“You didn’t need to leave.”
“Safety in numbers, my friend. I wasn’t about to leave alone with this much coin in my pocket. You never know what might happen.”
“True,” Braden replied. Handler’s wasn’t in the best location.
They walked the quiet streets in silence but the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight. Braden had the oddest feeling that someone was watching them. The sound of pistol fire filled the air. Both Jack and Braden fell to the street. A burning sensation spread from Braden’s upper arm. “Dammit.”
They both slowly rose and glanced around but noticed no one.
“You’re bleeding,” Jack said, staring at Braden’s arm.
“All over my favorite jacket.” He gritted his teeth against the pain. “Come on, my carriage is just up the street.”
They rushed to the safety of his carriage and collapsed onto the velvet squabs. Braden pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his wound. It really was no more than a scrape, but it hurt like hell.
“Was the shooter after you or me?” Jack asked with a worried look.
“You won the money.” But even as Braden said those words, he wondered if he spoke the truth. He was the viscount now. Both his uncle and cousin had died in questionable situations. His uncle was killed in a carriage accident in Scotland and his cousin Randolph drowned at a hunting lodge in Suffolk. It couldn’t be proven that either death was not accidental, but for Randolph to die only two weeks after inheriting had put the suspicion on Braden.
And no one had approached Jack after the shooting in an attempt to steal his money. Dammit!
“Bloody hell,” Jack muttered. “One of us might have been killed. Should I take you to the surgeon?”
“No, take me home.”
“You need to have that looked at.”
“I will.” Miss Featherstone was about to earn her keep.
After her bath, Tia finally drew the last piece of glass from her foot. She bound the wound and lay back against the soft pillows. Her hands still shook from her interaction with Middleton. She’d only seen him a few times at the estate this summer. Their conversations had been brief and concerned the well-being of one of his servants who’d had an attack of gout.
Those short talks had never left her feeling as shocked as tonight when he walked into the bedroom while she bathed. She couldn’t help but notice the way he slid a glance at her naked body. His blue eyes had darkened to the color of sapphires. But it was her reaction that frightened her. With her hands covering her breasts, she felt her nipples grow taut under his heated gaze.
What was wrong with her?
She didn’t want Middleton. She didn’t even like the man. He was cold, dark, and the type of man who used women purely for his own benefit. Nothing like his brother. Oh, where could Jonathon be? And how was she supposed to find him if Middleton insisted on leaving tomorrow? She couldn’t run off from the house in his dressing gown.
Somehow, she had to figure out a way of leaving before they departed for Middleton Hall.
A knock disturbed her musing. “Yes?”
“I have a tray for you, miss.”
Tia forced herself off the comfortable bed. Padding across the thick carpet, she loved the way the fibers caressed her feet, unlike the threadbare carpets in her cottage at the estate. “Come in,” she called.
A tall footman entered the room with a tray in one hand. “Evening, miss. His lordship said you might be hungry.”
As much as she didn’t want to take his charity, her stomach growled in protest. “Thank you. Will you ask Lord Middleton to come to my room? I need to speak with him.”
The younger man frowned. “He left, miss.”
Tia glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven. Where would a man go at this hour? “Where was he going?”
“I believe he meant to attend a party.”
“Oh,” she said, slightly disappointed. She’d only wanted to confirm their departure time so she could plan her escape. “Thank you.”
Once the footman had left, sh