Page 46 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
“Yes, and she’s also a nurse at a clinic in Whitechapel. She’d subject me to a medical once-over, and I don’t need it. I’ve had worse beatings, and far worse nights.”
Miss Prince approached and bent at the waist to get a good look at his injuries. As soon as he met her gaze, a strange energy buzzed between them. She traced every inch of his face with her eyes, though not with the same cold scrutiny his sister would have.
Miss Prince’s gaze was soft, appreciative, as if she quite liked looking at him, even when his face was a garish mess. And he hated how much he relished having her close. She was a delectable distraction he could not afford in his life.
And he needed no clearer evidence than tonight to prove that an association with him was a danger to her. Good grief, what if she’d showed up in Southwark half an hour earlier? What if she’d followed him into that bloody warehouse? After over a decade of police work, there was no doubt a passel of men like Demming who’d line up for a turn at doing him harm. Or doing the same to those he cared for.
He wouldn’t expose her to that.
“Whatever happened here came dangerouslyclose to your eye,” she whispered, reaching up to brush her fingers gently along the edge of his face. He felt the stroke down the length of his body and shivered.
“One of them wore a ring.” He held her gaze a moment longer. “Miss Prince—”
“I don’t think there will be a bruise, though that cut may take a few days to heal.”
“You should go.”
She straightened and tipped a sad smile down at him. “You’re wasting your breath, Inspector. Unless you mean to heave me over your shoulder and toss me out, I intend to stay and clean those cuts.”
She thought he did not want her to stay, and perhaps that was for the best. Though the opposite was true. Each time he urged her to go, it was far more effort than it should have been. He did so for her benefit, not for his.
Having her near had ignited something in him from the moment he’d met her, and he could no longer tell himself anything different.
“Here we are.” On the tray Mrs. Pratt delivered were clean bandaging, a basin of water, sticking plaster, and a pot of tea.
“This is perfect. Thank you, Mrs. Pratt.” Miss Prince beamed at seeing the teapot, immediately poured two cups, and handed him one.
“I’ll be near if you require anything else, though you seem to be in fine hands, sir.” Mrs. Pratt’s mischievous wink was, thankfully, offered while Miss Prince had her back turned.
He couldn’t blame his housekeeper. In the seven years they’d employed her, he’d never invited a lady visitor into their home. Indeed, he’d avoided the very idea of involving himself with a lady for the very reasons that he could not let himself get used to Miss Prince’s company.
“Let me have a look,” she said in a near whisper, and then she was touching him again.
She cupped his chin and nudged his head up, then she drew so close the skirt of her gown brushed his knees. He spread his legs and she moved between them to get closer.
Her movements were efficient, but her touch was light. As if she feared causing him more pain.
He’d never allowed anyone to fuss over the injuries he’d sustained on the job over the years, but her touch lulled him. Soothed him.
“There. The cut near your lip is slight.” Her thumb swept along the edge of his mouth. “But I could put sticking plaster on the one near your eye.”
“Don’t bother.”
She moved away from him, and he stood, stifling a groan when his body protested.
“Then I think I’ve done all I can,” she told him as she folded the cloth neatly and stepped away to lay it beside the basin’s edge.
Ben couldn’t resist taking a step closer to her, touching her. He reached out and she slipped her hand into his. “What possessed you to come tonight?”
She lifted her gaze to his and looked at himwith an earnestness he rarely saw from anyone. “I had to. I can’t fully explain it. Something told me I could be of help.” She looked away for a moment and smiled ruefully. “And perhaps something in me didn’t want to be left behind.”
Her honesty, without any pretense or caution, was refreshing.
“You did help, but it was reckless. And now you must—”
“Leave it to you, I know.” She slipped her hand from his and crossed her arms. “It involves my shop now, Inspector. Did Mr. Demming say why he was watching Princes?”
“He claimed that he was looking for me.” Ben shrugged because the explanation felt as inadequate now as it had when Demming offered it an hour ago.
