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Leo collected her wits and marched into the room, thankful she’d thought to prepare it earlier. Jasper lifted his head and removed the kerchief. The bullet had carved into the flesh of his waist, just above his hip, and as he’d insisted earlier in the crypt, it was merely a graze. An angry, bloody one, though the blood had dried.

“Are you now satisfied that I’m not dying?” he asked.

“Very well, I am satisfied.” She hoped he didn’t hear how affected she was by the sight of him half dressed. Bypassing him, she set the tin box that held Mrs. Zhao’s collection of salves and bandages on the foot of the bed before moving toward his dresser and a decanter of whisky there. She poured them both a finger; it would serve her well to calm her frazzled nerves before tending to his wound.

Leo turned to bring him the whisky and found that he had leaned back, settling against the headboard and pillows. Even with the bloody gash marring his right side, he looked devilishly appealing. His sooty green eyes followed her progress toward the bed.

“I nearly died, and that is the sad pour of whisky I am to receive?” he asked wryly.

Leo stuck out her tongue, splashed half the whisky from one cut crystal glass into the other—and then handed him the less full glass. She sipped from the fuller one as she went to retrieve the tin.

Jasper laughed. “Minx. I suppose I deserved that.”

“You did. Now, tell me what happened after I left the church.”

As she set about cleaning his wound, he explained how he’d handled the scene at St. Emmanuel’s—interspersed with winces and muffled groans when her treatment was too rough.

“I told the constables from H Division the truth—or at least enough of it,” he said. “A private inquiry had led me to the church. Reverend Thorpe confirmed that I’d been caught in an altercation between several men and defended myself. The others involved scattered, and I stayed behind to assist the police.”

As Leo listened, she located several gaps in his account that would raise questions from his superiors at Scotland Yard. He must have known what she was thinking; he covered her hand with his as she dabbed a wet cloth to clear dried blood from his torso.

“Sergeant Warnock knows Andrew hired me. I cannot keep that secret, not any longer.” He exhaled heavily. “I hope to contain it, but if I am questioned, I will be honest.”

It would be on his conscience forever if he lied, she knew.

“You should have sutures,” she said, after a moment. He lifted his hand from hers.

“Just bandage me. I’ll be fine.”

Though she disagreed, Leo did as he asked. Once she’d applied the salve Jasper indicated as Mrs. Zhao’s favorite for open wounds, then wrapped his waist with the roll of cotton linen, he took her hand. Jasper brought her knuckles to his lips.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I much prefer your ministrations to Mrs. Zhao’s.”

Leo chuckled. “I should hope so.”

His eyes, glittering with humor, grew serious. “What if the next time Andrew approaches me, it is for something I cannot consent to?”

Being tasked with finding Cillian had at least been legal. Otherwise, Jasper would have rejected the order…and who knew what the East Rip would have done?

“It concerns me too,” Leo said softly.

Jasper shifted to sit up straighter. “I know I once told you that no Carter was going to keep me from my life in London.”

“Or from me,” she said, remembering the moment vividly. He’d just met her at the Harrow train station, after spending four months in Liverpool. She’d started to worry Jasper would not come back to London, the distance from Andrew a layer of protection. As much as she’d missed him while he was away, a large part of her had been grateful Jasper was out of the criminal’s reach.

He pulled her hand toward him and flattened her palm against the smooth, warm skin of his stomach. The feel of his bare skin ignited a fluttering in her neck.

“Or from you,” he echoed softly.

She heard a caveat on its way. “But?”

Jasper hesitated, his stomach expanding as he took a deep breath. “I think we should consider leaving London.”

Leo flinched. The thought had crossed her mind several times, but she hadn't known that he, too, was considering it. By his grimace, he didn’t truly want to.

“It is a lot to think about,” he added quickly. “I don’t know where we would go or what we would do, and I know your life is here. Your work. Your home⁠—”

“You are my home, Jasper.” She adjusted her seat on the bed, pressing closer to him. “I don’t want to leave London, but I do want you free of Andrew and the other Carters. I’m only relieved that you haven’t suggested leaving the city without me.”