Lady Catherine gave no answer, looking down at him dispassionately. Stephen dropped his head, his chin almost on his chest as he felt his misery mount. If he returned home, still confused about what had occurred and where he had been, then would it not be all the easier for the person who had attempted to kill him to try to do so again?
“I believe I told you once, Lord Rutherford, that if someone comes to seek my help, then there is nothing I will not do to aid them in whatever way I can.” Her eyes brushed over his features, a hardness filling her gaze as if she did not want to say what was on her lips but knew that she had no choice but to do so. “And that, as unfortunate as it might be for me, also includes you.”
Chest tight, Stephen let out his breath carefully, not wanting to bring himself any more pain. “You will not turn your back on me?”
Lady Catherine hesitated, then shook her head. “I will not,” she answered decisively. “My friends and I have worked through a few difficult puzzles of late, Lord Rutherford. We are known as The Shadows. And, if you wish, your predicament shall be the next.”
It was as though she were throwing him a rope as he was clinging to the edge of a mountain. The feeling of being entirely alone, of being left to struggle with all that was now facing him, began to disappear, letting him breathe a little more easily. “Even though I am sure you do not wish to do so, Lady Catherine, I will beg for your help if I must,” he wheezed, one hand now pressed lightly against his chest. “For the truth is, I have no understanding of how I came to be here or what occurred before to have placed me in such a terrible situation.” He shuddered violently. “I do not even recall the knife being thrust into my side, for I felt no pain.”
Lady Catherine’s face softened for a moment, her fingers pressing to his, and then she cleared her throat, turned on her heel, and was walking toward the door, the imprint of her fingers remaining in his hand.
“Then rest, Lord Rutherford,” she instructed as the footman opened the door. “Eat and drink when you can. And once you are back on your feet, we shall discuss matters a little more.” She lifted one shoulder. “Let us hope that we will soon find the answers that we require.”
He looked at her. “So that I might be protected?” he asked, only for Lady Catherine to laugh and shake her head.
“So that I might be free of your presence from within this house,” she told him starkly. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” he muttered, shame clouding over him as he leaned back against his pillows once more, his tea quite forgotten on the tray beside him. Whilst Lady Catherine was showing him a great kindness, she was doing it out of a sense of duty rather than any sort of compassion and understanding—and Stephen knew he could not hold such a thing against her. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and settled back into bed, feeling the dull ache deep in his side, his mind struggling to recall anything that had occurred ever since the night he had been at White’s. It remained blank, refusing to reveal the truth to him, and frustrated, Stephen screwed up his features and turned his head to one side. He would sleep for the present, in the hope that, in time, he would be able to recall every last piece of the puzzle so that, as Lady Catherine had said, he would not have to linger here too long.
Yet the thought of stepping away from this protection frightened him. As much as he did not want to admit it, even to himself, Stephen knew he was afraid. The hand of death had been outstretched and, had it not been for Lady Catherine, Stephen knew he would have had no other choice but to have taken it, and that thought chilled his heart.
There was much for him to think on, much for him to consider. But for the present, he allowed himself to drift back into sleep, wearied by all the tumultuous thoughts that rang through his mind, refusing to release him until, finally, he succumbed to the all-encompassing arms of slumber.
5
The Shadows had gathered together for what was now the third time in one week. They had discussed matters regarding Lord Rutherford but given that he could not recall very much at all, they had decided to wait until he had recovered enough to join them.
That moment was at hand.
Catherine sat stiffly in her chair, thinking that whilst Lord Rutherford looked very pale indeed, she had only the smallest amount of sympathy for his condition. He was nothing more than a rake who spent his days doing as he pleased, toying with whomever he pleased, and enjoying every moment of it. He cared nothing for the ladies themselves, did not consider what might occur with them once he had stepped back from them, and she was quite certain that he did not give them more than a passing thought every once in a while. Most likely, such a thought would be to congratulate himself on his conquests and the like. Her lip curled and she looked away from him, aware of how the rest of The Shadows held nothing but a blank expression on each of their faces.
“Lord Rutherford,” Lord Paxton, who was sitting beside his wife, began. “It is good to see you recovering.”
Lord Rutherford cleared his throat, moving a little stiffly in his chair. “I understand you helped me to the carriage.”
Lord Paxton shrugged. “Lady Catherine was the one who discovered you and ensured you were well taken care of,” he said with a small smile toward Catherine. “She also states that you do not recall anything about what occurred.”
Lord Rutherford hesitated, his eyes darting around the room, like a trapped wild animal who has been cornered and could not escape. “I-I have been able to bring to mind a few more details of late,” he said, making Catherine turn her head back toward him in surprise. “I will blame the many hours I have spent resting and recovering.” A half-smile tipped the corner of his mouth but none of the other Shadows smiled back at him.
“Might I ask what it is you remember?” Catherine asked, a little tightly. She had not been particularly pleased to hear such a thing from Lord Rutherford’s lips, for he had not told her of any such thing prior to this moment. Then again, she had not spent a good deal of time in his company, she considered, knowing all too well that she had spent her time over the last week ensuring that the footmen brought her news of his recovery rather than going in to visit him herself. Her excuse had been that she had been ensuring their father knew nothing of their unexpected visitor, but the truth was that she simply had not wanted to be in the same room as a gentleman she despised.
Lord Rutherford ran one hand over his eyes. “I recall that I was at White’s,” he said slowly, his eyes fixed to the carpet at his feet as he spoke with great care. “I had good company that evening with my friend, Lord Nottingham, and thereafter, was introduced to another gentleman, Lord Chesterton.”
Catherine looked up at Lord Paxton and Lord Haddington, wondering if either of them knew of the gentlemen in question. They did not look confused or uncertain but were, in fact, nodding slowly, clearly aware of who these gentlemen were.
“Continue, please,” Lady Haddington said gently, her eyes soft as she looked at Lord Rutherford. Catherine could not understand her friend’s quiet manner or the small, encouraging smile that now tipped the corner of her mouth. Lord Rutherford was not worthy of such things.
“That is all I recall, I am afraid, Lady Haddington,” Lord Rutherford answered, looking a little frustrated. “When I try to remember more, I can see a carriage and a dark night, but that surely is simply my return to my own townhouse. I am certain that, without being indiscreet, I would have enjoyed a few brandies at the very least.”