He shoved it at her with one eye shut, as if he couldn’t quite focus. “Take it. It’s a foul drink. I’d rather ’ave a pint o’ ale.”
Leah cleared away most of the blood with the linen, and then she poured some of the brandy along the neat row of new stitches. Next, she took the dry linen and wound it around his midsection, trying the ends neatly together. “You’re done. That’s all I can do for now.”
Benjamin lifted his arm and tried to look at his side, but when he nearly fell out of the chair, Harlan was there to keep him steady. “Why don’t we get you into bed?” he suggested.
Leah stood to take Benjamin’s weight on the side of his injury, and together, they managed to get the burly man into the bedroom. It wasn’t long afterward that a soft snore emitted from him.
“It sounds as if he will get some rest,” Harlan muttered.
“Yes,” Leah agreed. “By the morning, we should know if any infection will set in.” As they returned to the main room and gathered up the items that she’d used, Leah asked, “What took you so long earlier? I was nearly finished stitching before you appeared.”
“I spoke with Matthew,” he noted grimly. “Now that Mr. Bernard is on the loose, I thought it best he was cautioned. He is going to join us shortly, rather than stay with the team. It took some time to cajole him into doing so, but I explained the danger he might be in should he fall asleep and find his throat cut open.”
“That was rather… insightful of you,” she murmured.
“And you’re still angry about Benjamin,” he returned quietly. “You blame me for his injuries.”
“I did,” she admitted softly. “But I understand why. “Benjamin told me he could be stubborn on occasion and generally refused help.” She omitted the part where he’d told her about Harlan’s strong emotions toward her. She decided it wasn’t the time nor the place to discuss such an intimate topic, and to be honest, she would rather hear the words from Harlan’s lips anyway.
“You have no idea,” Harlan returned with a chuckle. “He has been a loyal friend for some time. But I am quite familiar with his overbearing pride. I dared to ask him if he needed help once. It was the last time I did so.” He frowned slightly. “I never had cause to worry about his prowess before now, but it just proves that Mr. Bernard is unlike any foe we’ve come up against before. We all made the mistake of underestimating him, but it will not happen again.”
Leah could feel an uneasy chill travel up her spine. When she shivered, Harlan noticed the action. He moved to her side and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I hope you know that.”
She could see the sincerity in his hazel eyes. “I do.”
The moment stretched out between them. The awareness that had been swirling among them in the carriage returning in full force. They started to lean toward one another…
A brisk knock at the door caused Leah to blink.
Harlan cleared his throat. “That will be Matthew.”
“You should get it,” she whispered in return.
“Indeed.” It took him another moment before he was able to break the trance that had seemed to overtake him. As he opened the door to admit their coachman, Leah decided it was a good thing that she wasn’t alone with Harlan any longer. The results would be delicious, but perhaps not the appropriate timing for another liaison.
As it was, she was still conflicted over whether or not they should be together again intimately. While her body craved nothing but him, her heart was begging her to reconsider. When it came to rational thought, she realized that she should choose the latter, but as Harlan glanced at her with heat shining in his enigmatic gaze, she could feel the butterflies set off in her stomach and she wondered if she would be strong enough to withstand her desire after all.
Chapter 17
The next morning, Harlan left the boarding house before the sun had fully touched the sky with its brilliant rays. He was intent on finding out where his assassin had gone, and he had no choice but to return to the brothel if he hoped to look for clues. No doubt the rat had returned to Dudley, perhaps to the vicar’s household. But time would soon tell.
With a variety of disguises in his arsenal, Harlan chose to don the one that would gain him the least amount of attention.
Heading to the coach, he lifted up the seat in the back to reveal a compartment. There, he withdrew a bundle of clothes that he kept for just this sort of endeavor. He quickly donned the alternate garments, and using the compact mirror he had, he carefully applied a bit of concealing cosmetics, although it wasn’t the sort of items that ladies might use to enhance the color of their cheeks or lips. Instead, it was a coal base that turned him into a rugged sort of vagabond. The clothes were padded heavily about the midsection and the bottle of cologne that he sprayed on himself was not the sort to attract anything but flies. It was an abhorrent mixture of urine and brandy and something else he hadn’t been able to put a name to, but the chemist had done exactly what he’d asked. Over time he had become used to the concoction so that he didn’t gag, but it was still not pleasant. However, it generally did the trick by keeping most anyone at bay that dared to gain a closer look at him.
Adding the false wig, along with a pair of spectacles that had seen better days, he grabbed the bottle of false drink in his hand and started to stagger in the direction of the brothel. Thankfully it wasn’t a lengthy distance, but Harlan never knew who might be walking among the streets. He had to put on a good performance, or it wouldn’t be believed.
As he drew closer to the brothel, he started to sing a lewd shanty. He wanted to see what sort of vermin might come out of their holes to confront him. He hoped that it was Mr. Bernard. With the pistol concealed within his padding, the scoundrel wouldn’t get a chance to catch him unaware before he earned a hole in the center of his chest.
It wasn’t long before a light shone in one of the upstairs windows of the brothel. Immediately, the window opened and a lady with henna colored hair leaned out and shouted down at him. “Here now! Some of us are tryin’ to sleep. Quiet that ruckus!”
He put a hand over his heart and looked upward with a squint. He added a stumble for good measure and altered his voice until it sounded like a drunken Scotsman. “Aye, lass. I willna do anything so long as ye’ll toss up yer skirts for me!” He laughed richly as she slammed the window shut again with a grumbled curse.
He acted as though he took a long drink out of the bottle, but instead, Harlan took the opportunity to view his surroundings. He paused when he saw a man’s legs sticking out of the alley. He appeared to have passed out drunk, but it was the fact that his clothes were of quality that Harlan thought to inspect the situation.
As he drew closer, he realized that the man wasn’t just propped up against the side of the building and sleeping off too much drink. A knife protruded from the center of his chest, proof enough that this man had been murdered.
Harlan had a suspicion that he knew the man responsible for the deed.
