Son of a rogue and a gypsy, Hero Fiennes Tiffin was a notorious rake until a shattering betrayal left him alone and embittered in the Welsh countryside. Desperation drives quiet schoolteacher Josephine Langford to ask Hero Fiennes Tiffin to help sav...
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Face fine-drawn by tension, Hero refused treatment for his injuries. He did accept a loose cloak from Rafe, since putting on his own closely cut coat was out of the question. Within a few minutes, he and Josephine were heading home in his coach. The ball guests were still so busy celebrating that no one gave them a second glance when they left the house.
There was no talk as they rumbled through the streets of Mayfair. Hero sat on the opposite side of the carriage, balanced on the front edge of the seat rather than leaning on his abused back. He also moved stiffly when he helped her from the carriage at Westgate House.
Once they were inside, she said, "Before you go to bed, I want to clean and treat those lacerations." She gave him her no-nonsense schoolmistress look. "I know that you delight in being stoic, but there are limits."
He gave her a self-mocking smile. "Agreed, and I've reached them. Where do you want to hold your surgery?"
"Your room, I suppose. I'll change out of this gown and be along after Polly finds me some medical supplies." She went to her own room, where Polly was napping. She woke quickly and helped Josephine undress, then went for bandages and medications.
Perhaps as punishment for her worldliness, Josephine blue silk gown had been ruined by Lord Michael's blood and her contact with the ground. She donned her practical white flannel nightgown and covered it with a handsome red velvet robe that was part of her London wardrobe. After brushing out her hair and braiding it into a loose plait, she sat down to wait for Polly's return.
The nervous energy that had carried her through the duel and ride home disappeared, leaving her suddenly exhausted. She leaned back in the wing chair, pressed her hands to her temples, and began to shake as the stresses of the night caught up to her. Every blow struck in that ghastly duel was permanently engraved in her memory. If Lord Michael had gotten his wish and they had fought with pistols or swords ... She shuddered and tried to change the direction of her thoughts.
Though she had felt murderous when she saw Lord Michael attacking Hero, now that the duel was over her heart ached for the major. Though his wild accusations against Hero were the product of a disturbed mind, he obviously believed them, for his torment had been genuine. She sighed. He was not the first soldier to be destroyed by war, and sadly, he wouldn't be the last. Perhaps in time his mind would heal; she hoped so.
But in the meantime, he was a very real danger. Though Hero didn't think his old friend capable of cold-blooded murder, Josephine was not so sure. Perhaps it was time to return to Wales. Michael had implied that he would not have gone in search of Hero; with luck, out of sight would prove out of mind.
When Polly returned with a tray containing bandages, medications, and a basin of warm water, Josephine forced her weary body from the chair. After taking the tray, she sent the maid to bed and went down the hall to Hero's bed chamber. The door was slightly ajar, so she pushed it open and went in.
