“Faith!” He jumped, then sucked in a sharp breath as pain sliced through his ribs.
His younger sister pursed her lips. “What happened this time? Did an irate husband chase you out a window?”
“I refuse to respond to such a ridiculous accusation.” Gingerly, he probed the bandage around his middle. How had that gotten there?
Eve slid from the edge of the bed and went to retrieve a porcelain pitcher from a tray sitting on a side table. “The doctor said you bruised your ribs and knocked your head. And don’t pretend I have insulted you. I smelled the lady’s perfume on you before your valet cleaned you up.” Despite her scolding tone, her brown eyes were sympathetic when she glanced over her shoulder. “I worry about you, Bastian. God only knows what you are doing that causes you to come home with bruises. And no coat or boots at that.”
“Well, it’s not bedding married women, not that you should know about such goings-on.”
Snatching the glass from his bedside table, Eve filled it from the pitcher. A drop of water slid down the side and dripped to the floor. “You forget I was almost a married woman. I received the talk, fat lot of good it will do me now.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled as he accepted the glass. He hadn’t forgotten she had been abandoned at the altar or that the blackguard had left England without allowing Sebastian a chance to defend his sister’s reputation. It mattered not that Eve was blameless. Society had decided Benjamin Hillary must have discovered something untoward about Sebastian’s sister and cried off. Eve had been ruined, and Sebastian had been helpless to correct the mistake.
He hadn’t forgotten anything. No amount of alcohol—or bumps on the head, apparently—could erase the things he wanted to forget.
The water chased away his thirst, but sitting up to drink it made his head pound. He handed the glass to his sister, eased back against the pillows, and closed his eyes. “Does Mother know of my condition?”
“She was abed when Milo answered the door and found you. After the doctor said you would live, I didn’t see a reason to wake her.”
From the short shadows on his walls, he guessed the time to be near noon. “And you mentioned nothing when she woke this morning?” It was likely too much to hope this could be kept a secret from their mother.
Eve shrugged. “She wished to break her fast, and a gander at your face would spoil anyone’s appetite.”
He scowled, but she simply chuckled and pulled the covers up to his armpits. “Not under normal circumstances, mind you. Just this morning you look a fright.”
“Thanks,” he said flatly. The bruises from his fight with Ellis had only recently disappeared and now he had to heal all over again. “Where is my watch?” It wasn’t on the bedside table in its usual place.
Eve set the glass on the table. “You would have to ask your valet. Are you hungry? I could have Mrs. Wilmot prepare a tray.”
His stomach roiled at the thought of food, and he shook his head.
“So, what happened last night?”
“Footpads got the best of me. A woman came to my assistance, which explains the perfume.” Likely a prostitute, given the location and time of night. Sebastian didn’t much care what class of woman she was. If she hadn’t come when she had, he might not be safe in his bed now.
He hadn’t gotten a good look at her face, but the pleasing lilt of her voice had been soothing, and her hand on his forehead had been gentle in the carriage. Much kinder than the bloke who had tossed him into it. Sebastian frowned. Of course a common whore wouldn’t have transportation at her disposal or a servant to do lifting, which made it seem more likely his rescuer was a lady.
He propped up on his elbows and gritted his teeth. “I believe she brought me home. Perhaps Milo asked her name so I may thank her.”
When he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, Eve planted a hand against his chest. “You’re not going anyplace right now. The doctor said you must stay in bed until you are healed.”
His fingers circled her wrist and he smirked. “Do you really think you can stop me, little sister?”