“Drastic measures?” Miss Howard said, her lips barely moving. She must have clenched her jaw tightly. Thank God she had stopped squirming.
“I can’t fight you, but I outweigh you by at least four stone, probably five.” The woman couldn’t have weighed more than eight stone. Hew could practically feel her ribs through her dress. He should be the one feeding her tea and bread. “I can sit on you and keep you here.”
“And what will you do when I poke at your injury?” She twisted, almost escaping his hold this time. “I wager you will allow me up quick enough.”
Hew narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, Miss Howard. And you will cease fighting me and sit down.” He caught the faintest flicker of capitulation in her eyes and, as a show of good faith, released her waist. She stepped back, sliding the fabric of her dress down as though he’d hurt her, even though he had been gentle—firm, but gentle.
“You had better sit down yourself,” she said. “Before you fall down.”
He had hoped that the swaying had been the building, but buildings in this part of the world didn’t sway. He also didn’t think Belle Howard was the sort of woman to give up so easily. She’d wait until he passed out again and then walk right out the door and into danger. Hew did what any agent in his condition would—he sank down in front of the door.
“Not there, you oaf,” Miss Howard said, her voice filled with irritation. “In the bed.” She offered a hand to help him rise and move to the bed, which, he could admit, would have been a sight more comfortable, but he waved her hand away.
“I like it here.”
She stood and stared down at him. “You think blocking the door will keep me here?”
“I don’t think you’re foolish enough to go out the window, but I could be mistaken. Perhaps you want to break your neck.”
The look in her eyes said she wanted to break someone’s neck. It also said she was worried enough about her father to do just about anything. Fortunately, the rain chose that moment to begin again. It was a light spattering on the window, but if her weather forecasting skills were one-tenth of her skill with tea, then it would be raining more heavily soon. Even a headstrong woman without an ounce of sense wouldn’t try and climb out a window in the rain.
Miss Howard glanced at the window, giving it a look of loathing she had heretofore reserved for him. Then she walked deliberately to the chair, grasped it with both hands, dragged it to the end of the bed, and set it to face him. She sat, arms crossed and staring at him. Hew was fairly certain this was one of the most unusual situations he’d ever been in. He was in bare feet and shirtsleeves, sitting in front of a door, keeping an unmarried, unchaperoned woman hostage. He had a moment to wonder what had become of his new coat from Schweitzer and Davidson’s then decided it was best not to know.
“I am not a curious person, Mr. Arundel. I mind my business and leave others to their own. If I go to St. Katharine Docks and a man approaches me and whispers he has a SowMee White or Yin Chen and will give me a good price, I don’t ask questions. If the tea is good quality, I buy it and let him worry about customs fees and import taxes.”
Hew rubbed his forehead, attempting to ease the pounding that had begun there. All this talk of tea made him wish he’d had the forethought to grasp the cup she’d given him before sinking down in front of the door. “I don’t think your ignorance will shield you from prosecution, should you be discovered with smuggled tea.”
She lifted a shoulder. “That example was purely hypothetical.”
“Sure it was.” His gaze flicked to the still half-full cup of Earl Grey. He hoped she hadn’t acquired that from smugglers, but even if she had, he would have drunk it. It truly was the best he’d ever had.
She rose, as though hearing his thoughts, fetched the tea and saucer, and handed it to him before taking her place in the chair again. “My point,” she said after he’d had a long sip, “is that I don’t ask unnecessary questions. I don’t want to know more than I need to. But I find that as much as I wish not to know, I must ask who you are and why you were stabbed.”
Truth be told, Hew had been expecting the questions much sooner than this. Mrs. Price and Mrs. Tipps had peppered him with questions for the few minutes he’d been conscious in their presence. He’d pretended to go to sleep to avoid them. Even Mr. Howard had asked him questions. Hew had evaded them all. He didn’t want to involve this family any more than he had, but at this point, their involvement couldn’t be avoided. He’d put Miss Howard and her father in danger, however unintentionally.
Hew sipped the tea again and leaned his head back against the door. “Who am I?” he said. “That’s a complicated question for anyone.”
“Not really.”
He smiled. She was abrasive, but he liked her for that. She reminded him of Lucy Galloway, one of the agents with the Royal Saboteurs. Lucy was bold to the point of rudeness, though she always asked her pointed questions and made her sharp remarks with a dimpled smile.
“My name is Hew Arundel. I come from a family with a long lineage.”
“A wealthy one with ties to the upper class, if the name is any indication.”
He didn’t deny it. His father had married the daughter of the Duke of Ely, and though his father hadn’t had a title, he’d had money enough to mean his lack of a Lord before his surname could be overlooked. His uncle Ernest, the brother his mother called Blue because of his piercing blue eyes, had taken an interest in Hew when he’d been ten or eleven.
Hew was not in the habit of using the Ely title to his advantage, so he left it out now. “My mother was born to a family of some renown,” he said. “Her younger brother, my Uncle Ernest, liked to tell me stories about his days as a soldier. He fought against Napoleon during the Peninsular Wars. According to my uncle, he was captured three times and escaped three times—freeing his comrades-in-arms with him. He was good at extricating himself from difficult situations.
“I like to think he saw something of himself in me as he encouraged me to become a diplomat.”
She took his empty teacup and set it on the floor. He’d forgotten about it, and his hand had gone slack. His body felt slack.
“You’ll think me ignorant, but what does a diplomat do? I thought those were the men who traveled to France or Austria and negotiated treaties no one cares about.”
Hew gave her a faint smile, about as much as he could manage through the pain. “I imagine you care about those treaties and negotiations having to do with tariffs and taxes on your precious tea.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You had something to do with the taxes on tea?”
