Free The Lady in the Tower by Karen Hawkins, Holly Crawford Page B

stripping involved. Why was he
disappointed?
    “Waded is more
like.” She shrugged at his look. “Made sense at the time. Besides, she was too
far gone to realize the water came only up to her knees.”
    A more
detailed picture of her was beginning to form, a new and more disturbing
thought settling into his mind. “And Vauxhall? Whom did you save from expiring
there?”
    “No one. At
least, not directly.”
    “I’m afraid to
ask, but I will.”
    “A few lads
had set up a dice game that admittedly got out of hand. When I happened upon
them fisticuffs had already started to break out. One of them had a knife.
After I calmed them, I sewed a few wounds.” When she said nothing more, he
scowled at her until she sighed. “Granted, one gentleman had a gash in his . .
. well, his backside. I had to pull his trousers down to properly—”
    “Jane!”
    “He was
bleeding,” she shot back, defensive. “I fixed it.”
    “And I suppose that’s when you were discovered.”
    “Yes.”
    “Good God,
woman. You need a keeper.”
    She gasped. “I
need a what? ”
    “You could
have drowned trying to pull someone from a lake, deep or not.”
    “She wasn’t
that heavy—”
    “Did she fight
you?”
    “A little.”
    “And at
Vauxhall, you could have been knifed yourself! Even the factotums at the
gambling halls know better than to get in the middle of drunken, armed men!”
    “Stop shouting
at me!”
    “I am not
shouting!” He was. Gritting his teeth, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and
tried for equanimity. In a calmer voice, he said, “You could have been hurt, or
even killed.” The thought of either formed a tight ball of misery in his chest.
    “But I
wasn’t.”
    There was such
a look of matter-of-factness on her face he wanted to shake her. Or kiss her.
Or both.
    Well, he’d
wanted to know. Now he did, and the knowledge was more than he’d bargained for.
    “Are you
satisfied now?”
    Nowhere near,
but aloud he said, “Hmm.”
    She nodded,
but her mouth turned down at the corners.
    “Are you angry
that I asked?”
    “No, just
disappointed.” She focused once more on the window scenery. “I’d thought after
working together at your clinic, after what we . . . ” She shook her head. “I
would’ve thought you’d know me better.”
    If she’d
kicked him, she could not have wounded him more. Feeling all of two inches
tall, he knew he had to make things right with her. “Jane— ” he began.
    But it was too
late. The landau had stopped and a footman was already opening the door.
     
     

Chapter 9
     
    The duchess
and her friends welcomed them. Jane chatted to the other guests, working her
way around the room, although all she really wanted to do was go home. On a
night where she should be excited to share her findings, she instead felt
low-spirited. Perhaps she was coming down with something.
    She prevailed
upon Catherine for a room where she could gather her thoughts before the presentation.
The duchess asked if all was well, and Jane assured her it was, but was deeply
grateful for the quiet of a drawing room Catherine showed her to. Jane removed
her papers from her reticule, and went through them once more. But as the time
approached for her to make her presentation to the small gathering, all she
could think about was Richard.
    Had he truly
believed all the stories? Was that why he’d kissed her in the first place? Had
he hoped to find her as immoral and shocking as the gossips wagged? But then
he’d been angry with her about not being safer? How was she supposed to
reconcile the two? Who was the real Richard Thornton? Did she really want to
know?
    She shook her
head to dismiss her thoughts, and Richard Thornton as well. Let him think
what he wants. He’s nothing to me, after all.
    Yet even as
she told herself as much, a sharp pang of regret knifed through her.
    A soft knock
sounded on the door. Jane looked up as Catherine slipped in. “Are you ready?”
    With a deep
breath, Jane straightened