At the top of the landing, she hesitated. On the right, a door was ajar and the faint light of a single candle was barely discernable. She entered very quietly.
Branford lay under a light coverlet, and appeared to be asleep. His nightshirt was open at the throat, and the white linen accentuated the pallor of his skin. Without opening his eyes, he gave a faint smile.
“Poor Hawkins was no match for you, I see.”
Cecilia dropped her parasol and came to the edge of the bed. “Oh, Sebastian.” She smoothed a tangle of hair from his brow and leaned in to brush a quick kiss to his stubbled cheek.
He shifted slightly, which drew an involuntary wince.
“Are you badly hurt?” asked Cecilia s she moved the coverlet down to expose his chest. Through the fine weave of his nightshirt, she could see the heavy bandage wrapped under his breast.
“No vital organs are damaged—just a nick to the ribs. The doctor says that I’m lucky.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I wish I could feel the same.”
Cecilia moved a chair around so that she could sit by his side. “My dear, dear friend,” she said softly, taking up his limp hand and cradling it between her palms. “You were there for me in mytime of need. My sister and her child would not be alive if not for you?—”
“I only did what Henry would have done,” he interjected.
“But Henry wasn’t there!Youdefended her from that blackguard,” she replied. “Now, it’s you who are in need. Please—let me help.”
“I am beyond help,” he said bleakly.
“Ye gods, you sound like some bird-witted heroine in a horrid novel!”
Branford allowed a reluctant chuckle … though it caused another spasm of pain.
“Of course you’re not beyond help,” continued Cecilia. “Though how a man of your intelligence managed to get himself in such a coil is beyond me.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Now, kindly explain this ridiculous bet.”
Branford’s eyes flew open. “How the devil …”
“Justin Chilton is no match for me either,” she shot back. “He is, by the way, feeling quite wretched about wounding you.”
“I hope you weren’t too hard on him. He did what any loyal brother would have done under the circumstances.”
“I didn’t have to be hard on him—he is doing a good enough job of it on his own. Henry wouldn’t admit it, but I think even he was moved by the boy’s courage in coming to our house to find out how you were.”
Branford gave a ghost of a smile. “He’s a good lad.”
“Yes, I think he is, but don’t try to evade my question. I’m not leaving here until I get a satisfactory answer.”
“That I can well believe,” murmured Branford. He gave a deep sigh, only to have it cut short by another spasm of pain.
Cecilia tightened her gentle hold on his hand.
“Very well,” he said in tone of resignation. “I was deep in my cups some weeks back—knowing Henry, I’m sure he voiced his concern over what he termed my destructive behavior. Agroup of gentlemen were having a discussion—I was too drunk to comprehend any of it … all I vaguely remember was being challenged to a bet.”
Branford grimaced. “Which I accepted without knowing anything about it—though you clearly have heard the unsavory particulars.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “When I learned about the details several days later, I made a point of meeting Alex, and immediately realized that she was an innocent, not the experienced, worldly lady I had been tricked into pursuing. So I hurried to White’s that same night and blacked out the entry in the betting book, announcing that I refused to be part of such a despicable and dishonorable wager.”
Cecilia huffed in frustration. “Sebastian! How could you be such an idiot!” .
“I admit it’s not ever wise to accept a bet without knowing?—”
“That’snotwhat I meant. Why the devil didn’t you tell Miss Chilton this?”
“I … I …” Branford let his eyes fall shut again. “I don’t quite know why.”
To Cecilia, he looked utterly lost.
