“Have you brought news? Has Lady Persephone been tainted by her association with the Duke of Wyndmere?”
He kept walking toward her, not answering, so she asked another question. “Was your hired man able to exact revenge on the duke and his brother?”
Hollingford stopped abruptly before the crimson settee where Lady Hampton lounged. The fit of the snug pure white satin dressing gown was designed to leave little to his imagination.
Their gazes locked as he leaned down and grasped the tie to her dressing gown, sliding it slowly through the loops. He eased her onto her back and stared down at the delectable feast he was about to partake of. “Quincy will be waiting outside the duke’s town house. He will not fail me.”
Her sharply indrawn breath alerted him to the fact that he had her full attention, but she surprised him by biting down on her lip and demanding, “What of Lady Persephone?”
“I want to see her destroyed for her looks—her coloring was so like that of my unfaithful wife. Why is it that you want to see her disgraced?”
“She caught the duke’s attention, at his first appearance as the Sixth Duke of Wyndmere.”
“I’m sure there were others who did as well,” he replied, trailing the tip of his finger along her collarbone.
Her eyes narrowed. “A bluestocking! Wearing spectacles and a dreadful gown. How could she attract the attention of Wyndmere?”
“Ah, so it is her connection to the duke and nothing more?”
She closed her eyes and rasped, “She didn’t have to do a thing to attract his attention. I had to plot and plan to attract his older brother’s attention.”
She opened her eyes and lifted her hand to him, practically purring, “Isn’t there something else you’d rather do than talk about that chit?”
His nostrils flared as he took her hand. “As a matter of fact, there is,” he said, removing his frockcoat.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jared was alone in his study when he heard the commotion at the front door. Rising, he made his way to the source of the trouble.
“What the devil happened to you?” he demanded of his brother.
Edward didn’t answer right away, and Jared sighed. “Jenkins, fetch Stames and Mrs. Wigglesworth.”
“At once, Your Grace.”
“Have them come to my study.” When his butler left to do his bidding, Jared walked with his brother down the long hallway.
Edward nodded, grateful to finally be able to sit down after the pummeling he’d given and received in front of his family’s town house.
“Out with it before our well-intentioned servants arrive to fuss over you,” he said, not wanting to admit he was more than a bit worried by the look of Edward’s left eye. He poured a healthy glass of brandy and held it out to his brother.
His brother accepted the glass, took a healthy swig, and sighed. Then he proceeded to tell Jared of the conversation he’d overheard at White’s and his gut instinct to follow the gentleman. “Not sure, but I think his name was Hollingford.”
“Viscount Hollingford?”
“You know of him?” Edward stared at his brother. “I can tell by your expression you do.”
Jared nodded and Edward told of the hackney he’d hired and the modest home he followed the man to, including the part where the gentleman had apparently been satisfying more than one need during his visit.
When his brother finished, Jared tossed back a glass of whiskey and spoke of the note he’d received, going to his desk drawer to show it to him.
“Lady H.? A bit mysterious isn’t it?”
Jared agreed. “Our intrepid footman, O’Malley—”
“Devil take it, which one? We have more than a few working for you,” his brother complained.
“Patrick may have followed a gentleman to the very same address.”
“Coincidence?”
“I do not particularly believe in them,” Jared said. “I think we need to—”
The knock on the door interrupted him.
“Pardon the interruption, Your Grace,” Jenkins said. “Stames and Mrs. Wigglesworth to attend his lordship.”
“I’ll leave you in their capable hands,” Jared said.
“Patrick and his cousins went with the ruffian who jumped me as I was exiting the hack,” Edward said.
“We’ll discuss this later,” his brother reminded him. “Let Stames and Mrs. Wigglesworth see to your injuries. I believe I’ll send for Dr. McIntyre to relieve the swelling over your eye.”
“I’ll send a messenger around to Dr. McIntyre at once, Your Grace,” Jenkins offered.
“Send whichever of the O’Malleys did not accompany the watchman to the constable.”
“At once, Your Grace,” Jenkins said. “Loyal men,” he continued. “They have added considerably and competently to your household staff and your personal guard, Your Grace.”
The duke met the older man’s gaze. “As was my intention from the beginning,” he said. “Although I had no idea they’d be called to fend off an attack on my brother.”
“Shady business, that,” Jenkins said. “I’ll send O’Malley to summon Dr. McIntyre at once.”
“Thank you, Jenkins.”
Alone with his thoughts, Jared paced in the hallway, worry for his brother and their situation plaguing his thoughts. He knew the two incidents were connected: the message from Lady H. and the attack on his brother right in front of their home. If the O’Malleys hadn’t been watching his town house from the alleyway on either side…pushing that dark thought aside, he reminded himself that they had and his brother wasn’t as seriously injured as he may otherwise have been.
Time and worry for his family weighed heavy on his hands until O’Malley returned with Dr. McIntyre in tow.
“You’re looking remarkably well, Your Grace.”
The doctor’s comment had Jared shaking his head. “We both knew my nose would heal and the bruises would fade.”
“Better to ensure no damage to Your Grace’s brainbox,” McIntyre reminded him. “But O’Malley here tells me your brother was attacked right out front.”
Jared nodded. “He’s in my study. Stames and Mrs. Wigglesworth are attending to his more superficial injuries, but the swelling over his left eye worries me.”
“Lead the way.”
They entered Jared’s study as Edward was grousing about having to put up with one of Mrs. Wigglesworth’s nasty-smelling poultices.
“Quite familiar with them,” Dr. McIntyre intoned, “as I gave her the medicinal herbs to have on hand should either of you require such a remedy.”
“Recently?”
The good doctor motioned for Edward to remove the poultice while he examined the wound. “Hmm…yes, and during your father’s time as duke,” he said quietly.
“Father had need of it?” Jared asked.
Their physician nodded. “On more than one occasion,” the doctor answered as he motioned for Jared’s brother to reapply the poultice. “I did not detect any fractures along your cheekbone or eye socket.”
“Will I have to repair to my bedchamber as long as my brother?”
Jared sighed. “However long it takes to recover. We cannot allow—”
Edward groaned. “I know. I was the one to remind you of that very thing. Society would be more than ready to pass on another on dit about the new duke and his family’s propensity for fighting.”
“I will leave a bottle of laudanum for the pain,” the doctor said. “Do not take it for a full twenty-four hours…this time tomorrow night.”
“My head is fine,” Edward told him.
“And it is my considered opinion if you do not heed my instructions, you run the risk of keeling over dead.”
Edward lifted the poultice away from his eye to stare at Dr. McIntyre. “Very well. Tomorrow and not before.”
“Excellent.”
“Now about another brandy…” Edward began.
“Another?”
“His eye was not as swol
len when I gave him that first liberal dose,” Jared explained. Had he possibly increased his brother’s risk of permanent damage to his brainbox?
“About that brandy…”
“No,” Jared said.
“Out of the question,” Dr. McIntyre said at the same time.
“I’m thirsty,” he complained.
“Broth to start,” the physician instructed. “Same invalid diet as I prescribed for your brother.”
Edward swore and Jared felt immediate sympathy for him. “It’s not bad once you get used to it.”
His brother’s response was not fit for polite company, but Jared could not fault him, as he more than agreed.
“I shall take my leave,” Dr. McIntyre said. “Send for me if our patient’s condition changes or fever sets in.”
“You have my word,” Jared said. “I’ll see you to the door. Jenkins can keep an eye on my brother until I return.”
When they were alone in the hallway, Jared asked, “Is there anything else I need to know? Any serious complications I should watch for?” Worry for his younger brother filled him. He’d lost so much already, their mother when he was but ten years old, his father a few years ago and Oliver just last year.
“I would not have kept the truth from our patient, that was part of the reason your father and I got on so well. Neither one of us was given to half-truths or subterfuge.”
He was about to ask if Jenkins had relieved the doctor of his walking stick when his butler appeared at his elbow. “Stames is standing watch over his lordship. I sent word around to chase down your coachman, Doctor, in the event he had to walk your horses to keep them from becoming restive.”
“Thank you, Jenkins.”
“Your hat,” he handed the beaver top hat, gloves and walking stick to the doctor and showed him to the door.
Instead of returning to his study, Jared stepped outside with the doctor, scanning the street up and down for signs of anyone lurking in the shadows. “The way seems clear. Have a care tonight, Dr. McIntyre,” Jared warned. “I wouldn’t want you to be on the receiving end of what Edward suffered this evening.”
“Thank you for your concern, Your Grace. Your do your father proud.” His carriage arrived and Jared watched until the doctor was safely ensconced and his carriage rumbling down the street toward his home.
“Visitor, Yer Grace?” Patrick asked from behind him.
“Do you always come up on a man’s blind side?” Jared demanded.
Patrick nodded. “When it suits the occasion. Tonight, aye.”
Jared shook his head. “Cheeky.”
“That I am…well, accordin’ to me sainted mother. Was that yer physician?” Patrick asked.
Jared nodded. “The injury to my brother’s eye needed attention.”
Patrick walked with his employer to the door, held it open for him and was about to close it.
“Where the devil are you going?” Jared demanded.
His footman shrugged. “The servants’ entrance.”
“Bloody hell! I need to speak with you. Follow me.”
“Aye, Yer Grace.”
When they were inside, he asked, “Where are the others?”
“Obliged to stay a bit longer, needin’ to help subdue the man who attacked his lordship from behind.”
“Thank you for coming straightaway. I need to hear what you learned.”
Patrick hesitated as they walked toward the duke’s study. “Will ye be wantin’ to hear what I discovered first, and then pass the information on to yer brother?”
Jared paused for a moment but declined. “He deserves to hear whatever news you have to impart.”
“Aye, Yer Grace.”
He opened the door and waited for Jared to enter the room. O’Malley had never given him reason to question his actions or his service. He was relieved the O’Malleys were now part of his personal guard, watching over his brother and, soon, his sister. It eased some of the tension building at the base of his neck.
He rubbed at the knot forming there. “How do you feel?”
Edward rumbled a rude reply that had Patrick chuckling, but quickly stifling his laughter. “I beg yer pardon, yer lordship. I meant no offense.”
“None taken,” Edward reassured him. “What news?”
Patrick looked at the duke for permission to begin. Jared nodded and Patrick told of the burly man who’d attacked Earl Lippincott as he’d stepped out of the hackney. “The constable appeared to be well acquainted with the man. Me cousins and I were wonderin’ if ye’d be wantin’ to speak to the constable yerself.”
“I see,” and Jared did. Someone had obviously hired the thug with malice aforethought.
“The man’s name is Quincy,” Patrick supplied. “Ned Quincy.”
“Is that all the constable told you?” Edward asked, rising from his seat by the fire, only to sit back down at a direct look from his brother.
“Doctor’s orders,” Jared reminded him. “Either that or complete bedrest, as I had to do.”
Edward shifted on the chair but stayed put. “Well?”
“The constable has a long list of charges against Quincy,” Patrick told him. “A number involvin’ robberies. Half a dozen claims of beatin’s and stabbin’s.”
“Why hasn’t the man been brought to justice?” Jared demanded.
Patrick’s jaw clenched before he composed himself to answer, “The constable mentioned Viscount Hollingford sendin’ his man-of-affairs around with money. Payin’ for damages. Usually there is no other reason to hold the man.”
“Hollingford?” Jared was incredulous. “And the battery charges?”
“No proof, Yer Grace,” Patrick told him. “’Tis one man’s word against another.”
“I’ll not have my word questioned,” Edward claimed, rising to his feet. “Shall I accompany you to see the constable, Patrick?”
Jared motioned for his brother to sit again and waited for him to do so before saying, “We should send word to father’s contact on Bow Street.”
Patrick smiled. “The Runners’ll be gettin’ to the bottom of the matter.”
Jared agreed and sat behind his desk, dipped his quill in the inkwell and hastily scribbled a note. “Please deliver this message to Gavin King.”
Patrick eyes widened at the name.
“You know of him?” Jared inquired.
“Aye, me previous employer had a delicate matter he needed investigated.”
“I see,” Jared said.
“Aye. Thorough, discrete and nary a word spoken about his assignments. Has integrity and is honest as the day is long. Good man to know.”
“Our father always thought so,” Jared told him. “If he is not there, ask for his direction, but please deliver the message tonight.”
“Aye, Yer Grace. Ye can count on me.”
“I do,” he reassured the man.
Patrick paused in the doorway, asking, “Shall I report back whether or not I had a chance to speak to King?”
“Yes,” the duke responded, “no matter the hour.”
“Aye.”
The door closed quietly behind him and Edward blew out a breath. “Our luck was running high the day Oliver hired Patrick away from that clutch-fisted old baron, Rochester.”
“And again, when I heard his cousin was involved in the Chellenham indiscretion.”
“Bold move to hire them all,” Edward said. “Would that have anything to do with Lady Persephone’s involvement in the matter?”
“None whatsoever,” Jared said without missing a beat.
Edward met his brother’s gaze and let his eyes slide away toward the fire. “I thought not.”
“Shall I ring for Jenkins to help you to your bedchamber?”
“I’m not that unsteady on my feet, Brother.”
“Walk with me,” Jared told him. “I’ll see you settled, but you’re going to have to agree to either Stames or your valet keeping watch over you while you sleep.”
“Is that really necessar
y?” Edward grumbled as they slowly made their way to the main staircase.
“Absolutely, or I shall summon the good doctor advising him of a relapse and you will be ordered to a fortnight of bedrest.”
Edward met him glare for glare and was the first to look away. “Bloody hell!”
“Indeed.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The duke had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d spent the night worrying about his brother—checking in on him throughout the night—and wondering how Viscount Hollingford’s involvement was tied into the threat he’d received from Lady H., who they now knew was Lady Hampton—the same lady his older brother had been with the night he’d been murdered.
The bold attack right outside their front door had him realizing they needed more than just the addition of his personal guard hired on in the form of the fighting O’Malleys. He needed information. Specifically, how close the connection between the lady and the viscount was. Could the two have consorted with one another coming up with a plan to discredit him and cause grievous injury to his brother? Had one or both been behind the rumor of Lady Persephone in the Chellenham indiscretion and thwarted attack on her person?
His tired mind wandered back to the message from Lady H. Would she contact him again? He had been circumspect in all things…well except for the debacle at Gentleman Jackson’s. He hadn’t had the time for anything save for the setting up of his household in London when he assumed the mantle of the duke. That had included three men he trusted, Clayton and Carlton Roxbury, his solicitors, and Captain Gordon Coventry, his good friend and man-of-affairs.
There was a man he trusted implicitly. As such, Coventry had helped him form the personal guard who had taken on the task of protecting his family, routing out the identity of last night’s attacker, and the threatening message from an unknown lady. Although, what serious threat could there be if he had not done anything of a perfidious nature? He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had the pleasure of raising a pint at the tavern in Wyndmere and appraised the charms of one of his favorite serving wenches.
Mending the Duke’s Pride Page 19