you laugh at me!” Her hand itched to slap that look from his face.
“I am not laughing, I was merely—”
“You had no right!” the words exploded out of Alice, “to behave in such a—such a—high-handed manner!” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “I—I—”
“For pity’s sake, take a breath. Your face is going red.”
Alice inhaled sharply, because he was right, and she loathed him for it. She then exhaled with enough force to extinguish a hearth fire.
“In my defense, it was concern that had me doing what I did. Worry over what Jackson is capable of.” He lifted his battered hand, knuckles raw and bleeding. “I know first-hand how evil he is, and I wanted to ensure you remained unhurt if you took it into your head to find him again.”
Those words did not mollify her one bit. “I am a woman who can look after herself, damn you!”
“When the man I stationed outside your townhouse came to report to me you’d left the house alone,” Jamie continued calmly, “he said your actions appeared secretive.”
Alice’s cheeks burned hot. Her earlier terror and worry for him were abating. Now she just wanted to yell at him. In fact, she enjoyed the rush of heat anger gave her, because it pushed aside the fear.
“I,” she jabbed a finger into her chest, “have looked after myself since my father left to be with his mistress, and my brother returned from Blackwood Hall broken.” Her voice shook.
“I run my father’s estates. I make him money, and do not need any man,” she jabbed the finger in his direction now, “interfering. How dare you have me watched!”
Her shriek rang off the carriage walls, making him wince.
The roof hatch above banged open. Bobby’s wide eyes appeared. “Is everything all right, Lady Alice?”
“Yes,” she gritted, teeth clenched. “Thank you, Bobby.”
The boy hesitated, then vanished. The hatch snapped shut.
Jamie’s smile fell from his lips. “Your father left you to go to France to be with his mistress?”
Alice drew in a steadying breath. “My point is—”
“He left you to care for your brother?” His eyes burned with fury now, but it wasn’t aimed at her. It was for her. Alice refused to acknowledge how good that felt, because it was rare someone worried about her other than her aunt. Don’t soften. Stay angry.
“I’m sorry, Alice.”
She stiffened as he leaned forward, his long legs bracketing hers, trapping her in the narrow space. Even bruised and bleeding, his nearness unsettled her.
“I don’t want your pity,” she hissed. “I want you to understand that, unlike others in society, I need no man to assist me with anything.”
He studied her in silence, gaze steady, penetrating, even considering the pain he must be suffering.
Then the carriage jolted again, and a ragged groan tore from his throat.
“For pity’s sake, sit back, you fool,” she snapped.
He obeyed, settling gingerly against the seat. A long breath rattled from his chest. His head tipped back, eyes closing once more.
Alice was still angry, but beneath it lay something far more dangerous, she realized. Relief that he still breathed. She would think later about how much she needed this man to live.
She glared at him, hands clenched tight in her lap, and yet her heart thudded unevenly as she understood just what she’d learned this night. Lord Stafford was coming to mean something to her.
A heavy silence settled inside the hackney as they headed toward the Smythe townhouse. Alice turned to look out the window, thoughts swirling around inside her head. If she had not arrived when she had, there was no doubt those men would have killed Jamie.
“Unclench your fists, Alice. Everything will be all right.” There was no humor or mockery in his words now. She turned from the window to look at him then.
“You can’t know that.”
“You’re right, I can’t, and between us we know the darker side of life, but I will promise you this.”
“What?” Alice asked as his eyes held hers.
“I promise I will get Kenneth Jackson and make him pay for what he did to me, Charles, and others. I also promise from this day onward, I will not keep secrets from you.”
Emotion threatened to choke her then. Why was he the man to make her feel things she’d never felt before? It was messy and uncomfortable, and she wanted none of it.
“Thank you for saving me,” he whispered, and then he closed his eyes again, as if just speaking those few words had sapped his remaining strength.
“And just so you understand. I did not have you protected because I didn’t think you strong enough to look after yourself.
It was because I watch over the people in my life who I care for. ”