She nodded, feeling somewhat dizzy as she crossed the room and gathered up her pistol and reticule. She turned back to find William tossing a stack of papers into the fireplace.
“The unsigned will,” he said. “It’s the one that didn’t get knocked from the desk, of course.”
She frowned. “That’s because he put it to the left.” Her frown deepened as she studied the desk. “You must have only just got the inkwell. The pen didn’t move. Shall I gather the other?”
William stirred up the fire. The pages caught, momentarily brightening the room with new flame. “Whoever cleans this up can gather them.” He turned from the fire. “That should be good enough. We should go.”
Lanora nodded. It was more important to get William to, well, wherever they were going than to pick up the pages of the marquess’s will.
She followed him across the clerk’s office and down the steps, aware he was moving more slowly than usual. When they reached the landing, he drew his hand from his injured side and wiped it clean on a kerchief. He quickly ran a hand though his hair, restoring it to its usual controlled disorder. He drew out gloves and pulled them on, covering the knuckles of his left hand, reddened from colliding with Lethbridge’s face. Lastly, he tugged his coat to order and fluffed his cravat. She realized, his coat being black, only close scrutiny would reveal he was injured. He turned to her, looked her up and down, and nodded.
“Will you send your driver home and then join me in my carriage?” he asked, his tone perfectly urbane, as if he wasn’t injured, and as if he hadn’t, moments ago, broken a man’s nose.
Lanora nodded. He opened the door for her. Two splendid carriages, one with the crest of his house and one with hers, stood without. Lanora hurried out to reassure her coachman she was well, and sent him home to give Grace the same news. She also informed him that, though it was pending her father’s blessing, she and Lord William were engaged.
She felt a bit bad as she climbed into William’s carriage, handed up by an expressionless servant. She’d used her coachman’s relief that she was well, and joy at her engagement, to send him away before he realized she wasn’t going with him. She hoped he wouldn’t be too upset.
It was dark inside William’s carriage, for he had the curtains drawn. She settled into the seat across from him. He knocked on the roof and they set out.
“Where are we going, if not to a surgeon?” She kept her voice low. “Am I to assume your men are not to know you’re injured?”
“That is a safe assumption. You will not care for where we’re going, and undoubtedly there will be rumors sparked, but please wait until we’re inside before questioning me. I will explain.”
Lanora mulled that over while they rode. She wished to ask him about his mother, and his brother. What Lethbridge had meant when he said he knew all. Even in the dim interior, she could see the strain on William’s features, the pain etched there. She kept her lips pressed tight over her questions.
She couldn’t keep the shock from her face when she was handed down from the carriage. She was quite familiar with the street. Not long ago, she’d spent hours staring at it. They’d arrived at William’s mistress’s townhouse. She shot him an incredulous glance. He replied with a slight shake of his head.
He led the way up the steps and knocked. After a moment, the door swung inward. William ushered her inside. To compound the strangeness, the boy who’d accepted bread from her was there. He was clean, and dressed in new clothes, but she couldn’t fail to recognize him.
“No new servants yet?” William asked the boy while tugging off his gloves.
“No, your lordship.”
“Good. That simplifies things.”
The boy darted a look at Lanora, then turned back to William. “You gone and done yourself harm again, haven’t you? Her ladyship is going to be right angry.”
“Yes, well, I second her complaint.” Tossing his gloves toward a table, William pressed his hand to his side. “I’ll go to my room. If you could tell her I require her services?”
He required what? Lanora stared at him.
The boy nodded his chin at her. “Why’s Mrs. Smith dressed like a lady?”
“Because Mrs. Smith is really Lady Lanora.” He offered Lanora a smile tight with pain. Sweat stood out on his forehead. “This is Dodger.”
“Lady Lanora?” Dodger’s eyes were wide. “So she’s the one you’re wanting to marry?”
“She is. Now, go get the lady of the house and please, help her with whatever she asks. I’m afraid I’ve pulled my stitches.”
“Yes, your lordship.” The boy scurried off.
He was sending for his mistress? He required her services? Lanora drew in a breath and reminded herself that she trusted William. He had an excellent explanation. She was sure of it. She was also sure she’d better hear it soon.
“Would it be impertinent of me to ask you to walk beside me up the steps?” William asked.
“Do you need to lean on me?” She moved to his side, worry for him driving back suspicion.
“No, I can manage. Your presence alone will bolster my spirit.” He offered a grimace that was likely meant to be a smile. “Rather, the desire not to fall down the stairs while you watch will bolster my resolve. I don’t want to ruin the image of masculine strength I’ve cultivated.”
