Page 27

Violet worked all night to turn and deliver Jess’s baby. By the time the rays of dawn made their way into the filthy room, she had managed to stabilize the girl, but the baby had not made it.

Violet wrapped the infant in a blanket and lay down next to the sobbing mother, holding her until she finally wept herself to sleep. Then she pushed herself up to her aching, exhausted feet and peered out the doorway.

Her eyes found Alistair immediately, his large form slumped on the dirty sidewalk, his back against the building. His arm was wrapped protectively around the boy, whose head was in his lap. Both were snoring.

“Alistair,” Violet whispered, startling him awake.

“Violet,” he said and looked from her to the doorway and back. “Did she—?”

“She’s stable for the moment. But she needs to be somewhere clean and decent to recover. Not here. The risk of infection is too high.”

Alistair nodded. “And the baby?”

Violet shook her head no. She had done all she could, but the child had not survived.

“I see,” he said and gently moved the sleeping boy from his lap so he could rise to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Violet. There was nothing more you could have done.”

Violet frowned. “Don’t you see?” she whispered, fighting the tears that again glistened in her eyes. “There is so much more that could have been done. First of all, the girl is only a child.”

“Fourteen,” Alistair said.

“How did you—?” Violet asked as she watched Alistair lean down and scoop up the sleeping Davy. “Ah,” she said. “I see.”

“Go on,” Alistair murmured while he turned from her to carry Davy back inside.

“Well,” Violet continued, watching him.

He is more tender than he knows .

“She has rickets, certainly,” she went on when he caught her staring. “And anemia probably. Both will complicate labor. Not to mention her age and her size. And, Alistair, look around.”

“I know,” he agreed, quietly making his way back into the home and nestling the boy next to his sleeping sister. “This is no place for children.”

He turned back to Violet. “Give the infant to me,” he said, “There’s a church nearby to bury him. And I’ll hail a hack for us.”

Violet nodded her tired head in agreement. “I’ll stay here with Jess.”

Alistair looked at her for a long moment before he said, “Very well. I’ll be back for you just as soon as I can. But please don’t go anywhere at all, Violet. This is not a safe place.”

Violet looked back to Jess and Davy, sleeping side by side. “I won’t,” she agreed, placing the wrapped infant in Alistair’s arms. Then she settled in to watch over the siblings while they slept.

Violet awoke sometime later to her body being gently carried through the rookery and loaded into the back of a waiting carriage.

“What’s happening?” she asked sleepily.

“I am transporting you,” Alistair whispered to her as he lowered her onto the worn leather squabs of a hack.

“And Jess?” she asked, her eyes flying open as she remembered why she had fallen asleep where she had.

“She’s in a carriage with Davy already. Esmee is with them. Close your eyes, Violet. You need your rest too.”

“Mmmhm,” she said drowsily but then startled awake once more. “Give her laudanum to help her sleep. And clean her, Alistair. Promise she’ll be clean.”

“I promise. Sleep now, Violet.”

“You’ll have to send a note, so my family knows where I am. I can’t leave Jess. I’ll have to stay with her.”

“I’ve sent a note already. The world is set to rights long enough for you to sleep, Violet. I promise.”

He used his fingertips to massage the back of her neck until the soothing gesture lulled her to sleep again. She’d been awake and working for nearly twenty-four hours and was so exhausted that she barely roused as they traversed London.

She didn’t even wake when she was carried inside. She only felt vague sensations of her clothes being removed and her hair being gently washed and dried, before she was placed in a large, warm bed that enveloped her. It was bliss, and she was back asleep in seconds.

Alistair decided to give Williams a raise just as soon as he was able to afford it. His valet barely raised an eyebrow as the two carriagefuls of dirty, sleeping guests were loaded into the townhouse.

Williams undertook the care of Davy, who, in the light of day, seemed to be covered in more layers of grime than clothes.

Alistair and the footman carried the sleeping Jess into the house as gently as they were able.

Now that he could see her clearly, her small, fragile body and her face that was more child than not, his heart constricted in his chest. It was a miracle she had survived the night.

No, not a miracle.

Violet had saved her, as she had so many patients. He’d been wrong before when he’d asked Pembrooke to call for the surgeon. He’d seen the proof of Violet’s ability with his own eyes these last twenty-four hours, and as soon as she awoke, he’d tell her so.

In the meantime, Alistair asked the maid to tend to Jess, making sure the girl was thoroughly cleaned and laid in a bed made with freshly boiled linens. And then he turned his attention to Violet.

He knew she would be embarrassed in the morning to learn that it was he who had bathed her and undressed her, but there wasn’t much choice. He kept only a skeletal staff, and they were busy with the siblings.

So, it was Alistair who carefully plucked out each hair pin. Alistair who unlaced her shoes and unrolled her stockings. And Alistair who slipped her carefully into the bath of warm water to clean her body and hair as dispassionately as he could.

And then he removed her sleeping form from the tub and laid her underneath the covers to sleep. He’d have dressed her again if he could, but he had no women’s clothes laying around his townhome. It was only a rented place, and he’d never brought a woman here before.

He sat in the chair in the bedroom for a long while and watched over Violet while she slept.

It was humbling to find someone who inspired him, who made him want to do and be more than he ever had before.

And it was new to him, this enjoyment of her intellect and admiration for her capabilities, as much as he admired her generous, lush curves tucked into— well .

He hated that dress and wasn’t a bit sorry it was ruined.

Part of him wanted to ravish her right then and there, but he didn’t.

She was exhausted, and, if she was anything like him, stunned by the raw reality of what they had seen that day.

What she needed was rest and care, not debauching.

So that was what he gave her, watching over her while she slept in his bedchamber. In his bed.

Where she belongs.

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before he retired to his own desperately needed bath.