Belle’s gaze traveled over several other furnishings—chairs, couch, rug, dressing table—before it returned to the man stepping away from one of the windows. He was dressed in black and was small in stature for a man, perhaps only a few inches taller than Belle. He had brown skin that looked weathered and lined from age or sun, and his black hair was worn close to his head. He had a long nose that reminded her of the masks she’d seen people wear as part of a costume to represent plague doctors of the past.
“Er—let’s call him Smith,” Lady Keating said, indicating the man who had gone to Arundel’s side.
“Smith?” Belle raised her brows. This man was not a Smith. The man-who-was-not-Smith raised Arundel’s wrist and pressed two fingers to the inside. At the same time, he lifted Arundel’s closed eyes, to look at the whites under the lids. “Is he a doctor?” Belle asked.
“Something like that,” Lady Keating said. “I trust him with my life. He’s traveled the world studying medicine and has an unparalleled knowledge of medicines and treatments. Shall we leave him to it?”
Belle, who had wanted to escape nursing the moment it had been thrust upon her found that she now wanted to stay. But Lady Keating’s suggestion to leave had really been more of a directive. No doubt not-Smith would need to strip Arundel in order to see the wound, and it wouldn’t be seemly for ladies to be present. Of course, she’d seen his wound and was quite familiar with his bare chest by now, but that wasn’t the point.
“Would you like some tea?” Lady Keating asked, and those were powerful words.
“Yes,” Belle said firmly. “Yes, I would.”
She patted her pocket, where she had slipped the Pan Long Yin Hao from the safe before she’d found the bucket in the back room. The fire was her priority, but she would never have left the Pan Long Yin Hao at risk of destruction from the fire. It was too valuable—and too delicious.
She followed Lady Keating to another chamber, surprised to find it was not the drawing room but an antechamber to what was most likely her bed chamber. A fire burned here, and a small grouping of chairs had been arranged before the hearth. A maid stood at the ready, and Lady Keating asked her to bring tea.
“If you don’t mind, I brought my own tea.”
Lady Keating gave Belle a startled look and the maid lifted her brows in affront. Belle raised her hands in supplication. “I am certain your tea is of the best quality, but I brought a very special tea with me, and it would calm me to drink it.”
“Very well.” Lady Keating glanced at the maid. “Bring the tea things, and Miss Howard will prepare her tea.”
“I would be happy to make you a cup as well,” Belle offered.
Lady Keating inclined her head. “Very well.” She gestured to her maid who left the two alone. Belle stood awkwardly, taking in this small, cozy room.
“Please sit.” Lady Keating indicated the grouping of chairs and Belle sat gratefully, feeling the exhaustion wash over her as soon as she had a moment to feel the heat of the fire and the softness of the chair. “Do you always carry tea with you?”
Belle snapped her eyes open. She must stay awake. “I confess I do.”
“I imagine when you own a tea shop you become quite particular.”
“My father says I was born particular. From a very young age I had an ability to taste and smell the best blends of tea. We are a small shop on Fenchurch Street, but I like to think we have a reputation for selling the best tea in London.”
“And how do you find such exquisite tea? I confess that though I am a copious tea drinker, I know little about the business.”
“I go to the St. Katharine Docks and inspect the tea myself. I only buy the best.”
Lady Keating raised a brow. “You go to the docks? Is that not dangerous?”
Belle knew how to be careful. “I know who to trust and have friends there who look out for me.”
“It’s good to have friends,” Lady Keating said, glancing at the door as the maid entered with the tea tray. Belle had the feeling the baroness would have said more if her servant hadn’t come in at that moment.
“Anything else, my lady?” the maid asked.
“No. You may retire. It will be an early morning, Flanners.”
Belle did not wait for permission but began the process of preparing the Pan Long Yin Hao. She was aware Lady Keating watched her and heard the woman’s intake of breath when she revealed the tea leaves. “Those are beautiful,” Lady Keating said.
“This is the tea of the Emperor of China. I’m told it’s hand rolled by royal servants.”
“It’s lovely. What is it called?”
“The man I bought it from called it Curled Dragon Silver Tips, but it’s more commonly known as Pan Long Yin Hao.”
“Commonly known? I have never heard of that.”
