“Thank you, sir.” Lord, she could barely get the words past the sudden knot in her throat. She dug her hand into her pocket and retrieved some of the coins Ada had lent her. After counting out the correct sum, she handed it to the doctor.“Your help is much appreciated. Thank you once again.”
The doctor gave her a solid nod, told her to call on him if her sister’s condition worsened, and left.
Harriet turned, acutely aware of the large man crowding the room. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on her with quiet interest.
It took some effort suppressing the shiver that stole down her spine. “Why did you come here?”
“To make sure you’re all right.” The low timbre with which he spoke vibrated through her.
Her pulse quickened. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. You should probably get back to work.”
“I will, once I’ve checked on your wounds.”
“What?” He was approaching with a very determined expression. Harriet took a step back. “There’s no need for that. I already told the doctor I’m fine.”
“I beg to differ.”
He took both her hands in his, bringing their difference in size into focus. Harriet struggled to breathe. Goodness, she couldn’t even swallow. Her throat was too tight. The feel of his fingers exploring her wounds with the utmost of care turned her legs to jelly. Her stomach flipped and her face felt alarmingly hot.
And then he raised his hand. His fingertips grazed her brow. And it was as if she’d been pushed off a cliff. Her world spun while she fell and her gaze snapped to his. He was watching her closely – too closely – his attention upon…her mouth?
No. That couldn’t be. Surely she must be mistaken. He was merely assessing her wounds. Right?
Yet she sensed the air shift between them. The atmosphere had somehow thickened and her muscles were suddenly clenching in anticipation of change.
With a gasp, she withdrew and retreated from him. “I think I can manage.”
His answering smile was soft and warm. “Are you certain?”
“Very much so. Yes.”
He inclined his head while studying her. He eventually nodded, his features suddenly grave. “I’ll respect your wishes, but I expect you to have those wounds properly cleaned.”
“Of course.” Needing something with which to busy herself, she went to collect a bowl and fill it with water. “If you could please let Mr. Hudson know I’ll be back at work tomorrow, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course.” He didn’t move. “Would you like me to help you clean up before I go?”
When she glanced at him, he jutted his chin toward the bucket and chamber pot Lucy had used. Embarrassment filled Harriet all over again. “Absolutely not.”
“It wouldn’t be any trouble at all. And since you’re wounded, I thought—”
“Thank you, but no. I can manage.”
“In that case…” He scratched the back of his head while she took a seat at the table and started tending her wounds with greater care than what she’d managed at Westcliffe House. Hopefully he’d take it as a cue for him to leave. She thanked her lucky stars when he moved to the door. “I’ll see you later then, I suppose.”
“Yes. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
He must have sensed there was no reason left for him to stay, for he opened the door, hesitated briefly, and finally departed. Harriet held her breath for a second before she expelled it with a loud sigh. She stared at the door. Was it possible Mr. Evans had the same inclinations as Oliver?
It seemed unlikely. What were the chances of her knowing two such individuals and having both press their advances? Besides, Mr. Evans had spoken to her about bedding women and had offered advice on how to avoid contracting some horrid disease.
She shuddered and gave her attention back to her hands. One of the wounds was especially deep and required extra scrubbing. She winced as she took care of it, but her thoughts remained on Mr. Evans. Could she have misjudged the situation? The way he’d touched her and the fierce look in his eyes – the manner in which she herself had responded – had warned her that he’d meant to kiss her. As Oliver had.
She sighed. Perhaps she should have let him instead of stepping away. The trouble was that as much as she longed to feel his mouth against hers, she wanted him to be kissing Harriet, not Harry.
Bloody brilliant. I don’t just fall for a man out of reach but for one who might not like women.
With a groan, she dried her hands, dipped the cloth she’d been using in water, and went to stand before the small mirror that hung from a nail on the wall. Goodness, she looked a fright. There was a cut on her brow, her cheek was bruised, and blood had been smeared across her forehead. Her upper lip was also swollen. Maybe that was why it had caught Mr. Evans’s attention. Maybe she’d read the situation wrong and all he’d actually wanted to do was offer assistance.
