Page 24 of Lady Gambit
Aaron strode into the house. He looked pale, shaken, nothing like his usual domineering self. The news had rocked him to his core. She could see panic in his eyes, fear marring his brow.
He reached her, his cold hand cupping her elbow. “Where is he?”
“Upstairs. The chamber door is open. He’s sleeping.”
Aaron glanced at Mr Flynn, coldly assessing the man who’d saved their brother’s life, but said nothing before mounting the stairs two at a time.
Mr Daventry appeared, his expression equally grave, though he managed a smile for her before addressing Mr Flynn. “How is he?”
“Dr Skinner is confident he will make a full recovery,” Mr Flynn said calmly. He wasn’t breathless and panting as he had been mere minutes ago. Gone were the throaty moans of pleasure he had struggled to contain. “He lost a fair amount of blood. Miss Darrow is making broth. We’re focusing on letting him rest, keeping him warm and well nourished.”
“The coachman said Theodore may have died had you not come to his aid. He said the blackguards would have taken Miss Chance hostage.”
“I acted as anyone would under the circumstances,” Mr Flynn said modestly.
“We owe Mr Flynn a great debt,” Delphine said, quick to ensure Mr Daventry knew what the gentleman had sacrificed to help her. “I’m sure he never expected to be embroiled in a case of attempted murder.” Or to have to deal with her brother’s wrath.
Mr Daventry gave Mr Flynn a friendly pat on the upper arm. “Flynn has dealt with worse things. You’re lucky he was there to intervene.”
Tears gathered behind her eyes. “I was wrong to pursue personal goals.” Mr Daventry had a way of drawing a confessionwithout saying a word. “I don’t know how to put this right, sir, but I want to try.”
Mr Daventry hit her with the truth. “After this, Aaron will lock you in an ivory tower with no means of escape. Uncovering the secrets of the past is the only way forward. Getting your brother to agree will require the utmost courage and determination.”
Amid the chaos in her mind, it was impossible to think clearly.
Mr Daventry had a sixth sense because he offered a pearl of wisdom. “In battle, one must never lose sight of the goal, else what is the point of war? The suffering has to count for something.”
Her thoughts turned to the other men she loved. “I cannot risk another casualty. Do Aramis and Christian know about the shooting?” She assumed not as the devil himself couldn’t keep them away. But they needed to know their lives were in danger, too.
“Aaron wished to determine the facts, and we cannot risk anyone following them here.” Mr Daventry glanced at the man whose mouth had the power to make magic. “Flynn prefers a private existence. Mile End is his solace, a haven from troubling investigations.”
And now his two worlds had collided, which explained his obvious frustration at having houseguests.
Mr Flynn pressed a gentle hand to her back, the intimate gesture reminding her of their fervent kisses. “Let’s retire to the drawing room and take refreshment. We’ll wait for Mr Chance to join us. I’m sure he’ll want a detailed account of events.”
Mr Daventry agreed. “Aaron will need time alone to process what has occurred. Be patient with him. He’s spent a lifetime trying to avoid such a tragedy.”
They entered Mr Flynn’s drawing room. It was a warm, masculine space with mahogany furniture and burgundy leather sofas. Like the man himself, the room was immaculate, everything pristine and in its place. Yet she pictured their crumpled clothes strewn about the floor, cushions scattered on the rug near the hearth, him trailing burning kisses over her skin.
Mr Flynn rang for tea but poured himself a brandy and tossed it back quickly, hissing to cool the burn. He returned to the seating area, passing Mr Daventry a large dram.
“While we wait, perhaps I should explain one theory.” Mr Flynn sat in the chair opposite the sofa, his black trousers gripping his muscular thighs, and told Mr Daventry about his visit to Bethlem. “In all likelihood, Nora Adkins is a little deranged. Sixteen years spent in Bethlem will do that to a person.”
“Do you know who had her committed?” Mr Daventry sounded excited by the possible mystery.
“Not yet, but it should be easy to find out.” Mr Flynn met her gaze, his dark eyes softening briefly. “I believe Nora knows Miss Chance. My visit to Bethlem may have led to the attack outside Miss Darrow’s shop.”
Her heart sank to her stomach.
Itwasher fault.
“What makes you so sure, sir?”
He would have explained the facts in Miss Darrow’s yard had Theo not charged in like a bull at a gate. Then she might have taken every precaution.
“Nora acted out a scene for me.” He gave a detailed recount of the woman’s ramblings. “I’m convinced she witnessed an altercation between a man, woman and girl. Whatever happened was so terrifying, the girl was told to run, to disappear into the night.”
Silence descended.
