Page 13 of To Heal a Broken Earl (The Rakes of Mayhem #7)
Chapter Eight
The next day
Michael sighed, tilting his head back slightly, allowing Hastings to get a better measure of the scruffy beard that had accumulated during his days on the road. The scraping sound of the blade against his skin was soothing, especially after his sleepless night.
“How did you sleep last night, my lord?” Hastings asked as he rinsed the blade full of whiskers mixed with frothy, sandalwood-scented soap in a bowl of warm water.
Michael grunted a reply. Hastings had an uncanny ability to read his thoughts.
“I take it you didn’t sleep?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, the fact that you’ve been favoring your leg. You could barely bend it when you got into your bath this morning, and you winced a few minutes ago when you sat in this chair. And there’s the fact that I heard you pacing back and forth most of the night.”
“Next time, plug your ears with cotton.”
“If you would only allow me to apply the salve that Dr. Bianchi prepared—”
“The answer is no.” Michael refused to walk through his home smelling like a dead fish or dog excrement, especially around Emma.
Hastings muttered something about vanity and pride.
Yes, dammit. Michael did have his pride.
He wasn’t a dandy by any means, but he’d be damned if he’d walk around his own home smelling like a rotting animal carcass.
Most of the time, he could put up with the chronic pain of his injury.
It was a setback that made him hyperaware he was not invincible— something that every young man who went away to war believed in the beginning.
After witnessing the death of so many good men, so many friends in battle, he had changed.
The pain in his leg was proof that he’d survived, that he was still alive to fight another day.
Over time, he’d learned to push aside his physical pain.
But sometimes, it became sharper and more intense.
The journey from London to his estate over the past days had been designed to throw off anyone who might be following them.
But it had taken a toll on his ability to ignore the pain in his leg.
Hastings gave a beleaguered sigh. “Very well, but we have received word from Dr. Bianchi that he will be in the area in the next few days. He will insist on examining your leg.”
“He can insist all he wants.”
“My lord, I only want to remind you that your leg can be helped.”
Michael opened his eyes and saw the flash of anger on the younger man’s face.
Behind that anger was concern. Now it was his turn to sigh.
It had been Hastings who’d dragged him from the battlefield and fought the surgeon who wanted to cut off his leg, Hastings who had nursed him through the fever and infection that followed.
Hastings, who was practically a boy when he’d enlisted in the war.
Hastings had saved his life. He would never question the man’s loyalty.
“Very well, we’ll see what Bianchi has to say when the time comes.”
Hastings nodded as his deft hands smoothly slid along Michael’s jaw, scraping the rough beard off. “You certainly needed a shave, my lord, even if I do say so myself. Now, please try to remain still.”
Michael gave a nod and closed his eyes once more, even as his mind continued to sift through troubling details about the recent spate of arsons in London over the last several months.
While only two people had died, it was clear the arsonist had intensified his heinous attacks.
At first, the fires had been sporadic, but in the past month, they had become more frequent.
A sense of frustration gnawed at him as a haunting realization settled in—despite how careful they had been executing their plan to get Emma and Katie to his estate, he couldn’t help but suspect that the arsonist was searching for them.
He figured they were a day or two ahead of the arsonist, at best. The question was, would they be able to figure out the criminal’s identity and capture him before he discovered their whereabouts?
Michael knew little for certain, but expected to receive a missive from Armstrong soon, an update on the investigation in London.
But in the meantime, he would continue to prepare for all possibilities—hiring more footmen and seeing to the fortification of the crumbling stone wall that bordered the estate.
As he thought about the arsonist, he shifted restlessly in the chair.
“My lord!” Hastings pulled back, brows knitting together as whipped soap flew from his hands. “You do realize this is a very sharp blade? They would show me no mercy if I sliced your throat by accident. No one would believe any defense I laid out,” he said in a wry tone.
Michael laughed softly and held up his hand to placate. “I apologize. You’re right. It’s just that when I’m supposed to stay still, my mind wanders to pressing matters. You know this about me. I’ll try very hard not to move.”
“Yes, but you’re not usually this fidgety, and you’re much more distracted than normal. Please, stay still,” Hastings replied, shaking his head with both amusement and exasperation.
“You’re right, once again. Several things are running through my mind, any one of which can be distracting. As a group, they are very distracting. Perhaps you can help me with a few things before we proceed.”
“Happy to, my lord—especially if it means I won’t be at risk of slicing your neck or nicking your ear. I don’t like it when blood mixes in with my whipped shaving cream. Nasty business.”
Michael laughed, and Hastings joined in.
“Can you find the name of the modiste in town and then invite her here to meet with Lady Grantham and Katie?” Michael asked.
“Also, I need you to look into hiring more footmen to guard the perimeter. I need them more for security purposes than household chores at present. Wright plans to join us after he visits his Aunt Chippie in Brighton. With his keen instincts, he’ll be an excellent asset in setting up a defense.
And please handle this discreetly. I don’t want to provoke Stanhope and give him the impression that I’m disregarding his household hiring authority.
Of course, I will discuss it with him, but I’ll tell him that Wright and I will manage it.
You understand the qualities I look for in recruits for security.
If you don’t mind doing that, I’d appreciate it.
Stanhope’s expertise lies in household matters, and he will have his hands full hiring for key positions within the manor. ”
Hastings picked up the shaving cream. “I promise to do as you ask. Now, if you will lean back and relax, we can finish.”
“Agreed. Thank you, Hastings.” Michael leaned back again and tilted his head, his thoughts turning again to Katie and Emma. He realized that he was growing fonder of Katie. She was a bright child with a curious mind.
And Emma…she was another story completely, he thought, thinking of their whispered conversations on the journey while Katie and Doris had slept.
His fondness had unnerved him a little, convincing him to ride his horse the last leg of the journey, while Katie, Doris, and Emma had the carriage.
It had also given him a chance to keep an eye out for anyone who might have followed them, he reasoned.
While they hadn’t had any time since their arrival the evening before, he was very aware of her presence.
When he joined Emma and Katie in the breakfast room an hour later, Michael felt more like himself—and more certain he’d be ready, should the arsonist follow them.
As he entered the breakfast room, he found Emma and Katie discussing the food and trying to decide what would be the safest food to sneak to Finn, while the dog lay in the corner, head flat on the floor, looking in Emma and Katie’s direction with doleful “feed me” eyes.
Michael couldn’t help but notice how pretty Emma was—her hair was swept up in a loose chignon, and her rose-pink satin dress contrasted nicely with her red hair and violet eyes.
“Good morning, Emma and Katie…and Finn,” he said, stooping to pet the dog before walking to the buffet.
“Everything smells delicious,” he added, picking up his plate.
He noticed Katie was enjoying her toast, bacon, and eggs.
Finn had settled in the corner of the room and was clearly waiting for what he hoped would be his next scrap of bacon.
“We should ask Lord Michael what Finn can eat, Katie,” Emma admonished her gently.
“I would keep to the basics, Kat, and only give him things like bacon or eggs. I suppose the bananas and blueberries would be all right, but no pastries or things that are sweet,” Michael said.
“That’s an easy list to follow,” Emma said. “Let’s limit it to those few things. Will that be all right with you?”
“Yes, Auntie. I wouldn’t want Finn to get a tummy ache,” Katie said, kissing her aunt on the cheek. “They hurt.”
“I see Finn has thrown me over for you, Katie,” Michael said, ladling some eggs on his plate.
“I like Finn very much,” Katie replied. “I never had a dog before, but I don’t think Finn ever had a person my size before. We are the same height,” she said, glancing between Michael and Finn.
Emma and Michael exchanged looks of amusement and chuckled at the precocious child.