For someone so cautious, he’d certainly put the viper close to the eggs.
The footman Logan had posted in the hallway stood as they approached, bowed, and opened the door. She followed Logan into the bright, welcoming interior of the Crimson Room.
Mildred walked to the edge of the bed and gazed down at the unconscious woman. Her long black hair fanned the pillow, her features bold and elegant. “She’s beautiful.”
A grunt met her ears, and she smiled.
Catching sight of the clean bandage on the woman’s head, she said, “You’ve done well to care for her, despite your eagerness to question her.” Softening, she met his eyes and smiled. His expression thawed in response. Yes, her sweet boy was in there somewhere.
She took in every detail, noticing he’d put the woman in the most comfortable room of those available in that wing. He’d seen to her needs: the maid to look after her, fresh bandages, clean water, and sunlight.
“All human beings deserve common courtesy. She needed care. I saw to it.” She realized his clipped delivery was meant to end the line of conversation. She’d let him have this one.
“I see.” She laid a gentle hand on the woman’s cheek. “Has she told you her name or where she’s from?”
“Her name is Haven Edwards. She’s an American.” She wondered if he realized he’d caressed the woman’s name with his voice. He’d hardened his gaze, effectively closing his expression.
Bah! The boy retreated.
An ache filled her heart.
“An American, how wonderful.” She almost laughed at his bewildered expression. “Americans are great fun at dinner parties.” The glimmer of surprise in his eyes was replaced with steely resolve.
He’d caught on quickly.
What a smart boy. She smiled.
“Absolutely not.” His growl was unmistakable. “I will hear no arguments on the subject. My God, Aunt Mildred, the woman is dangerous. How can I allow a complete stranger to sit at my table with neighbors and friends? It would be like leading the slaughter to the lambs.”
“Keep your voice down.” She turned to see his outburst hadn’t woken the woman. “She needs rest.” She peered out the door, summoning the footman. “When this woman awakens, please let me know.” He nodded, and she dismissed him with a wave. Returning to the bedside, she looked at the woman’s face and smiled. There was something there speaking to her, something she couldn’t quite name. But she knew this woman would bring a bit of radiance to a very dull place. Her smile widened.
“We will discuss this matter later. In the meantime, you can stay out of this room. This young lady has been through much. She needs healing, not persecution.”
His mouth thinned into a pair of grim lines. She could tell he wanted to argue, but held his tongue.
With a last glance at the figure blanketed in crimson, he bowed to her and left. Mildred listened with a sad heart as his angry steps carried him toward down the hall. What was she going to do with that boy?
No, he’s a man.
A man with a twenty-two-year-old wound no doctor on earth could heal.
Chapter Fourteen
Haven’s head felt like an overripe watermelon beneath the steady swing of a sledgehammer. She opened her eyes, blinked to focus, and gasped as the simple movement hurt like hell.
The maid rose from her chair in the corner, leaving the room. No doubt to summon the dark duke from his villainous fortress of solitude.
Breathing in, she endeavored to put her flitting thoughts into some kind of order.
Okay, what happened this time?
Her memory danced out of focus for a millisecond longer. Then—“Oh, God.” She remembered the disastrous meeting with the duke, and the headline on the newspaper, the date beneath the headline soured her stomach.
March 29, 1817.
1817? This has to be some kind of cosmic joke.
“This didn’t happen. I’m not actually lying in a bedroom in a mansion in England in 1817. I can’t be. Time travel doesn’t exist.”
