Chapter 6 #3
“It was to inform Brendan that one of the three men I was investigating had committed the crime. The attack confirmed that the fourth man must therefore be innocent. It was imperative Brendan be informed, in the event …”
In the event Julius did not survive.
Audrey’s throat tightened. She exhaled slowly, grateful beyond words that her training and Julius’s formidable constitution, had carried them through the crisis. What would they have done if he had died?
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Audrey rose to answer and was pleased to see Rose entering with a tray. It was high time Julius ate, and her own stomach had begun to grumble in solidarity.
They ate where they were—Julius upright in bed, maneuvering his fork with ginger care.
Audrey offered no commentary, only a smile of encouragement.
She understood well the toll of fever and blood loss.
It took energy to heal, and food was the body’s greatest ally.
Though curious to hear more of the story, she allowed him to eat in peace.
Julius’s stomach rolled in mild protest, but he dutifully picked his way through breakfast. Bite by bite, his unease lessened, strength returning slowly to his limbs.
The room seemed brighter, more vivid—the morning sun gilding the furniture and warming the wood beneath his bare feet.
His senses stirred, and with them, his awareness of the young woman seated nearby, her presence steady and composed.
He might be wounded, but he was still capable of noticing a beautiful lady.
Audrey finished her meal and rose to pour another cup of the foul brew. She brought it to him without fanfare, and he drank it in obedient silence. Though bitter, it was not altogether unpleasant now that his thirst pressed harder upon him than his palate minded the taste.
By the time the last dish was cleared, Patrick had returned bearing fresh sheets and Audrey’s garments. The older servant helped Julius into the armchair, where he sat and observed quietly while the two of them stripped and re-made the bed with brisk efficiency.
When they were done, Audrey collected her clothing and stepped into a chamber down the hall to wash and dress. Patrick guided Julius to the washstand and assisted him into a clean pair of trousers and a loose linen shirt, which Julius managed to button with only a few winces.
Soon, the armchair was returned to the window, and Julius was settled in it. His side ached, but far less than it had earlier. He concluded that a few days of rest and decent meals might restore him entirely.
Audrey reentered, and for a moment, he forgot about pain altogether.
Her golden hair was freshly combed and pinned into elegant simplicity, and her gray mourning gown—so modest, so unadorned—somehow enhanced the luminous quality of her skin and the soft silver hue of her eyes.
Julius blinked once, then again, reminded sharply of how few women in his circle could look that radiant in such plain attire.
Her eyes caught him off guard. Clear, alert, and unflinchingly sincere. There was something about them that made him feel as though she saw more than she ought to.
He dragged his gaze away and reminded himself sternly, A wedding may be inevitable, but that does not mean a marriage must follow.
A real marriage. With hope. With companionship. With entrapment.
He had lived that life once, through the eyes of his mother. He had watched affection wither into resentment, silence stretch across dinner tables, and laughter vanish from hallways once filled with warmth. He would not repeat the pattern of Lord Snarling and his neglected wife.
Audrey’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“How do you know the fourth suspect is innocent? What was the attack about?”
Julius flushed. He had hoped the question would be postponed, perhaps indefinitely, but he owed her the truth. She had been drawn into this mess because of him. She had saved his life. She deserved honesty.
“I … thought to draw the killer out,” he said slowly, twisting his signet ring in a familiar motion of discomfort. “I sent blackmail notes to the remaining suspects, providing each with a different meeting location.”
Audrey’s eyes widened, and her mouth parted in horror. “Julius! You might have been killed!”
He grimaced. “I freely admit it was a poorly contrived plan,” he muttered. “One of the men must have sent someone to follow me.”
“Poorly contrived? It was barely a plan at all! You are pursuing a cold-blooded killer.” Audrey’s voice rang with exasperation, and beneath her breath, she muttered “Daft imbecile.”
Julius’s lips twitched despite himself. Her vexation, bracing as a dash of cold spring water, only deepened his growing admiration for Miss Gideon.
A woman of contradictions—calm competence one moment, unflinching courage the next.
He recalled the flash of her figure stepping between him and danger, her grip steady on a borrowed sword.
“Yes, but now I know it was one of the three men I attempted to blackmail,” he said, attempting reason. “Which improves my odds. I shall need to study them further.”
“Not today, you shall not.” Audrey crossed her arms and fixed him with a look that had likely quelled many a quarrelsome patient. “You are scarcely stronger than a half-drowned kitten. If that villain appeared before you now, you could do little more than wilt.”
“Tomorrow, perhaps?” he asked hopefully, watching her reaction from beneath slightly raised brows.
She pressed her lips together, clearly weighing the notion. “Mayhap. But only with planning. A disguise, certainly. Your first effort was akin to standing in front of a charging bull, waving a red cloak and hoping for the best.”
Julius drew an exaggerated pout, the expression pulling at the muscles of his face in theatrical dismay. A reluctant giggle escaped her lips, and it skimmed across his skin like the delicate flutter of a moth’s wing. Her laughter held a warmth that made his heart beat faster.
Perhaps this forced marriage would not be such a dire fate, he mused. At least not with a companion such as Audrey—steady, clever, and unflinchingly real.
“Shall we play piquet?” she asked, breaking the quiet.
He blinked. “You carry cards?”
Already she was rifling through her valise with the easy confidence of one well-acquainted with its contents. She held the cards aloft with a triumphant smile.
“What does that bag not contain?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes patients are bored. The cards are in here for those occasions.”
Julius leaned back in his chair, careful of the tender pull at his side. “We can play, but I warn you I will not be gentle.”
He winced almost immediately. The words, harmless on the surface, echoed with a meaning he had not intended to voice aloud.
The flirting was inadvertent. Audrey’s nostrils flared, she being a worldly individual who had followed her father into all sorts of patients’ rooms, but she brushed the remark aside as if she had not heard him.
Walking over with the cards, she shifted a chair to face the table where he sat. Her face was downcast, her blonde lashes fanning her cheeks, but Julius did not miss the pink creeping to the tips of her ears.