Page 14

Concern puckered his already contorted countenance.

“Not seriously,” Lenora assured him, waving a hand toward the back of her head. “Just a little knock on my head when I tumbled onto the pavement. Head wounds tend to bleed profusely.”

Another morsel she’d gleaned from a book acquired at Tolmans’ Tomes and Tobacco.

“We do not yet know the extent of your injuries,” Jason countered.

“I know,” Lenora muttered peevishly.

She glared at his sharply hewn jawline, and despite her annoyance with him, wondered how rough the bristles would feel beneath her fingertips.

Or lips.

Good Lord on Sunday.

Whatever had taken her thoughts down that unholy path?

Lenora purposefully focused on Captain Steele’s disregard of her wishes. She did not like his highhandedness nor his dismissing her protests with little more care than swatting away an annoying mosquito. For good measure and to show her displeasure, she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

His grunt as the appendage hit home caused the edges of her mouth to twitch in satisfaction. Until now, Lenora had lamented her bony elbows. However, they’d just proved themselves immensely useful, and never again would she bemoan the knobby joints.

“Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you, minx?” Captain Steele murmured near her ear as concerned maids—not a one above fifteen years in age because Landry only hired street youths—appeared and directed his grandmother and her companion toward the grand staircase.

“Only when it comes to you, Captain, it seems,” Lenora retorted with a syrupy sweet, disingenuous smile.

That much was true. Usually, she possessed a congenial, patient, and kind nature.

He gave her an exaggerated long-suffering look. “Alas, what I must suffer for chivalry’s sake.”

Mama turned to them. A hint of impatience shadowed her typically placid features as she gestured insistently for Captain Steele to follow her. “This way, if you please, Captain Steele.”

He aimed them toward the stairs.

And halted.

Landry stood three risers from the bottom, his jaw tight and his keen gaze surveying the chaotic foyer.

How long had he been standing there?

His attention settled on Lenora cradled against Captain Steele’s chest. The corners of her brother’s eyes flexed, and his nostrils flared.

He was angry. Truly angry.

The occurrence was so rare that Lenora stiffened in Captain Steele’s arms and made a distressed sound in the back of her throat. Surely Landry had seen the makeshift bandage encircling her head and deduced she’d been injured.

Or perhaps, her brother wasn’t capable of rational thought at the moment.

She made another distraught noise that sounded to her ears suspiciously like a whimper.

Lenora did not whimper.

“Shh,” Jason murmured, tightening his embrace for a heartbeat. “It’s all right, Lenora,” he soothed, his voice barely audible.

“Please do explain why my sister is in your arms, Steele,” Landry drawled, slow and dangerous.

That wasn’t good. No indeed.

When it came to protecting Lenora, Landry would strike first and ask questions later. Truthfully, he couldn’t very well plant Jason a facer when he carried her. But the instant Jason put her down…?