Now, he was in her clutches.
Oh, very well, she thought as the carriage moved slowly away from Fenchurch Street and toward Mayfair. That characterization was a bit dramatic. Still, Belle would like to have cared for her father herself. And that was just selfishness because even this afternoon Mrs. Price had demonstrated she was a better nurse than Belle. Besides, Belle would not be away long. She’d see Mr. Arundel settled then return to Fenchurch Street to help repair the damage from the fire to the shop and they’d be open again in just a few days.
She sighed with impatience at the slow-moving conveyance. The rain had made the roads worse than usual and standing water impeded their progress further. She glanced at Arundel. Lady Keating had given them both blankets to ward off the chill from their damp clothing, but Arundel was still shivering, and his hands were white knuckled on his knees. Clearly, the journey was causing him pain. Belle couldn’t even fathom how he was still upright.
First, he had shocked her by appearing in the flat when she’d heard the intruders. How could he have possibly heard them and known they were a danger? She’d not even been injured and almost slept through their break-in. Then he had fought them off—with her help, of course—and insisted on working with her to douse the fire. All of this while battling a life-threatening injury and fever.
Who was this man?
Belle glanced at Lady Keating, who was also watching Arundel fighting his pain. The two women exchanged a look then Lady Keating opened a compartment in her seat and withdrew a dark bottle. She uncorked it and handed it to Arundel. “Drink this.”
He took the bottle, sniffed, then drank a large sip and handed it back.
“He has seen a doctor?” Lady Keating asked.
“Yes, and a surgeon who stitched the wound before he came to stay with us,” Belle answered.
“They gave him laudanum, I assume,” Lady Keating said.
“He won’t take any.” Belle realized she’d left the laudanum in the flat, so even if Arundel had agreed to a dose, she had none to offer.
“I have something that will help with the pain. I’ll need to take a look at what we’re dealing with first, though.”
“You need to take a look?” Arundel said. “No.”
Lady Keating didn’t argue, but Belle saw the tightening around her mouth and doubted the conversation was over. Though the woman had white hair and her face showed the lines of age, she carried herself with an authority that indicated she was used to being obeyed. “I don’t think I caught your name,” Lady Keating said to Belle, which was a polite way of indicating they hadn’t been introduced.
Arundel waved a hand. “Lady Keating, might I present Miss Belle Howard.”
“It’s Isabelle Howard,” Belle said. “But my friends call me Belle.”
“Miss Isabelle Howard,” Arundel said, “the Baroness Keating.”
“I’d curtsey,” Belle said, “but I’m not sure how one does that in a coach.” Or even outside of a coach.
“It’s not necessary, Miss Howard. The shop where there was a small fire—was that your family’s shop?”
“Yes, my father’s tea shop. The two ruffians who stabbed Mr. Arundel set it on fire.”
“The fire was contained?”
“Yes. I did not have a chance to assess the damage, but once Mr. Arundel is settled, I will return and do so.”
“Hmm.” Lady Keating pursed her lips. She offered the bottle to Arundel again, but he shook his head. Lady Keating replaced it in the seat compartment and closed it. “Are you in London on a mission for my husband?” Lady Keating asked.
Her husband? Her husband was part of Arundel’s secret group?
“No. I just finished a mission and am in London on holiday.”
“I think perhaps your mission followed you here.” She gave him a rueful smile.
“It does appear that way. I haven’t been able to write to Baron and explain—”
“I’ll take care of that. I can give him the basic details. I want no specifics, and it’s best if we don’t commit them to paper at any rate. Winn can put two and two together easily enough.” The carriage seemed to slow. “Ah, here we are.”
Belle peered out the window. A man with an umbrella had opened an iron gate, wide enough to allow the carriage to pass through. The gate itself was very tall and designed to block the view of the house from the street. In fact, the house was set back far enough that the coach had to continue for another minute before pausing in front of the house. The door opened, and a footman offered a hand to Lady Keating. She took it and Belle followed. Once out of the coach, Belle turned back. “He needs assistance.”
“Fetch a pallet,” Lady Keating said.
“No,” Arundel argued, waving away the footman’s help. “I can walk.”
Lady Keating gave Belle a look of quiet exasperation, and Belle smiled. It was comforting to know she was no longer alone in this. “Did you prepare the room?” Lady Keating asked a woman who came forward.
“Yes, my lady. The maids are finishing now.”
Lady Keating gave orders to her staff and started inside. Belle knew she was meant to follow, but she looked behind her at the short drive and the gate she’d passed through. The entire property appeared to be surrounded by the iron fence. Vines and bushes grew along it, making the grounds difficult to see from the outside. She turned back to the house and looked about, trying to keep her mouth from dropping open. She’d never been in a house like this. How wealthy must Baron Keating be to afford a house in Mayfair—not a town house and not a terraced property, but a freestanding home with grounds?
The drizzle was beginning to soak through her blanket, and she followed the staff inside a large foyer. Except for the lamps the servants carried, the house was dark, and Belle noted that some of the furnishings were covered with white sheets that gave the place an eerie feeling. Belle did not know much about the upper classes—save their preferences with regard to tea—but she did know they covered couches and chairs when they traveled to avoid the accumulation of dust. “Have you just returned from a trip?” she asked Lady Keating, who led the small party up the stairs. She moved very slowly, which Belle assumed had to do with the way Arundel was struggling. The lady herself looked quite healthy and spry.
“No, I am preparing to embark. In fact, if not for the rain, I would have already departed. It’s fortunate your letter reached me,” she said to Arundel. “Are you quite certain you don’t want any assistance? The stairs do continue.” She gestured to a generous curve in the stairs as they led to the second floor.
“I have it,” he panted.
Belle hoped he didn’t topple down the steps or rip out his stitches. Fortunately, someone else was here to sew them. She’d leave his care to those more qualified.
“I’m sorry if I have forced you to postpone your trip,” Arundel said, leaning against the wide stair railing. “I didn’t know who else to contact.”
“You were right to send for me,” Lady Keating said. “You’ll be much safer here than above a shop, especially since whoever wants you dead had tracked you there. They’ll not be able to track you here, and if they do, they won’t be able to get in. And you haven’t delayed me at all. As I said, that was the rain’s doing. We’ll have you fixed up and then I will be on my way.”