David glanced at his hands. The knuckles were sore and discolored, but he didn’t recall striking anyone in the knee with his fist.
“Not with your hands,” Maggie said. “With your foot, when Lenny grabbed you from behind and you kicked him.”
He did recall being grabbed from behind. He switched the cup to his right hand and felt along the back of his head with his left. Ow. Yes, he had a big goose egg, apparently earned when he’d slammed his head back, hoping to break the other fellow’s nose, and hit the man’s collarbone instead because he was so tall. “LittleLenny?”
* * *
Ashley and Sally had walked around the park in the square three times. Just as she was going to give up and go back upstairs, thinking the note had not been delivered to Mr. Westbrook or that he’d decided not to respond, a rider dismounted, tied his horse to a post, and looked about the park. Seeing the two women, he headed down the path toward them.
The fashionably dressed gentleman fell into step beside her, and Sally dropped back.
“What a pleasant afternoon for a stroll,” Westbrook said.
Ashley struggled to find a way to broach the subject of the purpose of their meeting, and could not even produce polite chatter. Just as she’d finally hit upon the brilliant conversational volley of, “good afternoon,” Westbrook cleared his throat.
“Your note was intriguing, if a little vague. You wish to discuss a mutual friend?”
Oh, good. Polite chatter was unnecessary. “Ravencroft.”
He tilted his head to look at her sideways. “You have spoken to him directly on numerous occasions and are good friends with his niece Georgia. What do you hope to learn from me?”
“It’s about his location.”
Westbrook’s step faltered. “As it happens, I do not know his present location.”
“I do.”
He stopped to face her, one eyebrow raised. “You know where he is?”
She glanced up and down the path and at the patch of grass in the center of the square, confirming that the governess and her two charges who had been playing nearby earlier had left, leaving just her, Westbrook, and Sally in the square. She raised her gaze high, all the way up to look Westbrook directly in the eye. “In my bed.”
Westbrook’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He closed it, scratched his jaw, then clasped his hands behind his back. “He missed two appointments yesterday as well as rehearsal last night. Most unusual behavior for him.” He gave her a quick glance head to toe and shrugged. “But you are both adults. If—”
“Unconscious.”
“—you and he… He’s what?”
“He’s injured.” She forced her fingers to untangle from each other. She started walking again, and Westbrook kept pace beside her. As they followed the path around the square, she gave an abbreviated account of yesterday’s events. “So even when he becomes awake and alert enough to leave, he can’t. I was hoping you know where he lives and could somehow get some of his things. Clothes. Shoes. A hat.”
Westbrook had made odd choking noises at certain points as she told her tale, and now she could only stand and stare, open-mouthed, as he doubled over with laughter.
She planted her fists on her hips. How rude! His friend was injured, had been set upon by thieves, and Westbrook found this a source of amusement? She brought out her Teacher voice. “If you are quite finished…”
“I do apologize, Miss Hamlin.” Westbrook wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and tucked it back in a pocket. He offered his arm, and they began strolling again. “He’s been staying with me, in my bachelor quarters at the Albany. He has been sleeping in my music room since coming to Town. Did you say he is in your music room, too?” He chuckled again.
Ashley frowned. Why would an earl, especially one with such a large family who seemed to all like each other, stay with a friend and not with family or in his own townhouse? “The butcher thought we were husband and wife, so he is in my bedchamber.” She glanced up at the sky, noting how much of the day had passed. “My aunt and uncle will return tomorrow. But even if you get his things to me before they arrive home and we contrive a way for him to sneak past the servants, I fear he may not be able to leave for a while yet. He has awakened for only a few moments at a time before he passes out again. And his wound is showing signs of infection, despite my best efforts.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “There was so much blood. And mud.”
Westbrook grew serious. “Please tell me again about his injuries. I fear I was distracted earlier.”
They walked and talked and came up with a plan. It depended on Ravencroft, of course, and how quickly he recovered. They finished another circuit of the park and stopped when they came to where Westbrook had tethered his horse.
He retrieved a purse from his pocket and held out a large handful of coins. “This is not payment for your services, for I know you would not accept that, but to reimburse you for your expenses in caring for him.”
Ashley had indeed been about to refuse. At Westbrook’s quirked brow and hint of a smile, she graciously accepted the money and tucked it in her reticule.
“Should you need more, or indeed anything else, have your maid tell David’s manservant Gilroy, and he’ll pass on word to me. I know where David keeps a stash of blunt. He can pay for his own upkeep.”
They shared a brief smile. Westbrook raised her hand and dropped a light kiss on her gloved knuckles. “Take good care of him, Miss Hamlin,” he said quietly. “He’s very dear to me.”
