Chapter 6 #2
His stared at her and growled…actually growled. As if dealing with her frustrated him into sounding like an animal. Then he said through clenched teeth, “We will discuss it later.”
“Later,” she echoed, bitter. “Your favorite word.”
Ravenwood said nothing more. He kept his attention on the injured man; one hand braced against the carriage wall to steady himself over rutted road. Outside, London slid away as the scenery turned to fields and trees.
Lavinia’s mind spun faster with every turn of the wheels. She was beginning to understand that her list was not merely scandalous…it was deadly.
The man in the carriage was one of his best shadows.
One of Lionston’s, to be more accurate…yet Dash had selected him himself for this particular task because he trusted the man’s discretion and competence above most others.
He had followed Lavinia without being seen, had reported with calm accuracy, had done everything required.
Wren was more than competent, he was trustworthy, and someone he had relied upon many times in the past. He had been a soldier when Dash had purchased his commission.
When he showed signs he would make a good asset in espionage, Dash had plucked him from his regiment and trained him.
And now he lay half-conscious on the seat of Dash’s carriage as his blood seeped into his coat.
Dash’s control did not crack, but something in him went colder than snow during winter in the Highlands.
This was not a random attack, and it was no accident that he had been chosen.
This was a message, or more accurately, a warning.
It meant Lavinia was in danger—far more danger than Dash had realized.
He had instructed his driver to leave London at once, taking the northern road out toward a house he kept for privacy rather than comfort. It lay beyond the city and was quiet enough that no curious servant would chatter to half of Mayfair by teatime.
Quiet enough to speak plainly and secluded enough to hide a wounded man.
It was the perfect place to have a private moment with a duke’s daughter who had somehow acquired information she ought not possess.
He had heard her sharp inhale of breath when he’d muttered Phillip Wren’s name.
She had recognized it and there was no reason she should have.
No one in any of her circles, save those in the Lion Watch, would know it.
He was for all intents and purposes a nobody and very, very forgettable. That was what made him a good shadow.
Opposite him, Lavinia sat rigid, her gaze flashed in equal turns between outrage and curiosity.
She looked like a woman who had been pushed into darkness and was determined to bring a candle with her, even if it burned her fingers.
He could respect that desire, but it was a useless endeavor.
Once a person lived in the dark, the shadows never left their side.
He should know. It was where he had lived for far too long.
He had not wanted her to step into it. It was her compassion and intelligence that brought him into the light, and instead of keeping her where she belonged, he had dragged her into his world.
Dash stared at her because he could not help himself. She was sunshine and happiness even now. She would demand answers soon, as would he. But right now, it was enough to sit with her in silence.
They reached the house as twilight began to soften the day.
The carriage rolled through a discreet gate, up a drive lined with bare-limbed trees, and stopped before a modest country seat.
It was a home he had purchased before he was ever to be the Earl of Ravenwood.
He had received an inheritance from his grandmother on his mother’s side.
At the time he thought that perhaps one day he’d marry and this would be where he took his bride and started his family.
That was not long after he first met Lavinia.
But then something changed in him during the war, and he thought those dreams had died.
Still, he’d kept it, and now he was glad.
Because it was a place no one realized was his, and she would be safe here.
Dash stepped out of the carriage first. He barked orders in a low voice, and the few, carefully chosen servants appeared with swift efficiency.
They lifted Wren out of the carriage and carried him inside.
Lavinia climbed down more slowly and came to stand beside him.
She swept her gaze over the house and the grounds.
He couldn’t help wondering what she saw when she took it all in.
Did she like it? Would she have been happy here with him?
“Where are we?” she demanded.
“A place you will not be found,” Dash replied. It was so much more than that, but he didn’t tell her that. She would have expectations and more questions.
“That is not…”
“It is enough,” he cut in, then turned away before she could argue.
He had things to see to before they could talk.
His first concern was the man who had been attacked in his service.
He followed the servants into the house.
He went straight to a downstairs chamber that had been prepared for precisely this sort of necessity.
A physician had been summoned with discreet speed as soon as they arrived and should join them shortly.
He stared down at Wren as they waited for the physician.
Dash stood at the foot of the bed while the physician examined the bruising and the blood.
When Wren groaned and tried to move, Dash pressed a firm hand to his shoulder.
Bandages were brought in along with warm water.
Brandy was set on a nearby table—not for pleasure, but for pain Wren must be feeling.
Though Dash could use a drink, he did not give into the urge.
“Easy,” Dash said quietly. “I can’t have you dying on me now.”
Wren’s eyelids fluttered open. “My lord,” he rasped.
“Who did it?” Dash drew in a breath and waited
Wren’s gaze drifted and went unfocused. His lips moved, but the words were swallowed by pain and exhaustion. He fell back as his breath caught in his throat.
The physician straightened. “He will live, my lord. But he needs rest and he should not speak. The bruising around his throat is extensive.”
Dash gave a curt nod. Relief was a luxury and he did not allow any. Still…he was alive and that wasn’t nothing. He left the room once the physician was settled and the servants had been instructed to remain nearby if he needed anything.
Then he went to find Lavinia. She was in the hall, standing very straight but he wasn’t fooled. She lifted her chin the moment he approached. She was preparing for battle. Well, that suited him just fine because he wanted one as well.
“Well?” she demanded. “How is he?”
“Resting,” Dash replied. “He should be all right.”
Her shoulders eased by the smallest fraction, as if relief had been hovering over her and waited for her to accept it. Dash did not miss it. He missed nothing where she was concerned even when he didn’t want to see it all. He gestured toward a closed door. “Come with me.”
“I am not…”
“You are,” he said, and there was no gentleness left in him now. Terror was not something he was accustomed to breathing through. Not really. He set all his fears aside while he worked, but he had never had to survive with worry for Lavinia filling his every sense. “We are speaking privately.”
Lavinia’s nostrils flared, but she followed him into the study.
The room was plain, masculine, and lined with books and maps.
The hearth remained unlit, but he could see to that himself.
Dash shut the door and crossed to the sideboard.
He poured brandy into a glass. He swallowed a fraction of it and let it burn his throat. Then he turned to face her.
For a long moment he simply stared. He let the silence stretch, because silence made most people fill it with truth. It did not work with her, because she wasn’t like most people.
Lavinia sighed, the sound sharp with impatience. “I don’t suppose you would pour me a drink as well.”
He stared at her, stunned for several heart beats. “You wish to have some brandy?”
“Normally, no,” she began. “It is a dreadful drink I do not know how you can stand it. But I believe I need it right now. It has been a trying day.”
He shook his head and sighed. She was constantly surprising him… Instead of replying to her he just poured her two fingers of brandy and handed her the glass. Then he watched as she took several sips before sitting on a chair by the desk.
He was done with this. It was time for her to answer a few questions. “How do you know him?” Dash asked flatly.
She drew her brows together. “I do not know him.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He narrowed his gaze and said, “You recognized his name.”
“I…” She stopped, then tried again with more dignity. “You murmured something. It might have been any name.”
“It was not as you well know,” Dash said. “Stop denying the truth.”
Lavinia lifted her chin in defiance. “He is a stranger to me.”
“A stranger,” Dash repeated, and his tone made the word a challenge. “Perhaps he is. That doesn’t mean you did not recognize his name. Go ahead and say it.”
Color rose in her cheeks. “I do not know it.”
“You are a terrible liar, Lady Lavinia.” Dash set the brandy down with deliberate care.
“That may be true,” she began. “But it proves nothing.” She set her own glass down and moved closer to him until there was barely any space between them. “You dare much, my lord.”
“I dare because you are standing in my house while one of my men bleeds in the next room.” Dash kept his voice low and controlled but he was all the more dangerous for it. He was close to snapping. “You will not charm your way out of this.”
Lavinia drew herself up. “I am not attempting to charm anyone. Least of all you.”
“Good,” Dash said. “Then tell me the truth.”