"I can't imagine," Daniel murmured, bracing himself. "What have you brought home this time?"
Samuel swallowed audibly. "It's a… girl."
"A girl… what? A girl squirrel? A girl rabbit?" Good God, he hoped not another girl rabbit. The last one Samuel brought home had promptly given birth to even more rabbits-all of which now resided in the country at Meadow Hill. No doubt the property was overrun with multiple generations of the furry, cotton-tailed creatures.
Samuel shook his head. "No, milord. Just a… girl." He cleared his throat. "Of the female person variety."
Daniel stared at his footman, whose cheeks bore twins flags of scarlet. Before he could speak, Samuel said in a rush, "Found 'er huddled in an alley, milord. Cryin' she were. Thought at first I were goin' to hurt her." Samuel's eyes flashed. "She'd already been hurt."
Daniel's jaw clenched. "How badly?"
"Got two blackened eyes, some cuts, and lots o' bruises. She managed to get away before the bastard who grabbed her hurt her worse." His lips pressed into a tight line then his voice dropped to a whisper. "But she'd been hurt before, milord. I… could tell."
A knot twisted in Daniel's stomach. Yes, Samuel would unfortunately be able to tell. "Where is she? Does she require a doctor?"
"Curled up on the sofa in the drawing room. Probably someone should look at 'er cuts, but when I mentioned a doctor she got upset and refused. 'Tis clear she don't want a man touchin' her, milord, and I can't blame her none fer that. Took some convincin' to get her to leave that alley with me. But with Cook and Mary already gone home to their families for the night, ain't nobody here but men."
Daniel nodded slowly. "Do you know her name?"
"Katie Marshall, milord."
"And how old is Miss Marshall?"
"Nineteen." Samuel's gaze rested steadily on his. "She's a decent girl, milord. Fell on hard times a few months back when the family she worked for let 'er go. Been tryin' to find work ever since. She'd heard about a family needin' a maid and were on her way to the house when the bastard got hold of her. Stole what little money she had and tried to take more than that." Samuel's eyes flashed. "Fought 'im, she did, and got away."
"Good for her," Daniel said quietly. "I think it best we get someone-a woman-here as soon as possible. Lady Wingate's town house is closest. Go there and ask for her maid to come. After you bring her here, you can go for Cook and Mary. And Samuel?"
"Yes, milord?"
"As luck would have it, I'm certain I'm in need of another maid."
Instead of flashing his normal quick grin, Samuel nodded solemnly. "Thank ye, milord. 'Tis the best of men ye are."
As always, Samuel's gratitude and high opinion humbled him. He wasn't the best of men-he knew that all too well. But maybe, just maybe, with Samuel's help, he was making up for a bit of his past failures.
Weary and unsettled after the party, Carolyn was relieved to arrive home. After handing her cashmere shawl to Nelson and bidding the butler good-night, she turned toward the stairway, determined to go to bed and fall into a dreamless sleep.
Alone.
Yes, she was alone.
She frowned. Not alone. Just… without him. She had years' worth of memories to keep her company. Not to mention her sister and her friends. Of course she wasn't alone.
Still, the persistent, nagging question floating through the back of her mind plagued her. Had she done the right thing in refusing Lord Surbrooke's offer?
Yes, her common sense insisted.
No, her heart argued.
She was halfway up the stairs when the bell that indicated the front gate had been opened rang. Seconds later the brass door knocker sounded. Surprised, she turned around and looked at an equally surprised Nelson, who stood in the foyer still holding her wrap.
"Who on earth would be calling at such an hour?" Carolyn asked, unable to keep the concern from her voice. Obviously something was wrong-people didn't knock on one's door at one a.m. because all was well.
Before opening the door, Nelson looked out one of the slender windows flanking the oak door. "'Tis Samuel, Lord Surbrooke's footman," he reported.
Carolyn gripped the banister, her entire body tensing with dread. Dear God, had something happened to Lord Surbrooke? "Let him in," she said, forcing the words around the lump of fear lodged in her throat as she moved in jerky motions down the stairs.
Nelson admitted a tall, out of breath, handsome young man who was clearly relieved to see her. He burst into a rapid staccato speech about finding an injured young woman, bringing her home, and her refusal to see a doctor.
"'Tis a woman she needs, milady, if you understand my meanin'. His lordship sent me to fetch yer maid, to see if she could help."
"Of course," Carolyn said, her relief that it wasn't Lord Surbrooke who was injured colliding with her sympathy for the young woman. She turned to Nelson. "Awaken Gertrude. As soon as she's dressed, escort her to Lord Surbrooke's town house. I'll go with Samuel now."
To Carolyn's amazement, Lord Surbrooke opened the door to his town house himself. His normally perfect appearance was more than a bit disarranged. His hair was rumpled, as if he'd plunged his fingers through the dark brown strands. He'd removed his jacket and cravat and rolled back his shirtsleeves, to reveal muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. She'd never seen him so… undone. The effect was dazzling and momentarily robbed her of her wits.
A loud meow pulled her from her stupor, and she looked down to see a black cat weaving around Lord Surbrooke's boots. A black cat that looked up at her and blinked. With one eye.
She lifted her gaze back to Lord Surbrooke's and noted he seemed as surprised to see her standing in his foyer as she was to see him. After giving herself a stern mental shake, she said, "Samuel explained the situation and my maid is on her way, but I thought I could be of some help. As a physician's daughter and the older sister of one who constantly scraped herself up, I'm quite adept at these matters."
"Thank you," he said, and tunneled his fingers through his hair. "From what Samuel's told me, Miss Marshall's injuries aren't life threatening, but they should be seen to."
"Of course. Where is she?"
"The drawing room. I've gathered some necessities-bandages, water, and salve-and left them outside the door." He turned to Samuel. "I didn't want to enter and frighten her, so we'll all go in together. After we've been introduced, you can go for Cook and Mary."
When Lord Surbrooke opened the drawing room door, Carolyn saw a young woman curled up on the sofa in front of the hearth. She sat up as they entered. A combination of sympathy and anger rushed through Carolyn at the sight of the dark bruises marring the girl's face. Samuel went immediately to her side.
"That's Lord Surbrooke," the young footman said gently, crouching before her, but not touching her. "There's no reason to fear him, or anyone else in this house. His lordship is the one wot saved me and he's promised to help you, too. Give ye a job right here, in his grand house, as a maid. His friend, Lady Wingate, is a very kind and fine lady indeed. She'll look after ye till her maid arrives. Ye have my word ye're in good hands, Katie."
Katie's wide-eyed gaze shifted to her and Lord Surbrooke and she jerked her head in a nod. "Th-Thank ye."
"You're welcome," said Lord Surbrooke.
The three of them brought in the supplies, setting them on the table next to the sofa. Carolyn noted that the room, with its pale green silk walls dotted with pastoral landscapes, rich velvet drapes, and mahogany furniture, reflected understated and excellent taste. Interesting, and rather surprising, as she would have guessed a bachelor gentleman's home more likely to be decorated with stuffed animal heads than elegant paintings.
Her attention was momentarily captured by the beautiful large painting above the mantel. It depicted a woman dressed in a blue gown. Seen from the back, with only the slightest hint of the curve of her face visible, she stood on the terrace of what was obviously a grand manor house. One hand was braced on the stone balustrade while the other was raised to shadow the bright sun as she looked out over the extensive formal English garden, which was in full bloom. An unseen breeze blew the hem of her gown and a lock of her light brown hair. In the background, standing in the garden, was the figure of a gentleman. Carolyn had the distinct impression that even though the man was surrounded by the beauty of the garden, the only thing he saw was the woman on the terrace.