an hour later, Kat reentered the interrogation room with a clean face, no longer clutching the dirty blanket to her chest. The coarse gray dress chafed her skin, but was worlds better than that disgusting gown. She walked up to Mr. Matthews, smiling. “I cannot thank you enough for your help and hospitality. I actually feel almost civilized again.”
“You were never in danger of being a savage, Lady Katarina.”
She laughed, short and sharp. “Tell that to my brother. May I go to him now? I am worried about him.”
“I have a carriage readied, along with an armed escort. You’ll not meet more misadventure under my watch.” He raised her hand toward his lips. “I will keep you apprised of my investigation. Someone will pay for this night’s work.”
Mrs. Dove entered, carrying a grubby garment. “You left your gown when you changed, my lady.” She held out the small parcel of filthy white cloth.
Seeing the odious gown made her want to retch. “It is beyond repair, Mrs. Dove. Would you please dispose of it for me? I suggest you burn it.” She turned on her heel and swept out of the room, barely managing to not run.
5
Once the Bow Street Runner’s carriage moved away from the curb, Kat slumped in her seat with a groan. Thank goodness the inquisition was over. Mr. Matthews had been kind and considerate, and she wished she could have told him the truth. But relation or not, when she’d escaped that...house, she’d vowed never to tell the whole truth to anyone.
Her life had changed irrevocably; even though her attacker had not violated her, she was ruined by society’s standards. Merely talking to a man without a chaperone present spelled disaster for a woman. To be sold on a public auction block, then sequestered with a man in a bedroom tolled a death knell to her reputation. She drew a quick breath as the feel of the stranger’s warm mouth–on her lips, her neck, her breast–resurfaced. Her body flushed with heat. Oh yes, she was ruined.
But society didn’t have to know that. Only two other people knew she had been in that brothel. Mr. Matthews wouldn’t betray her secret, and because she had given no details, he could not find the house or her kidnappers. Once he realized this, there would be no point in pursuing the investigation. The other man, her purchaser, didn’t believe her story about who she was.
Katarina shook her head, recalling how his eyes had widened as he rubbed the rope burns on her wrists. Maybe he had believed in the end. But he would hardly want it known he had compromised a lady. He would be much more likely to keep his silence, or be forced to marry her. Perhaps she could put the whole sordid evening behind her and still make something of her life. If only no one else found out.
The carriage slowed to a halt and one of the mounted guards escorted her to the door of the stately townhouse Jack had inherited from Uncle William. Simons opened the door, his delight evident. “Oh, Lady Katarina, we are so glad to see you safe at home.” But he looked askance at her dull gray dress, hardly the clothing in which she had left.
“Thank you, Simons.” She turned to the Runner, whose gaze even now swept the dark, hushed portico, alert to any danger. “Please convey my thanks once again to Mr. Matthews, sir. Tell him I will send word immediately if my brother’s condition changes.”
The man bowed and departed, leaving her with Simons and the cavernous house.
“How is his lordship, Simons?” She forced a brisk, no nonsense tone. No one must suspect her distraught state. There would be enough questions and speculations to deal with. “Mr. Matthews told me Jack remains unconscious.” Her voice rose as she desperately hoped to be contradicted.
“That is sadly correct, my lady. He has not stirred since they brought him home.” Simons’ shocked gaze slid away from her when he moved the lamp closer to light her way.
She had forgotten her bruised face, now probably even more garish in the yellow light. “You sent to Bow Street, Simons?”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler kept his eyes forward now. “When Lawrence ran in with the news about the assault, we first tended to the earl of course, then everyone was looking to me for what to do. I remembered the old earl speaking of his relative who was at Bow Street. And I believed the family connection would persuade Mr. Matthews to help recover you. Lord Manning was impressed with his thoroughness. No case unsolved, Lord William remarked more than once. Such a lucky happenstance for us that still holds true.”
They were on the stairs, heading for Jack’s suite, when Simons cast another furtive glance at her. “Dr. Pritchett has been here twice since the earl was brought in. Will you send for him again, my lady?” Might Simons believe she needed the physician as much as her brother?
“No, that won’t be necessary. But have Margery prepare a bath for me and tell her to fetch me when it’s ready. I’ll be with Jack.” The last was uttered as she pushed open the carved, gilded door to her brother’s bedchamber. She walked unsteadily to the head of the massive mahogany four-poster, its bold crimson coverlet cocooning the still form lying there.
Jack’s dark head lay on the pillows, as if he were peacefully asleep. Kat lifted his hand, kneaded his warm, limp fingers through hers. “Wake up, Jack,” she commanded, raising his hand to her cheek. “I have such a tale to tell you! Some of it’s even true.”
Gazing at the beloved face, now slack and vulnerable, tears threatened once more. This time she knew she could not banish them. “Oh, Jack. Please wake up. I need you so very desperately.” She eased onto a chair drawn up next to him, laid her head on his pillow and let the tears come.
When the door finally opened, she raised her head, dashing her hand across her achy eyes, to find Margery beckoning. Kat followed the woman as wearily as if she had aged fifty years. Soon she slid into the welcoming water, delicious in its heat and scent of roses. Her sore, bruised body relaxed in the comforting warmth, while she tried to empty her mind of memories of the night past.
She was contemplating washing her hair when Margery appeared, more excited than Kat had ever seen her. “Oh, my lady. Your brother is awake and asking for you! Will you come to him?” The woman grabbed a piece of toweling to assist Kat, who all but fell out of the tub in her eagerness to get to Jack.
Ten minutes later, clad in fresh night rail, wrapper and slippers, she burst into her brother’s room. The doctor straightened from the patient at the interruption to reveal Jack’s eyes were open. His head held gingerly–as he frequently did after a wild night of drinking–he cut his eyes toward her and cringed.
“No sudden moves, Kat, I beg you.” Jack recoiled from the sound of his own voice. “Are you all right?” he continued in a whisper.
She stalked over to the bed. “A damn sight better than you are.” She smiled, her first genuine one of the night. “But of course I always was.”
He gave a wan attempt at a grin, seeming to enjoy the badinage. God willing, it was a sign he would mend. “What happened to you?”
The concern in his weak voice plucked at her heart, so she hastened to reassure him. “That is quite a tale, but will keep for tomorrow. Or later today, rather. It must have gone three already and I’m dead on my feet. But as you can see, I am safe and whole and not much the worse for wear.”
“Your face is a mess, Kat.” His concern seemed to be escalating.
“I told you it’s a
