A Regency Lady's Scandal. Кэрол Мортимер

the bloody—and Caro sincerely hoped not too seriously injured—Nathaniel Thorne.

      Dominic had grimly avoided answering any of her questions when he’d finally arrived to escort her home. Caro had gasped in surprise as he had thrown his cloak over her head just as she was about to step outside. ‘What are you doing?’

      He had easily arrested her struggles to free herself. ‘Continue walking to the coach,’ he had instructed.

      Caro had thrown that cloak back impatiently as soon as she’d entered the carriage, any thought of further protest at Dominic’s rough handling of her dying in her throat as she saw Lord Thorne reclining upon the bench seat opposite, the dressings wrapped about both his hands seeming to indicate that he had received the attentions of a doctor since she had seen him last. His face had been cleansed of the blood, revealing his many cuts and bruises, injuries that could surely only have been inflicted by fists and knives.

      Caro felt herself quiver now as she remembered the full extent of those numerous gashes and bruises, and the imagined violence behind them. ‘How—?’

      ‘I am in no mood to discuss this further tonight,’ Dominic rasped, the attack on Nathaniel having been a brutal awakening, a timely reminder that there was no place for a vulnerable woman like Caro in his world.

      Sea-green eyes gazed back at him reproachfully. ‘But why would someone do such a thing to Lord Thorne?’

      ‘I should have realised that asking you for silence, even for a few minutes, was an impossibility.’ Dominic sighed heavily. ‘The simple answer to your question is that I do not know. Yet,’ he added grimly. But he had every intention of discovering who was responsible for the attack on Nathaniel and why.

      Caro flinched. ‘He appeared to be badly injured …’

      Dominic nodded curtly. ‘He was beaten. Severely. Repeatedly. By four thugs wielding knives as well as their fists.’ He knew more than most how strong a fighter Nathaniel was, but the odds of four against one, especially as they had possessed weapons, had not been in his friend’s favour.

      She gasped as her suspicions were confirmed, one of her hands rising to the slenderness of her throat. ‘But why?’ She appeared totally bewildered.

      Nathaniel had remained conscious long enough to explain that he had been set upon the moment he’d stepped outside the club earlier, the wounds on his hands caused both from the blows he had managed to land upon his attackers, and defensively as he’d held those hands up in front of him to stop the worst of the knife cuts upon his face. Once he’d fallen to the ground, he had not stood a chance against the odds, as he was kicked repeatedly until one of those blows had caught him on the side of the head. After which he knew no more until he awoke to stagger back inside the club and ask for help.

      Considering those odds of four against one, Dominic was sure that if murder had been the intention, then Nathaniel would now be dead. Also, his purse had still been in his pocket when he’d regained consciousness, the diamond pin also in place at his throat, so robbery was not the motive, either. From that Dominic could only surmise that the thugs had achieved what they had set out to do, and that the attack had been a warning of some kind.

      But a warning to whom exactly … ?

      The words of caution Gabriel had given Dominic before he’d left Venice, in regard to Nicholas Brown, the previous owner of Nick’s, had immediately come to mind. Dominic was well aware of the other man’s violent reputation; while publicly Brown behaved the gentleman, privately he was known to be vicious and vindictive, his associates mostly of the shady underworld of London’s slums. Also, the other man had been most seriously displeased to lose Nick’s in that wager to Dominic.

      No, the more thought he gave to the situation—when Caro allowed him the time to think about it, that was—the more convinced he became that Nicholas Brown was somehow involved. That tonight’s attack might not been meant for Nathaniel at all …

      Dominic had left for Venice only days after winning the wager that had cost Brown his gambling club, only returning back to London two days ago, a fact that would no doubt have reached the other man’s ears as early as yesterday. As such, it would have been all too easy for the four thugs lying in wait outside the club to have assumed that the gentleman leaving alone, long after the last patron had left, with his face hidden by both the darkness and the hat upon his head, was Dominic himself.

      He had discussed the possibilities briefly with Drew, the older man having agreed that his previous employer was more than capable of sending some of his paid thugs to attack Dominic. Except those thugs had not dealt the lethal blow to the man they had attacked. Drew had offered the possibility that it might not have been a case of mistaken identity at all; that Brown could well be deliberately hurting people known to be associated with Dominic, as both a threat and a warning, before later extracting his revenge from Dominic himself.

      Dominic gave a grimace as he anticipated Caro’s reaction to what was to be the subject of their next conversation. ‘I have no idea as yet. But in view of the fact that the attack occurred outside Nick’s, it has been decided that, for the next few days at least, all of us associated with the club should take the necessary precautions.’

      Caro stared across at him blankly. ‘But surely I am in no danger? No one except you, Lord Thorne, Drew Butler, and Ben Jackson has even seen the face of the masked lady singing at Nick’s. That is the reason you threw your cloak over me when we were leaving the club earlier!’ she realised suddenly, looking shocked.

      He nodded grimly. ‘It is not my intention to frighten you, Caro.’ He frowned darkly as she obviously became so. ‘But, until we know more, Drew and I are agreed that the masked lady must disappear completely, whilst at the same time every precaution taken to ensure the safety of Caro Morton.’

      ‘Perhaps I might go to stay with Mr Butler and his family?’

      ‘Drew and I dismissed that possibility,’ Dominic explained. ‘Unfortunately, Drew and his family share their modest home with both his wife’s parents and his own so there is simply no room.’

      ‘Oh.’ Caro frowned. ‘Then perhaps I might move to the obscurity of an inexpensive hotel—’

      The earl gave a firm shake of his head. ‘A hotel is too public.’

      She sighed her frustration with this situation. ‘Is there any real danger to me, or is this just another way for you to ensure that it is impossible for me to do anything other than return from “whence I came”?’

      Dominic looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Would you even consider it if I were to suggest it?’

      ‘No, I would not,’ she stated firmly.

      ‘No,’ Dominic conceded flatly. In truth, it was no longer an option; if Brown really were responsible for tonight’s attack, there was also every possibility he was already aware of Caro’s identity as the masked lady. He undoubtedly had informers and spies everywhere. As such, Caro returning to her home unprotected could put her in more danger than if she were to remain in London. ‘Drew and I have come up with another solution.’

      Caro eyed him warily. ‘Which is … ?’

      ‘That I now escort you to your lodgings, where you will pack up your belongings and return to Blackstone House with me.’ Not an ideal solution, he allowed honestly, but one that more easily enabled him to ensure her safety. The fact that she would at the same time be all too available to the desire he was finding it more and more difficult to resist was something he had tried—and failed—not to think about.

      No wonder Caro stared at him so incredulously!

      He raised an eyebrow. ‘If you choose to accompany me to Blackstone House, then I will do all in my power to ensure your stay there is a temporary one. If it appears that it is to be longer than two, or possibly three days, then I will endeavour to find alternative accommodations for you. In any event, my offer of protection is one of expediency only. A desire, if you will, not to find one, or more, of my employees dead in a doorway during the next few days.’