Page 20 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

Phoebe nodded. “I can hardly go home, can I? These ladies have implied the streets aren’t safe for a woman alone and the carriage we arrived in departed with alacrity. I also don’t know where I am, other than it’s called Denmark Street.”

Bessie turned to look at her. “Why, you’re in St Giles, miss.”

The name rang an immediate alarm bell in Phoebe’s head. She was right. He’d brought her to the Rookery of St Giles. Well, it might not be safe outside but it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’d painted it. She glared at Gabriel, his suffering forgotten. “Isn’t that where you told me the…the rookery is? That ghastly place you described to me? Have you brought me to a slum? A dangerous slum?” Her voice rose in indignation at what he’d done.

The doctor gave a snort of amusement. “I see you think I live and work in a slum, young lady.”

Violet’s own glare was enough to quell the bravest of souls. “We do not live in a slum, milady. St Giles is not made up of only the rookery, although I’ll admit that dreadful place is close by. This is an honest, working street, and I’ll thank you not to accuse His Lordship of having dragged you to a slum.”

Phoebe’s eyes flicked to Gabriel’s face for confirmation. He nodded, and winced. “She’s right. This road is not a bad place to be, but its proximity to worse makes it unsafe for a respectable woman to go out at night. However, you could say the same for your own street, you know. I’m sure your aunt wouldn’t want you out there on your own after dark. Danger is not the prerogative of the slums.”

He was probably right. She’d seen enough disreputables on the street at night when she’d been sitting sleepless by her window.

Eliza returned with the doctor’s request, without the boy, who must be feasting on his own slice of cake by now. The doctor took the wood and bandages and thereupon followed the careful setting of the broken arm.

Phoebe found it most interesting. She’d not been allowed to observe when Cousin Tobias was treated for his broken arms, so she watched with fascination and a small degree of guilt she couldn’t rid herself of. Some quite fierce pulling took place, to align the bones, the doctor said, and Gabriel was given a piece of thick leather to bite on while that happened. Nevertheless, sweat sprang anew to his face, and he seemed immensely relieved when that part was over. Then the doctor applied thin slices of wood to either side to hold the bones in place, and bandaged these firmly so they wouldn’t shift.

Once the task was done, the doctor fixed a white-faced Gabriel with a hard stare. “And now, suppose you tell us all how this came about, milord.”

Phoebe’s heart lurched. She was standing back from the settee still, and she rather wished she could open the door and flee. None of these good people were going to think what she’d done to him was deserved, that was obvious. They would all be on his side. And when he told them what had happened, they would know she’d lied earlier.

Gabriel caught her gaze and held it for a moment. “I’m afraid it was my own fault,” he said. “I was in my cups after a night of excess at Lady Caithness’s ball, and managed to fall awkwardly down some steps. I put my hand out to save myself but wasn’t quick enough. I hit my face and, as you can see, broke my arm.”

Violet shook her head at him. “I’ve told you it’s unwise to drink too much when you’re out in society, acting your part. You don’t know what you might say by mistake. In my experience, men who’ve imbibed too much suffer from loose tongues.” That very much sounded as though she, at least, knew how Gabriel came by their funds. But whether the other two were party to this Phoebe couldn’t guess.

However, no one but she could have seen the look of disbelief on the doctor’s face. But perhaps, in this rough area, he was used to his patients lying to him about how they came by their injuries. He got to his feet. “Well, you won’t be able to use that arm for several months. I’ll leave some laudanum for the pain, but use it wisely as it can lead to addiction. Your arm must stay in that splint as long as possible or it won’t set straight. And rest. Keep it supported in a sling, Don’t be going out and drinking and doing the same again.” He wagged an admonitory finger as though he were addressing a child.

Gabriel achieved a meek expression. “I’ll do my best, doctor. Thank you for coming.”

Doctor Armstrong left, escorted to the door by Violet.

Gabriel struggled up into a sitting position. “I feel like a bloody invalid lying on my back. And look at the mess he’s made of my sleeves.” They flapped loose from his well-muscled shoulder.

“You are an invalid,” Eliza said, shooting another unfriendly glance at Phoebe. “We have a spare bedroom here that you can sleep in. But I don’t know what we’ll do with her.” There was a definite sneer of disapproval in her voice. Phoebe fixed her with a cold stare. Did this young woman have designs on Gabriel? Was that it? Did she fancy herself in love with him? Phoebe had little experience in that direction but instinct suggested she was correct.

“I’ll go home if you don’t mind.” She gave Eliza her sweetest smile and turned back to Violet, who had just returned. “Only I don’t know the way and I own to being a little nervous about undertaking the journey alone, even if we aren’t in a slum like I thought.”

Eliza scowled at her some more.

Gabriel managed a smile. “Of course you can’t go alone. And you certainly can’t walk. I’ll have Yann go round to my house and rouse the servants so they can send my carriage for you. Eliza, perhaps you could go and tell him to do so. I’ll write a message. Damnit. No I won’t. Can’t use my hand, can I? I’ll dictate it. Fetch paper and pen as well.”

Eliza, somewhat begrudgingly as if she didn’t want to leave his side, went off to do his bidding.

Phoebe sat down on one of the chairs with a thump. How long was it going to take to send for a carriage? She glanced at the window but at least there was as yet no sign of dawn approaching. Although, with the fog that so frequently hung over London, that didn’t mean dawn wasn’t about to happen in the all-too-near future. Her aunt’s servants would be about their chores soon, and, at ten, Atkins would be bringing her breakfast to her bedroom. At this rate, she’d be finding her gone with a bolster under her covers. Whatever were they going to think? That she’d been kidnapped? There’d be a hue and cry and they’d have the Bow Street Runners out to search for her.

“I’ve been a little remiss, thanks to this.” Gabriel, a little color returned to his cheeks, indicated his arm. “I should have done this when we arrived, but I was somewhat incapacitated. Please allow me to formally introduce you to Mrs. Bessie Thorogood who is matron of this orphanage and in charge of the daily care of the children. Miss Eliza is her youngest daughter who helps her in her task. And this is Miss Verity Anscombe, who is in charge of all the paperwork we have to do. She holds the purse strings and sees all bills are paid. They are the three most wonderful women in the world.” His words were heartfelt. “And this, dear Bessie and Violet, is the young lady who came to my rescue this night—Lady Phoebe Nicholson. A lady who truly needs to be back in her own home before she’s missed, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Phoebe nodded politely to Bessie and Violet. “Delighted to make your acquaintances, Mrs. Thorogood, Miss Anscombe.”

Bessie nodded back. “Milady. But do please call me Bessie. Everyone else does. We don’t hold with ceremony here. It was one of the first things we decided when Gabriel asked us to help him set up this orphanage. We don’t call him milord too much, and he don’t call us Missis or Miss. We like it that way. And to the children he’s just Gabriel.”

Violet nodded. “That’s the way we run this place. Like a family home. We encourage politeness and kindness here.”

“And now,” Gabriel said, “I think we all need a drink. I believe there’s brandy in the cabinet, Bessie. Medicinal, of course. Just a snifter for me, but I think Lady Phoebe needs a little more sustenance after the evening she’s had.”

How right he was. She wasn’t fond of brandy, but she accepted the generous glassful and drank it down. It left a suitably fiery trail down her throat and a buzz in her brain. That was better. Now she could face anything.

Chapter Seven