If He's Sinful (21 page)

That was something Ashton was all too aware of and it chilled him to the marrow of his bones. “I am not sure.” He sighed when the man scowled at him. “I will not point a finger until I am, if only because that could send the bastard to ground. There are a number of us trying to find out, unceasingly searching for that proof. If he thinks we suspect him, the proof we need could easily disappear right along with him.”

“Well, get it soon. A crack on the head and now a bullet wound. She has been lucky so far but that luck could soon run out.”

The moment the door shut behind the doctor, Ashton sat down beside the bed and took Penelope’s hand in his. He kissed her palm and held her small hand against his cheek. She gave no sign that she felt his caress. She had made little sound as the man had tended her wound and yet she had to have felt something. By the time Septimus had returned, his touch was not needed for Penelope had escaped the worst of her pain in her own way. It was as if she had pulled her spirit so deep inside herself that she was completely unaware of everything around her. Ashton was grateful that she might not have felt the pain but her utter stillness bothered him.

Her brothers entered the room and Ashton reluctantly gave up his place by the bedside. He decided to take the time to speak to Alex and get something to eat. From what little he knew about such things, caring for Penelope was going to take a lot of time and strength.

He found Alex sitting in the parlor with all the rest of the boys and Septimus. Ashton told them everything the doctor had said and soon found himself alone in the room with Alex. After a brief search of the room he found a bottle of wine and poured himself and Alex a drink. Just as he handed his brother the drink, Mrs. Stark bustled in with a tray loaded with bread, meats, and cheese. He thanked her profusely and gave her enough coin to stock the pantry with such items for he knew they would be needed over the next few days.

“You look too worried for a man who just heard that the wound is not a fatal one,” said Alex when Mrs. Stark left them and he joined Ashton in helping himself to some of the food.

“She is too deeply asleep, or unconscious, for my liking.” Ashton shrugged. “Yet that may be for the best. As far as I can tell, she was feeling very little of the pain the doctor had to inflict as he cleaned and stitched her wound. When Septimus returned and placed his hands on her, he said it was so.” At Alex’s curious look, he briefly explained what Septimus was rumored to be skilled at. “Not sure I believe he can take away pain, but I was not about to stop him from trying. She seems to have taken herself away from the pain. I but fear she may have gone too far, if that makes any sense.”

“It does and ’tis a skill many probably wish they had. At the moment, the depth of her sleep is a small worry, however. Ashton, someone wanted her dead. Just as they did when they tried to run her down with the carriage.”

“I know. I believe the carriage incident can be blamed on Mrs. Cratchitt, but this? This, I believe, is the work of the Hutton-Moores. Whether Charles himself tried to kill her or hired someone to do it does not matter. I cannot help but fear that he has already caught wind of the fact that someone is digging into his affairs. What better way to stop that and any possible troubles it might cause him than to be rid of the one who stands between him and what he wants.”

“He would kill her for that house?”

Ashton shrugged. “Many have killed for far less. However, there may have been more left to her than that house and he has stolen it. He would not want that to be discovered.”

“Lady Penelope is the one you want, is she not? Mayhap Charles has gotten wind of that.”

“It is possible. Penelope thinks he does not know about this place, however.”

“Penelope could be wrong.”

It was possible, Ashton thought. Just because the man had not confronted her here or stopped her visits did not mean he did not know about the place. It would explain how Charles would have known where to find her so that she could be kidnapped and taken to Mrs. Cratchitt’s. Ashton cursed as he immediately recognized the truth of that supposition. Charles knew; the man just had not yet bothered to do anything about it. At least not openly.

“He knows,” he said to Alex. “The bastard has probably known exactly where she goes since the beginning. The danger to Penelope is that she does not know that.”

“If Charles is guilty of all we think he is, then there should be some protection here. She does not even have a maid.”

“No money for one. I would send a few of our servants here but I am not sure she would allow it. She has her pride.”

“We can understand that well enough, can we not? She must be made to swallow it, however. It is not just her life at stake here.”

“Very true and that will be the argument I will use.”

Ashton was startled when Artemis burst into the room, but one look at the boy’s pale face was enough to bring him to his feet. “What is wrong?”

“Fever.”

Chapter Twelve

“So this is your emergency.”

“Mother!”

Ashton stared in open-mouthed shock at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway, all the boys crowding behind her. Right behind the boys stood Alex. His brother shrugged. Ashton supposed he should not be so surprised that his mother would wonder where he and Alex had disappeared to after three days’ absence. He had never considered the possibility that she would hunt him down, however.

“Is this where you have been for three days?” she asked.

“Yes.” Ashton dipped the rag he held into the basin of cool water on the bedside table, wrung it out, and gently placed it back on Penelope’s fevered forehead. “She was shot. The bullet went straight through but, either because she lost a great deal of blood or she caught a chill from the damp ground she was lying on, she has taken a fever. I thought of hiring someone to care for her, but decided the safest thing to do was to attend to her myself with the help of the boys. I do not know who shot her, you see.”

Lady Mary moved to the side of the bed and looked down at the fevered young woman lying there as still as death. “Who would want to shoot her?”

“I told you, I do not know. I only have a few ideas and suspicions. No proof.”

“There are a lot of us looking for that proof, however,” said Alex as he stepped up beside his mother.

“How did you find us?” Ashton asked.

“The coachman.” A movement by her feet caused Lady Mary to look down. Big brown eyes stared up at her through long speckled fur. “What is this?”

“A dog,” replied Ashton, smiling faintly at his mother’s look of doubt.

“We call him Killer because he charged after the man who shot Pen and bit the bastard right in his manly parts. I am Paul.” Paul smiled up at her. “I am Orion’s by-blow.”

“Out. All of you out,” said Alex and he began to clear the room of the boys who had slipped inside. “I will see if Mrs. Stark can make some tea for you,” he told his mother and shepherded the boys out of the doorway.

Once the door shut behind Alex and the boys, Lady Mary looked at her eldest son. “That child looks and sounds as if he ought to be singing in the church choir. Until you hear what he says, that is. Manly parts? By-blow? Cursing?”

“I have begun to think that Paul says such things because he likes to shock people,” Ashton said.

“Huh.” Lady Mary removed her gloves, hat, and coat and set them down on a chair near the fireplace. “Is this Lady Penelope? And she was truly shot?” When Ashton nodded, she shook her head. “Is she the only one who takes care of all those boys?”

“She has her two brothers, who are sixteen and fourteen years of age, plus Darius, who is thirteen, who help her.” He silently prayed that his mother did not find out that those three boys spent a lot of time spying on a brothel. “Then there is the boys’ tutor, Septimus Vaughn. Although I believe he is but newly out of Oxford.”

“What about this Mrs. Stark?”

“She is the maid-of-all-work and only comes in for the day. The woman would help care for Penelope but she has an ailing daughter and six grandchildren to care for now. At times she cannot even come in for the day but she sends some food for them all.”

“It is too much for this girl. Her relatives should be ashamed of themselves. When you spoke of it before, I had not realized that it was just her ruling over that pack.”

“I agree that her family should be ashamed. The least they could do is hire some help for her.”

“How long has she been feverish?”

“Since late the night of the shooting.”

“Not so very long then. I have brought some clothing for you and Alex. And myself.”

“Yourself?”

“I have come to help care for her.”

“But—”

Lady Mary moved to his side and patted him on the shoulder. “She needs a woman’s care, if only for her own sake. Think of how uncomfortable she will be when she awakes and realizes you were the only one at her side while she was too sick to see to her own needs.”

Ashton sighed and nodded, knowing there was no argument he could make to that good sense. “I know
I
would feel so if the situation was reversed. You should not have to do it all either, however.”

“I have every intention of letting you and the older boys do your share. Ah, here is our tea,” she said, smiling at Alex as he entered and set the tray he carried down on the table near the fireplace.

At his mother’s coaxing, Ashton left Penelope’s side to share in the tea and a light repast with her and Alex. He was torn concerning his mother’s presence. It would be good to have her tend to Penelope’s more personal needs, but he found he also resented her interference a little. He wanted to be at Penelope’s side round the clock as if he could personally fend off death himself. He decided he was badly in need of some rest if he could even think such a ridiculous thought.

By the time they finished their tea, his mother was in possession of every fact and rumor Ashton had. He was stunned that he had told her so much. It had even been difficult to hold back the truth of what was between him and Penelope. Her interrogation skills were astonishing. Ashton wished he could set her after the Hutton-Moores but he could never place his own mother in such danger, no matter how good the cause.

“Are you certain you should do this?” Ashton asked when she had him fetch her some writing materials so that she could make a list of what she needed to nurse Penelope.

“This is not the sort of fever one can catch,” she said.

“I know, but taking care of someone this ill is an exhausting business.” He waited to see how she would respond as she finished what appeared to be a very long list.

“Have the boys help you fetch these things for me,” she said as she handed the list to Alex, who quickly left. She then looked at Ashton. “I have six children, dear. Amongst the lot of you, you have contracted all manner of ills, broken bones, and gory wounds. However, I do believe I shall send for Aunt Honora.”

“Would not Aunt Sarah be a better choice? She is stronger and, well, more sensible.”

“Quite true, which is why she must stay to keep your siblings in line. Honora is very good at nursing the ill, Ashton. She nursed me through a childbed fever after I had Alexander.” She stood up and walked to the bed. “Who is the doctor who tended the wound?” she asked as she uncovered Penelope’s wound and studied it closely.

“Doctor Pryne.”

“Roger Pryne?”

“I do not know the man’s Christian name. Big man, graying brown hair, and a blunt way of speaking. Do you think you know him?”

“From that description, I feel sure I know him. An old school friend of mine married him.” She sighed. “She is dead now. So sad it was, too. Not even five and thirty and she fell dead. A weak heart. What did he have to say about this wound and this fever?”

“The wound should not be mortal but the fever could be. He left the makings for a willow bark tea and told me to bathe her with cool water. Nothing more.”

Lady Mary bandaged the wound again. “There is nothing more to do really. Do not look so worried, dear. I do not know this girl, but from all you have told me, she sounds as if she has the strength needed to fight this. No woman who could watch over ten boys and survive could ever be weak. Now, I need you to answer a few questions for me.”

Ashton did his best as she proceeded to bombard him with questions. Some were of such a personal nature concerning Penelope that he felt himself blush like a schoolboy. It was one thing to take care of her personal needs when she was insensible, quite another to talk about them. However, when his mother ordered him to go and get some rest, he did so with as easy a mind as he could with Penelope still so ill. He did it because he knew his mother would fight as hard for Penelope’s life as he did, and with a lot more skill. Together they would save her. He would not allow himself to think anything else.

Penelope winced. Her body ached all over. She struggled to remember what had happened before she had gone to bed. And why was she all alone? Why was Ashton not sleeping at her side? Had she slept through his leave taking?

Memories of the park returned in a rush and she nearly gasped. Someone had shot her. Keeping her eyes closed and her body still, she tried to concentrate on that wound. It ached, but no more than that, although she suspected it would hurt if she moved her arm. Her other aches had probably come from falling onto the ground after she was shot. She swallowed the panic that had stirred at the memory of that bullet tearing through her shoulder.