Mena turned and blinked. "Ralph, isn't it?" She gave him a hesitant smile, recalling what he’d done to the bald man at the house. Though, then she recalled what he was. A spy.
He nodded and returned her smile. He seemed not much older than herself, with dark hair and eyes so light in color that they were nearly silver, yet they held a dust of blue. She tried to see him as more than a footman, since according to Morgan, he obviously was. She'd have never known unless someone told her. "Durham sent me to make sure you were all right."
She hid her pleasure at those words. For a moment, she'd felt abandoned. When she'd woken up to surroundings that were unfamiliar to the last place she'd been and had not seen him there, she'd almost wondered if anything of the day had been true. Perhaps she'd dreamt it all. The horrible meeting at the docks. The gardens at Wardington's mansion. Morgan's gentle touch on her cheek as he rested against her skirts.
He'd tickled her and for some reason she could not explain, that moment meant more to her than any other. What sort of gentleman tickled his fiancée?
Perhaps one who tickled his wife as well. Like he'd said, his touch hadn't hurt, but he'd found a way to get what he wanted. She'd called him Morgan.
"Unfortunately, Lord Durham will no longer be attending dinner at a friend's home. He's staying abed as his doctor suggested."
Philomena was surprised by the disappointment that settled in her chest. She couldn't see herself not having her questions answered and hearing that Morgan was in bed laced a small amount of fear in her blood. He'd seemed fine when she'd last seen him, but she knew about wounds that could become infected.
She took a deep breath in order to calm herself and turned to Allie. "Excuse us for a moment, Allie."
Her lady's maid nodded and returned inside.
Philomena and Ralph moved to the stairs as a few pedestrians passed. It was London during the Season and while there were only a few people on the road, she knew that when night fell, the hordes would be out, going either to dinners, parties, or the theatre.
She turned to Ralph. "Tell me the truth, is he all right?"
Ralph's eyes widened. "Why do you assume I wouldn't tell you the truth?"
"Because Morgan pretended he wasn't in pain while his driver stitched him back together and he did it for me. It only stands to reason that he'd tell you that I have nothing to worry about where his condition is concerned."
Ralph smiled. "And you don't. He's perfectly fine. It's simply a matter of his doctor ensuring that the stitches don't break or his skin tear against them."
The image of such a thing unsettled Mena's stomach. "I want to see him." She hadn't meant to say that aloud.
"I'm sure you can." He looked at the door before turning to her. "Would your lady's maid object?"
Mena thought for a moment and shook her head. "No, but Mrs. Gale will quiz the woman about everything. So long as the door remained open, I think Allie can survive it. After all, Morgan is my fiancé. I'm sure seeing that he is indeed well will not cause much scandal."
The footman's smile grew. "Of course." The response conveyed a personal knowledge. He must have heard Mena claim that she was not Morgan's fiancée a time or two. Now she was using that very position to bend the rules of Society.
And she didn't care. She would not rest until she knew he was all right.
Ralph rode on the outside of Mena's coach and gave the driver directions. The journey did not take long, and they arrived just as the final rays of the sun sunk behind the buildings. The street lamps were lit on his street, and Mena took measure of the townhouse they'd arrived at before speaking.
"I thought we were going to Durham's home?" she said as Ralph helped her from the carriage. The townhouse was on a prominent upper-class street but was not the larger home she'd visited when she went to speak to the marchioness.
"This is where his lordship resides," Ralph told her. She said nothing more as she showed her into a house that was well decorated and furnished. She wasn't sure what she'd expected from a spy, but this wasn't it. The home looked like it belonged to a man of means, which would make no one the wiser of who he really was.
Ralph led her past a parlor, a small breakfast room... she stopped at the sitting room.
The bloodied man from earlier sat in a red wingback chair, drinking tea. He lifted the cup to her before putting it to his split lip, watching her with his good eye. Allie gasped beside her.
"I don't understand," Mena said. "I don't understand anything anymore."
"Don't mind him. This way, my lady." Ralph led them up the stairs and Mena heard voices the closer they drew. People were arguing. She heard a woman. More than one woman. Ralph led her to the farthest room, and Mena stopped in the doorway and found three women standing around a bed. Sitting in the middle of the imposing structure, curled under sheets, was a grim-faced Morgan.
She didn't move, caught off guard by the company of others. She'd thought it on the verge of scandal that she was present, but Morgan already had three other beautiful women to attend him.
Surely, her presence was excess.
Morgan's gaze moved to her, and his expression softened.
She was frozen and unsure whether to flee.
He seemed to answer the question for her by holding out his hand. "Philomena."
The women who'd still been talking all turned to Morgan and then to her.
One of the women, who was shorter than the others with dark hair and brown eyes, smiled. "Oh, good. It was growing extremely tiresome, trying to keep him in bed. Now that you're here, he has no reason to leave."
Mena turned to Morgan immediately. "You tried to leave your bed?" She walked over to him. "Your doctor told you to stay and rest."
"That's what we told him," another one of the women said. Mena was strangely caught off guard by her beauty. She was raven-haired with bright blue eyes. "He won't listen to us, perhaps he'll listen to you."
"I'll go get refreshments," the last woman said as Mena neared the bed. She had dark red hair and golden eyes. She left the room in a flutter of silk skirts.
Mena's attention was grabbed by Morgan when he took her hand, grasping it securely in his fingers. "I wanted to see you."
Hadn't she just said the same about him only a half hour ago? Not even propriety had kept her away and though she wished it was a simple matter of the ghost of her father's death, she knew that at heart, her need to see Morgan had everything to do with him and nothing more.
Ralph placed a chair beside the bed, but before Mena could take it, Morgan pulled her toward the bed. She glanced around the room and noticed they were alone except for Ralph and Allie.
Allie sat in a corner with a book in hand. She glanced up once to meet Mena's eyes. "Do you need anything, my lady?"
"No."
Allie nodded and returned to her book.
Ralph left, and Mena hesitated before sitting on the edge of Morgan's bed.