The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(7)

He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, perhaps weighing how to respond. “It’s constricting. I start to itch.”

She could understand that. Sometimes her corset was extremely unpleasant. She’d never remove it in an instance such as this, of course. But then taking off her corset wasn’t as simple as removing a cravat. Why were things always easier for men?

Before she could respond to that, Evie ran into the room, her blue-green eyes wide and her hair a mess of straggly curls. “Papa! Papa!” The girl stopped short at seeing Jo. “It’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Evie turned from her and went to her father’s chair. The earl pivoted and leaned forward, putting his face near to hers. “What is it, my sweetling?”

“I’ve hurt my finger.” She held up her index finger and practically jabbed him in the eye.

“Let me see.” He clasped it gently around the knuckle and frowned at the digit. “This little cut at the top?”

She nodded. “The parchment wounded me.” She sounded as if she wanted to challenge the paper to a duel.

The earl’s brows pitched low over his eyes. “Nasty parchment. Tell me where it is, and I’ll toss it into the fireplace.”

“Oh no, Papa. I’m angry with it, but you mustn’t burn it. I was drawing our ship, and it’s quite good.”

“I see. Then it has won a reprieve. What shall we do with your wound?”

She shrugged. “Foster didn’t know what to do. She said I should go see Cook. I came here instead.”

Knighton looked over at Jo briefly, his gaze searching. Did he want help?

“May I see it?” Jo asked.

Evie hesitated a moment, but when her father gave her a slight nod, she rounded the desk and came to stand before Jo. She stuck her finger beneath Jo’s nose. “See?”

Jo focused on the pad of the girl’s digit and saw the reddened cut. “Did it bleed?”

“A little. I wiped it on my petticoat.” She lifted the edge of her dress to show the small red-brown streak at the hem of her undergarment. “Foster said I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Well, what should you have done?” Jo asked, glancing over at the girl’s father who was watching the exchange with interest. Again, she caught herself staring at his exposed flesh, and again, she jerked her gaze away.

“Foster said I should have sucked on it until it stopped bleeding.” Evie made a face, her tongue poking out of her mouth. “But that’s disgusting.”

“I agree. I think you did the only reasonable thing. Does it hurt?”

Evie nodded. “Not as much as it did at first, but it stings.”

“Do you know what my mother used to do for me when I had a cut?” Jo didn’t actually remember her mother doing it, but Nora had told her about it, so of course it was true. Nora, being two years older, remembered more about her than Jo did.

Evie shook her head, her gaze intent.

“She would blow on it and then seal it with a kiss.”

Evie’s eyes widened. “The kiss would close the cut?”

Jo chuckled softly. “No, but that would have been lovely, wouldn’t it? Perhaps that wasn’t the right way to say it. She would press a kiss to the wound, and it would instantly feel better.”

Evie looked skeptical.

“Would you like me to try? I promise it won’t make it worse.”

With a nod, Evie thrust her finger forward once more, until it was mere inches from Jo’s mouth. Jo lightly blew on the pad for a moment, then pressed a soft kiss to the girl’s digit.

Evie slowly withdrew her hand, staring at her finger. She turned her hand this way and that, her expression one of bemusement. Then her lips spread into a wide smile, and she ran back around the desk to her father’s chair. “Papa! It doesn’t hurt anymore.” She looked over at Jo, her grin exposing the gap in her bottom teeth. “Mrs. Shaw is magic.”

“Magic,” he murmured, his dark gaze settling on Jo.

Something about the way he uttered the word sent a shiver along Jo’s arms. She covered a twitch by rolling her shoulders and straightening in the chair.

Knighton turned his attention back to his daughter. “Are you sufficiently recovered to return upstairs while I finish with Mrs. Shaw? We must decide on which nurse to hire.”

“Oh yes, you met with some today.” She looked from the earl to Jo and back again. “Were they nice?”

“Quite,” Knighton answered.

“However will you choose?” Evie asked.

“I’m not certain, which is why I need to discuss it with Mrs. Shaw.”

“All right.” She turned and walked toward the door, pivoting at the threshold to regard them both with a serious stare. “Choose wisely. My happiness depends on it.” She spun about and skipped from the room.

Laughter escaped Jo as she blinked after the girl. Quickly, Jo coughed to hide her reaction.

“I vaguely recall my younger sister uttering such dramatic nonsense,” Knighton said. “Is it thus with all girls?”

Jo caught the barest twinkle in his eye. “I’m afraid so. Nora and I were quite dramatic. Everything is Vitally Important when you’re nearly six years old.”

It had certainly seemed that way for Jo, especially in the wake of her mother’s death when Jo had been five. She recalled a deep and pervasive sadness and her sister trying very hard to make her smile at every possible opportunity. Nora would concoct elaborate schemes to amuse them so that they wouldn’t be sad.