When Connor came around he knew immediately what had happened. Groaning, gingerly touching the throbbing back of his head, he levered himself into a sitting position. Why he had been so careless as to turn his back on the little bitch he couldn't fathom. He knew the cut of her cloth as well as he knew his own. He should have been expecting…
A rush of icy air from the window she'd left open behind her helped to clear his head. He couldn't have been out more than a quarter of an hour, if that. She'd hardly had time to get back to Lisle Street, which he was fairly certain was her immediate goal. He had to go after her, now, or he feared he would have the devil of a time finding her again.
He staggered to the door, threw it open, and bellowed for Mickeen. The little man must have been closeted with Liam nearby, for the pair of them appeared on the instant. They saw him swaying and scowling in the doorway, clad in naught but a pair of breeches as he felt his sore head, and they exchanged a single speaking look.
"The little bitch blind-sided me," Connor growled by way of explanation before they could find the words to ask. "I'm going after her. Mickeen, I'll be needing the curricle."
"I'm coming with you, Conn," Liam asserted, and Mickeen visibly bristled.
" 'Twill be a fine old time you'll have of it leaving me behind, yer lordship. I wanted to go with you the last time. I told you how 'twould be."
"Have done, Mickeen-my head is pounding all to hell." Connor winced as he found the lump on the back of his head. The thing was as big as an egg and painful as a boil. "You both may come if you wish. I'll probably even be glad of the escort. I've a notion there may be trouble. There's something about the situation she's got herself into that I mislike."
"What-?"
"I'll explain later, Liam. Arm yourselves. It will take me a moment only to dress." He turned back to his room and staggered, going down on one knee.
"Conn!"
"Yer lordship!"
Both Liam and Mickeen were beside him immediately. Connor permitted them to help him to his feet and ease him onto the bed. He lay back for a moment, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. From the feel of it, Caitlyn's blow had come close to splitting his skull.
"What did she hit you with?" Liam sounded faintly awed.
"The candlestick, the little besom. She's not changed a particle. I should have known not to turn my back on a she-devil."
"Conn, the suspense is killing me! You need to lie there for a bit before you try to go anywhere, and I have to know: how is it that Caitlyn lives? Where has she been? How did you find her? And for God's sake, why did she hit you over the head with a candlestick?"
Connor felt strangely reluctant to tell his brother the truth about the exact circumstances she had been in when he found her, just as he felt inclined after all to decline their escort to Lisle Street. It both stung his pride and boded ill for their opinion of Caitlyn's moral character that they should know she had been living for the past year as another man's mistress. Whatever she had or hadn't done, he could not bring himself to expose her as the piece of Haymarket ware her own words made her out to be. Deep in his bones he felt there was far more to the story than she would have him believe. However, Liam had a right to know some part of what had happened, though Connor would edit the most shocking bits as best he could. And Liam was right: he needed to lie still for just a minute. Just until his head stopped swimming… But then there was Caitlyn, half naked and alone on foot in the streets of London. The telling of stories would have to wait until he had her safe again.
"Later," he said, sitting up despite the ringing pain in his head. The room seemed to swim around him. Amazed, Connor realized that Caitlyn must have struck him a man- size blow: he was going to pass out.
He muttered a curse as nausea overcame him. Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped sideways on the bed.
When at last he made it to Lisle Street, it was past daylight. No one responded to his frenzied knocking. Finally he entered the house the same way he had before. As he had suspected, it was empty. The bird had flown the nest.