“Pay it no heed.” He squeezed his eyes shut and winced in pain. “Help me to the coach park without drawing undue attention. Cutler will know what to do.”
How was it he remained so calm?
“And how am I supposed to do that when your hand is dripping with blood?” The sight reminded her of the night she found him slumped in the alley, though he appeared far more coherent now. That night, she’d feared he would die.
“You’ll find a handkerchief in my pocket.” He muttered a frustrated curse. “I swear I shall drive a blade through the heart of the man who did this.” He gestured for her to help him to his feet.
Scarlett grabbed his clean hand and hauled him up. With no time to rummage around in his coat, she used the lining of her pelisse to wipe away the blood. Then she quickly shrugged into the garment and assisted him back along the Walk and through the arch.
“When Trent and Cavanagh see us heading towards the Grove, they’re sure to follow.” He took hold of her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. “Try to make it look as if you’re leaning on me not the other way around.”
“If we swagger people will believe we’re in our cups. Do you feel lightheaded, nauseous?”
He snorted. “I am not about to vomit on your shoes if that is your fear.”
“I should hope not. You failed to reimburse me for the last pair.”
“You had enough money from the sale of the cross to buy ten pairs of boots.”
He sagged against her and Scarlett stiffened her spine to support his weight. “When one is a month behind on their rent,” she said, “new boots are rather low on the list of priorities.”
“You could have sold your books.”
Sell her beloved books?
“Each one carried an inscription from my mother.” Sweet messages of love. The only kind she had ever known. “Nothing would have prompted me to part with something so precious.”
The heaviness in her heart returned.
“Don’t I feel like the heartless rogue,” he said, steering her far enough into the Handel Piazza for his friends to notice their return. “I thrust my mother’s necklace into your hand when a few pounds would have sufficed.”
He pasted an arrogant grin for the benefit of those still seated in the supper boxes, though the crinkles around his eyes told a different story. Surrounded by a large group of admirers, the marquis still occupied his box, but Lady Rathbone and her grandson had vacated their booth.
Mr Trent and Mr Cavanagh observed them with keen interest as they approached the Grove. Obscured by a few trees, Wycliff stopped and exhaled a weary sigh before straightening his shoulders and pressing on.
“A minute ago, when you spoke about your books,” he said, leaning some of his weight on her again, “you used the past tense. It implies you no longer possess these treasures.”
“No,” she said, fighting back the sudden urge to cry. “Steele made a bonfire and forced me to watch them burn.” He had pushed her face so close to the fire, the flames had singed her hair, scorched her cheeks.
Silence descended.
At her side, Wycliff’s body grew rigid. “God, how I wish I’d been the one to snuff out his light. I fear the need to eradicate the man’s bloodline thrums in my veins.”
“There is little point dwelling on what was.” From her experience that only made living unbearable. “It changes nothing.”
“No,” he said with a sigh as they navigated the Grand Walk back towards the entrance. “I’m sure you don’t need to read words in a book to know your mother loved you.” His voice lacked the usual air of confidence.
“You’re right. True love lives forever in the heart.” Scarlett cast him a sidelong glance, shock banishing her sadness when she noted his pallid complexion. “You’re not well.” Heavens, she had been rambling on about books while his strength waned. “We must hurry. We must get you home and send for a doctor.” She quickened the pace, aware that his steps grew cumbersome, that he was in danger of tripping over his feet.
“Home,” he mumbled. His body shook as if the cold had penetrated his bones. “I’m so tired … so tired I could sleep where I’m standing.”
A wealth of emotion pushed to the fore.
“Oh, please don’t die on me now.” Not after she had found a way back to him. Not after that bone-shattering kiss. If her mind wasn’t occupied with more pressing matters, she would replay every delicious second.
Wycliff stumbled, and Scarlett caught him by the elbow. The few people passing turned their heads, pointed and chuckled at the lady struggling to help the sotted gent.
They managed to reach the lane leading to the coach park, had walked a few feet when Wycliff closed his eyes, and his head lolled forward.