A clock somewhere bonged the hour loudly, and Leah winced as she turned and sprinted for the stairs. She’d have to find Avery later. She had about thirty seconds to get to the servants’ hall and be seated for dinner.

But no matter how quickly she descended the stairs, she couldn’t outrun the twinge in her chest. Her feet grew heavier with each step, slowing her progress. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she plopped down on the lowest step and cradled her chin in her hands.

She’d met her man. He was handsome. His voice wasn’t at all what she’d imagined. And—the thought of the snuffbox made her shudder—she hadn’t wanted a guy with any kind of substance dependencies. But the duke wasn’t what had slowed her, stopped her like a remote control car without any juice left.

She stood, turned, and ran back up the stairs as quickly as she’d descended them.

* * *

Pink-stained water dripped back into the basin as Avery wrung out the cloth. He dipped it again, letting the cool water soak the fibers. It was hardly the first time he’d tended to wounds here in his attic bedchamber, but he’d hoped that he’d finally left those days behind him. It seemed that he could not yet outdistance his past.

Wincing as he pressed the cloth to his swollen cheek, he blew out a breath. Prachett’s men had thrashed him thoroughly, bruising and breaking his skin. They’d not spared him, only relenting when he’d agreed to fight in the Houndstooth. Damn and blast. He’d sworn he’d not set foot in the ring again. But what choice did they leave him? If Prachett and his men killed him, then his aunt could not last out the month. There was no one to purchase her medicine or to pay for her lodgings and care but Avery. He could not abandon her, no matter how it cost him.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed as he draped the cool wet cloth across the welt on his upper arm. Drops of water ran in rivulets down his chest, dampening the fine spray of hairs on that side. He clamped the rag to his skin and set his teeth against the pain, squeezing his eyes shut. He blew heavy breaths from his nose, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat in each welt, each bruise.

After another moment, the pain eased somewhat. He lifted the now-hot cloth and dipped it into the basin again.

Leah’s anguished voice struck him like another blow from the crop. “Oh my God, Avery, what the hell happened to you?”

Six

Vulnerability. That was the sensation that bubbled angrily through his veins, clenched his teeth, and closed his fists. The knowledge that he was exposed, bleeding and wounded, and she was seeing him in this state, turned him into more of an animal than a man. He didn’t turn toward her, keeping his gaze locked on the small window in front of him. He could not show her his weakness, his shame.

“Get out.” His voice was low and threatening.

The floorboards creaked with her steps. “Don’t be stupid, Avery. You’re bleeding. You look like you got hit by a pickup truck.” Concern threaded her words, lending them an almost tender sound despite the insult.

He closed his eyes, trying to get his rage under control. Water trickled and dripped into the basin beside him.

“This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.”

The cloth had barely grazed his shoulder when he gained his feet like a shot. Whirling, he glared at her. “I said for you to leave me be. I’ve asked for no favors from you. These chambers are mine, not yours. If you are discovered here, you’ll be turned out into the street immediately. Besides, I’ve no need of your assistance.”

He backed toward the corner and widened his stance unconsciously, staring at her beneath lowered brows.

She stood motionless for a while, the damp cloth still hanging from her fingertips like a dead creature. He mimicked her stillness, not letting his gaze leave her face.

Sighing, she let the cloth fall back into the basin with a fleshy plop.

“Okay, fine. So you don’t need my help.” She crossed her arms, and he struggled to focus on the throbbing pain in his ribs rather than the way her breasts rounded with the unintended frame. “I’ll just stay over here, quiet and out of the way.”

She flounced over to the only chair in the room and sat, keeping her blue eyes trained on his face.

They stood in silence, a pair of combatants unwilling to give the other quarter. Had she been a man, Avery would have been very tempted to give way to his baser instincts and thoroughly thrash the blighter. But this was Leah. Tall, beautiful, odd Leah, who insisted on helping tend the wounds of a nigh stranger. Despite his best efforts, he could not stay angry with her. Even though she’d invaded his private rooms, he could not ignore the selfless intention behind her reasoning.

“You can stand there and stare at me all you want. That’s fine with me, but it’s not going to stop that drip of blood that’s about to hit your waistband.”

He looked down. Blast it, she was right. He dashed the offending drip away, leaving a smear of blood to mat the curls of hair on his abdomen.

“Come on. Don’t be such a hard ass. If you let me help you clean up, it’ll go much faster, and we can both get down to dinner before Mrs. Harper throws a hissy fit.”

“Surely it is not time for the evening meal?” At her nod, Avery cursed beneath his breath.

She shrugged, looking unconcerned. “They’ll get over my being late. You were hurt.”

“You must go.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Nope, not while you’re still bleeding.”

He gritted his teeth in irritation. “You silly wench, go down to supper. If you’re discovered in a man’s chambers, you’ll be ruined and cast out of the house. Smythe and Mrs. Harper would never allow you to stay.”

Raising her brows, she crossed her arms. “Well, you’d better hurry up then, because I’m not leaving this room until your injuries are taken care of.”

Despite the prickle of unease across his throat, he crossed the room to the basin again. Gripping the rag, he wrung it out and placed it on his broken skin with a hissing breath. Even though he desperately wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, he would not give her the advantage of losing his scrutiny.

“There. My wounds are being attended to. Now you may leave.”

She laughed at him. “This is going to take forever. At this rate I won’t get there in time for dessert, and then you’ll be in trouble for helping me get this job.”

Blast it—she left him no choice. His reluctant decision made, Avery laid the cloth back in the basin. “Be quick about it then. You must attend the evening meal.”

He could not miss the self-satisfied gleam in her eyes as she stood. “Good. Sit down on the bed there.”

He followed her instructions, his already sore muscles tight with apprehension. “This is very improper.”

“Oh stop. I’m a servant, so nobody can give a crap about my reputation.”

“In this household, even the servants are held to an impossible standard. And are you not a servant who has designs on a duke?” He tossed the bitter question over his shoulder and gave a hiss of pain when she probed at his rib cage.

“Yeah. But still. This will only take a minute.” She stood upright, frowning at his rapidly darkening side. “I think you’ve got a broken rib. We’ll need to wrap that up.”

He did not disagree.

Her touch was tender on his wounds, soft and gentle as she cleansed the blood from his skin and bound his aching sides. He found himself relaxing under her ministrations, despite his better judgment. When he’d been bandaged and cleansed to her satisfaction, she cleared her throat.

“So you didn’t say. How did this happen?”

Her question hung in the air, heavy and dark in its innocence. His teeth nearly drew blood from the inside of his cheek. She couldn’t know about his past. She’d hate him like the rest of the servants, and God help him, he could not face that derision coming from her. She was nearly a complete stranger to him, but she’d been so kind. The dark world of the boxing mills and his past was no place for a beautiful creature like her.

“Avery?”

He sighed.

“It is not a tale for a lady’s ears, and it does not signify in any case.”

“But…”

He stopped her with a hand in the air. “It does not signify. But have a care, miss.” He turned to her. “Men are not always what they seem.”

* * *

Leah swallowed hard, trying not to let her confusion show on her face. What could he mean by such a cryptic warning? Men are not always what they seem? Was Avery some kind of criminal or something? Had he been injured while doing something illegal?

“Well,” she said, looking down at the basin of water to avoid the seriousness of his hazel gaze, “I’ll remember that.”

With confusion stirring in her brain, she turned to leave the room.

“Miss?”

Her heart fluttered with something odd when she turned to look at his shirtless form again. Even his bruises and bandages couldn’t detract from the muscled beauty of his masculine form, but a half-naked Avery facing her was truly a sight to behold. His arms and chest were lined with muscle, nicely defined with a sprinkling of hair across his chest and thickening in a line down his belly, disappearing into his high-waisted breeches. But his eyes were as serious as the grave.

“Think on what I’ve said.”

Leah nodded, trying to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. “I will,” she rasped.

The door clicked shut behind her. His words dogged her steps as she made her way from the attic down to the servants’ hall. What the hell did he mean? Was he trying to warn her away? But why? She didn’t even know him that well, and she certainly wasn’t here after him.

Leah laughed to herself as she skipped the last step to hop on the landing. It made sense. Of course he’d been concerned about propriety. Leah shook her head with a smile and hustled for the servants’ hall. She didn’t regret helping him at all, but she was grateful for the reminder. This place and time was different than what she was used to, and any tiny misstep on her part could have grave consequences. She’d be more careful.

“I trust,” Mrs. Harper said when Leah entered the room, “that this tardiness of yours is not a habit, Miss Ramsey. No matter your relation to Cook, I shall expect the courtesy of your prompt attendance at mealtimes and whenever your services are required.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Leah said, hanging her head in what she hoped was an accurate portrayal of a chastened, meek parlor maid. “Henrietta was kind enough to show me the conservatory, and I lost track of time. It won’t happen again, ma’am. Oh, and His Grace is dining at the club tonight, Cook.”

After bobbing an apologetic curtsy, Leah slid into the chair beside Henrietta and smiled sweetly. The girl glared at her, obviously piqued that her scheme hadn’t made Leah completely miss the meal.

Cook gave Leah a tight nod as she plopped a bowl of watery soup in front of her, along with a hunk of coarse brown bread. “There, lassie. You’ll be needin’ your strength now. You’ve much to learn and do tomorrow.”

Leah murmured a polite agreement as she tore off a hunk of bread and chewed it slowly. Ugh. Dry and tough. Scanning the rest of the table’s occupants, she took note of how they ate their soup. Mrs. Harper took tiny sips, perching on the very edge of her chair with her spine straighter than a yardstick. Cook hunched over her bowl, her lips pursed as she poured in the broth. Various footmen and a hawk-nosed man that Leah presumed was the butler ate with typical male gusto, refined as it was by the niceties of aping gentility. Henrietta and the rest of the maids chatted between sips and giggled like the young girls many of them were.

Satisfied that she wouldn’t stick out too much, Leah soaked bites of bread in her soup and ate the bland broth without complaining. This was way too important to screw up.

Dinner was filling, if a little unsatisfying. Leah smiled at the maid who took her empty bowl. The thin girl didn’t smile back. Sliding her damp palms down her skirt, Leah watched as the rest of the staff separated into groups. Where would she fit in here? Best to hang back and see.

The maids gathered in a corner around Henrietta, baskets of mending at their feet. They turned their backs to the room, eyeing Leah with mistrust from some and complete dislike from others. Leah sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy to become one of the girls, apparently.