Secrets of Sloane House(86)

Billy, his driver, looked at him in surprise when Reid helped Eloisa into the carriage. But like the well-trained servant he was, he wisely kept to business. “Where to, sir?”

“Billy, we’ll be going home. But first, please inform the doorman that Miss Carstairs has left with one of her lady friends and that he needs to tell her driver.”

“Right you are, Mr. Armstrong,” he said without missing a beat. “I’ll go deliver that message right away.”

Reid smiled his thanks, then entered the carriage and sat across from Eloisa. “Billy’s going to send word that you left with a lady friend,” he explained.

“Do you think anyone will believe that? I didn’t even retrieve my cloak.”

“All that really matters is that no one will actually be able to disprove it.”

In reply, she huddled a little farther into his coat. Moments later, Billy got into the driver’s seat, snapped the reins, and guided the horse for the short drive home.

Reid debated whether to ask any questions, but decided against it. Eloisa needed a fortifying cup of tea and, hopefully, would allow his mother’s soft, steady presence. Already, he suspected that Eloisa was the victim of something terrible. His concern for her, along with his fierce disdain for anyone who preyed on women, was threatening his composure. Though he would do everything he could to not frighten her in any way, he feared his best might not be enough.

When they arrived at his house less than a half hour later, he carefully helped her out of the carriage, then escorted her into the house.

Watterson eyed them with surprise. “Sir?” he asked diffidently.

“Good evening.” Reid turned to Eloisa, who was standing by his side. She looked pale and fragile, her bearing as stiff as a rail. It was obvious that she was doing everything she could to keep in control. “Where would you like to sit down, my dear?” he asked gently. “In the drawing room? The library? The kitchens? I promise, the choice is yours.”

Wide eyes stared at him in confusion, then slowly focused. “Your library.”

“Very well, dear.” He turned to Watterson. The man was almost his parents’ age and was a trusted member of their house. Reid had always believed he could accomplish almost anything; he’d certainly done his best to make Reid into a gentleman.

“I need you to summon someone in the kitchen to fetch us a pot of tea and bring it to the library.”

“Yes, sir. Will your mother be joining you as well?”

“Would you like my mother’s company, Eloisa?”

She winced at the use of her name, then, after a long pause, nodded.

“Please summon Hannah to wake my mother and ask her to join us. Perhaps in ten minutes or so.”

Watterson bowed slightly. “Yes, sir. A fire has already been laid in the library.”

And with that, Reid guided Eloisa with the lightest of touches at the small of her back into his father’s library, just off the foyer. Watterson knew Reid often spent time there after an evening out before going to bed.

Reid took care to seat her by the crackling fire, then lit a lamp. Then another.

At last, Eloisa faced him. The dim glow highlighted her golden hair, her striking blue eyes. And the bruise on her cheek. Then the marks on her neck.

And the tear in the lace of her gown.

Every muscle in his body tensed as his worst fears were confirmed. “Eloisa, you’ve been attacked.”

She bit her lip, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you need a physician?”

She winced. “No.”

“Do you have other wounds?” He didn’t know how else to ascertain how serious her injuries were. Though he felt a little foolish, he held out a hand. “Perhaps you’d feel better with your gloves off?”

To his relief, she placed a hand in his, letting it limply rest in his right palm as he unfastened the buttons, then smoothed down the kid glove. He did the same for her other hand. Then, before she could pull her hands away, he held them both in his and looked for any bruises on her wrists.

He found several.

His mood darkened. “Eloisa, we need to talk about what happened. Would you like to discuss this with me privately or when my mother joins us?” Thinking about his sister and how shy she was, he swallowed. “Or perhaps you’d rather I leave the room when my mother arrives?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He wasn’t sure what she was referring to. “No, you don’t wish me to leave?”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it ever.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t allow that. Something must be done. Someone hurt you.”

“Reid, you offered me shelter and some tea. That is what I accepted.”