Sam sighed. “What is it, Henson? I’m going to go into my study and drink myself to oblivion, so you better say it now.”
“There are women waiting for you in your study, Mr. Kincaide.”
Who would be here? On any other day Sam would have been delighted at the thought, but right now he felt nothing. He would see whoever the ladies were and send them on their way.
“Go to bed, Henson,” he said as he ambled over to the study.
Sam pushed the door open, expecting to see giggling ladies, but instantly sobered at the sight before him.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Lila, one of the most coveted mistresses of the ton, sat on his sofa with a much younger lady. He’d spent many nights with Lila, but it wasn’t the sight of her that caused his reaction. Her young friend’s face was swollen, and her lip was split. As Sam looked at her, she shook in fear. He jerked his eyes away, not wanting to cause her anymore distress. Lila stood. “I’m sorry to bother you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go. She is terrified and fled her protector. She won’t tell me who it was but believes he will look for her.”
Sam studied the woman. She was so young. He noticed bruising on her neck as well. Who would do this? He walked over and knelt down next to her, hoping to put her at ease. She recoiled.
“Who did this to you?” he asked with concern.
She shook her head frantically before gasping in agony.
“She is in a great deal of pain. Her face is only a small part of it. She says it is a peer, but that’s it.”
Fury uncoiled in Sam at the thought that anyone could do such harm to another human. “What can I do to help?”
“I need somewhere to hide her until she recovers,” Lila said.
“What’s your name?” Sam asked.
The girl looked at Lila, terrified, and Lila nodded.
“Abigail,” she whispered.
“Abigail, I promise you I will protect you, but I can do that better if you give me a name.”
Abigail's eyes welled up, and she looked like she wanted to unburden her soul, but she shook her head again. Her tears turned into uncontrollable sobs. Lila wrapped her arms around her.
“Protection for now would be best,” Lila said.
Sam may be many things, but he would never harm a woman the way this young woman had been hurt. He nodded tightly. “You have it and I have a place she can stay.”
Chapter 7
Clara sat in her room at a little table, piecing together the dissection that Sam had given to her at the Adderly’s house party. Well, not really given it to her; he had a maid bring it to her room the morning after their encounter in the cardroom. Clara’s cheeks heated thinking about the moment. If she closed her eyes, she could still remember the way his lips felt against hers. She sighed, gathering up the pieces and dumping them back into the leather box. Sam Kincaide wasn’t someone to fantasize about.
As she stood, her mother entered her room, as always, void of any expression. She had the scandal sheets clutched tightly in her hand—the only sign of her annoyance. The papers had finally published something about her incident in the park. Clara had meant to tell her but hadn’t seen her in the last two days. She straightened herself.
“Mother,” Clara greeted.
Her mother set the paper down delicately before walking towards her.
“Clara, you look a fright. Your hair is disheveled.”
Clara glanced in the mirror. A single loop of hair fell in the wrong direction. She squeezed her fingers closed, digging her nails into her palm.
“I apologize, Mother,” she said quietly.
Her mother prowled closer until she was only a foot away. Clara racked her brain for something to say, hoping to get ahead of her mother’s anger. She opened her mouth just as her mother’s hand snaked out, landing on her cheek. The crack echoed through the room, and the maid who followed her mother in left quietly.
Clara said nothing, not even a whimper. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Her mother walked away and picked up the paper. She delicately opened it up and read,
