Prologue
Everything was a haze of heat and blood, the groan emitting from his lips only a distant echo. Nothing made any clear sense as Gideon fought for control.
Somebody was thrusting something into his hand, and he tried to speak, tried to ask for help, but all that came out was a low noise that he barely recognized as his voice. And all the while, the ache in his shoulder grew worse.
“You must sign this. The doctor will not see you unless you do.” Even that made very little sense. Gideon squeezed his eyes closed, battling through darkness and pain to align his thoughts. Why should the surgeon refuse to come to the aid of a gentleman? It was not as though he did not have the money to pay. All the more disorientated, Gideon opened his eyes and tried to focus on the face in front of him, but it was naught but a blur. “Sign it.”
The voice was darker this time, the words louder. Trying to work out whether he was sitting or standing, Gideon turned his head as something was pushed into his hand. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision. Was that a quill he now held? Why would his fingers not clamp around it with their usual strength?
No further questions could even be considered for, at that very moment, something pressed on his shoulder, and he let out a scream of pain.
“Sign this, or you shall die here without the surgeon ever having come to your aid.”
The pain brought a sudden sharpness to his vision but, even then, Gideon could not comprehend what was taking place. Without being fully aware of what he was doing, his fingers clumsily etched out his signature as he struggled to focus on the paper in front of him. His mind was screaming with confusion, terrified that the threat would come to pass if he did not do otherwise. In an instant, the pain in his shoulder lessened, but the circumstances did not become any clearer. Someone was moving him, someone was leading him somewhere – and then cold air ran across his skin.
He fell back heavily, another jolt of pain slicing through his head.
“The surgeon.”
His agonized, desperate call for help was only a broken whisper and, as his vision blurred again, Gideon was trapped in a dreadful fear that he was to be left entirely alone until death slowly beckoned him. He fought desperately to open his eyes, catching a glimpse of what looked like a red-framed door. But his strength began to fail him, even as he battled to work out where he was, and who had been speaking to him – and after but a few moments, everything faded to darkness.
* * *
It waspain that brought him back. Terrifying and overwhelming darkness had pulled him in, but now it was with relief that he slowly came back to himself.
“You have returned to us.” A voice pressed in at his consciousness, forcing him back all the more quickly. “We have been so very worried.”
Something cool was pressed against his forehead, but Gideon forced his eyes to open. Taking in heavy breaths, he attempted to push himself up, only for the pain to shoot down his right side. It took him some moments to gather himself, but when his gaze finally cleared, he recognized three of his friends who had been with him during the previous evening’s gambling.
“What has happened? His voice was hoarse and dry, but he urged himself to sit up again, pushing away the cool compress as he gritted his teeth against the pain. “Where am I?”
“You are in your townhouse. Someone attacked you last evening.” Lord Wiltsham spread his hands, his expression pinched. “I myself have only just recovered from my stupor, although you have a good deal more to deal with.”
“Attacked me?” Sitting up a little more, Gideon accepted the glass of water from his servant’s hand, taking a long draught. “I do not understand.”
His body felt weak and tired, but his mind simply refused to let him free.
“You recall that we went to the East End of London last evening? It was on Lord Gillespie’s recommendation.”
“Yes, I do recall it. I do not recall if he stayed to play with us, however.”
“Nor do I.” Lord Pottinger put in, as Gideon frowned at the pallor on his friend’s face. “In fact, I do not believe that any of us can recall where Lord Gillespie went, once he had directed us to those ‘copper hells’.”
“That does not mean anything, does it?”
Still struggling to understand what his friends were saying. Gideon winced as he shifted slightly, his shoulder aching terribly. Lord Gillespie was a close acquaintance, known to all of them as a gentleman of good character, which was why he could not understand the dark expression on each of their faces. Had they wished to enjoy the evening elsewhere? Or perhaps they had not been as successful in their gambling as Lord Gillespie had suggested. He tried to shrug, then immediately regretted it.
“You must be careful of that shoulder,” Lord Wiltsham muttered. “As much as it pains you, there is yet more to say, which I fear will pain you all the more. Your shoulder will heal. But the injury I am about to reveal to you now will not so easily mend. “
Concern grew and Gideon shifted forward on his feet, ignoring the stab of pain which came with it.
“What are you speaking of?”
“Thus far we havealldiscovered that our wealth is gone.”
Gideon blinked rapidly.
“I do not understand what you mean.”
