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Matt had insisted on hiring to take her to and from the hospital and her suffragist meetings as soon as she’d received the nursing position and found the group of women she wanted to join. Her driver, Mick Kennedy, was a prince of a fellow, and she’d asked him to wait a number of blocks away from the demonstration for her. Now the streets were in such an uproar and she was feeling so very disoriented that she wasn’t sure precisely where he was or how to find him.
    As luck would have it, Mick Kennedy found her. Worried by what he’d seen on the fringes of the demonstration, he’d hitched his team to a streetlamp, plunged into the crowd, and spent the last fifteen minutes or so searching for her. He was visibly relieved to find her.
    â€œHurt in all this, were you?” At her nod, he added, “Some mess, I’ll say. Shall I get you back to your boardinghouse?”
    â€œOh, yes, thank you, Mick.”
    â€œWell, now, just take me arm and I’ll have you back there in no time, or me name’s not Mick Kennedy!”
    In short order they were out of the crowd, and Mick was helping Tess into the carriage. His fine team was swiftly under way, drawing the impressive black carriage through the thinning crowd.
    By the time they reached the boardinghouse, Tess’s arm was much worse.
    â€œShall I help you up to your door, ma’am?” Mick offered.
    â€œNo, thank you. I can manage.” She smiled, then made her way slowly up the steps.
    Mrs. Mulhaney met her at the door. At the sight of Tess, dirty and disheveled, her hat askew and her hair coming down, she exclaimed, “Why, Miss Meredith, whatever has happened?”
    â€œA man from the workers’ party infiltrated our ranks and provoked one of our number to violence.” Tess groaned. She leaned against the wall, wincing and nauseated, as sheregarded the staircase with uneasy eyes and wondered how she was going to get to her room.
    â€œIs my cousin Matt in this evening?” she asked suddenly.
    â€œWhy, I’m sure he is. I haven’t seen him go out. You wait here, my dear. I’ll fetch him!”
    Mrs. Mulhaney rushed upstairs and quickly came back down with Matt, who was shrugging into a jacket as he walked. He eyed Tess with an expression she was too wounded to contemplate.
    â€œAre you hurt? Where?” he asked immediately.
    â€œMy arm,” she said, breathing unsteadily. “I was trodden on, and I think it may be cut, as my sleeve is.”
    â€œCan you send for Dr. Barrows?” he asked Mrs. Mulhaney.
    â€œI can—and shall. At once. Can you take Miss Meredith to her room?”
    â€œYes.”
    Without another word, Matt swung Tess up in his arms and climbed the staircase as easily as if he were carrying feathers.
    She clung to his neck, savoring his great strength as he covered the distance to her door.
    â€œWho did this?” he asked under his breath.
    â€œThere was a riot,” she explained. “I don’t know who did it. Several people were fighting, and I seem to have got in the way. My arm throbs so!”
    â€œWhich one?”
    â€œThe left one, just above the elbow. I didn’t even see how it happened. I rolled away from a very heavy manwho was about to step on me. I remember a man with a cane looking at me before I fell, just before something stabbed at my arm. I think it might have been his cane. I wish I’d bitten his ankle.”
    The mental picture of Tess with her teeth in a man’s ankle amused Matt and he chuckled softly.
    â€œHere, open the door for me, can you?” he asked, lowering her.
    She turned the crystal knob with her good hand and pushed the door open, trying not to notice the faint scent of his cologne and the warm sigh of his breath close to her lips. Matt shouldered into the room and carried her to her bed. He put her down very gently on the quilt that covered the white-enameled iron bedstead.
    Wary of Mrs.