Page 41 of While You Were Spying

And he meant it. He would find the bastard who’d done this to her.

Find him and kill him.

“I knew we could count on you, my lord.Grazie. Grazie.”

Ethan’s gaze locked with Francesca’s, and for a moment neither spoke. Then she said, “You came.” Her speech was slow, a hint of wonder in her voice. Ethan noted she’d made a statement, not asked a question.

“I came,” he answered. He’d had no choice, really. Nothing could have stopped him.

Her brow wrinkled. “I thought I dreamed you,” she murmured.

He stood over her, looking down at her face, illuminated softly by the candlelight. It was too dark to see the first signs of bruises, but he noticed a scratch near her lip. He wanted to reach out and touch it, wipe it away, erase it and everything bad that had ever happened to her.

“Who did this?” He gestured to her prone form. “Do you know him?” His tone was gruff, angry. He heard Lady Brigham’s gasp, but Francesca only furrowed her brow and sank further into her plump pillows.

Ethan took a deliberate breath and tried to leash the deluge of guilt and temper, the unreasonable rage he felt because he hadn’t been there to protect her. The last thing he wanted was to traumatize her. Still, he needed information. He needed proof her attacker had been one of the smugglers so he could find the bastard—and hewouldfind him, there was no question of that. He needed her to answer his questions now. Clearly, the sedative was working in her, but he counted on the information still being fresh in her mind.

Ethan turned to her mother. She’d taken Francesca’s hand again when he’d spoken. “Lady Brigham, I have to ask these questions now if I’m to find her attacker.”

The woman’s head bobbed like a marionette’s.

“In fact, it would be better if I could speak with your daughter alone.” He glanced at Francesca. She puckered her lips and raised her head slightly.

“Oh my, but that’s most inappropriate,Signore.” But she was already rising. “Although under the circumstances—” She gestured vaguely.

“I promise I’ll be good.” Ethan gave her a roguish smile.

Lady Brigham melted. “Oh, I know. I know!” She looked sternly at her daughter. “Now, Francesca, you must answer all of Lord Winterbourne’s questions.”

Francesca looked at her mother, then at him, and frowned. Ethan could see that, even in this diminished state, she would be stubborn. Lady Brigham turned back to him. “AndSignore, you must promise not to tiremia figlia.”

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” he promised and winked. Anything to make the woman retreat.

With a spring returning to her step, Lady Brigham turned to leave. Her daughter caught her sleeve, her fingers slipping down the fabric. “Mamma. Don’t forget Lino.”

“As soon as Mr. Shepherd returns, I’ll bring you the puppy.” Her mother patted her hand. ”Do you need anything,Signore?”

Ethan hesitated. The idea had crossed his mind half a dozen times since he’d stepped in the room. And if he was to make the request, now was the time to do so. But still he held back, not sure he could trust himself. Didn’t trust that his decision was motivated by the desire to protect rather than blatant sheer desire.

He glanced at Francesca again. She was watching him, her eyes cloudy but her lips still pursed, the ugly red scratch stark against the white canvas of her skin.

The devil take it, Ethan decided. “I need a room, madam. I’ll be staying until this is sorted out.”

Lady Brigham let out a little gasp and almost reeled from what appeared to be something akin to rapture.

Ethan gritted his teeth. Did the woman think of nothing but marriage?

“We would be honored.” Her pitch rose with excitement.

“Ask your housekeeper to have a room prepared and to send for my things from Grayson Park.”

“Mrs. Priggers will see to it immediately, my lord,” she squeaked. Ethan could have sworn she bounced out the doorway.

He shook his head, amazed at the woman’s transparency. She’d have the marriage announcement in theTimesbefore the night was over. He’d have to set her straight tomorrow.

“You’re not—” Francesca closed her eyes, then opened them, seeming to struggle to concentrate. “You can’t stay here tonight.”

“No?” He rounded the bed, stopping at Lady Brigham’s vacant seat then removing his gloves and laying them on the arm of the silk upholstered armchair.

---