Nellie did as he asked, then joined him in the carriage. The valet said nothing as they crossed London, either because he was worried about Mr Lockhart or because he deemed Nellie too lowly to converse with. Instead Nellie watched the city go past. It was certainly easier, more comfortable and a lot faster to travel by carriage than omnibus and the coach driver manoeuvred his way through the busy traffic with the skill of a professional.
When they arrived at her shop the valet rushed through the door and up the stairs, not waiting for an invitation and ignoring the greetings from Matilda and Harriet.
Nellie said hello to her curious assistants and told them she’d be back soon to explain everything, then followed the valet up the stairs. The valet was standing beside Mr Lockhart’s bed, ringing his hands. He sent Nellie an accusatory glare, as if she had personally caused the bruises and cuts over Mr Lockhart’s body. An accusation Nellie could only agree with.
‘I’ll arrange for you to be transported home immediately, sir,’ the valet said.
‘Thank you, Burgess.’ Mr Lockhart carefully pulled himself into a seated position.
‘Not if you want to risk killing him,’ Nellie said, for which she received another accusatory glare from the valet. ‘The doctor said he might have a broken rib and it’s best if he stays still for a few days. Then if the pain reduces it will mean he’s all right to move. But if it is a broken rib and he does move he might pierce his lung.’
The valet’s glare turned from accusatory to worried.
‘This is most improper,’ he mumbled, looking from Nellie to Mr Lockhart. ‘Perhaps I could organise someone to look after you, sir. A trained nurse, perhaps.’ He sent another disapproving look in Nellie’s direction. ‘Someone who can make you comfortable and care for you.’
Nellie could feel her hackles starting to rise at the man’s superior manner. She was perfectly capable of caring for an injured man. ‘No, you won’t. This is my home and no one gets admittance without my permission.’
‘You have been very kind, Miss Regan, but Burgess is right. It’s too much to ask of you. Perhaps I could pay for you to stay in a hotel while I recuperate and Burgess can organise for a nurse to attend me.’
‘No.’ Nellie shook her head and glared back at the valet. ‘As I said, no one comes into my home uninvited and I have no intention of being thrown out of my own home, even if it is to a fancy hotel.’ Nellie was unsure why she was being so stubborn. She just knew she did not want to leave and did not want anyone else nursing Mr Lockhart. She had caused his injuries and she would be the one to tend him and make him better.
‘In that case I’ll have another bed sent over, so you’ll have somewhere to sleep rather than in that armchair,’ Mr Lockhart said.
Heat rushed to Nellie’s cheeks. Little did he know that she had slept perfectly comfortably last night beside him in her own bed. Thank goodness he didn’t know about that kiss. To cover her discomfort Nellie bustled forward and picked up the tray containing the uneaten toast, then put it back down again.
Mr Lockhart watched her pointless activity, then turned back to his valet. ‘Can you please arrange for a bed to be delivered, Burgess?’
The valet nodded. ‘Yes, right away, sir.’ He lifted his head and looked down his nose at Nellie. ‘And I’ll make sure the Duke of Ashmore is informed. I’m sure his Grace and your fiancée will be most anxious to know about what has happened and that you are safe.’
Nellie was sure she heard an emphasis on the word fiancée. What did this man think she was doing, trying to kidnap Mr Lockhart, lure him away from his intended? The heat on Nellie’s cheeks intensified. That was such a ridiculous idea it was laughable. She picked up the tray again and took it through to the kitchen.
‘And is there anything else I can get you?’ the valet was saying when she returned. ‘Perhaps I could bring back some shaving gear, a change of clothes...’ he looked around the room and scowled ‘...and other items to make your stay here as comfortable as possible.’
Nellie shook her head. The valet really was a disapproving snob, but that was no more than she would have expected.
‘Well, gentlemen, I’ll leave you to organise everything you need. I have a business to run.’
‘Thank you, Miss Regan. You’re very...’ He smiled. Nellie smiled back. He was obviously going to tell her she was very kind, then realised she had already told him to stop saying that. ‘Thank you, Miss Regan, for everything you’ve done.’
She paused for a second, as if reluctant to leave him in anyone else’s care, then gave herself a little shake. The valet was more than capable of looking after him and, from the pinched expression on his face, was impatient for Nellie to leave.
She headed down the stairs and was greeted by the wide-eyed curiosity of Harriet and Matilda, who were anxiously waiting to find out what all the commotion was.
When the flurry of questions had died down, Nellie recounted everything that had happened since they had left The Hanged Man last night, although she chose to leave out any reference to her surreptitious kiss and Mr Lockhart’s equally surreptitious observation of her washing this morning.
The memory of how he had looked at her was something Nellie doubted she would ever forget. Despite the state of his bloodshot, swollen eyes, she could see the smouldering of desire in his gaze. It was as if he wanted to devour her. She also doubted she would forget her own reaction. She had loved the way he had looked at her. She should have covered herself up immediately. Instead she’d wanted to reveal more of herself to him, had wanted
