Intimate 02 - Intimate Surrender (16 page)

“Don’t borrow trouble, Genny. Your vicar is strong. He’ll pull through this.”

Hannah reached out to hold Rafe’s hand. She gently squeezed his fingers but, as usual, he didn’t respond. “I promised God that if He let him live, I’d make sure he returned to the profession God called him to do.”

“You tried that once and he didn’t leave.”

“This time I’ll make sure he does.”

“What about you? How will you survive if he does?”

Hannah didn’t have an answer for Dalia. She wasn’t sure she could.

Dalia pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “The girls had a meeting this morning.”

Hannah looked at the serious expression on Dalia’s face and suddenly knew what Dalia was going to say next. She decided to spare her the embarrassment. “Tell them I don’t blame them. After what happened, I wouldn’t want to live and work where it wasn’t safe either. Have they decided where they want to go?”

Dalia smiled. “Leaving wasn’t even mentioned, Genny. They met to decide how they’re going to get past Skinner’s threats.”

“No!” The fear in Hannah’s voice was harsh even to her own ears. “It’s too dangerous. Just look what Skinner’s capable of.” Hannah lowered her gaze to the bed where Rafe lay, and the tears welled again and spilled down her cheeks. “I couldn’t live with myself if this happened to one of them. I couldn’t, Dalia.”

“You won’t have to.” Dalia placed a comforting hand on Hannah’s arm. “You’re not the only one fighting Skinner anymore. He’s lowered his heavy hand against nearly everyone on the East End. All the independent dealers below the Strand or Haymarket, even the ones who only have one or two girls working for them, are afraid of him. He’s threatened them all.”

“How do you know this?”

“About a dozen of them came this morning to sit in on the meeting.”

Hannah’s jaw lowered, and Dalia laughed as she placed her finger beneath Hannah’s chin and lifted. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

Hannah was too dumbfounded to speak. She could only nod her head.

“They know Skinner has to be stopped or none of their girls will be safe. And, as unlikely as it sounds, a lot of them object to Skinner’s dealing in children.”

“What did they decide?”

“Well, as you know, all the bosses use at least two or three men to protect their women. Starting tomorrow, at least four of them will show up to guard our girls when they go out.”

So many thoughts raced through Hannah’s mind that she was incapable of speech.

“I know you’re worried, but don’t be. This wasn’t your idea, so you’re not responsible for anything that happens. Skinner’s been asking for this for a long time. He wants to own every prostitute on the East End, and everyone knows if they don’t stop him now, he’ll eat them up one by one.”

“It’s dangerous, Dalia. You didn’t see the satisfaction he took from nearly killing Rafe.”

“Saving innocent girls has always been dangerous. Skinner’s made it worse. That’s why he has to be stopped.”

Hannah looked from Dalia to the bed where Rafe lay. Yes, Skinner had to be stopped. No one was safe until he was.

Dalia stood. “I’ve got to get ready for tonight. It’s been unusually busy lately. And the Earl of Parnes will be here tonight. Clorise and Fanny always argue over which one gets to entertain him, so I’d better separate the two before they have words.”

“I’m sorry I’m not helping you—”

“I’m fine. You stay here. Your vicar needs you more than I do.”

Dalia gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then left the room. When Hannah was alone again, she turned her concentration back to Rafe.

A sheet covered his body. Except for the bandage around his back from the gunshot wound, he was naked beneath it. Bruises covered every part of his body that she could see, as well as areas beneath the sheet she couldn’t. Not that she hadn’t looked. She had. He was as beautifully formed as any man she’d ever seen—and she’d seen more than her share. But never any who were as bruised and battered as he was.

Hannah walked to the table beside the bed and rinsed a cloth in a basin of fresh water. Several of the cuts still bled, and she placed the damp cloth over a particularly ugly cut on his forehead. When she cleaned it as the doctor ordered her to do several times a day, she dried it, then applied the salve the physician had left. She did the same to several other cuts, both on his face and on his chest. When she finished, she lifted the bowl of warm broth Cook had sent up. The doctor had left orders to get as much liquid down him as she could, but this was the most difficult part. How did you get an unconscious man to eat?

She dipped a piece of twisted cloth into the bowl and let the cloth soak the broth. Then she slipped the cloth into Rafe’s mouth and prayed he would suck on it. Thankfully, his throat moved and he swallowed at least a little. She repeated the process again and again.

Eventually, he refused to open his mouth for her, and she set the bowl of broth back on the table and gently washed his face. When she finished, she placed the damp
cloth back in the basin and sat in her chair to watch him sleep.

The doctor who’d come to tend Rafe had warned her that he might not recover, but Hannah refused to accept that. He
would
live, and he would recover. She couldn’t live with herself if he didn’t. It was her fault he’d been shot and beaten, her fault he’d placed himself in danger. And she asked herself for the thousandth time why he hadn’t gone home when she’d told him to.

Rafe moved, and she leaned over to hold his hand in hers. He was more restless than he’d been earlier, but the doctor said that was to be expected. Even though he wasn’t conscious, deep in the back recesses of his mind he still remembered what had happened to him. His mind realized he was in pain.

Before she could protect herself, Rafe pulled his hand from her grasp and swung his arm in the air. His fist hit her hard. She grabbed on to the corner of the bed to keep from toppling to the floor.

As if he were trying to escape Skinner’s men, as he had when they held him and beat him, Rafe thrashed from side to side.

“Rafe, lie still. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Hannah was afraid he’d undo all the good the doctor had done to the open wounds that covered his body.

She tried to calm him and hold him steady, but he was too strong. He pushed her off him with such force she landed on the floor.

Hannah pushed herself to her feet and ran to the door. She needed help. She needed someone who was strong enough to hold Rafe down.

“Humphrey!” she yelled, hoping someone would hear her and get Humphrey for her.

Thankfully, someone heard her, because in a short time, Humphrey ran into the room.

“Help me, Humphrey,” she pleaded, and was relieved when Humphrey’s strong arms pinned Rafe to the bed.

For several long minutes, Humphrey struggled to keep Rafe calm. “Those bastards hurt him bad,” he said. “If you get a chance to take Skinner down, you make sure I’m there.”

The indomitable expression on his face was filled with such bitterness it took Hannah’s breath. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and knelt at the side of the bed so she was closer to Rafe. She needed him to know how anxious she was for him to heal, how desperately she needed to know he wouldn’t die. She wouldn’t feel better until he had healed and she knew he was living a productive life someplace—even if that someplace wasn’t anywhere near her.

She leaned toward him to whisper in his ear. “Did you hear that, Rafe? Humphrey is concerned about you.” She lightly brushed her fingers across his forehead. “All the girls are worried about you too. They ask about you every day.”

She continued talking to him, soothing him with her voice and her touch. Eventually, he calmed.

Humphrey slowly eased his grip and stood. “You want me to stay, Miss Genevieve?”

Hannah shook her head. “No, Humphrey. We’re fine now.”

“I know you won’t want to hear this, but the vicar’s hurt real bad. You should prepare yourself in case he doesn’t make it.”

Humphrey’s words were like a blow to her heart. She knew Rafe was badly hurt. When Dalia had first seen him, she didn’t recognize him.

“Sometimes there’s damage done on the inside of a person’s body you can’t see from the outside.”

Hannah tried to block out Humphrey’s warning, but she couldn’t. She knew what he said was true. The doctor had cautioned her with the same advice.

She tried to tell Humphrey she was prepared for the worst, if it happened, but she couldn’t speak the words. She would never be prepared.

As if he realized there was nothing more he could say or do to help her, he said, “Well, I’ll be going, then, if you’ll be all right here by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Humphrey. Thank you for your help.”

“Call if you need me again,” he said, then walked away from her.

Hannah held back her tears until she heard the door close behind Humphrey, then the river of pent-up emotions rushed to the surface. Tears welled in her eyes, then streamed down her face. Uncontrollable sobs racked her body.

She didn’t know how she’d manage if he didn’t survive. She wasn’t sure she could. How would she ever be able to live with herself, knowing a kind, generous man was dead because of her ignorance?

She thought of all the girls she’d rescued from a horrible existence and would never regret what she’d done to save them. She remembered how she’d struggled to make Madam Genevieve’s a success—
not
because she took any enjoyment in running it or felt any pride in what she was
doing, but because Madam Genevieve’s provided her with the income she needed to support Coventry Cottage.

But none of that would mean anything if it cost Rafe his life.

She remained on the floor at his bedside for hours and held his hand. With trembling fingers, she gently brushed back the hair that fell to his forehead. She’d give anything to be able to relive the night she’d walked into Skinner’s trap, and change her decision to go. Then Rafe wouldn’t be lying here near death.

She brought his hand to her mouth and pressed her lips to his flesh. His hands were the only part of his upper body not bloody and bruised. That’s because Skinner’s men hadn’t given him the chance to use his hands to defend himself. She could still see two of Skinner’s men restraining him. Every time she closed her eyes, she relived the beating he’d received.

Rafe moaned, and Hannah rose to dampen a clean cloth and press it to his lips. Then she dampened another cloth in cool water and dabbed his face. When she finished, she felt his forehead for any sign of a fever. The doctor had warned her to watch for a fever. He’d said the wounds weren’t nearly as dangerous as a fever.

She was relieved that he wasn’t hot to the touch. Maybe he’d be spared the worst and would heal more quickly. With a sigh, she sat on the chair beside the bed and waited.

Tonight would be another long night. Just as the last three had been.

H
annah sat at Rafe’s bedside and continued to do something she hadn’t done in fifteen years—she prayed. Over the last five days, she’d prayed more fervently than she’d ever prayed. She’d even considered making promises she knew she wouldn’t keep—such as stop searching for the innocent children Skinner wanted, or close Madam Genevieve’s—but had stopped short of making a promise God knew she couldn’t keep.

God knew what was in her heart, and He knew she had no intention of doing either of those things. Allowing so many innocent children to fall into Skinner’s hands was unthinkable. And the income from Madam Genevieve’s supported Coventry Cottage. Without the revenue Madam Genevieve’s took in, she couldn’t feed or clothe her children.

No, God already knew what she would do, so she simply prayed that He would spare Rafe’s life. She closed her eyes and began her request again. A soft moan stopped her short.

She focused on Rafe’s injured body just as he slowly opened his eyes.

He tried to move his head and stopped on a moan. “Bloody hell,” he hissed, then lay quiet again.

“Don’t move,” she whispered. She placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him steady.

“Hannah?”

“Yes.” She reached out and took his hand. “I’m glad you decided to finally wake up.”

“I’m not sure I am.”

“No, I don’t suppose you are.” She moved so she was close enough that he could lift his gaze and see her without moving.

“You look tired,” he whispered.

She smiled. “I look better than you.” She reached for a decanter on the bedside table and poured some water into a glass. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes.”

She held the glass to his lips, and he took a few sips.

“Where am I?”

“We brought you here—to Madam Genevieve’s.”

“I’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so badly. I’d lay odds that I’m one of the few men of the cloth who’s ever spent a night in a bordello.”

“That would be something your parishioners might not find amusing.”

“No, I don’t suppose many of them would.”

Hannah placed the glass back on the table and sat in her chair. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Not everything. But Skinner was there.”

“Yes, Skinner and several of his men.”