nine
KEITH PERCHED IN his armchair by the fire and rubbed the tight spot between his eyebrows. Not even the peace and quiet of his cosy sitting room could soothe his worry.
Of all the thieves in London, the last one he’d expected to catch that day was Violante Sharpe. Or rather, of all the people in London. Hell, he’d barely recognised her. Her face was haggard with her cheekbones protruding too much. Her skin was pale and covered in grime. Her body looked frail. Even her breathing sounded laboured. He’d lost contact with her years ago after the tragedy, but he could have never imagined that something so terrible had befallen her.
She’d fainted in his arms in that alleyway, and he’d feared she might have died so frail she was. Too many strong emotions too quickly had coursed through him—finding her again, worrying about her weakness, and fearing she was dead.
He stood up when the nurse he’d hired to look after Violante entered. Hired was the wrong term, though. Dragged her out of a clinic and offered her a hefty sum to take a look at Violante was a more correct description of what had happened.
“My lord.” She bobbed a quick curtsy.
He had still to get used to being called ‘your lordship’ or ‘my lord.’ “How is she?”
“Exhaustion and starvation are what afflict her. I helped her take a bath and gave her a rich broth. She’ll recover after a few good meals and plenty of rest.”
“Does Violante need a physician?”
The nurse shrugged. “If Miss Violante’s health doesn’t improve in a few days, I’d suggest Your Lordship take her to the hospital, but otherwise, I don’t think she needs particular medical attention. Rest and good food are what she needs. Aside from her physical weakness, her health isn’t compromised.”
He opened and closed his fists aching after the fight with those two thugs. “May I see her now?”
“She’s awake.”
“Thank you.” He forced himself not to run to the bedroom he’d given to Violante.
He waited for the nurse to leave before dashing out of the sitting room. He wasn’t sure of the reception Violante would give him. The last time they’d talked, she’d been clear about not wanting to see him ever again. After that, she’d disappeared. Sharpe Manor had been confiscated by the authorities. Mr. Sharpe’s servants—those who hadn’t been involved with the Fenians—had found other employment, and he knew Paul and his mother had moved to the Americas. Some of Mr. Sharpe’s employers had vanished as well. He’d searched for Violante for years and hadn’t found her. But the situation was different now, wasn’t it? She was in trouble and weak, and he wanted to help her.
He knocked and held his breath until a feeble, “Come in,” came from the other side of the door. He inched it inwards and paused on the threshold. He’d fantasised about seeing her again, and in all those fantasies, the current situation—Violanterobbing him and him fighting two thugs—had never been part of it.
She propped herself up on her elbows upon seeing him. Her violet eyes were too big in her thin face but held the same fierce light as ever. What the devil had happened to her hair? It’d lost its shiny golden quality, and it looked like rough wool.
Keith and Violante stared at each other for a long moment in silence. The crackling of the flames in the hearth was the only sound. He wanted to say many things; he had many questions but didn’t know where to start. Her violet flame didn’t encourage him to talk.
She pushed the cover aside. “I’ll leave in a moment. Don’t worry.”
He blinked. “What?”
She staggered to her feet. She wore one of his nightshirts that covered her to her knees. Her too-slender silhouette was visible through the fabric. “You want me gone. I understand.”
But he hadn’t said anything. “I…”
She tottered on her feet, her knees buckling.
“Careful.” He strode to her and caught her by the waist before she fell.
She was too light. Her bones pressed against his palms. Aside from her fragility, she felt the same in his arms—soft, warm, and lily-scented. She didn’t sag against him, her muscles tightening like ropes.
“You aren’t strong enough.” He helped her sit on the bed and released her. “I don’t want you to leave. Why would I have taken you here otherwise?”
She touched her forehead. “I can leave. I’m fine.”
“I beg to differ. So does the nurse.” He poured her a glass of water. “You need to eat and rest.”
“And after that?”
Now he recognised the determination in her fierce expression. Answering her took him a moment because he got lost in the power of her strength, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“Listen, let’s start from the beginning. What happened to you after that day?” he asked.
