Page 21 of His Wife, the Spy (His Enterprising Duchess #4)

J asper shifted, and pain sent him curling around the pillow—which was helpful, since he didn’t want Annabel to hear him scream. He’d had muscle pains and stitches before. He’d even woken with cramps from sleeping in odd positions.

He’d never had them all at the same time.

The cool sheets should have been soothing. Instead, they reminded him he was alone in bed for the first time in weeks.

He hadn’t slept alone, though. Time had passed in fitful gaps, but Annabel had been there whenever he woke, dozing beside him in a chair that looked like it had been used in the Inquisition. She had fussed over him in in her quiet way, as silent as the gray ghost he’d once teased her of being.

Jasper had considered joking with her, just to see her smile. He’d thought better of it when he saw the questions swirling in her eyes.

The door between their rooms gaped open like an empty mouth.

“Annabel?” Hating the tremble in his voice, he cleared his throat. “Annabel?”

The only answer he received was an echo.

He’d botched it. Half out of his mind on laudanum and weak from blood loss, he’d believed she would welcome no longer having secrets between them. Instead, she looked as though he was going to lock her in the Tower of London.

Gritting his teeth, Jasper reached to the bell rope and fell back against the pillows, swearing against the pain.

The door flew open, shocking in both the force of it and how quickly Travis answered the call.

“What the bloody hell did you do?” Kit roared. “And why the deuce didn’t you wait for me?”

Travis pushed past him like he wasn’t there. “What do you need, your lordship?”

“Where is my wife?” Jasper demanded. “And why is no one at the door?”

“Lady Ramsbury is in the garden with your mother and sisters explaining your…illness and necessary quarantine. Frederick is with her, at a distance that will not worry Lady Lambourn, so Stapleton—”

“Stapleton is at the door and didn’t receive word that I shouldn’t be let up.” Kit strode in the room. “Thank you, Travis. If you’ll leave—”

“Don’t order my staff about. This is not your house.” Jasper tossed the covers back and gratefully accepted Travis’s arm to stand. “What day is it?”

“Thursday, sir.”

Two days. He’d been asleep for two days. Annabel was likely wandering the house stooped in the shape of that blasted chair.

The medic-cum-valet helped him into his dressing gown but, thankfully, left it for him to tie himself. Even that simple act was exhausting. “Thank you for your help, Travis.”

“I’ll send a maid up with a tray. Some good coffee, scones, and eggs will serve you well. Both of you.” Travis left the room without a backward glance.

Kit glowered from his place near the hearth. “Still wishing you’d gone to war?”

“Still hating being an earl?” Laughing sent needles to Jasper’s fingertips. “Because you seem to be adjusting well.”

The maid arrived with a rattling tray that had been prepared so promptly it was likely waiting for him to wake. He’d have Annabel to thank for that. Sitting was a combination of relief and torture, but he managed. Just.

Kit sat in the opposite chair. After filling a coffee cup, he helped himself to a scone—devouring half of it in one bite. “I’m tired.”

“And hungry, apparently.” Jasper sipped his coffee and nibbled on his eggs, waiting to see if his hunger would reap the consequences of being drugged during minor surgery. “Don’t you have a cook?”

“I did when I left.” Kit lifted a piece of streaky bacon from the tray. “But I’ve been in Wales, fetching Claudette.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to Cardiff.” Jasper buttered a scone.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to get into a knife fight.”

When he’d had to protect himself or someone else, he’d always been armed and prepared. Last night he’d done nothing but step in front of Annabel and offer himself as a sacrifice to stupidity. He’d known better than to let down his guard. “It was less fight and more ambush.”

“Where?”

“Outside Ramsbury House. Repairs are finished, so I wanted to show it to Annabel. She met me there after the session ended.” He shook his head, cursing himself a fool for putting her in danger. “We left, someone approached us, and I don’t remember much after that.”

Except Annabel telling him everything he already knew but not sharing his relief in the knowing.

“Was it one of your highwaymen?”

“Possibly, but it was dark during the first attack, and this one was too fast.” He’d always thought he’d be better at details. “How are things in Cardiff?”

“Claudette has worked her magic. Gareth’s father is falling all over himself to make up for lost time.” Kit swallowed a gulp of coffee and grimaced at the burn. “And you know how the major gets when the bit’s between his teeth.”

In the months after Gareth’s death, his father had been ready to rouse a mob and storm Paris in a search for his son’s murderous bitch of a wife . “They’ve mended fences, then?”

“It’s delicate, but I think bringing Collins to justice will solidify it.”

Gareth would be pleased, and so was Kit, given the look on his face. “There’s progress?”

“Put a widow in a room full of women who waited for men to come home from war, or doting pensioners who see a pretty, sad young lady alone?” Kit snorted a laugh. “We should have done it earlier. They’re lining up to talk to her. Some of it has helped our investigation, but much of it has done wonders for her. They’ve given her a full sketch of the Gareth they knew before the war. She’s happier, and the major is putting pressure on the constable, who is drawing the circle tighter.”

“Why did you bring her back to London, then?”

“She needs a break from death and reminiscing, Jasper.” He cleaned his mouth and chin with a serviette. “And I’d like her away from Cardiff if Collins panics. I don’t want her alone.”

“She’ll have to stay here.” Jasper grinned at his newest cousin’s confused frown. “You’re an earl, Kit. And there are already rumors that Claudette is my mistress. A night in your house will have the ton spinning tales that we’re sharing her. You’d have to marry her.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to marry her?”

“One forced marriage is enough.” Kit rolled his eyes. “It will look like a family epidemic.”

Which would reflect poorly on the girls. “You’re right. One of us is bad enough.”

“I’ll ask the maids to make up a room.”

Jasper twisted to the door—the one he hadn’t closed—and swore as his stitches caught and stretched. Wetness seeped over his skin. Annabel was standing there, but the light behind her made her a silhouette. A thin one.

He always forgot how slight she was.

She stood at the threshold as though she were waiting on an invitation she had never needed.

“Thank you.” He didn’t dare invite her closer. She would see the blood. He couldn’t stand for the same reason. “Would you put her across the hall, please? She has—”

“Of course.” She bowed to him. It was a mere dip of her chin as she clutched her skirts, but it was a bloody bow . His bandage was squishy and warm against his skin.

“Annabel, it isn’t—”

“My mother has sent a card, asking me to call on family business. Since you won’t be alone in the house, I’ll go now.” Her words were level, but her voice was lifeless.

There was no possibility of her listening to reason now.

“Take the coach and Frederick.” He didn’t say please. It wasn’t a request. If he couldn’t keep her safe, he’d make damn sure someone did.

“Lord Warwick?” she called without entering the room. “Will you stay until we return? I don’t want…the household unprotected.”

Kit arched an eyebrow, likely hearing the same hesitation in her statement. Her concern had become the people in the house, not just her husband. Perhaps not her husband at all. “As long as Lord Ramsbury doesn’t toss me out on my ear, my lady.”

“Thank you.” She stood for a moment. “Goodbye.”

Those words, in her flat voice, sent a chill through Jasper. Ignoring his wet bandages, he kept his eyes on her blank face. “I will see you when you come home, Annabel.”

He blinked and she was gone.

“Shall we play chess or poker?” Kit asked. “I can finally make the ante—”

“Get Travis.” The room began to tilt. “Now.”

He left without question and without a backward glance. Everyone in Jasper’s life seemed to do that. He pressed his hand to his side and gritted his teeth.

Don’t pity yourself. Only your wife ran away from you.

Quick, light steps in the hallway curved his lips into a smile. Annabel was worried about him after all.

“Jasper! Wait until you—” Claudette stuttered to a stop, her eyes widening, when she saw the state of him. “I don’t understand. Your wife said you were expecting me.”

Jasper’s disappointment doubled. Not only had Annabel misinterpreted his humor and ignored his attempts to explain, but she’d also fallen back to ton gossip over his connection to Claudette. Because a man would be expected to meet his mistress in his dressing gown.

“I am very happy to see you.” Jasper made himself smile, though sweat trickled down his spine. “But I’m sure you’re exhausted. Your room is across the hall.”

Travis hurried into the room with Kit on his heels.

“Leave us please, Claudette.” Jasper struggled to his feet. “We’ll visit—” His knees buckled without warning. “Damn.”