The Heart of a Duke(64)

The cut was small and she quickly dabbed it clean, her eyes roving over his face. He had incredibly sharp, high cheekbones, she noted, studying the unbruised cheek. And long lashes. There was that dent in his chin. His lips were parted, and she knew from experience how soft they were and just what they tasted like . . . he . . . Her head snapped around. “What was that?”

“I was saying it does not look like he needs to be stitched. I am going to bandage the wound. Young man, if you could switch places with Lady Julia again and assist me by propping him up, we can wrap this around him.”

Flushing, Julia skittered from the bed, making room for Brett, but she was unable to retreat too far—in case Daniel needed her.

Brett slid his hands beneath Daniel’s shoulders and hefted him to a sitting position. An involuntary cry escaped Julia, causing Brett to set him back down. “What? What is it?” He looked at her. “Is he bleeding again?”

“No, no, it is not that.” She valiantly struggled to recompose herself. Brett’s expression was alarmed, and Julia realized he was strung as tight as she, despite his calm façade. “It is just . . . that is, he has . . .”

Baffled, Brett stared at her and then understanding dawned, and he relaxed. “That is a decade-old injury. Scar tissue,” he explained to the doctor. He leaned over and propped Daniel up while the doctor wrapped a bandage around his waist.

Julia stared, the questions coming fast and furious, for she recognized the signs of healed burns all too well. Cook’s right leg from thigh to heel was a mean mass of burned skin, her skirts having caught in a fire that Julia would never forget. Like her leg, Daniel’s right shoulder halfway down his back and along the back of his right arm was red, knotted, angry scar tissue. She swallowed.

He had been badly burned in a fire. A decade-old injury.

She feared she knew where.

“There,” the doctor was saying. He tugged up the covers and lay them over Daniel as he spoke. “Not much to do for that eye or cheek but ice or a cold piece of meat on it to reduce the swelling. He needs to rest and to apply a fresh bandage to this wound each day. There is a slight chance of infection, so let me know if he spikes a fever. The icing goes for you, too, young man. You are a matched pair. Dare I hope your opponents look worse?” He chuckled. “Now then, my work is done. Petie, can you see me out?”

The housekeeper warily eyed Brett and Julia, but seeing as neither gave her deliberate looks any heed, she tightened her lips and escorted Doctor Malley from the room.

“Mr. Curtis, it’s time you told me what transpired this evening.” Her voice was steady, her gaze locked on his. She had other questions, but she would save those for Daniel.

He lifted a brow, and after a silent study of her, he sighed and crossed to the water pitcher by the commode. He poured himself a glass and drank it. “We were leaving a tavern a few doors down from the offices of Curtis Shipping, when we were jumped by three men.” He paused and added. “One had a knife and he appeared to be targeting Daniel.”

Julia staggered back and sank onto the bed, the blood draining from her face. She had to moisten her lips before she could speak. “It was not a robbery gone awry? You cannot possibly be sure—”

“I can be,” Brett cut her off. “I can be because this is not the first time someone tried to murder him.” His eyes were hard, his expression implacable.

“The fire? You think it was deliberately set? They said it was a candle that caught on curtains, an accident. They said—”

“I know what they said. And Daniel let them say it.” He set his glass down and swept a hand through his hair. “Look, this isn’t my story to tell. If Daniel wants to share it with you, he needs to do so, not me. He is my business partner, but more important, he’s my friend, and I have to honor his wishes.

“However, I can share one confidence. I did not want him to return. I tried to talk him out of it. But he had questions that needed to be answered that ten years later still plagued him. I agree he has a right to get those answers, but at what price? I helped him to leave after the fire, once he had healed, to build a new life in America. If you care for him, whether you accept his hand or not, you need to see that he returns to that life. He cannot stay. Someone wants him dead here, and if he remains, he is jeopardizing his life.”

Brett strode to the door.

“Wait,” she cried. He paused and faced her. Julia stood, her heart pounding. “Do you . . .” She hesitated, not wanting to ask it, but it needed to be asked. “Do you think Bedford could be involved? He and his brother did not care for each other. He told me that his brother had never been kind to him.”