“Good heavens, Simon!” Christy exclaimed as he came through the door. He was limping, looking like a drowned cat, filthy and wet and stinking. “What on earth happened?”

Robert was beside him, and she could tell he wanted to help Simon but was resisting the urge. No doubt Simon was being stubborn about his injuries.

“He jumped in the harbor and had a fight with a Turkish sailor,” Robert told her. “Believe it or not, he won.”

“I don’t believe it,” Christy said, her hands on her hips as she looked him over from head to toe.

“You should see the other fellow,” Simon said. She could hear the pain in his voice.

“You need a hot bath,” she declared. “Nell,” she called. The young maid appeared almost instantly, giving Christy the impression she’d been eavesdropping just out of sight. “Fill the tub in the bathing chamber. Hot water, if you please. And as soon as Mr. Gantry gets out of these clothes, they are to be washed. Immediately. I know it isn’t wash day, but if we leave them, they’ll be ruined. Go on, now.”

She ignored her misgivings and reached out for Simon’s arm. “Come on,” she said without an ounce of pity. “Let’s get you upstairs. Robert, help me get him out of these wet things.”

“What?” Simon asked, looking appalled. “I can undress myself.”

“You don’t look like it.” Christy looked over her shoulder at the agents who were guarding the front door. They were peering through the door watching them with interest. “Shut the door and mind your business,” she told them briskly. One of them immediately pulled the door shut.

“You are a martinet,” Simon complained as he leaned on her support and let her lead him upstairs.

“You may call me whatever you like,” she said. “But this is my house and I make the rules.” She realized what she’d said and cleared her throat as she looked at Robert. “That is, we—I mean, Robert and I—make the rules. With his permission, of course.”

“Too late,” Robert said, sounding amused and not a bit put out. “You can’t put any of the blame on me. This is your doing, not mine.”

They reached Simon’s bedchamber and Christy ushered him inside. “Robert, close the door behind you.” She let go of Simon, who started to sit down on the bed. “No,” she nearly yelled at him, and he froze halfway. “Not in those clothes. Not on my linens. Robert, help me.”

“Shouldn’t we be doing this in the bathing chamber?” Robert asked. He stepped in front of Simon and began to unbutton his jacket.

Simon slapped his hands away. “I can unbutton my own jacket,” he insisted. “I’m not an invalid.”

“Of course not,” Christy said. “But it’s as obvious as the nose on my face that you’ve hurt your back. Oh, Simon, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that a man who clearly knew something about our investigation was getting away and if I didn’t go after him he’d be gone,” Simon snapped. “And I should be at headquarters questioning him and not here being coddled like a child.”

He tried to jerk the jacket off over his shoulders and gasped and nearly fell over. Robert had to catch him with an arm around his waist. He pulled Simon up and caught him against his chest, and Simon just hung there for a moment breathing heavily. Christy wanted to cry for him.

“Are you all right?” Robert asked, concern etched on his face. Christy adored him at that moment.

Simon nodded, the motion jerky. “Fine,” he said, the word short and sharp. Robert slowly let go.

Christy moved behind Simon. “Let me,” she said quietly. “You just stand there.” She pulled the jacket down his arms and off as gently as she could, but its sodden condition made it more difficult than it should have been, and she knew it was hurting him. Robert stood there in front of him with his hands on Simon’s upper arms, helping him to stand while she did it.

“I feel like an imbecile,” Simon muttered.

“You are an imbecile,” Robert told him.

“Your sympathy is duly noted,” Simon replied politely.

“Robert,” Christy chastised. She dropped Simon’s stinking jacket to the floor and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Don’t bother to launder it,” Simon told. “It’s ruined. We might be able to save everything else, but the jacket is beyond redemption.”

“You should have thought of that before you jumped.” She pushed it farther away with the toe of her shoe. “Hold on,” she said, realizing the dilemma they now faced. “I’ll be right back.”

She ran down the hall and grabbed an old linen sheet from the washroom for Simon to sit on so they could remove his boots and trousers. When she got back to the room she found that Robert had already dispensed with Simon’s boots somehow, and as she came through the door he was pulling Simon’s shirt off. Christy’s hand involuntarily flew to cover her mouth and stifle her exclamation of horror as Simon’s back was revealed to her for the first time.

It looked horrendously painful. A dark read angry slash of puckered skin from his right shoulder blade to his left side, just above the waist of his trousers. There were other scars there, too. They looked like whipping scars.

“Oh, Simon,” she whispered.

He froze in place, his arms still locked in the sleeves of his shirt, bound in front of him, his back exposed, his weaknesses exposed. She wanted to fall to her knees and wrap her arms around him and press her cheek to his scarred back and will her own strength into him.

Robert had been standing in front of Simon, but at Christy’s pained whisper he walked slowly around to look at his back. He didn’t say a word. He simply reached over and took the linen from Christy, opening it up and holding it high. “Here, hold it like this.”

She did as she was told, blocking Simon from her view. Robert walked back around in front of Simon, and she heard him say, “Let me help you get these off, too.” The rustle of clothing told her he was helping Simon get his trousers off.

“This is embarrassing and awkward and feel free to add any adjectives you care to contribute,” Simon said.

“I believe awkward doesn’t do the situation justice,” Robert agreed in a strained voice. “There.” He immediately came around the makeshift curtain and dropped the rest of Simon’s stained, smelly clothes on the floor.

“Close your eyes,” he told Christy. She did so, and then he took the sheet. “All right,” he said, and when she opened them, Simon was wrapped in the linen, only his bare shoulders visible.

“Now I must head back to the Home Office,” Robert said. He and Simon were avoiding looking at each other, and it was all Christy could do not to roll her eyes. Men were so odd about their privacy and nudity. “Simon, once you are cleaned up, rest, and I will fill you in at supper.”

“Now you really are making me feel like an invalid,” Simon complained.

“I do not mean to,” Robert said, frustration in his voice. “The fact is I am trying to avoid just that. You have been home for less than a week. You are not completely healed from your ordeal. If you continue to push yourself this way, you may very well end up an invalid, and no one wants that. So we must use common sense. I am trying to do what is right, and what logic dictates must be done. Surely you can see that.”

“Tomorrow will be a week,” Simon said. He readjusted the linen. Christy stood there, her arms wrapped around her middle, letting Robert handle the situation. He seemed better able to handle Simon in this mood. She just wanted to either yell at him or smother him with hugs and kisses, neither of which was appropriate or helpful.

“Fine,” Simon finally agreed. “I will rest. And I concede that you are right. I am trying too hard to deny that anything is wrong and pretending that nothing happened to me. There? Are you happy? So I shall be a good boy and take a hot bath and go to bed.”

“Yes, I’m happy,” Robert said. He sighed and started to leave but then, almost as an afterthought, remembered Christy and came to kiss her cheek goodbye. “I shall be home for supper,” he told her.

“That’s fine,” she said, the awkwardness they’d spoken of suddenly finding its way to her. “But we need to talk about something that happened today while I was out shopping.”

“Yes, all right,” Robert said, clearly distracted. “When I get home.”

The irony that Robert was leaving her alone with a naked Simon expecting her to bathe and take care of him was not lost on her. He either had a great deal of trust in her or he was the world’s greatest fool.