“Still hating being an earl?” Laughing sent needles to Jasper’s fingertips. “Because you seem to be adjusting well.”
The maid arrived with a rattling tray that had been prepared so promptly it was likely waiting for him to wake. He’d have Annabel to thank for that. Sitting was a combination of relief and torture, but he managed. Just.
Kit sat in the opposite chair. After filling a coffee cup, he helped himself to a scone—devouring half of it in one bite. “I’m tired.”
“And hungry, apparently.” Jasper sipped his coffee and nibbled on his eggs, waiting to see if his hunger would reap the consequences of being drugged during minor surgery. “Don’t you have a cook?”
“I did when I left.” Kit lifted a piece of streaky bacon from the tray. “But I’ve been in Wales, fetching Claudette.”
“You didn’t tell me you were going to Cardiff.” Jasper buttered a scone.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to get into a knife fight.”
When he’d had to protect himself or someone else, he’d always been armed and prepared. Last night he’d done nothing but step in front of Annabel and offer himself as a sacrifice to stupidity. He’d known better than to let down his guard. “It was less fight and more ambush.”
“Where?”
“Outside Ramsbury House. Repairs are finished, so I wanted to show it to Annabel. She met me there after the session ended.” He shook his head, cursing himself a fool for putting her in danger. “We left, someone approached us, and I don’t remember much after that.”
Except Annabel telling him everything he already knew but not sharing his relief in the knowing.
“Was it one of your highwaymen?”
“Possibly, but it was dark during the first attack, and this one was too fast.” He’d always thought he’d be better at details. “How are things in Cardiff?”
“Claudette has worked her magic. Gareth’s father is falling all over himself to make up for lost time.” Kit swallowed a gulp of coffee and grimaced at the burn. “And you know how the major gets when the bit’s between his teeth.”
In the months after Gareth’s death, his father had been ready to rouse a mob and storm Paris in a search for his son’s murderous bitch of a wife. “They’ve mended fences, then?”
“It’s delicate, but I think bringing Collins to justice will solidify it.”
Gareth would be pleased, and so was Kit, given the look on his face. “There’s progress?”
“Put a widow in a room full of women who waited for men to come home from war, or doting pensioners who see a pretty, sad young lady alone?” Kit snorted a laugh. “We should have done it earlier. They’re lining up to talk to her. Some of it has helped our investigation, but much of it has done wonders for her. They’ve given her a full sketch of the Gareth they knew before the war. She’s happier, and the major is putting pressure on the constable, who is drawing the circle tighter.”
“Why did you bring her back to London, then?”
“She needs a break from death and reminiscing, Jasper.” He cleaned his mouth and chin with a serviette. “And I’d like her away from Cardiff if Collins panics. I don’t want her alone.”
“She’ll have to stay here.” Jasper grinned at his newest cousin’s confused frown. “You’re an earl, Kit. And there are already rumors that Claudette is my mistress. A night in your house will have the ton spinning tales that we’re sharing her. You’d have to marry her.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to marry her?”
“One forced marriage is enough.” Kit rolled his eyes. “It will look like a family epidemic.”
Which would reflect poorly on the girls. “You’re right. One of us is bad enough.”
“I’ll ask the maids to make up a room.”
Jasper twisted to the door—the one he hadn’t closed—and swore as his stitches caught and stretched. Wetness seeped over his skin. Annabel was standing there, but the light behind her made her a silhouette. A thin one.
He always forgot how slight she was.
She stood at the threshold as though she were waiting on an invitation she had never needed.
“Thank you.” He didn’t dare invite her closer. She would see the blood. He couldn’t stand for the same reason. “Would you put her across the hall, please? She has—”
“Of course.” She bowed to him. It was a mere dip of her chin as she clutched her skirts, but it was a bloody bow. His bandage was squishy and warm against his skin.
“Annabel, it isn’t—”
“My mother has sent a card, asking me to call on family business. Since you won’t be alone in the house, I’ll go now.” Her words were level, but her voice was lifeless.
There was no possibility of her listening to reason now.
“Take the coach and Frederick.” He didn’t say please. It wasn’t a request. If he couldn’t keep her safe, he’d make damn sure someone did.
“Lord Warwick?” she called without entering the room. “Will you stay until we return? I don’t want…the household unprotected.”
Kit arched an eyebrow, likely hearing the same hesitation in her statement. Her concern had become the people in the house, not just her husband. Perhaps not her husband at all. “As long as Lord Ramsbury doesn’t toss me out on my ear, my lady.”
“Thank you.” She stood for a moment. “Goodbye.”
Those words, in her flat voice, sent a chill through Jasper. Ignoring his wet bandages, he kept his eyes on her blank face. “I will see you when you come home, Annabel.”
He blinked and she was gone.
“Shall we play chess or poker?” Kit asked. “I can finally make the ante—”
“Get Travis.” The room began to tilt. “Now.”
