“Father!”
Hew cursed the fever burning through him. It made him slow and sluggish. He had lunged for the stairs but was too late to catch Mr. Howard. The man landed in a heap at the base of the steps. Hew fell to his knees, quickly assessing injuries. Howard lifted a hand to his head, where Hew could already see a large lump rising. “Don’t move,” he ordered.
Miss Howard fell on her knees beside Hew and her father, she reached to take his head, but Hew grabbed her hands. “Don’t move him.”
“I’m fine,” Howard said. “Just bumped my head. Belle—” He held out a hand with the keys, and she looked at the keys, glanced at her father, then snatched the keys and raced to the back room.
“Lie still,” Hew ordered, but Howard waved him off and sat up.
“I’m fine. Where are the deuced fellows?”
Hew glanced at the open shop door. “Gone.” At least he hoped they were gone. Miss Howard rushed back into the shop, dragging a bucket with water sloshing over the rim to the growing fire. Hew struggled to his feet, but by the time he’d reached her, Miss Howard was racing out the front door. “Wait—” he called, but she was outside.
Hew wasn’t entirely certain the attackers weren’t waiting outside for them. He’d thought Miss Howard would fetch water out the back door again, but she had probably wanted to go to the nearest source. He made it to the door just as she returned, lugging the bucket. “I’ll take it,” he said.
She looked up at him. “And rip open your stitches again? I think not.” She shouldered past him and doused the fire again.
“Oh, my eyes!” came a high female voice. An older woman in a froth of ruffles and a white cap over her hair stepped in from the drizzle and stared, open-mouthed at Hew, who realized he wore only his trousers and was bare-chested.
“Mrs. Price!” Miss Howard said on her way back to the door. “Thank you for coming. Would you see to my father?”
“Mr. Howard?” She dragged her gaze away from Hew. “Oh, dear.” She must have spotted him, still sitting on the floor with his hand to his head. She went to him, the lace and ruffles of her nightclothes undulating like waves on a sea as she moved.
“One more bucket, I think,” Miss Howard said as she pushed past Hew and back into the night. Hew followed her this time, his eyes darting around for any sign of the attackers. Fenchurch Street was dark, but a few lights shone in windows and one or two people had opened their doors to peer outside and call to ask if assistance was needed. Miss Howard declined, saying the fire was all but out. The onlookers stayed where they were. Hew knew a fire at one shop could easily spread to other homes and businesses. Even with everything soaked through as it was, the danger of fire made everyone nervous.
Miss Howard dipped the bucket in the water standing on the street and then lugged it back into the shop. Hew felt momentarily helpless, a feeling he did not enjoy and had not been enjoying for what seemed days and days now. He didn’t see the attackers, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. And they would certainly come back, targeting this shop until they’d accomplished their mission. Hew couldn’t let that happen to the Howards. He had no choice but to leave or they could lose everything, and that would be the worst way to repay their kindness to him. He stumbled away from the shop. If he could flag a hackney, he could be driven to Mivart’s. It would be harder and easier, in some ways, for the assassins to kill him there.
Hew took a few more steps, didn’t see the curb as it was covered with water, and splashed down into the street. He all but fell over just as a large vehicle rolled into view, the horses’ hooves heading right for his head.
“Wait!” Miss Howard called, holding a hand up and racing in front of the coach. Hew couldn’t tell if the coach slowed or not, but Miss Howard grasped his shoulder and pulled him back from the street.
“Stop saving me,” he said, glowering up at her.
“Stop trying to get yourself killed.”
The door to the coach opened, and both of them turned to look as an elegant woman stepped out. She wore a pelisse with a hood that placed her face in shadow, but she moved with authority and grace. “Which one of you is Arundel?” she said. Hew stiffened and her head turned toward him. “You?”
He waited, making no move to either confirm or deny her question.
She moved through the high water toward him, heedless of her clothing. “I am Lady Keating,” she said. “You wrote?”
“My lady,” Hew said, relief flooding through him like a thousand rainstorms. “You came.”
“He’s injured,” Miss Howard said immediately. “Knife wound. The attackers came back tonight and tried to burn down my shop.”
Lady Keating glanced at Miss Howard then back at Hew. “Then I suppose we should be on our way. Robert!” At the name, an outrider jumped down and sloshed toward Hew and Miss Howard. The man offered Miss Howard his arm, and she waved it off and pointed to Hew.
“I am staying.”
“No, you’re not,” came her father’s voice. He stood in the shop doorway, the light from the carriage lamps flickering over him. Mrs. Price stood at his side, supporting him, while he leaned his other shoulder on the shop doorway. “This has gone far enough. I won’t have you murdered in your bed or among the tea tins.”
Miss Howard took the outrider’s hand and stood. “Nor I you. Once Arundel is gone, so is the danger.”
“Not necessarily,” Lady Keating said. “I suggest all of you come with me.”
Miss Howard rounded on her. “And leave my shop? I think not madam—er, lady.”
“I will stay with the shop,” Howard said.
“No,” Hew and Miss Howard said together. They glanced at each other in shock, and Miss Howard gave Hew a fierce scowl.
“He can stay with me,” Mrs. Price said. “He has a nasty bump on his head. I’ll tend it.”
“Perfect.” Hew struggled to his feet with the help of Robert the outrider. “Keep out of sight and send word if you have any trouble. Miss Howard, take this man’s hand and get in the coach.”
She looked at her father, then at the coach.
“Go,” her father said. “This is not up for discussion.”
Hew thought Miss Howard might just stomp her foot in a show of petulance. Instead, she sloshed past the outrider, ignoring his help, and climbed into the coach. Hew wished he could have done the same, but he would have ended up face down in the muddy water. Instead, he allowed the outrider to help him into the coach, where he sank into the squabs beside Miss Howard. She gave him a look that stabbed almost as deep as his wound and turned her back to him.
Lady Keating climbed in last, taking a seat across from them. A moment later, the coach lurched away, leaving Mr. Howard slumped in the doorway of Howard’s Teas & Treats with Mrs. Price at his side.
MRS. PRICE HAD BEEN waiting for this moment for years. Belle knew the thought was uncharitable, but it was true. Mrs. Price had been trying to sink her claws into Belle’s father for as long as she could remember. Maggie had always thought it was sweet. She’d even tried to play matchmaker, but Belle had been glad her father showed little interest. In fact, he’d seemed oblivious to Mrs. Price’s efforts at flirtation.