“I’ll see to it,” Harris offered. “None of my men have reported any unusual activity. However Francis is gaining access through your gardens, we have yet to discover it. I apologize again for the oversight. We’ll seek to rectify this at once.”
Jasper returned to Maria’s side and nodded at Harris. “Thank you.”
Harris turned to the men behind him. “Fetch some wood to bar the window in this room, and search the grounds beyond this parlour. There must be evidence of Mr. Sinclair’s escape and his means of reaching the sash. I expect a report in three quarters of an hour.” He turned back to Jasper and Maria. “I apologize once more for the incident this evening.”
The three men uttered their assurances and swiftly departed, leaving silence in their wake.
Maria rubbed at the back of her head, catching Jasper’s eye.
“You’re hurt,” Jasper noted, his chest constricting. He stepped closer to her side and peered at her neck, and the redness rapidly staining her fichu.
“It doesn’t pain me greatly,” she muttered.
His gut clenched as the gentle moonlight revealed the bleeding crescents on her skin. “Hebityou?”
She nodded once. “Yes. The women on Bow Street require further aid in learning combat. I was taught a number of actions meant to surprise or disarm potential attackers, but Francis was able to block and overpower me rather easily. I’d managed to gain some footing only due to training with my dagger and sure aim with my knee. Grace is often occupied elsewhere, however, and there are newer recruits with far less instruction than me.”
Fury burned behind his chest. How this woman could countenance educating herself and facing off with his cad of a cousin again was beyond him. And hell, but she’d just fought the bastard off—been soddinginjured—and was calm and in command. Would that he had her steadiness, for at the moment, he was veritably buzzing with anger and trepidation.
“Come along,” he urged. “My chambers are warm and private, and your wound requires cleaning and bandaging. I’ve also the implements you will need to write your superior.”
She nodded with a grimace, and the stone in Jasper’s stomach dropped further as they quit the room.
Her injury washisfault, damn it. If he’d but remained at her side that evening, Francis would not have… He internally sighed. There was no way of knowing what Francis might have done had Jasper been there. And, hell, if Jasper had failed to show up at all, mayhap Maria would have gutted the bastard, and they would be done with this nonsense altogether.
Indeed, there was no sense in considering the things that might or might not have occurred had he behaved differently. He ought simply to accept things as they came, and move forward with his support of this…remarkable woman.
He didn’t have tolikethat she put herself in danger—particularly on his behalf—and his guilt would undoubtedly remain, but she had managed to live a life independent from her family for nearly a decade—having apparently begun her independent pursuits at age sixteen—and was clearly capable. He’d learned his lesson in attempting to protect women from the difficulties of life when he’d arranged for Juliana to be wed and she’d absconded into the arms of Lord Livingston. And hell, Maria hadn’t been too fond of him at the time, either.
This, now, was Maria’s life. If he intended to be a part of it—which he most decidedlydid—then he ought not only to resume his old practice of pugilism, but also to learn more about administering to wounds. The woman was worthy of so much more than he could currently offer…so he mustmakehimself worthy.
Jasper led her through the house and into his bedchamber. He guided her to the armchair nearest his writing table and then set about lighting the candles around the room with a taper. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter as he caught sight of her in the flickering light. There was far too much blood for his liking.
Hurrying to the washbasin, he poured in fresh water and dipped a clean cloth, wringing it out before returning to Maria’s side.
“Will you permit me to…” He gestured lamely at her wound.
“Oh,” Maria breathed, tugging her fichu free and setting it on the nearby table. “Yes, thank you.”
Jasper dragged the other chair toward her, sat with his knees straddling hers, and—decidedlynotlooking at her distinctly immodest bodice—bent to his task. She hissed a breath at the first swipe of the cool, wet cloth, and he murmured an apology.
“There’s rather a lot of blood,” he said. “Though most of it appears to have soaked into your fichu.”
“Mmm,” Maria hummed, another grimace contorting her features.
“I can’t believe the fucker bit you,” Jasper said gutturally, his guilt gnawing at him.
It was only once she’d turned her wide grey gaze on him that he realized he’d said the thought aloud.
“Bugger it, I’m sorry. I wanted to be there, I oughtn’t have gone with Harris to?—”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for.This”—she indicated the angry red bite mark that slowly seeped blood—“is not your fault.”
She touched her fingertips to his hand, and heat spread up his arm.
“You are not responsible for the actions of your cousin. You are a good man, Jasper.”
* * *
