Pure Temptation (18 page)

“Get inside the coach, Matilda. It’s all right. No harm will come to us.”

“Are you sure, miss?”

“Who’s the woman?” Spence asked warily.

“This is Matilda, Sir Dashwood’s housekeeper,” Moira explained. “She helped me escape. I won’t leave without her.”

“Very well,” Spence acquiesced, “get in. Hurry, there’s no time to lose.”

Pettibone moved with alacrity, helping Matilda dismount and handing her into the coach. Moira followed, and Spence closed the door behind them. With a jerk, the coach rattled off down the rutted road. Moira fell to her knees and placed a hand against Jack’s heart, relieved to find the beat steady.

“Is he going to be all right?” Anxiety rose like a specter to haunt her. She understood nothing of what had happened, or why Jack had been among the disciples tonight, except for what Spence told her. Had he really come to rescue her?

“Only a doctor can tell us that,” Spence said.

Suddenly the coach wheel hit a pothole, jostling the occupants. Jack groaned and would have toppled to the floor if Moira hadn’t moved to sit beside him, holding him in place. With one hand, she pushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. Her fingers were cool on his forehead. Jack felt them and opened his eyes. He tried to smile, but it dissolved into a grimace of pain.

“Moira.”

“Don’t talk.”

“What happened?”

“You’ve been shot. We’re taking you to a doctor.” He started to rise, gritting his teeth against the pain. “No, don’t move.” She parted the robe and tried to hide her dismay when she saw the copious amount of blood staining his waistcoat. Turning him slightly, she tore off a piece of her petticoat, made a pad from the material and pressed it against the wound.

“Shot,” Jack repeated weakly. “Are you all right?”

Moira smiled through her tears. “I’m fine.”

Jack grasped her hand, his grip surprisingly strong after having lost so much blood. “I was so damn worried. Joining the Hellfire Club was the only way I could think of to find out what had happened to you. I went to Newgate looking for you after I returned from Cornwall and learned that Mayhew had taken you away. I even questioned Mayhew’s father. I learned nothing from him. The Dashwood estate was the only place I knew of where Mayhew might have taken you. Spence and I were planning to rescue you by force, if necessary. I don’t really belong to the Hellfire Club.”

“Don’t talk,” Moira urged. “Rest.” Her words were unnecessary. Jack lost his tenuous hold on reality as he drifted into a bottomless void.

“Where are we going, miss?” Matilda dared to ask. “Sir Dashwood must surely know by now that I was the one who let you escape. Plunket will make certain of it. That man never did like me.”

“We’re going to Graystoke Manor,” Spence supplied. “Pettibone and I agree that we should proceed directly to the city. Dr. Dudley is an excellent doctor and Jack trusts him.”

“I thought we were going to Ireland,” Matilda said, confused.

“We will, Matilda, but not until Lord Graystoke is out of danger. I…Lord Graystoke helped me once, and I can’t
leave him like this. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe enough at Graystoke Manor.”

“Not if his lordship belongs to the Hellfire Club,” Matilda insisted grimly. “The whole lot of them are evil.”

“Now see here, my good woman,” Spence said huffily. “Both Jack and I abhor what the Hellfire Club stands for. Jack pretended to join for Moira’s sake. He brought me and Pettibone along to help with the rescue.”

Matilda didn’t look at all convinced, but at the moment no other option was available. “If you say so, milord.”

The storm abated shortly before they reached London. Their mad dash from Dashwood’s estate brought them to the city in the wee hours of morning. The streets were wet and deserted as they proceeded directly to Graystoke Manor. Pettibone pulled the coach to a stop before the front door, then hurried off to rouse the coachman and his assistant from their beds. Colin was sent immediately to summon Dr. Dudley, while the coachman helped to carry Jack to his room. Matilda stood aside, wringing her hands and worrying over what was to become of her.

“Mistress Matilda?” Matilda gasped and whirled, surprised to find Pettibone standing at her elbow. “I’m Pettibone. Lord Spence told me about what you did for Miss Moira. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room. It’s on the first floor; you’ll find it quite comfortable.” His friendly smile gave her a small measure of confidence, and she smiled back.

“I’m not fussy, sir. Any room will do.”

“Just call me Pettibone. I’m Lord Graystoke’s right-hand man. We’re all grateful for what you did for Miss Moira. Lord Graystoke is uncommonly fond of the lass.” Fond wasn’t a strong-enough word in Pettibone’s opinion, but it wasn’t his place to presume.

“I did what my conscience directed, Mr. Pettibone. I’m ashamed of the years I did nothing for those poor girls brought in for the disciples’ pleasure. Granted most of them were…er…soiled
ladies, but some were not. When I saw that Miss Moira was an unwilling victim, I knew something had to be done.”

“You did the right thing,” Pettibone said, awkwardly patting the woman’s rough hand. “Lord Graystoke will wish to reward you.”

Matilda’s blush was her first since she had been a very young girl with stars in her eyes and dreams of a happy future.

Moira set to work the moment Jack lay stretched out on his bed. First she removed the black robe and then his jacket, instructing Spence to hold him steady while she pulled off his muddy boots. Rolling him on his stomach, Moira saw that the pad she had placed over his wound was saturated with blood.

“Tell Mr. Pettibone we’ll need lots of hot water and clean cloths when the doctor arrives, Lord Spencer.”

“Lud, Moira, all that blood! It doesn’t look good.”

“He’ll be fine. Just do as I say.” Her voice was sharp and fierce. Spence gave her a strange look, then hurried off to do her bidding.

Choking down a sob, Moira looked into Jack’s ashen face and willed life into him. “Don’t you dare die, Black Jack Graystoke!”

It was her fault he lay injured and perhaps dying. She hadn’t wanted to involve Jack in her problems; that’s why she had lied to him from the start. But the more lies she told, the more enmeshed their lives became. Then she had lost control of her senses and had allowed Jack to make love to her. But she had fallen in love with Black Jack Graystoke long before that memorable night.

Moira was attempting to remove Jack’s shirt when he opened his eyes and groaned. Moira went still, disconcerted to find Jack’s gray gaze steady, albeit clouded with pain. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

“You could never hurt me,” Jack said. “I like your hands on me.”

“I’m sorry I misjudged you, Jack. I thought you were a member of the Hellfire Club. I was willing to believe Lord Mayhew instead of my heart. I should have known you weren’t capable of such debauchery.”

“You should have trusted me, sweetheart. I wanted you to confide in me. Did you think I’d believe that you were capable of theft?”

“You didn’t know me. How could you not? You found me lying in a gutter and thought I was a…a prostitute. If you believed that, then you’d believe I could steal a valuable piece of jewelry.”

Jack’s eyes drifted shut, and Moira could tell he was having difficulty remaining lucid. Where was that doctor? “Hang on, Jack. The doctor should be here shortly.”

Jack reached for her hand, and Moira could not deny him as she placed her smaller hand in his. “Don’t leave, Moira. Don’t…leave…”

Suddenly the door opened and Dr. Dudley strode briskly forward, exuding confidence. Moira breathed a sigh of relief.

“Leave me with my patient,” the doctor said crisply. “Pettibone can assist me.” No sooner had the doctor spoken Pettibone’s name than the man entered the chamber, bearing a pitcher of steaming water and clean cloths folded over his arm. With marked reluctance, Moira joined Lord Spencer in the hall.

“How long do you think the doctor will be in there?” Spence asked worriedly. “Jack will be all right, won’t he? Lud, he’s the best friend I ever had.”

“You’re the best friend
he
ever had,” Moira said with conviction.

“Oh, milady, you’re home! I’m ever so glad. We were all so worried when those men took you off to prison. Are you all right?”

Jilly had been awakened by the commotion and left her room to see what the fuss was about. When she saw Moira standing in the hallway, her face lit up with pleasure.

“I’m fine, Jilly, but I’m afraid Lord Graystoke isn’t. He’s been shot. The doctor is with him now.”

Jilly’s face drained of all color and her hand flew to her mouth. “Shot, milady? Oh, my.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Jilly. Go back to bed.”

“What should I tell the others?”

“Others?”

“Aye, Mr. Pettibone hired a staff of servants. There are two maids besides myself—Annie and Agnes. And Mrs. Harcourt is the new cook. Then there is Colin, the assistant coachman.” At the mention of Colin, Jilly’s face turned a bright red. “They’re all waiting in the kitchen.”

“Do what you can to calm them, Jilly. Tell them there’s been a minor mishap and that Lord Graystoke is going to be fine.”

“Aye, milady,” Jilly said, hurrying off down the hall.

“I wonder what the doctor is doing?” Spence said as he stopped his pacing to stare at the closed door. “He’s been in there a bloody long time.”

Just then the door opened and Pettibone flew out. “Mr. Pettibone!” Moira cried. “What is it? Is Jack…?”

“The doctor needs more hot water,” Pettibone called over his shoulder.

“I’m going in there,” Moira said determinedly. “The doctor might need another pair of hands.”

Before Spence could stop her, she opened the door and stepped inside. “Bring the water here, Pettibone,” Dr. Dudley said without looking up.

“It’s not Mr. Pettibone, Doctor, it’s Moira. I want to help.”

The doctor peered at Moira over his spectacles. “Does blood make you squeamish?”

Moira swallowed, then lied, “No. What can I do?”

“Pettibone is a good man, but he’s all thumbs. You can hold the retractor while I probe for the bullet. It went deep, but as far as I can tell it missed all the vital organs.”

Moira hurried forward and grasped the instrument the doctor indicated. “Is Jack awake?”

“Thank God, no. He passed out when I started to probe. Now, miss, hold the retractor steady.”

Moira tried but could not look away as the doctor dug into Jack’s flesh. Fresh blood welled up around the probe, but the doctor seemed unconcerned. Pettibone returned and set the hot water on the stand, then awaited further instructions. When none came, he backed away but did not leave the chamber. Suddenly the doctor gave an exultant cry, withdrew the bloody bullet and dropped it into a waiting basin.

“ ’Tis done,” he said, plucking the retractor from Moira’s nerveless fingers and setting it aside. “Nothing left now but to stitch the wound.”

“What about infection?” Moira asked, well aware that infection killed more people than the actual wound.

“I’m scrupulous about cleanliness. I’ve long believed that infection is the result of dirty instruments. I know my colleagues scoff at such nonsense, but I’ll stand by my record. Few of my wound patients die of infection, and I’m conscientious when it comes to washing my hands and immersing my instruments in boiling water before and after each use. If one of those country doctors had removed the bullet, His Lordship wouldn’t have had a chance.”

The doctor threaded a needle and took the first stitch. Moira gasped. “He’s so pale.”

“He’s lost a lot of blood, but I’m confident he’ll recover. Feed him plenty of liquids. Lord Graystoke is strong and healthy. In due time, he’ll be as good as new. There,” he said, taking the last stitch and affixing a bandage, “finished. I’ll leave laudanum for pain and return tomorrow to look in on him.”

After he dipped his hands in the hot water Pettibone had brought, and scrubbed them with soap and dried them, Dr. Dudley took his leave. Pettibone followed him out the door. Spence entered the chamber almost immediately.

“How is he?”

“Dr. Dudley seems to think he’ll be fine.” She glanced at Spence, noting the fatigue lines etched around his mouth and eyes. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll sit up with Jack.”

Spence hesitated. “Are you sure? You must be as exhausted as I.”

“It’s something I have to do,” Moira said. “If not for Jack, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”

“Very well,” Spence allowed. “I’ll find an empty room and grab a few hours’ sleep. Wake me if you need me.”

Moira pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down, too boneweary to notice the spectacular dawn coloring the eastern sky. She stared at Jack, afraid to take her eyes off him. Though pale as death, the steady rise and fall of his chest was comforting. He was lying on his stomach, the same position in which the doctor had left him after removing the bullet.

Her thoughts scattered. She wondered if anyone had ever really known this man. They called him Black Jack, his name hinting at debauchery, dissipation and depravity. He was known as a womanizer and gambler, a man who engaged in all kinds of excesses.

Conversely, Moira found Jack to be kind and thoughtful and brave. She loved him but realized there could be no future for them. He was a duke and she a poor farmer’s daughter. She had no right to aspire to anything greater than becoming Jack’s mistress. She quickly discounted as fanciful the story her mother told her about her possible link to nobility. She had no concrete proof that her grandfather was of noble birth, and no matter how she wished otherwise, her chances for a life with Jack remained dim. She closed her eyes against the pain that knowledge brought her.

“Moira.”

Moira’s eyes flew open to find Jack staring at her. “What is it? Would you like some water? The doctor said you’re going to be just fine,” she said.

“You’re still here.”

Moira swallowed and nodded her head. One day she wouldn’t be here, but until that day arrived, she’d not leave his side. She rose and poured water from the pitcher into a glass, mixed in a generous portion of laudanum and held it to his lips. He drank greedily, then drifted off again. Moira returned to her chair and rested her head on the edge of the bed. In seconds she was asleep.