My Seductive Innocent (8 page)

On the bed, Nathan didn’t flinch at the noise, which made Sophia’s stomach clench. He must be in so much pain he was oblivious to what was happening around him.

Frank threw his arm around her shoulder and brought her to his side, making her lose her grip on the rag she’d been holding against Nathan’s shoulder. The cloth fell to the floor and a slow trickle of blood immediately started from the wound.

“Let me go, Frank,” she growled.

His fingers curled around her arm as he jostled her a bit. “I always knew keeping ye with me after ye killed yer mum was the right thing to do.”

Sophia ground her teeth. “It’s true she died after birthing me, but I suspect that’s because
you
didn’t take good care of her, nor pay for a proper physician to tend to her.”

“Watch yer tongue, Sophia, else I’ll tug it right out of yer mouth. Wouldn’t be so sassy then, would ye?” He cocked his head a bit. “Ye don’t know what yer talking about, anyway. Not as if yer mum could tell ye.”

“No,” she replied, struggling not to rail at him. “But Eleanor’s mother said it was so.”

Frank made a derisive sound in his throat. “She just hates me cause I picked yer mum over her so many years ago, and she ended up married to a righteous arse. I bet he’s as fun in bed as watchin’ paint dry.”

Sophia barely held in a contemptuous snort. She doubted Mrs. Cooper had spent her years pining over Frank. The lady had been her mother’s best friend, just as her daughter was Sophia’s best friend. Mrs. Cooper hated Frank, that was true enough, but her loathing had everything to do with what a terrible husband he had been to Sophia’s mother.

Frank gave her a squeeze and said, “I think to make ye a duchess and me the father of a duchess. No more of this scraping by day to day, hardly knowing if I’ll be able to eat or drink.”

“You cannot make a member of the
ton
marry someone like me,” Sophia said, feeling the shame of being his daughter from the soles of her feet all the way to the roots of her hair. She yanked her arm out of his grasp. She knew exactly what sort of drink Frank was worried about, and it certainly wasn’t tea. The man didn’t have a single concern for his children, but God forbid he not be able to afford his ale.

“He’ll marry ye. Men like him have a burdensome code of honor.”

“You are a fool!” she nearly screamed. “He’s not going to feel pity and succumb to marrying me simply because you orchestrated my ruination.”

Frank’s face twisted into a scowl. “He will.”

She could practically see the creaky, old, good-for-nothing wheels turning in Frank’s head. Her own head started to pound viciously. “Frank—” she took a long, slow breath and tried to find a little bit of calm so she could get through his thick skull “—don’t try to make him marry me. You’ll end up with nothing.” She prayed that for once he would be reasonable.

He jutted his unshaved chin out. “He’s gonna marry ye. He’s a gentleman, and he’ll be honor bound once he sees how they’re gonna treat ye.”

She glanced at Nathan―pale, glistening, and bleeding―and she shoved past Frank, angry she’d gotten caught up arguing with him when she should have been tending to Nathan. When Frank grabbed her arm, she wiggled out of his hold and glared at him. “No one will be marrying His Grace if he’s dead,” she snapped, grabbing the rag off the floor and pressing it against Nathan’s shoulder.

The instant she did, his eyes shot open and seemed to look through her. She bent down and brushed a soothing hand through his damp hair. “Shh, Your Grace. The physician will be here very soon and you’ll be just like new.”

When his eyes fluttered closed again, she stood up, careful to keep the rag in place and her back to Frank.

“Yer an ingrate, just like Mrs. Dalton said. And ye look like a boy.”

Fury choked her, which was a blessed thing.

“I’m going,” Frank snarled and left, but seconds later the door banged open again and she whirled around to see the physician striding into the room.

He brushed past her with a nod and approached the bed. “By God, it really is the Duke of Scarsdale!”

His voice held an awe that surprised Sophia, mostly because she was not sure how the physician would know Nathan. “How do you know him?” she asked bluntly while peering down at the top of Dr. Porter’s silver head. He was already leaning over Nathan.

The physician tapped on her hand. “Move the rag, please.”

She immediately did as he bid. “Is he going to die?”

“Not on my watch,” Dr. Porter said in a grave tone. “This man saved my daughter’s virtue when she had her debut in London last year.” The physician straightened, opened his bag, and extracted a small bottle before handing it to her. “You can assist me,” he said as he unscrewed the cap off the bottle. The sweet stench of laudanum tickled her nose.

Assist him?
She couldn’t assist him! She needed to take Harry and leave this instant. Her plan to flee to London had to commence today, with or without all the money she needed. She refused to sit idly by and let Frank use her, or worse yet, sell Harry.

“I cannot assist you,” she murmured.

The physician gave her a narrow-eyed look as he lifted Nathan’s head and leaned down to whisper something in Nathan’s ear. After a moment, Nathan slowly shook his head and mouthed the word
no
.

Dr. Porter sighed. “He’s refused the laudanum, the stubborn fool. Will you hold his hand when I retrieve the bullet? It may help to ease his fear to know he is not alone.”

Had Dr. Porter not heard her? “Dr. Porter, I―”

“Do you want him to die?” the man demanded, cutting her off.

She shook her head.

“Then I need you to stay and help me.”

She nibbled on her lip as she weighed her options. If she fled now and Nathan died she would not be able to forgive herself. Heaving a weary sigh, she set the bag on the table where the physician indicated, then moved to Nathan’s side. She twined her fingers with his. When he gently squeezed her hand, she blinked in surprise. She returned the gesture and rubbed her thumb in little circles over his skin as the physician started to work.

Nathan grimaced within moments of Dr. Porter beginning, and his eyes opened several times, but he stared blindly past her as before. Eventually, his hand went slack in hers, and she knew he had blessedly passed out. “He’s out, Dr. Porter.”

The physician nodded. “I hoped it would not take him long. He’s lost a good bit of blood so he’s weak.”

Her stomach clenched. “Weak as in he’s in a grave amount of danger?”

“It’s too early to tell,” he replied without looking up from what he was doing. After a moment, he stood and held out a small, shiny object clasped between the pointy ends of his instrument. He grinned at her. “I go it! If we keep His Grace’s wound clean and work to control his fever, he should recover nicely. Do you have something I can put the bullet in?”

Sophia’s gaze landed on the small cup she’d given Nathan a drink from earlier. After retrieving it, she handed it to the physician, and he deposited the bullet into it with a
clank
. He cleaned and dressed Nathan’s wound, then took out another bottle of laudanum and motioned to Sophia. “Pour this carefully down his throat as I tilt his head back.”

“Didn’t he decline it?” she asked, not wanting to be difficult but only to honor Nathan’s wishes.

“Do you want him writhing in pain as you care for him?”

“Oh, I’ll not be caring for him,” she blurted. She couldn’t stay around
that
long, after all.

He gave her a stern-faced expression. “Gather your courage, Miss Vane. If you don’t nurse him, his shoulder will likely become infected and he’ll die. He cannot cleanse the wound himself. It is in too awkward of a place, and I cannot play nursemaid. I’m the only physician in this whole town.”

Panic shot through her. She couldn’t allow herself to get trapped here. Her and Harry’s futures were elsewhere. In London, where she could better herself. “Surely, you can send for his family. He’s the Duke of Scarsdale, for heaven’s sake. I’m sure there are multitudes of loving relatives who will rush to his aid.”

Dr. Porter shook his head and tilted Nathan’s back. “Pour,” he ordered.

Her shaky fingers brushed Nathan’s full lips as she pressed the bottle to his open mouth and slowly drained the liquid down him. At first, he sputtered and some of the laudanum dripped out the sides of his mouth, but then he started to swallow until the bottle was empty.

“Very good,” the physician murmured as he patted Nathan’s uninjured shoulder.

Sophia tensed, half expecting Nathan to sit up and give the doctor a dressing down for daring to disobey his command. Instead, Nathan lay there still as death, though he was still alive.
For now.
The thought chilled her, and her conscience nagged at her to stay, but she pushed forward, determined to go. “As I was saying, Dr. Porter, you can contact his relatives.”

The older man’s eyes took on a sorrowful downturn. “He has only two relatives that I know of, and I met them both. The aunt seemed like the type to care for no one but herself, and the cousin does not get around easily. It would take him days to get here. Too long. If you don’t care for His Grace, who do you think will? Your father?”

Sophia would have laughed if she didn’t feel like crying. Or screaming. If she fled, she couldn’t be certain Frank would stay sober long enough to help Nathan, or if he would even decide it was worth his bother. Frank had a heart the size of a tick’s, and that was being generous. She had always thought people who were well-off had everything, but it sounded like Nathan was missing the exact same thing she was―someone to look out for him. Shoring up her resolve, she decided she would be that someone for Nathan until she was sure he could take care of himself. Then she and Harry would flee.

“I’ll nurse him,” she said, feeling as if saying the words was sealing her fate irrevocably.

“You have a good heart, Miss Vane. You’ll be glad you’re doing this. I’m sure you’ll be rewarded.”

She pressed her lips together. She would not feel right about accepting anything from Nathan just because she had helped him,
but
it would be nice to know she at least had enough money to prevent going hungry for days on end.

“Do you care to know what sort of man you are helping?”

“You mean besides a rich one,” she snapped, a trifle irritable.

Dr. Porter smiled with genuine understanding. “This must be very stressful.”

“You have no idea,” she said, guilt over being touchy causing her to ease her tone.

“The Duke of Scarsdale rescued my daughter from the clutches of a man trying to ravish her,” the physician started. “She’d foolishly thought herself in love with a man she met at Almack’s, and he turned out to be a fortune hunter. When he realized my daughter had no fortune to offer him, he lured her into the garden and thought to plunder what she did have. His Grace chanced by, rescued my girl, and made sure the villainous gentleman would never mention a word of the incident to anyone.”

“How did he ensure that?” Nathan sounded too good to be true, which in her experience meant he most likely was.

“I believe it had something to do with the murderous tone of His Grace’s voice as he threatened to disembowel the gentleman should one unkind word pass his lips in regard to my daughter. At least that’s what she told me.”

Sophia grinned. Though she barely knew Nathan, she’d seen him deliver a similar threat to Moses, so it wasn’t difficult to picture him offering a menacing warning to this other gentleman in a cool, unaffected tone, as if it wouldn’t bother him at all to gut a man like a pig, except for the fact that it might soil his expensive clothes. And that last part she instinctually knew was just for show. She highly doubted Nathan would blink an eye at dirtying his clothing if the need arose. Being a popinjay did not fit what she’d glimpsed of his character.

The physician shut his bag with a
snap
that brought her thoughts back to the moment. “You’re leaving now?”

“Yes. I’ll check in on His Grace tomorrow. Be sure to keep a watchful eye on him tonight.”

She nodded and walked Dr. Porter to the door. After he disappeared out of her sight, she turned back toward Nathan. The physician had failed to cover him with the sheet, and as Sophia walked toward him and then clutched the sheet, her breath caught. His beauty struck her with wonder. He was like a dark angel from the tip of his thick black curls, to his long black lashes and dark stubble shadowing his chiseled jaw, to the dark hair that covered a small patch of his very broad, very muscled chest. She swallowed as her body tingled in places she’d not known could tingle.

She followed the trail of his chest hair over the muscular planes, down to his taut abdomen and farther down to the top of his breeches. What would it be like for a man like this to turn his attentions to her? Nathan was more than handsome. Why, he was so exquisite one could almost call him pretty. The thought that he would ever notice her was ludicrous. Her mother had told her to hold
hope
in her heart, not ridiculous fantasies. With a decisive shake of her head, she pulled the sheet up to just under his chin and brushed her fingertips across his forehead. He didn’t twitch a muscle at her touch. Good thing, too, because it tended to get loud and rowdy in the pub at night, and the more he rested, the better.

With a reluctant sigh, she left the room and headed downstairs to check on Harry. She found him in his usual place in the kitchen, washing dirty dishes with a smile on his face. She ruffled his brown hair, while leaning near to whisper in his ear. “Harry, we’re going to be leaving a little sooner than I planned. So when the time comes, you must promise to do exactly as I bid.”

“I p-p-promise,” he said solemnly and turned to look at her with his clear blue eyes.

“And remember, it’s our secret,” she said in a low voice.

“I re-re-member. I would n-never t-tell Frank a thing. Don’t worry.”

“When you’re done with the dishes, I want you to go up and pack a bag. Store it in our secret place.” Harry knew she kept the money in the loose floorboards under his bedroll. “I have to help a man who was hurt, so I may be a little late coming to bed tonight.”