Chapter Fourteen
“J oanna!” Blood pounding in his ears, Marcus ran as though hell hounds nipped at his heels. He was running so fast, in fact, he overshot the alleyway where screams of “Help! Help!” continued to ring. He skidded to a halt, then dashed down the narrow passageway, cramped with pieces of empty wooden boxes and various bits of smelly offal tossed out by the occupants overhead. “Joanna, can you hear me?” Marcus threaded his way through, the passage so close sometimes he thought he might have to turn sideways.
At last, a figure in a light-colored cloak—the one he’d given Joanna that afternoon—came into sight, leaning against the stone wall, head drooping. “Joanna!”
Her head came up. “Marcus! Thank God!”
Then she was in his arms, pressed against him so tightly she finally grunted, and he eased his frantic grip. Tipping her head back so he could peer into her face and assure himself she was all right, the lack of light in the alley frustrated his efforts. “Are you all right?”
“Now I am.” She wound her arms around him and he enfolded her again, his racing heart beginning to slow at last.
“Joanna!” Lord Longford tore her out of his arms and reluctantly he let her go. This was not the time nor place for another row. They needed to get Joanna back to her brother’s house as quickly as possible. “Are you alright?”
“I am fine.” She shook herself loose from her brother’s grip and pulled the cloak more closely around her. “That ruffian may need assistance, however.” Joanna nodded to the man Marcus had completely overlooked as he lay in a particularly dense patch of shadow. “I shot him.”
“You what?” Lord Longford’s shocked voice echoed down the alleyway.
“I shot him.” She looked expectantly at Marcus. “Can you see if I killed him? He hasn’t moved since I fired.”
“Where did you get a pistol?” Her brother seemed totally flummoxed by the notion that she’d defended herself.
“From your office,” she answered matter-of-factly. “As you’d left orders I couldn’t take the carriage, I thought it prudent to have a means of defending myself if I had to walk to Marcus’s club.”
“I had expressly forbidden you to leave the house!” Longford seemed ready to box her ears.
Perhaps a little distraction would defuse the situation. He knelt beside the fallen man and heard quiet breathing. “He’s alive at least.” Although not for long. The scoundrel obviously had accosted Joanna and as far as Marcus was concerned, deserved to die. It was quite likely the single point on which he and Lord Longford would agree wholeheartedly. “You didn’t kill him.”
“Pity. I was aiming for his heart,” Joanna piped up. “Where did I hit him?”
Marcus checked his chest for blood but found none. He felt the man’s shoulder, then ran his hand down the arm and a groan issued from the wounded man. “Give over, mate.” The man stirred, trying to sit up. “The doxy shot me an’ it hurts like hell.”
Instinctively, Marcus cuffed the man for his insolence. “Watch your tongue, maggot.” He glanced toward Joanna, who seemed to have recovered completely from an ordeal that would have sent most maidens into a swoon. “It looks like you may have grazed his arm.”
“I would certainly have had better aim had I been allowed to continue my lessons with Marcus,” Joanna said. Her sorely aggrieved voice seemed to aggravate her brother to no end.
“You had no business taking my pistol, much less firing it.”
“You’d rather I lost my virtue to some ruffian?”
With a groan, the man in question came to a sitting position, a beam of the chancy light striking his face.
“Bartlow?” Astonished, Marcus rose glancing over at Longford and Joanna, although they certainly wouldn’t know his old nemesis. “What the devil are you doing here? And why the hell did you accost Lady Joanna?”
“Settling an old score with you, Dandridge.” Slowly Bartlow got to his feet, staggering as he did so. “Last time you and me had at it, you left me with a little something to remember you by.” He moved away a few steps, revealing a severe limp in his left leg. “Surgeon says it won’t get no better, thanks to a cracked bone that didn’t heal right.”
“What is he babbling about, Dandridge?” Lord Longford had turned from Joanna, his face a study in anger. “I need to take Lady Joanna back home. This ordeal has left her distraught.”
“Nonsense, Geoffrey.” Joanna peered around her brother at Bartlow. “What happened?”
“Mr. Bartlow here suddenly went berserk in one of my gaming establishments. Wreaked havoc throughout, smashing every glass in the place, and some of the walls. Terrorized the patrons and the staff until I felled him with a tackle and a cuff.” Marcus neglected to mention the final kick. That had been rather unsportsmanlike, kicking a man when he was down. But damnation, the repairs had cost him a packet he was still trying to recoup.
“And now I got a limp.” Bartlow managed to sound pitiful, even though he certainly deserved no pity at all after what he’d done to Joanna. “So I thought I’d get even with you, Dandridge, some other way.” The man took a step backward, trying to put distance between him and Marcus. “I’d heard your family was in Essex, so I went there thinking to make the acquaintance of one of your female relatives.” Bartlow winked and laughed, a grating sound. “You know how those meetings can occur when you least expect it.”
Marcus’s hands clenched into fists instantly. “Dastard.”
Bartlow stumbled backward, favoring his leg. “Now, don’t go acting like a rum-cull. That house was locked up tight as a tick. Couldn’t get close ’cause of the flash men you had posted there. Didn’t want to tangle with them and come out the one the worse for wear. So I come back to London and took up around these parts, near to The Dandy.” He leered at Marcus. “Figured you couldn’t last but so long without a nice bit o’ skirt, and I’d wait and watch and tear off me own piece o’ the goods.” Bartlow licked his lips. “Finally, today I saw you puttin’ her in a carriage. I tried to follow it, but couldn’t keep up. Still, I figured she’d be back. All I had to do was wait near enough to your club and then I could pounce on her and have my way.”
“If you had touched one hair on her head, you’d be dead on the ground this moment, Bartlow.” Marcus ground the words out between clenched teeth. He snapped his head toward Longford. “My lord, I suggest you take Lady Joanna away now. She’s no need to hear this filth speak.”
“I’m not some missish schoolgirl, Marcus—” Joanna brushed past her brother, making for him.
“Go with him, Joanna.” He’d never spoken so harshly to her before, nor used her given name in front of her brother, but he had to make her see sense. Not that he thought Bartlow a threat now, but she shouldn’t be exposed to such vulgar language.
She stopped mid-step, so his tone must have done the trick. A glance at Marcus’s face and she nodded and turned back toward Longford. “Come, let’s go, Geoffrey. I’m certain we will have much to talk about.”
Lord Longford put his arm around her, turning them both toward the alley’s entrance.
Marcus whirled back to dispatch Bartlow once and for all, only to see the crazed man lunge at Joanna’s retreating figure, a long, thin knife raised in his hand.
“Longford!”
The earl’s reflexes were superb. In an instant, he’d covered Joanna with his body just as Marcus threw himself into the path of the blow, now aimed squarely at the earl’s back. The keen blade sliced through his waistcoat and shirt as though they hadn’t been there, broke the skin and skittered along his ribs. For a moment Marcus thought he was home free. He’d suffered such wounds before. They never did much damage and healed reasonably quickly with the attention of a competent surgeon.
This time, however, the knife slid off the bone and plunged deep into his abdomen. The pain was intense, but his mind still focused on protecting Joanna and her brother. He twisted his body and Bartlow let go of him. With all his remaining strength, Marcus threw a wide punch with his right arm that connected spectacularly with Bartlow’s jaw. The man flew backward, his head hitting the wall behind him with a sickening splat.
Marcus slipped to his knees, then his back was on the hard, cold pavement. Joanna’s beautiful face hovered over his and she was speaking, though he couldn’t make out the words. The world began to turn gray and he fought to get the last words out—“I love you”—before the darkness took him.
Joanna had been pacing outside the blue bedchamber—the Knight’s Solar it was called—ever since they’d had Marcus brought to the house after that horrible confrontation in the alleyway. She’d only just stopped shaking, even though Geoffrey had been kind enough to give her a tumbler of brandy against the shock. Not the way she’d have wanted to finally get to taste it, but he’d been right. She’d needed something to fortify her against this long wait for news. Geoffrey had taken the surgeon in as soon as the man arrived, and they’d been in there with Marcus for what seemed like days. If only Geoffrey would come out and tell her if Marcus was still alive, she’d be indebted to him for the rest of her life. Not knowing if he’d died was worse than any punishment the devil himself could devise. And there had been so much blood in the alleyway…
The door opened and she bolted toward it, almost running into Geoffrey and the doctor as they exited the room.
Her heart twisting, Joanna clutched her brother’s arm in a death grip. “Is he alive?” She glanced from Geoffrey’s face to the surgeon, trying to read something, anything in the impassive visages. “Tell me, Geoffrey? Is he dead?”
“He’s alive, Joanna, and if you’ll release my arm,” Geoffrey winced and pried her fingers from his sleeve, “I’ll have Mr. Carroll inform you of Dandridge’s condition.”
Geoffrey made a show of shaking his arm, but Joanna had ceased to pay him any mind and turned instead toward the elderly surgeon. “Please tell me Mr. Dandridge’s condition, Mr. Carroll.”
“He’s resting at the moment, my lady.” Mr. Carroll sounded kindly and not terribly worried, which gave Joanna a good bit of relief. “It took some time, but I managed to get the bleeding to stop. The wound’s very deep and we’ll have to wait and see if any vital organs were involved, but I’ve cleaned it with vinegar and dressed it with honey and bandages that will need to be changed regularly, as the wound will seep before it begins to draw.”
“I’ll hire a sick nurse to take care of that, if you can recommend one.” Geoffrey sounded too cavalier concerning Marcus’s wellbeing for Joanna’s taste.
“If you show me how, doctor, I’ll tend to him.” She glanced into her brother’s face, as if to dare him to naysay her offer, but other than a puckering about his lips, he said nothing.
Mr. Carroll peered at her curiously but simply shrugged and nodded. “I’ll return in the morning to check on him. I can show you what to do then.”
Joanna nodded, although she didn’t intend to wait until the morning to see Marcus.
“My butler will show you the way out, doctor.” Geoffrey indicated the staircase and Mr. Carroll bowed and left.
Joanna took that moment of distraction to hurry to the door of the bedchamber.
“Do you really think disturbing him is in his best interests, my dear?” Geoffrey’s voice arrested her with her and on the latch.
“I’ll be quiet. He won’t even know I’m in the room.” She had to see for herself that he was alive or she might very well go mad. Geoffrey didn’t have any idea how worried she’d been all this time since Marcus had been stabbed.
“The moment you set foot in that room, he will know you are there.” Geoffrey shook his head. “He’d barely regained consciousness and the doctor was doing some rather unpleasant things to his wound, but Dandridge insisted on asking if you were safe.”
“He asked about me?” Even when Marcus was so horribly injured and in pain, his thoughts were for her wellbeing. How could her brother not see how honorable the man was? How much he cared for her?
“Do you doubt it? He wouldn’t lie still and let the doctor attend him until I told him you were fine and just outside the door.” Geoffrey came toward her and she feared he would try to stop her from going to see Marcus. Her hand tightened on the latch, but to her astonishment her brother merely kissed her forehead. “The man gives new meaning to the word tenacious.”
“Then may I go see him?” She raised hopeful eyes to her brother.
“I could scarcely stop you short of locking you in your room.” Her brother raised an eyebrow. “And even that seems to be a useless endeavor.” Geoffrey put his hand over hers and depressed the lever. “But do not stay overlong. The doctor said he needs rest.”
Nodding, Joanna sped inside the dim room, the only light a small lamp on the bedside table.
Eyes closed, Marcus lay in the middle of the bed, looking small for once, the blue silk cover pulled up to his chin, his hands resting on top of the bedclothes. His face was pale, making his dark hair an even starker contrast than usual. Her heart ached to see him thus, knowing he was hurt on her account. Had she not been so stubborn and hell bent on defying Geoffrey, Marcus would not be here, gravely wounded. If he should die, it would be all her fault.
Stealthily, Joanna crept toward the bed, afraid she’d wake him, yet wanting nothing more than to take his hand and sit by his bed, willing him to recover. She made it as far as the side of the bed and stood gazing down at him, memorizing every inch of his face from the thick, dark hair and brows to his straight narrow nose, to his deep-red sensuous mouth. Instinctively, she licked her lips, remembering the warmth of his mouth pressed to hers. Had it only been hours ago? It seemed a lifetime. As she lost herself in that delicious memory, his eyes fluttered open.
“Joanna.”
She gasped and immediately moved next to the bed. “Oh, Marcus. You’re awake.” Carefully, she took his hand in hers, her heart filling with joy when he squeezed it. “I can only stay a few minutes, but Geoffrey has said I can come tomorrow to act as your nurse.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that.” His voice was scarcely above a whisper.
“I want to do it, my love.” Tears threatened but she shook them back. “I want to make certain you get well and strong so we can make another argument to Geoffrey.”
“Joanna.”
She shook her head vehemently at his protest. “He must allow your suit now, Marcus. You saved my life and his.”
“Yes, my dear, but—”
“No, my love.” Joanna squeezed his hand harder. “We will make Geoffrey listen to us, once you are well. I swear to you, he seems changed already. He allowed me to come here tonight alone with you.”
“I’m hardly a danger to you in my present condition.” He attempted a laugh, which turned into a groan. “But I agree your brother has changed toward me.” Marcus peered up into her face, his dark eyes filled with longing. “I asked him to allow me to see you because he’s withdrawn his objection to our marriage.”
Joanna stared down at him, her heart beating so fast she feared it would burst. She gasped for breath, not quite believing his words.
“So I wanted to ask if you would do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?” His gaze, so hopeful she wanted to weep, never left her face. “I’m only sorry I am not able to get down on one knee and ask properly.”
With a cry of joy, Joanna swooped over and kissed him, laughing and crying all at once. “I will get down on my knees and ask you, silly man if that will make you feel better.”
“What will make me feel better is hearing your answer.” Marcus slowly raised their hands and kissed her knuckles.
“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” She wanted to shout the answer so loudly the neighbors next door would hear her. She wanted to stand in the middle of the floor and twirl about in sheer happiness. “Yes, my love,” she whispered, and promptly burst into tears.
Marcus waited a moment before pulling her head down onto the covers and stroking her hair. “Tomorrow we can begin to talk about the wedding—and our life to come together.”
She nodded, unable to speak, wanting only to remain as they were, his hand caressing her head. But he needed to rest and mend so they could plan a future she’d scarcely allowed herself to dream about. With a sigh, she raised her head and gazed lovingly into Marcus’s tired face. “I must go, my love. You need your sleep and I will come back first thing in the morning to tend your wound.”
“I can think of nothing better to look forward to than seeing your lovely face.” He touched her cheek, then let his hand fall back onto the bed. “Tomorrow and every other morning for the rest of our lives.”
“And I will hold you to that, Mr. Dandridge.” She smiled at him, her heart so full she might burst. “For as long as we both shall live.”