His hands fisted at his sides, and anger cannoned through him. Who the devil had abused her? Even before this last year, he’d abhorred cruelty. And some bastard had be
aten this girl to within an inch of her life.
Gideon was too familiar with violence to misjudge how badly she was hurt. Damn it, he wanted a doctor to look at her.
But the chit was so frightened. Gideon knew too what desperate fear looked like, and he couldn’t mistake it in the girl’s wide hazel eyes, lovely even in her ruined face. If he pushed her too far, she’d scarper and meet God knew what dangers.
What in Hades had happened to her? He’d immediately recognized her pathetic lies. He’d lay money no footpads had attacked her but, hell, someone had.
Futile rage, sickeningly familiar, flooded his mouth with a vile, rusty taste. He stepped back and breathed hard through his nose as he fought for composure. He needed to stay calm, or he’d frighten her.
The girl stirred in Akash’s grip, and her pale hand clenched in his coat. Gideon’s attention caught on an expensive, if old-fashioned pearl ring on one slender finger. Nor had he missed the pretty gold locket revealed under her tattered bodice. Whoever she was and whatever her current straitened circumstances, she came from money.
Her voice was thick with distress. “Please…please put me down. I can walk. Really.”
Gideon’s rage faded, replaced by piercing compassion. His anger couldn’t help her. She was small, defenseless, heartbreakingly brave. And young. Impossible to tell exactly how old she was under the patchwork of bruising, but he’d guess not much more than her early twenties.
Add to her courage a pride that cut Gideon to the heart. Oh, he understood how she felt, all right. He guessed pride was all she had left.
Pride and two strangers who would see her safe, whether she trusted them or not.
He couldn’t abandon her to her fate. He was too bitterly aware what it was like to stand against powerful foes with no hope of prevailing.
“Guvnor, is there a problem with the nag?”
Gideon turned toward the door with a surge of irritation. Akash had come out to check on him, although if challenged he’d never admit it. Now here was Tulliver, asking after his charge’s health like a gruff and grizzled nursemaid.
The yearning for freedom was a crashing wave inside him. He’d give up his hope of heaven for one moment without eyes observing his every move. Fresh air in his face. A good mount beneath him. Nothing but clear open country.
And no people for a hundred bloody miles.
“Sir Gideon?”
The wild and glorious dream faded. How could he blame his companions for their concern? They were good men, both. He’d spent so long alone, it still struck him as remarkable that they pledged him their loyalty.
Surely they must recognize he was completely unworthy of the honor.
“We’re not staying, Tulliver,” he said to the brawny ex-soldier he’d hired as his servant after the fellow’s untiring service on the ship from India. “We’ll need a carriage, food for the journey. And a driver, I expect.”
“No need, sir. I can handle a rig.”
Tulliver, Gideon had learned, could handle almost anything, from a man out of his head with pain and shame right up to a duchess’s comfort. The East India Company had lost a treasure when Tulliver resigned.
Tulliver’s eyes flickered impassively over the woman in Akash’s arms, but he asked no questions. He never did. Yet somehow he managed to know everything. He bowed and headed outside again.
“Please, sir,” the girl said in a shaking voice.
Silently, Akash set her upon her feet. She staggered, and Gideon reached out before he remembered and snatched his hand back. The girl raised her chin and stared him down as if he’d made an improper remark at a debutante ball.
Again, her pride touched something deep within him. Something pure and fresh like a tender green shoot after the first snows melted. He was astounded any untainted feeling could survive what he’d endured.
“I put you to some inconvenience.” Her attention still on Gideon, she stepped away from Akash. She held one arm awkwardly against her. “While I’m grateful, I can’t allow you to discommode yourself on my account.”
She spoke like a damned octogenarian duchess. A confounded haughty one, at that. In spite of the moment’s seriousness, Gideon felt his lips twitch.
Of course she didn’t miss it. “You’re laughing at me.”
He didn’t deny it. Instead, he let an element of steel enter his tone. “Miss Watson, you need our help. I can’t bundle you in the carriage and force you to come with me.”