Regency Affairs Part 2: Books 7-12 Of 12. Ann Lethbridge
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any other reason. A sense of great humbleness filled Kit. Hattie had done this for him.
‘Where am I?’
‘At my house.’
‘Your house?’ Kit searched his mind, but the big black well prevented him. ‘What am I doing here? The last thing I remember is getting into a fight with a stubborn drunk.’
‘You are to stay in bed until the doctor says that you can rise.’ She crossed her arms and glared at him. ‘I’d be grateful if you obliged me in this if nothing else.’
He tried to catch her hand before remembering how she’d walked away from him and settled for clutching the sheet instead. He refused to beg. He had deliberately driven her away.
‘Hattie? Why am I here? How? You live miles away from Stagshaw. The last thing I recall is the fight near the cockpit. And that drunk with his paws on you.’
‘Not too far.’ She turned her face from him, revealing her slender neck. ‘I had them bring you to my house. It seemed the best place. A bit closer than Southview. I was being practical after … after the fight. You couldn’t be left on your own, waiting for the doctor to show up.’
‘I thank you.’
‘It was the least I could do in the circumstances. I’d do it for any wretch who risked their neck to save me.’
Kit swallowed with difficulty. She’d had him brought here out of duty. ‘Why?’
She stood up without speaking and moved over to the right, away from his vision.
‘Why, Hattie? There must have been a dozen other places I could have gone.’
‘You were injured trying to save me. It seemed to be the Christian thing to do. I could hardly count on your valet or Mr Hook to look after you properly.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers. I shall put my faith in your nursing skill.’ He hated how his heart thumped. He knew it for a lie. He couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather have nursing him and it frightened him. She’d forgiven his outburst without him doing anything.
‘It is good of you to accept what is going to happen.’
‘You haven’t given me much choice.’ He lay back on the pillows and breathed in the lavender scent. The smell reminded him of when he was a young boy in his room back in Hampshire, safe and secure without a care. He could almost picture the scene with the fire blazing and his nurse sitting, knitting socks, while a kettle hummed in the background.
‘You were in no fit state.’
‘My head pains me.’ Kit tore his mind away from the memory. He always swore that he’d never voluntarily think about his childhood, and certainly not with a great longing. He must have hit his head far harder than he’d thought.
Hattie laid a cool cloth on his forehead. ‘Is that better?’
A warm glow flooded through him. Despite her words dismissing him earlier, Hattie had stayed by his side. More than that, she’d obviously insisted that he was carried to her house. She’d publicly declared their friendship, after telling him that they were finished. Women were a different species entirely. He reached out his hand. ‘You need not have done that.’
‘Allow me to make my own decisions. I prefer to have my conscience at rest than worrying over your health.’
Kit struggled to upright. He clutched the blanket to his chest and tried to make sense of the turn of events. Nothing, simply flashes of voices. However, with each breath, he found himself more distracted by the way Hattie’s hair curled about her shoulders and the shadowy place at her throat. ‘Did you undress me? How did I get this nightshirt?’
A merry peal of laughter filled the room. ‘You may stop looking shocked. You would think you were unused to a woman’s attentions. It is not as if I haven’t seen the male form before.’
‘Hattie!’ He pulled the collar of his nightshirt up.
‘The doctor did it for me.’ She shook her head. ‘He wanted to examine the wound to your chest, but it turned out to be just a light cut. But your shirt is ruined. I found one of my late husband’s nightshirts. It seemed sensible. Sleeping in one’s clothes is hardly advisable at any time, but particularly not when one has been injured.’
He collapsed back against the pillows. He should have expected respectability from her. It was wrong that he’d briefly hoped that she’d been unable to resist taking a peek. ‘The ruffian managed to miss. Sometimes my luck astonishes me. He must have been unable to see straight.’
‘There was a deflection, something was in the way.’ She sobered and her teeth worried her bottom lip.
‘Out with it. Let me know the worst.’
‘I’m afraid the jumping-jack took the brunt of one knife blow and then you managed to twist the knife out of his hand.’
Kit fell back amongst the pillows. Had the jumping-jack not been in his breast pocket, the knife would have sliced through his chest. A cold shiver went through him. ‘Obviously a good-luck charm. I intend to keep it.’
‘I’ll get it for you.’ She handed him the remains of the jumping-jack and shook her head. ‘I don’t think it is worth saving.’
‘I must be more sentimental than you.’ He smiled up at her. ‘I think it is worth keeping.’
‘That is your choice.’
‘I shall treasure it always. Generally I take better care of my gifts than this.’
Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but thought better of it. ‘You need to rest. The doctor left some more laudanum for you.’
Kit shook his head. He felt as if he had been run over by a cart and then stamped on, but he could manage. If he drank the laudanum, the dreams about his childhood would start again—a figure in a blue dress smiling down at him, laughing at her boy, asking him to be brave.
He forced a wry smile and hoped Hattie would believe him. ‘I dislike having my wits clouded. I’ve endured worse pain.’
‘It is here if you change your mind.’ She put a small glass beside the bed. He was aware of the intimacy and how her hair fell about her shoulders.
Gingerly he felt his jaw, sore but unbroken. He wanted her, he wanted to feel her move under him and catch her soft sigh in his mouth as she surrendered to the heat and passion. But he also wanted to hear her laugh, see her smile and above all he wanted to talk to her.
‘Is there some reason why you are nursing me?’ he asked in case she decided to leave.
‘Instead of Mr Hook?’ Hattie leant forwards and tucked the bedclothes about his body. Impersonal, but intimate at the same time. Her round gown gaped slightly and he caught a glimpse of the shadowy hollow between her breasts.
He tore his mind away from such thoughts. Hattie nursed his broken body out of compassion and duty. The fact that he noticed her considerable assets showed him that death would have to find another victim. He’d recover. It was merely his blinding headache that bothered him.
‘If you like, Rupert could have done it.’
She laughed. ‘He appeared distinctly ill at the prospect of blood. I’d no wish to torture him.’
‘And Johnson, my valet?’
‘Your valet was no use. Last seen in the ale tent, according to Mr Hook, rather the worse for wear.’
Kit silently blessed Rupert’s quick thinking. If they had found Johnson, he would not be here. And despite everything, he was glad to be here. In this room. With Hattie. He valued her friendship. He groaned, remembering the taste of her mouth. He wanted to taste it again, particularly now.
At her look he said, ‘I gave him the day off. It is his to use as he pleases.’
‘You