Page 44 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
“Will you be visiting again tomorrow, M’Lord?”
Liam gave a small shrug. “I imagine so, just in case.”
With that, he continued back down the steps and got into his waiting carriage. As the driver snapped the reins and the wheels trundled forward, Liam stared out of the window and tried to peer at the upper floor of the townhouse, driven by the possibility that he might catch a glimpse of Nora.
For four days he had done nothing but think about her, the potential danger she was in, and the kiss that had been so rudely interrupted by the arrival of his friends. Never in his life had he thought he would be furious to see those two men, but they could not have appeared at a worse moment. That kiss had been… extraordinary, and he knew it would have continued to be so, if they had not been forced to break apart.
And now she will not see me, and she will not allow me entry, and I do not know why. Does she regret our kiss? Does she feel as perplexed and muddled as I do?
He had suffered this turmoil through every hour they had been apart, for he was still not sure how heshouldbe feeling. He had tried to convince himself that it had been wrong, and that it was nothing more than an impulsive act of thanks and relief, but the thought would not stick. There had been real affection and passion in that kiss, which would not be ignored, despite him knowing he should forget it.
All he knew was that he needed to see her again, so he could put some sense of surety into the emotions that charged through his veins: confusion, surprise, affection, admiration, shame, among others. He was certain he would go quite mad if he could not discover, without doubt, if it had been an effect of Nora’s delirium, her gratitude, or if it had been a genuine gesture of… something akin to love.
If I do not know what it was, I will not know how to combat it. I will not be able to rid myself of the fever that she has set ablaze in me. I must have medicine, so I do not fall into the same sickness I suffered with Élodie.
In the meantime, until he could remove Nora from his thoughts, he resolved to distract himself with investigating the attempt that had been made on her life. Indeed, if she would not allow him to help her in close proximity, then he was determined to do what he could from afar.
“They have connections, whoever they are,” he muttered. “And they must be of some nobility, if they could recognize a thoroughbred. But who is it?”
Thus far, the only thing he had been able to find out was that the driver and the carriage were indeed the ones from that night. As for the footman who had accompanied Nora; he seemed to have vanished entirely, though Liam did not know if that meant he was alive or dead. Perhaps, he was laying low. Perhaps, his body had been thrown into the Thames. Perhaps, he had been part of the conspiracy to attack Nora.
“Would Sir Arnold do such a thing?” Liam brushed his fingertips across his lips, pondering. As of yet, that brazen, vulgar old knight was the only person who had cause to want to hurt Nora. To Liam, that meant he was the only possible culprit they had, but he did not know how to proceed with his suspicions.
He sighed wearily. “I will discuss it with Carlton and Denninson again and see if there is something we may have missed, though I cannot mention it to my Uncle.” He turned his gaze back out of the window. “But please, Nora… please respond to my letter. Please let me know that you are well. I cannot rest until I have confirmation.”
Although, thanks to the memory of their kiss, that was not the only reason he could not rest. The ghosts of his past marriage had been stirred back into life by that surprise kiss, and they heralded a stark warning,“Allow yourself to fall for Nora, and you will be a greater fool for it. Can your heart shatter a second time?”
I am no hero, but I will not have her die because she wishes to spread the truth about the corruption and cruelty in this city.
He had told himself he would not be her savior, but there was a sense of duty within him that could not be extinguished. This was not the same predicament he had endured with Élodie. This was not about saving Nora’s honor by marrying her, or defending her because she was weak, because she was not, and she was seeking to repair her honor on her own terms by using her memoirs.
No, this was a matter of combating evil. And that was a task that he could not turn from, irrespective of his confused personal feelings.
* * *
Sitting up against a pile of pillows, sipping upon a cup of tea, Nora flinched as a knock sounded at her bedchamber door. After the assault upon the carriage, and returning to her home, she had not yet managed to adjust to loud, sudden sounds. Every time she heard a bang, or clatter, or a knock, she was reminded of that night, and what could have happened if those highwaymen had finished the job they were clearly supposed to have enacted.
“Are you awake, Miss Nora?” Donovan peeped into the room.
The temporary footman had found his way back to London after managing to throw himself from the moving carriage. In doing so, he had damaged his ankle, which had prevented him from coming to find her that night. As for what he was doing at the townhouse; Nora had thought it best that he remain under her protection, until they could find undisputable evidence about who had ordered the attack.
Nora smiled. “I am.” She nodded to his leg as he hobbled in. “How’s your ankle? Did the physician see to you, like I asked him to?”
“He says it’ll mend just fine, Miss Nora.” Donovan limped over to her bed and stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Thank you for lettin’ me stay here, by the way. I heard what happened to the driver and I don’t much fancy endin’ up the same way. I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more to help you when you needed me.”
Nora batted his apologies away. “Nonsense, Donovan. I’ve told you a thousand times already, you did all you could, and you would’ve done more if the driver hadn’t fled when he did. I don’t blame you at all.” She paused. “Anyway, what brings you here? I don’t mind if you just wanted to talk. Perhaps, did you remember anything more about something the driver might have said to you?”
She still had hopes that the now-deceased driver had informed Donovan of the true culprit, but, for four days, Donovan had not been able to recall anything useful. It was not his fault. He had not expected anything to go awry, so he had probably not been listening to what the driver had said. If the driver had said anything at all.
Maybe he wasn’t supposed to flee like that, which is what got him killed. Maybe he was supposed to make sure the job was done, and report back to whoever gave the order.
If thatwasthe case, she supposed she would never know.
“Ah, right.” Donovan pushed a letter onto the bed. “This came for you just before. Mrs. Moston told me to bring it up to you, and to see if you wanted anythin’ special for your breakfast? She says she’s willin’ to make anythin’ to make you feel better.”
Nora eyed the letter. “Who did it come from?”
“That Lord who keeps stoppin’ by. Mrs. Moston says she’s goin’ to chuck a bucket of cold water at him if he doesn’t give up in a week.” He chuckled brightly, but Nora was in no mood to join him in his good humor.
