Lord Valorous(24)

Why indeed.

"Can it not be goodwill? Can I not help you in the name of a charitable act?" Jacob realized the minute he said the word charitable that it had been the wrong choice. Her shoulders snapped back, chin raised higher. If it elevated any further, she'd be looking skyward.

"I have no need of your charity." Her words were scathing, and any society matron would have been proud of the delivery.

"Yes," he said softly, "you do. Now please be quiet and come along. You are shivering, and your lips are turning blue." Jacob didn't want to talk about this anymore, as it was unsettling how much he needed to help her.

"Unhand me!"

"Stop being dramatic, Poppy. It's bloody freezing out here, and I have no wish to spend a moment longer outside than is necessary."

Jacob kept his fingers around her arm and gently propelled her forward. Her hand, he noticed, was cradled against her stomach.

"Your fingers probably need straightening; did you think of that? Do you want them to be crooked for the remainder of your life?"

"They have no need of attention, only time to heal."

"Oh, so you're a doctor now, are you?"

She huffed out a breath, which even on short acquaintance he knew was her annoyed sound.

They arrived at his front path in time to see one of the other Lords of Night Street arriving with his wife. They had been seen, so Jacob could do nothing but keep walking with the angry woman at his side. There would be questions, he knew, but given that he'd decided she would be working for them, he supposed he'd best face them now.

"Jacob."

"Marcus." He shook the hand of his friend.

"Hello, Jacob." Charlotte kissed his cheek. She had been born the bastard daughter of a duke, and spent most of her life fighting that fact. She was a woman who had chosen a different path in her life, and it was during the course of an investigation that Marcus had met her, and they had since fallen in love and married. 

"Allow me to introduce you to Miss March. Miss March, this is Lord and Lady Needly."

Poppy curtseyed, sinking deep.

"Tea, I think," Charlotte said, shooting him a look. Obviously Marcus had furnished his wife with the details of Jacob's encounters with Poppy.

"Oh no, I really need to go home," Poppy said, attempting to escape. However, she did not manage it, and soon Charlotte had taken Poppy in hand and was walking beside her and into Jacob's house.

"So." Marcus walked beside Jacob. "This is Miss March. Care to tell me why she is alone with you, because I see no maid or companion."

"She does not have a maid, Marcus."

"Of course, I should have realized that. Tell me then why she is here alone with you, about to enter your house?"

"I went to inform her about what we had discovered about Lady Revel, and offer her the position at Night Street, only to find her hurt. I said I would help her to a doctor. There is no more to it than that. She had no maid, Marcus, and lives alone."

"Hmmmm."

"I have no idea what that noise means, but I'm sure I don't like it."

They followed the ladies into his house. Jacob was not one for clutter, and as he had lived alone for many years, he had only his sister as an influence, and had fought off her advances to decorate his home, so it stayed exactly as he wanted it to be.

"This place is cold and sterile, Jacob. You should put more stuff on the walls."

"You're only saying that because you're married and have to live with whatever Charlotte chooses to do to your home. I, however, can live exactly as I wish."

"Charlotte has excellent taste."

"If she asked you to wear mud brown and pomade your hair into a chicken cone on your head, you'd do it. You're smitten, Marcus."

His friend smiled, and it was a secretive one, the kind he'd noticed happily married people often had on their faces. A knowing look that spoke of love and intimacies.

"I am."

"I am happy for you, but don't bring your happily married tendencies into my bachelor establishment, if you please."

"How did Miss March come to hurt herself?"

"Someone attempted to abduct her, but she escaped." Anger clipped his words.

Marcus whistled. "She can certainly look after herself."

"But for how long?"

"That I don't know," Marcus said. "But the sooner we find who is responsible, the better it will be for her."

They arrived in the parlor, where the fire was roaring. His furniture matched the brown rugs on his floor, and was comfortable, which suited him perfectly.

"You need some color in here, Jacob."

"Thank you, Charlotte, your husband has just enlightened me on the state of my interior."