“Lady Rycliffe? I’d like to get your version of events if you don’t mind.”
“It’s a long story, and I’m not entirely certain how those two fit in. Tonight I arrived to see William being kicked and beaten. I pulled my knife and a sharpened piece of wood and stabbed the rotten-smelling one in the foot and kicked him in the privates. I caught the other one around the neck with a knife before realizing the fire was blazing. I called for help.”
“And the longer version?”
“Not tonight, please?”
He gave an irritable sigh before agreeing to call on me in two days. By the time he finished, Kit and Mr. Ainsley had returned with a makeshift stretcher and a plan to take Will to Kit’s to rest for the night.
Will gave another pained groan when they moved him, but his hand tightened on mine.
I hurried alongside the stretcher down the street, grasping Will’s fingers, the bird resting on his knee.
Forty-One
KIT’S APARTMENT, LONDON - JUNE 29, 1816
WILLIAM
I’d never wantedto open my eyes less. My head was big. Surely it hadn’t always been this size, so thick and heavy. It throbbed with every beat of my heart. That was how I knew I was, in fact, alive, despite all evidence to the contrary.
My stomach and ribs throbbed with every breath. Inhaling was a chore I wasn’t overly interested in. The ribs were broken, I had no doubt of that. It had happened once in France, and what followed was a memorable few weeks. By memorable, I meant agonizing.
Not like this though. I’d never felt like this.
Someone was talking at me, soft and warm words I couldn’t fully make out. That was nice. They had my hand wrapped in theirs too. It was the only part of me that didn’t hurt and the touch was a comfort.
My memories seemed intact. The damn bird had been there, warning me about Bates and the other one. I remembered the start of the fire. Celine, too, with her knife like an avengingwarrior goddess. She was probably the one holding my hand now. It felt right, the way it always did when she touched me.
Liquid dropped onto my hand in uneven drips. My sluggish thoughts took a moment to label them as tears. That was enough for me to attempt to open my eyes.
Attempt and fail.
A single flutter was all that was necessary to determine it was far too bright. Now that I noticed it, the sun blazed, even through my closed lids. Hadn’t it been evening?
Also, the left eye refused to obey my commands at all which would be more concerning if I were in less pain.
A sharp pinch to my free hand forced my eyes open. “Ow!”
“Will? Oh Lord, William?” ItwasCeline with her hands wrapped around my uninjured one.
“Cee?” I mumbled through the feeling of cotton stuffed in my throat.
“You know me?”
I squeezed her hand as a yes, hoping desperately she wouldn’t ask me to open my eyes again.
“Was that a yes? Can you hear me?”
No luck.“Yes… hurts.”
“I know, love. I know. We can’t give you anything because of your head. Can you open your eyes?”
“Sun.”
“The sun is too bright?” I squeezed her hand again. She rose, leaning over me to close the drapes. Where was I? That was not where the window was in my… Oh, my apartment. Was it even standing?
Her hand settled on my cheek, brushing a thumb against the bone. “’S nice,” I mumbled.
