“Probably not.”
“Who is she?” Pierre asked as he hurried forward to light the candle beside the bed.
“I don’t know.”
“Does that mean you don’t know what’s wrong with her either?” Pierre pulled down the bed covers only to hold out his hand. “Wait.”
Daniel looked over to see him staring at the woman’s dirty feet.
“What happened to her shoes?” Then he quickly shook his head. “Allow me to guess. You don’t know. Mrs. Beverly will have our heads if we allow that muck to touch the linens.” He gave a mock shudder at the thought. “I shall fetch the water and basin from your room to clean them.”
Daniel didn’t bother to argue. Pierre was right. Mrs. Beverly served as housekeeper and ran his small household with the same efficiency as the captain of a ship. She would not be pleased to have the clean linens dirtied by whatever filth covered the lady’s feet.
“Send someone for the doctor as well,” Daniel requested as Pierre reached the door. Then he set her against the pillow and bolster, careful to leave her feet off the edge of the bed.
Daniel studied the lady in the candlelight, surprised to realize she was very attractive. She looked rather like a fallen angel with her white nightrail and dirty feet. Her honey-colored hair was messily pulled back and framed her fine-boned, heart-shaped face. Long, sooty lashes and brows a shade darker than her hair were all the more arresting against her smooth skin. Skin that was noticeably pale.
Who was she and why was she dressed like this? Those were only the beginning of his many questions. But first, he wanted to make certain something wasn’t seriously wrong with her.
“The doctor has been sent for,” Pierre said as he carried in a basin of water along with several cloths over one arm and quickly got to work. “Where did you find her?”
“Not far from Brooks’s.”
“You were walking home again? Tsk tsk.” Pierre didn’t approve of Daniel testing his savate skills, a French boxing technique that used both hands and feet, at which Pierre was a master.
“Just because I walk doesn’t mean I’ll find trouble.”
“Well, you certainly did this evening. She must be chilled to the bone based on how cold her feet are.” Pierre paused in his ministrations to study the woman. “One look at her and you know she’s some sort of trouble.”
“You mean in some sort of trouble.”
A pointed look from the valet suggested he meant what he’d said.
Pierre had lived on the streets of Paris all his life until he’d been called upon to escort a French aristocrat to England over two decades ago. The lord had dismissed him once they reached the safety of England’s shores, leaving Pierre on the streets once again, this time in London.
He’d come to Daniel’s notice when Daniel had watched him fight at an underground match a friend dragged him to. Daniel had been impressed with Pierre’s skills when he’d easily beat his opponent with his unusual fighting method. While some Englishmen thought the technique ungentlemanly with its open hand slaps as well as kicks, Daniel had been fascinated. If he were ever in a fight for his life, he wanted every advantage possible. So he had asked Pierre to teach him, but he’d refused until Daniel named a sum the Frenchman couldn’t refuse.
Rather than simply serve as his savate instructor, Pierre insisted on more. When Daniel learned he had no place to live, he offered Pierre a position as his valet. Daniel had taught him the duties and paid him an excellent wage, and in exchange, Pierre taught him the French boxing technique in addition to acting as a valet.
“I’m not certain it was wise to bring her home with you when you know nothing about her.” Pierre cast him a worried look as he dried one foot.
Daniel stared at the dainty, delicate limb with unease. “Probably not. But what else could I do? She was crying.”
Pierre muttered a curse under his breath. “We mere men are no match against a woman’s tears.”
“She was obviously frightened. Terrified, in fact.” Daniel frowned. “She seemed to think someone was looking for her, but she was desperate not to be found.”
“She spoke?”
“Briefly. I would guess she’s well educated, based on the few words we exchanged.”
Pierre glanced at her attire as he finished washing her other foot. “Mayhap she escaped from somewhere. Why else would she be on the street dressed in such a manner?”
“We’ll have to wait until she wakes for answers.”
“Let us hope that is soon.” Pierre placed her feet under the bedclothes and drew the covers over her. Then he set aside the basin and cloths to light the fire. “Shall I sit with her until the doctor arrives?”
“I’ll do so. Waking to find a strange man with her might frighten her unnecessarily.” Besides, he was anxious to learn more about her and who she thought was searching for her.
Within a half an hour, Dr. Boyle arrived, and in his usual no-nonsense manner, asked only a few questions before examining the lady while Daniel waited in the hallway.
“Based on her condition and the little information she shared, I believe she’s been given some sort of drug,” the thin man said after closing the door behind him. “Laudanum, perhaps, but far too much of it I would guess. After a few days of rest and some decent meals, I would expect a full recovery.”
Daniel nodded, relieved to hear his opinion. “Can she be moved?” He thought to take her to Richard and Caroline’s when possible.
“I’d advise against doing so until she’s stronger. Send for me if any problems arise, but she should be feeling better soon.”
“Thank you for coming.” Daniel returned to the chamber while Pierre showed the doctor out. To his disappointment, the lady slept once again. It appeared as if he wouldn’t have any answers until the morrow, but he was
