"Nothing's reopened," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Thank God. Though you'll have additional bruising from... whatever that was."
Aubrey's breathing slowly returned to something approaching normal. The worst of the pain was fading to the familiar, constant ache he'd grown accustomed to.
Eleanor straightened, her hair falling forward over her shoulder in a cascade of chestnut waves. In the pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains, with her face flushed from exertion and concern, she looked...
Aubrey looked away quickly.
"Where," Eleanor asked, her voice sharp with exasperation, "did you find such an incompetent valet?"
The question hung in the air between them.
Aubrey was quiet for a long moment, his hand pressed against his aching hip. Then: "Newgate Prison."
Eleanor's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"
"Morrison was in Newgate when I found him. Seven years ago." Aubrey kept his gaze fixed on the window, watching the sky lighten gradually. "Awaiting trial for theft. He'd been a valet in a gentleman's household—a good one, apparently—but the gentleman's son had a gambling problem and couldn't pay his debts. He blamed Morrison for stealing to cover his losses."
"Didn’t he have proof of any kind?"
"No." Aubrey shifted slightly, wincing. "Morrison had no proof, no defence, and no funds for a barrister. He was going to hang."
Eleanor sank slowly into the chair beside the bed, her expression intent.
"I wasat Newgate on behalf of a friend whose brother had been arrested—minor matter, quickly resolved. But as I was leaving, I passed Morrison's cell. He was..." Aubrey paused, remembering. "He was reciting Shakespeare. Hamlet, I think. Perfect diction, perfect delivery, as though he were performing at Drury Lane rather than awaiting execution in a filthy cell."
"Why was he reciting Shakespeare?"
"I asked him the same thing." A ghost of a smile touched Aubrey's lips. "He said if he was going to die, he wanted to die with beautiful words in his mouth rather than pleas for mercy that wouldn't come. That seemed..." Aubrey searched for the word. "Brave. Dignified. The kind of grace under pressure I'd been taught to value but had never actually seen demonstrated."
Eleanor was very still, listening.
"So I asked about his case. When he told me the truth of it, I investigated. Took me three days to find evidence that the son was lying—pawnshop receipts, testimonies from other servants. I hired a barrister, had Morrison released, and the real thief was charged instead."
"And then you hired him as your valet?"
"He had nowhere to go." Aubrey finally looked at her. "He's loyal, discreet, and genuinely grateful. And in matters of clothing and grooming, he's actually quite talented."
"But not in matters of turning injured lords."
"No," Aubrey admitted. "Definitely not that."
Eleanor was quiet for a moment, studying his face in the growing light. "That was a kind thing you did. Saving him."
"It was the right thing." Aubrey shifted again, trying to ease the ache in his hip. "Kindness had nothing to do with it."
"No matter the circumstance, he's still useless at turning you," Eleanor said, but there was no bite in it now. "Why did you summon him? Were you in pain?"
"No, I was trying to spare you the night turnings."
Eleanor blinked. Surprise flickered across her face and perhaps something more complicated. "That was... considerate although unnecessary."
They stilled in awkward silence, the intimacy of the moment—her in her wrapper with her hair down, him laid bare both literally and figuratively—suddenly very present between them.
"You should rest," Eleanor said while straightening out the counterpane around Aubrey.
He watched her precise movements as she filled his water glass and fixed the pillows supporting his back. Her seemingly selfless care of him was so incongruent with the woman Rose had described. He believed Rose, of course, but a small corner of him began to wonder if there had been a misunderstanding of sort. Rose had leaned toward the dramatics after all. Or was it possible that Rose had… No, she wouldn’t. Could she?
Before he could finish his thoughts, she left with the door closing softly behind her.
