Page 60 of The Rogue

“What ye wantin’ doin’ with thisun, Mousy?” One of the men demanded. He was an inch or two shorter than Alex and built like a barrel, with thick, hairy arms covered in tattoos. He poked Alex with the nose of a musket as he spoke. “There’s a number o’ corpses out back an’ matey ‘ere didna want to come quiet like. The bastard laid Nibs out cold and I reckon ‘e broke Sharkie’s arm, not to mention nearly breakin’ me bleedin’ jaw.”

Mousy’s eyes went wide with alarm. “Plague seize ye, let ‘im go! I tol’ ye that the Cap’n’s brother was there, ye blitherin’ idiot. I swear, Harry, ye got no more brain than a sea turtle.”

“Tha’s the earl?” Harry said in disbelief and looking him over Henri could see it was hard to believe. She had always thought he had a devilish appearance, what with those cold, flint grey eyes, but now, with his shirt filthy and in tatters, and the beginnings of an impressive black eye beginning to bloom, he looked thoroughly disreputable. “‘E don’ fight like no gentlem’n,” Harry added, sounding very doubtful.

“Thank you,” Alex said to the man with a grave expression before raising an eyebrow at Lawrence in amusement, apparently quite unperturbed by being held at gunpoint by pirates.

“I am glad to see you in one piece,” Alex said, and then frowned as he took in Lawrence’s bloody appearance. “You are in one piece?” he added, with a touch of anxiety.

“I’m fine, nothing serious.” Lawrence said, getting up and then sliding back to the floor as all the colour drained from his face.

“Bed!” Henri cried. “Now. This instant! Mousy, help me get him up will you.”

She glanced at Lawrence and could almost see the lewd remark gathering on his tongue. Scowling, she wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you dare,” she muttered. “We’re not married yet.”

Lawrence chuckled and submitted with very bad grace to allow Mousy to help him up the stairs as Harry released the earl.

“Sorry, ye lordship,” Harry said, looking sheepish. “I didn’t knows ye was ‘is brother, like.”

“No hard feelings I assure you,” Alex replied, clapping the man on the back and making him wince. “I apologise for hitting you into the rose bed, but I had no idea you were on our side.”

Harry rubbed at his jaw and glowered a little at the memory. “I guess we’re even then?” he said, sounding a little worried, clearly not trusting the nobility to let such a thing go without causing trouble. But Alex just grinned at him and nodded affably before his face became disgusted as he took in the bloody corpse at his feet.

“Time to clear out the rubbish, I think. Lend a hand, there’s a good chap.”

Henri swallowed, feeling faintly ill as they both grabbed hold of Brant’s body. She looked away and left them to it, hurrying up the stairs to Lawrence.

“My Lady!” Came a shriek across the landing and Annie ran at her, smothering her in a rib-crushing hug. “Oh, Henrietta!” the maid squealed, the use of her full name illustrating Annie’s state of distress as the maid cast an eye over her bloody clothes. Before Henri could reassure her as to the fact the blood wasn’t her own, Annie seemed to notice something behind Henri, and with a theatrical moan she clapped her hand to her forehead, her eyes rolled up and she fainted clean away.

“Oh, Annie!” Henri exclaimed, exasperated and wanting nothing more than to go and care for Lawrence. She looked up as Mousy appeared beside her, staring at the rumpled heap of her maid on the floor of the landing.

“She alright?” he asked, frowning.

“Oh, yes, I think so,” Henri replied, eyeing her maid with suspicion. “She’s just fainted. Can you help me get her up?”

Mousy nodded and reached down, lifting Annie into his arms with little effort and surprising care. Henri directed him to Annie’s room where he laid her on her bed and then hovered, looking at her anxiously as Annie gave a voluptuous sigh.

“Should someone stay an’ ... look after ‘er?” he asked, watching the reclining figure with concern in his eyes.

Henri smothered a smile and cursed Annie, the shameless hussy. “I believe she will be well enough. Perhaps you could send one of the women with some smelling salts to revive her.”

Mousy nodded but looked a little crestfallen and she felt bad spoiling Annie’s fun, so she added, “But I am sure she would be grateful to know how you helped her, if you would call upon her later perhaps, when she has recovered.”

“Aye,” Mousy, nodded, looking pleased. “Aye, I’ll send one o’ the lasses an’ pop roun’ later. Jus’ to see she’s well, like,” he added with haste.

“I think she would be most grateful for your kind attentions, Mousy.”

She smiled at him and ushered him out of the room as fast as she could. The moment he’d gone Annie made a miraculous recovery and gave her a devilish wink. Henri rolled her eyes and ran back to Lawrence, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed with his shirt off and wadded into a bundle at his side. He looked up at her with a wounded air.

“Well at last, you’re lucky I didn’t bleed out the time you’ve taken!”

“Oh, Lawrence!” she cried, mortified and running to sit beside him. “I’m so sorry, only Annie would go and faint and then Mousy came, and do you know, I think he has a tendre for her!”

“Mousy? For Annie?” Lawrence said in alarm. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Henri frowned as she removed the bloody shirt and inspected his wound. “Well,” she added, before she thought the comment through. “Annie was unconscious.”

Lawrence snorted with amusement. “Well that explains a lot.”