Read Online The Captain's Lady by Louise M. Gouge - Free Book Online
Authors: Louise M. Gouge
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light, bringing back a candlestick with three candles. She placed it on a table in front of the settee. Robert smelled of sweat and brandy…and blood. “What happened?” She unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt to reveal a one-inch red gash on the left side of his pale, doughy chest. Although it still oozed blood, the color was crimson, not dark as from a deeper wound. Refusing to succumb to the horror of it, she rolled his linen shirttail and pressed it against the cut.
Jamie leaned against the settee arm. “Thank You, Lord. It’s not as deep as I feared.” He shook his head as if to clear it, and studied Robert’s forehead. “This is why he’s unconscious. I feared the stab wound was—”
“Yes. No doubt the blade was aimed at his heart.” Relief soothed Marianne’s ravaged emotions, and she released a few tears. “What happened?” she asked again.
Jamie blinked, as if struggling to focus his eyes. “It is sufficient to say that Moberly’s gambling luck did not follow him into the streets.”
“Footpads?” She could not think anyone would attempt to murder the son of an earl. It must have been true criminals, not bored aristocrats up to no good.
“Aye. And a scurvier bunch I’ve never seen.” He grimaced. “Forgive me.”
She laughed softly. “I am not so fragile that I cannot bear such words. My brothers—”
“Lady Marianne.” Blevins marched into the library wearing his usual black livery, but his sleeping cap instead of his periwig. Behind him, John carried the requested items and more. “Please permit me to attend Mr. Moberly.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Marianne stood and moved back.
Jamie struggled into a nearby chair, grasping his leftforearm with his right hand. His blue wool coat was torn in several places and lightly splattered with bloodstains.
“Jamie!” She reached toward his arm, but he pulled it away. “You must let me look at your injury.”
“Just a scratch or two.” His eyes still did not focus. “I’m not injured.” Belying his words, he touched the back of his head and winced. “Not badly, anyway.” He glanced at Blevins and John, who were huddled over Robert, and sent her a warning frown. “Please, my lady, go to bed.”
She settled into a chair next to him. “When I am assured of Robert’s—and your —health, I shall retire. Until then, you will have to endure my company.” She would have given him a mischievous smirk had not Robert been lying there having his side sewn together by the incomparable Blevins.
Jamie watched the butler’s doctoring methods with interest and growing respect. He himself had stitched up numerous wounds during his whaling days. But he was in no condition to do this job. He’d certainly not expected to see such violence on the streets of London, especially against the son of an earl. Jamie couldn’t be altogether certain Tobias Pincer had not orchestrated the attack. At the very least, the man proved to be a worthless coward. If Moberly recovered, as it now seemed he would, Jamie would give a full accounting of his gaming companion.
After they had eaten supper at Lady Bennington’s table, the three of them had attended a strange gathering at a large private home, one of those routs, during which a throng of people milled about with no apparent purpose. Jamie met several people but was never presented to a host. Afterward, Moberly and Pincer insisted their next stop must be a gambling establishment. While Jamie stood near a windowin the dim and smoky room, the two sat at cards downing drink after drink. Or perhaps Pincer didn’t drink all that much.
With minimal knowledge of the game, Jamie still could sense that Pincer was helping Moberly to win. When they decided at last to leave, Moberly’s pockets bulged with notes and gold coins. And it was he whom the footpads attacked. If Jamie hadn’t been last out the door, he might have suffered the same fate. As it was, he’d been able to drive away the scoundrels with
Jamie leaned against the settee arm. “Thank You, Lord. It’s not as deep as I feared.” He shook his head as if to clear it, and studied Robert’s forehead. “This is why he’s unconscious. I feared the stab wound was—”
“Yes. No doubt the blade was aimed at his heart.” Relief soothed Marianne’s ravaged emotions, and she released a few tears. “What happened?” she asked again.
Jamie blinked, as if struggling to focus his eyes. “It is sufficient to say that Moberly’s gambling luck did not follow him into the streets.”
“Footpads?” She could not think anyone would attempt to murder the son of an earl. It must have been true criminals, not bored aristocrats up to no good.
“Aye. And a scurvier bunch I’ve never seen.” He grimaced. “Forgive me.”
She laughed softly. “I am not so fragile that I cannot bear such words. My brothers—”
“Lady Marianne.” Blevins marched into the library wearing his usual black livery, but his sleeping cap instead of his periwig. Behind him, John carried the requested items and more. “Please permit me to attend Mr. Moberly.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Marianne stood and moved back.
Jamie struggled into a nearby chair, grasping his leftforearm with his right hand. His blue wool coat was torn in several places and lightly splattered with bloodstains.
“Jamie!” She reached toward his arm, but he pulled it away. “You must let me look at your injury.”
“Just a scratch or two.” His eyes still did not focus. “I’m not injured.” Belying his words, he touched the back of his head and winced. “Not badly, anyway.” He glanced at Blevins and John, who were huddled over Robert, and sent her a warning frown. “Please, my lady, go to bed.”
She settled into a chair next to him. “When I am assured of Robert’s—and your —health, I shall retire. Until then, you will have to endure my company.” She would have given him a mischievous smirk had not Robert been lying there having his side sewn together by the incomparable Blevins.
Jamie watched the butler’s doctoring methods with interest and growing respect. He himself had stitched up numerous wounds during his whaling days. But he was in no condition to do this job. He’d certainly not expected to see such violence on the streets of London, especially against the son of an earl. Jamie couldn’t be altogether certain Tobias Pincer had not orchestrated the attack. At the very least, the man proved to be a worthless coward. If Moberly recovered, as it now seemed he would, Jamie would give a full accounting of his gaming companion.
After they had eaten supper at Lady Bennington’s table, the three of them had attended a strange gathering at a large private home, one of those routs, during which a throng of people milled about with no apparent purpose. Jamie met several people but was never presented to a host. Afterward, Moberly and Pincer insisted their next stop must be a gambling establishment. While Jamie stood near a windowin the dim and smoky room, the two sat at cards downing drink after drink. Or perhaps Pincer didn’t drink all that much.
With minimal knowledge of the game, Jamie still could sense that Pincer was helping Moberly to win. When they decided at last to leave, Moberly’s pockets bulged with notes and gold coins. And it was he whom the footpads attacked. If Jamie hadn’t been last out the door, he might have suffered the same fate. As it was, he’d been able to drive away the scoundrels with
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