Ian looked at Daniel. “We will take her.”
“We will?” Daniel blinked. “Yes, of course we will. Come along, Auntie. Ian and I will take care of you.”
Isabella tried to follow, but Ian had Louisa hauled out of the box so quickly that Isabella got left behind. When Ian reached the stairs, he abandoned trying to help Louisa walk and simply lifted her into his arms.
Ian didn’t much like touching people, or people touching him. He welcomed hugs from Beth and his children, tolerated them from his brothers and Daniel, but he slid away from everyone else. Now Ian cradled Louisa close, never minding that she clasped her hands around his neck to hold on.
Ian walked rapidly and grimly down the stairs with her, as though he carried a Mackenzie dog that had hurt itself. And possibly, Louisa mused, Ian thought of Louisa as little different from them.
Daniel ran ahead and found the doctor Ian sought. The man’s eyes widened when he saw Louisa, pale and hurt, and changed from the social gentleman to the professional.
“Bring her in here,” he said, gesturing to one of the tents.
This one was empty, whatever use it had been put to finished, tables strewn about waiting to be carried away. Daniel made certain a table was clear, and Ian laid Louisa on it. Louisa bit her lip, trying to look brave.
One of Sir Richard Cavanaugh’s lackeys hurried in with his bag and departed just as quickly. Sir Richard ran his hand competently over Louisa’s ankle, and she made a noise of pain when he squeezed the right place.
“I’ll need to examine it more closely—it might be broken. Gentlemen, if you’ll go?”
He meant that he might have to expose Louisa’s bare ankle. Daniel and Ian weren’t closely enough related to her that it would be proper for them to see that. Silly, but Sir Richard had likely learned long ago to adhere strictly to the rules. Hence his knighthood.
“Wait for Isabella first,” Daniel suggested.
Louisa waved him off. “No, please go. The quicker he finishes, the quicker I’ll be out of pain. I’ll be fine.”
Ian, without a word, put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, turned the puzzled young man around, and marched him out of the tent. Daniel went, but with reluctance.
“Now then, Lady Louisa.” Sir Richard worked the stopper from a small green bottle and held it out to her. “Take the smallest sniff of this. It will relax you and make you feel better.”
Louisa regarded the bottle with suspicion. “What is it?”
“Just a sedative. See?” Sir Richard waved the bottle under his own nose. “Nothing noxious.”
He held it out to her again. Louisa took a small sniff, smelling something sharp and sweet. She lay down on the table again, the pain almost evaporating, or at least receding to someplace far away. Louisa’s limbs relaxed, and she drew a long breath.
“That’s nice,” she said.
“Just a touch of ether,” Sir Richard said. “I don’t want my examination to hurt you.”
He picked up her foot, unlaced and drew off her boot, and slid his hand up her leg to take down her stocking. All quick, competent, professional. He rotated her foot this way and that, pressed her ankle, and then ran warm hands all over her foot.
“I don’t think you’ve broken anything, fortunately, Lady Louisa. A mild sprain is all, though they can hurt very much. I’ll bind the foot and give you something for the pain.”
“Thank you.” He was kind, really. “You’re nice,” Louisa said. Then she drew a breath. Why on earth had she said that?
“Lovely of you to say so, my dear.” Sir Richard smiled at her, then something else entered his eyes. “You have beautiful legs, Louisa. A pity no one sees them.”
Louisa’s dry lips parted. “I beg your—”
She broke off with a little squeak as Sir Richard put his hand on her ankle again. It didn’t hurt, but she watched, wide-eyed, as he caressed her leg all the way to the knee, the touch no longer that of a compassionate doctor. “Very nice,” he said, his voice thick with pleasure.
Louisa wanted to shriek and kick, but the sedative he’d given her made her giggle instead. How very awful. Lloyd had been right after all.
“He generally is,” Louisa said before she could stop herself.
“Pardon?” Sir Richard went on caressing behind her knee, his fingers sliding under the hem of her drawers. “Who generally is what?”
“Lloyd. He’s always right about people. He’s very clever.”
“I’m certain.” It was apparent Sir Richard had no idea who “Lloyd” was. He didn’t connect the name with the police inspector who’d interviewed him—how very rude of him. “Louisa, my dear, you are quite a beautiful woman.” Sir Richard withdrew his hand from her skirt only to slide it up her bodice and her bosom. He squeezed her breast, then started to undo the buttons that closed the bodice to her chin. “Let me loosen your gown, so you can breathe easier.”
“Yes.” The open buttons did let her draw a long breath. “Help,” she tried to shout, but the word came out quietly.
“Hush now,” Sir Richard said. “We don’t have much time. Someone will come soon. That makes it a bit more exciting, doesn’t it?” He drew her placket apart and put his large, rather soft hand on her breast . . .
A very large fist connected with the side of Sir Richard’s face. Louisa’s eyes widened as Sir Richard staggered, blood appearing on his temple. He tried to keep to his feet, then he fell over like a tree in a storm and lay stunned on the wilted grass.
Louisa looked at the fist that had done the punching and recognized the black leather gloves Lloyd liked to wear. The punch had been very competent. Louisa tried to leverage herself up on her elbows, then she gave up and laughed.
Sir Richard struggled to rise. A large boot, this one belonging to Sergeant Pierce, landed on the man’s chest.
“Now then, sir,” Pierce said. “Just you rest there a bit.”
The tent seemed to be full of people all the sudden. Ian Mackenzie, thunder in his eyes, put his booted foot on Sir Richard’s chest as well. Sir Richard wasn’t going anywhere.
The rest of the Mackenzies, including Isabella, took up the rest of the small tent. Gilbert, fortunately, was nowhere in sight.
Fellows had shrugged off his coat and now he draped it over Louisa. She smiled up at him and touched his strong hand. “Did I do all right?” she asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d give me such a strong sedative. I couldn’t scream for help.”
“You did fine. Thank you.” Lloyd leaned down and kissed the top of her head. No one looked surprised, least of all Ian, the crafty devil.
Isabella was giving Fellows a hard look. “Do you mean to say, Chief Inspector, that you used my sister as
Daniel laughed. “It was well done. I never suspected, until Ian told me.”
“Ian knew?” This from Mac, who came to stand protectively near Louisa with Isabella. “Why did no one tell
“I needed an ally who could keep his mouth shut,” Fellows said. “And one who would look after Louisa. Ian was the obvious choice. Thank you, Ian.”
Ian only nodded. At one time, Louisa had heard from Isabella, Ian had possessed fury to the point of violence against Lloyd, especially when Lloyd had tried to use Beth to get to Ian and Hart. Now Ian gave Fellows a satisfied look, an acknowledgment of camaraderie. He pushed a little harder on Sir Richard’s chest with his boot, making Sir Richard cry out.
Fellows moved back to Sir Richard, took the iron cuffs Sergeant Pierce held out to him, and snapped them around Sir Richard’s wrists. “Sir Richard Cavanaugh, I am arresting you for the murder of Frederick Lane, the Bishop of Hargate. I will take you to a magistrate, who will examine you and determine if there is cause to bind you over for trial.”
“On what evidence?” Sir Richard scoffed. “You have none.”
“Oh, I have plenty.” Fellows tapped Sir Richard’s doctor’s bag. “All in here. And in your surgery, and at your house, and in the Bishop of Hargate’s notes. I will try to make sure all the lady patients you’ve molested over the years, the poor women too afraid and ashamed to say anything against you, will be present in the gallery at your
