Gone now.
“I understand how important your salves and whatnots are to you,” Pen said, her tone softening, “and you must know I would never wish to make you spill them. However, Idowant you to tell me the truth. Why are you and Jasper whispering and spending so much time together? The two of you are ordinarily at odds, spitting fire and throwing blades at each other.”
Caro sighed. It was true that she and Jasper often disagreed. The matter of Gavin Winter was not unlike any of the other occasions upon which they had found themselves at odds. It was also true that she was a healer, and that referring to her creations assalves and whatnotwas an insult.
She decided to keep her attention firmly pinned upon the latter rather than addressing her sister’s other concerns. “Do you have any inkling how much time I spend reading and experimenting during the creation of my salves and whatnots?”
Pen rolled her eyes heavenward. “Why do I suspect you’re about to tell me?”
The truth was, not even Caro knew how much time she spent upon being the Sutton healer. But it was easily half of each day, if not most of the day.
Caro reached for a freshly laundered rag and bent to clean the remnants of her ointment from the scarred floorboards. “You needn’t mock. We cannot all go gadding about with disreputable rogues. Some of us must tend the flock.”
If there was bitterness in her voice, it was not because she did not enjoy being the Sutton healer. On the contrary, she loved tending to all who needed her efforts. She enjoyed reading, expanding her knowledge, and experimenting. Her dream of being a physician would never come to fruition, for she had been born a woman. At least she was able to pursue her calling within the walls of The Sinner’s Palace, if nowhere else. However, she could not deny that part of her had come to resent Pen for having no responsibilities at the hell beyond keeping the ledgers, a role which enabled her endless time to run off with Lord Aidan.
“Aidan is not disreputable,” Pen denied, her shoulders going back in defiance, chin tilting up. “He is the son of a duke.”
“Third son,” Caro reminded. “And a despicable wastrel.”
“He is a fine gentleman.”
Ha!Lord Aidan Weir was neither fine nor a gentleman. Caro snorted as she sought a clean part of the cloth and wiped the fallen ointment from her slipper.
“Of course you would defend him, Pen.”
“He needs no defense.”
Yet, there was an edge to her sister’s voice. A note of desperation, as if Pen herself knew how much of a scandalous rascal the man she had befriended truly was. Whoring, drinking, gambling, and getting Pen into no end of scrapes—the man was not a Sutton favorite, aside from his endless purse and his desire to spend it exclusively at The Sinner’s Palace. Caro had always suspected there was something more between her sister and Lord Aidan, but Pen claimed they were friends and nothing more.
“He needs an entire infantry brigade of defense,” Caro challenged her sister, straightening once more, a sense of defeat settling over her.
The ointment had numbed her skin, which had been the effect she had been attempting to achieve as a means of aiding the pain a wound caused. But she had no notion of how to recreate her unguent without the precise measurements, and the surprise arrival of her sister and subsequent barrage of questions had stricken those from her mind. She would have to begin anew.
“Why are we speaking of Aidan when you and Jasper are keeping a secret from the family?” Pen demanded, crossing the chamber until she crowded Caro with her presence and her displeasure both. “Tell me what is afoot with you and our eldest brother, and tell me now.”
“I have already told you,” Caro said, avoiding her sister’s gaze, “and it is nothing. No reason. If Jasper and I were speaking, it was a matter regarding The Sinner’s Palace and nothing more.”
That was true, indirectly.
“Randall has been going to your room a great deal,” Pen said. “Are you bedding him?”
Randall? The man was akin to another brother. Moreover, Jasper and their other brothers would have given the poor man a drubbing and then sacked him. Although Caro and her sisters were not unfamiliar with the seedier matters of life—thanks to living in a gaming hell—the Suttons made certain they were protected.
Caro shook her head. “Of course I am not bedding Randall. Our brothers would never allow it. Are you bedding Lord Aidan?”
Pen scowled. “Of course not. We arefriends, Caro.”
Caro did not bother to point out the most unusual nature of such a friendship between a girl from the rookeries and the third son of a duke who was known for his wild ways.
She shrugged, then returned to the task of cleaning her work table. “I suppose I shall have to accept your word on the matter, just as you shall have to accept mine.”
* * *
He was growing impatient.The four walls surrounding him were cruel mockeries. This morning, he had risen and dressed on his own. He had eaten the hearty meal Randall had brought him. He had waited for Caro to appear.
And he was still waiting.
Pacing did nothing to take the edge off the irritation rising within him. He had regained his strength. The time had come to emerge from this bloody room. But because of his indebtedness to Caro, he would not leave without first making her aware of his decision.
