“He looked quite a bit like you,” she remembered through the haze. “But he was not you. He was taller than you, I think, and his shoulders were a bit broader.”
Her husband shook his head slowly. “It can’t be.”
“What cannot be?” Octavia was lost, attempting to understand his words and his reaction. Or, for that matter, who it was that had come to her aid. It had not been one of the servants. She would have recognized such a face. “Is he someone you know?”
“Maybe.” Jasper pressed his fingers into his temples and rubbed, as if the thoughts in his mind were giving him pain. “It seems damned unlikely, and yet…”
“And yet?” she pressed.
“The man you’ve described sounds very much like my brother, Logan.”
“A brother I have yet to meet?” The news surprised her; she had believed there were only seven Suttons.
“He’s dead,” Jasper said. “At least, that’s what I’ve believed. Disappeared one day over a year ago, nary a word.”
“That’s terrible,” she murmured, struggling to make sense of this latest revelation. “But…do you think it possible your brother is alive and that he is the man who came to my rescue yesterday?”
Jasper shook his head, his frown deepening. “I don’t know, love. For now, it shall remain a mystery for another day. All that matters is that whoever the man was, he arrived at the right moment and struck down Tess before she could do you any more harm. I’ll be forever in his debt.”
As would she.
He had likely saved her life, only to disappear. How curious.
A knock sounded at the door, taking Jasper from the bed just before it flew open and Anne and Elizabeth raced over the threshold, accompanied by three eager dogs.
“Mama,” the girls cried as one, rushing to her side and throwing their arms around her with so much enthusiasm she could not help but to wince as a sharp tug of pain went through her.
“You must take care with Mama,” Jasper chided. “She’s been injured.”
“I am not so injured that I cannot hug my sweet girls,” she said, holding them to her with the arm that did not cause the skin around her wound to tighten. “How are you this morning, and where is Miss Wren?”
“Uncle Rafe said Miss Wren’s sleeping,” Anne announced.
“Uncle Rafe said we shouldn’t tell,” Elizabeth added.
Oh dear. Rafe had a good heart, but he was a dreadful rakehell. And Miss Wren an undeniably lovely young woman.
“Uncle Rafe?” Octavia met her husband’s eyes over the heads of their daughters.
He had paused in the act of scratching Barnaby’s head. “Perhaps I should investigate. Uncle Rafe accompanied me here last night when I returned from The Sinner’s Palace.”
“Uncle Rafe said to tell you he’s a gentleman,” Anne said.
“And then Arsehole started barking,” Elizabeth concluded.
“Motley,” Octavia and Jasper reminded in unison. “His name is Motley.”
Upon hearing his true name, the dog in question wagged his tail and barked.
Octavia bit back a smile. It was not humorous, and yet, it was. Perhaps it was the relief after last night’s terror. Perhaps it was all the happiness swarming her in the wake of Jasper admitting he loved her. Whatever the reason, she felt light and happy, and she would fret over her daughters’ appalling vocabulary later.
“Before you do your investigating of Uncle Rafe, come here,” she told Jasper, wanting him near to her again. “It is rare I have everyone I love in this room with me in the morning, and I wish to savor the moment.”
Smiling tenderly, he did as she asked, settling in at her side. Without warning, all three dogs promptly leapt onto the bed as well, each struggling to get as close to Octavia as possible. Barnaby and Drunkard were lying on her legs, and Motley was in her lap, trying to lick her nose.
“Down, Motley,” Jasper ordered, and the pup settled.
Anne and Elizabeth lay on her other side, arms wrapped tightly around her waist.