Chapter 6
Chapter Six
If the scenario had been different, Aislynn might not have taken too kindly to Mr. Steele’s highhanded way of ordering her about. However, considering he might have just skillfully saved a man’s life, this was one slip in judgment she was going to allow to pass.
They entered a simple study with a few books lining the shelves and a large desk separating two chairs. A sideboard stood in one corner with a single decanter on top. She was starting to wonder if he had a bottle of brandy in every room in the house. She decided to voice her thoughts aloud.
He gave a slight smirk as he poured them both a finger’s worth in two separate tumblers. As he handed her one, he said, “You are very observant. I have found the need to be handy on occasion.”
She sat down on the chair across from his desk while he collapsed into the other and moved his head around his neck. “What a night,” he sighed.
“Indeed. It has been quite enlightening.”
He slid a glance at her. “I am sure you have many questions regarding what that was all about.”
“Actually,” she countered. “I am more interested in how you learned to stitch up a wound like you did. Your sewing skills are quite adept. I thought I was proficient with a needle but I believe you proved me wrong.”
He offered a slight snort as he swirled the liquid around in his glass.
“I have been forced to endure many different scenarios over my lifetime, Miss Sims. The least of which is taking care of the wounded because I know they do not have the ability to pay for their needs. I offer my services for free so long as they do not cause me any trouble in the future.”
Aislynn tilted her head to the side. “Are you saying that man in there—”
He lifted a brow. “Is not someone you want to mess with? Exactly.” His mouth tilted upward. “I do wonder how you expect to tell the leader of one of London’s top smuggling rings that you were just joking about your offer to pleasure him.”
She couldn’t help but goad him a bit. “What makes you think I was not in earnest?”
His glass was halfway to his lips when he slowly set it back down to the hard wood. “I would hope that is meant in jest because I do not intend to save you from certain death just for you to turn my hospitality into your personal brothel.”
His words stung and she wondered if he actually thought her truly capable of such vile acts.
She prayed continuously that her talent on the stage might save her from such a dark fate.
She straightened in her chair. “You seem to forget that I did not ask for your assistance long term, Mr. Steele. You were the one who demanded that I remain here on a lengthy basis. If you consider me such a low-based woman, I wonder why you bothered to play the knight at all for such a disgraceful damsel in distress.”
Feeling that everything had been said, Aislynn stood and downed her glass then set it firmly on the top of his desk. “Thank you for the drink.”
She had nearly made it to the doorway before he spoke up. “Miss Sims.”
For an instant, she considered ignoring his summons but she forced her steps to slow as she pivoted around to face him. “Mr. Steele?”
He was still seated but there was an intensity to his gaze that shot straight to her core. She had to take a deep breath in order to recall how to operate her lungs properly.
“Forgive me for making any untoward assumptions on your behalf.” He paused but then added, “I did not approve of the notion of you with another man.”
Aislynn wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. Was he trying to say that he didn’t like the idea of her with anyone? Or anyone that wasn’t him?
Her stomach clenched, her chest thrilling at the idea he might have actually been jealous of something that was said in the heat of the moment to distract a suffering man.
“I accept your apology, Mr. Steele, but if it is all the same to you, I have a lot to practice tomorrow for the play to be held this weekend, so I should get some sleep if you do not require my assistance any longer.”
His focus was fixated a moment longer but he finally dropped his gaze and dismissed her with a nod of his head. “Of course. Good night, Miss Sims.”
* * *
The instant her back was to him, Cordell’s focus burned into her until she was no longer in his line of sight.
He swallowed the rest of his brandy and relished the warm swirl in his stomach.
He hoped it would chase away some of the unpleasantness of this night.
At the same time, he had been thankful for the interruption.
He was finding it deucedly difficult to do much more than toss and turn when he knew Miss Sims slept just down the hall from him.
So close for the taking, yet so far away.
He had not offered her sanctuary here just to take advantage of her charms, however tempting they might be.
He might have been a libertine at one time but he had never been a complete rake, out to satisfy his own needs without conscious thought to another.
The last thing he wanted to do was make her angry and cause her to run off where he knew he wouldn’t be able to protect her from the larger threat.
He still couldn’t quite get the image of her town dress and her wide, blue eyes and disheveled blond hair when she’d appeared on his doorstep.
He was fully prepared to draw blood without knowing the cause, just because she had looked so frightened and vulnerable.
It was obvious that she had been through a terrible shock, yet, she had handled herself with the utmost resilience when she saw a man bleeding out from a gunshot wound to his chest.
He hadn’t wanted to bother her with the sight but something told him that it would have been next to impossible to remain quiet with the shape “The Wolf” had been in.
Not only that, but he was well aware of the man’s propensity to enact violence when he was offered any sort of opium.
It was one of those things that triggered his anger like nothing else, although no one seemed to know the root of his hatred for the drug.
There was only speculation that someone close to him had died because of it.
But there was a reason he had earned the nickname of “The Wolf.” He never allowed anyone to get too close and if they did, they better watch out because he was likely to attack.
Cordell had come across him several times over the years and although he wouldn’t consider them to be friends, but more likely tolerant acquaintances, it was good to have someone with such a fearsome reputation to call upon if the situation required it.
Some of the most hardened criminals in London shuddered when they heard “The Wolf” mentioned within the same earshot.
He was known in the heart of London’s underworld and society alike but not much was known about him.
However, it was evident that he carried enemies that were willing to go beyond the threat of repercussions to enact their vengeance.
Cordell would not want to be the one responsible for “The Wolf’s” injuries when he was back hunting the streets.
For now, Cordell would ensure he was kept comfortable in a suite upstairs and the loyal men who referred to themselves as “The Pack.”
At least the presence of other people in the house would not make it seem quite so intimate as before. Combined with the effects of the long night and the brandy, he might actually be able to get some rest this night.
He had a second glass of brandy and headed up the stairs where everything had settled back down to the point that he could hear the case clock chime the hour.
There were three bells that told him it was the time of the witching hour.
Although he wasn’t superstitious, at times he considered the possibility that there was some unforeseen force out there propelling one to keep moving forward.
He couldn’t say if it was truly fate or something else but that driving force had long been inside of him.
It was why he didn’t just give up when he learned what his father had done.
It would have been entirely too easy for him to follow in the same footsteps, to allow the destruction of his past to mold him into something evil and twisted.
Instead, he had decided to use that fire for good, to unravel the mystery and hopefully, help others that were struggling with the same afflictions so that their lives could be returned to them.
Or, at least, get the help they needed before chaos descended around them.
He grabbed the key from his vest pocket and slid it into the lock of his chamber door. When he walked inside, he inserted the key back and turned it, locking it securely behind him.
He paused, taking a moment to look around, to try and see his surroundings as Miss Sims might if she ever dared to venture beyond the threshold.
However, something told him that once she realized just how far his depravity spiraled, she would run screaming the other direction.
The restraints and confinements that were hanging around his bed could easily be misconstrued as his wanton sexual preferences.
Instead, they were measures he had put into place as soon as he’d moved into this townhouse, secure in the knowledge that if he were ever struck with the madness that had afflicted his father, there was someplace he could go to hide from the rest of the world without being thrown into the terror-filled halls of Bedlam.
Mary was the only one he had dared to share his secret with and that was only because he knew she would not judge his actions, nor would she hesitate to take matters into her own hands if he ever found himself caught under that same devilish fever.
He could be kept immobile, unable to do harm, while he was studied within the comfort of his own home.