by Vikki Vaught
He pointed toward the fireplace, where wadded pieces of foolscap littered the hearth. “As you can see…at least a dozen times. Yet, I still can’t put into words what I want to say. I’m either ranting at her for having so little faith in me, or begging her to forgive me for something I didn’t have any control over.” Remembering what Renwick had told him his sister had written, he perked up. “Do you think my wife may be regretting her decision to leave without talking to me?”
Renwick raised a brow. “She may well be. You have it bad, don’t you? God’s teeth…don’t ever let me fall in love.”
“It can take you to the heights of ecstasy, my friend…and then send you into the pits of hell, but I would not give up a moment of loving Kathleen. She’s worth it.” Determination filled him. “I must find a way to get through to her. Our future happiness depends upon it.”
“That’s more like the man I know,” he said. “Rouse yourself from your doldrums and get dressed. No offense intended, you look like hell and smell even worse. Come, we’ll go to a new gaming hell that recently opened. I’m supposed to meet Effinger there at nine o’clock. I promised to bring you with me. It will do you good to go out for the evening. It may clear your head, then you can pen that much-needed letter to your wife.”
Andrew glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Give me an hour to bathe and dress, and I shall go with you. Possibly you’re right, if I get out of here and spend some time with you, the words I need will come to me.”
Seeing Kathleen’s image in his mind, his breath caught in his chest. He had to see her. No more waiting for her to come to her senses.
“In fact, I’ve made up my mind. She’s had enough time to come to terms with this debacle. I’m going home tomorrow, and I shall tell her face to face.”
She will listen to me. He would insist she give him a chance to explain and would not leave her side until she did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After he bathed and had Ensley give him a shave, he dressed and joined Renwick downstairs, feeling like a different man. They set out for the gaming hell and met with their friend. The tables were in his favor, and soon he had a pile of coins in front of him. Even Effinger was winning tonight. While Renwick also had winnings piling up as well, he seemed more interested in the soiled dove sitting on his knee. Another female joined them and tried to entice Andrew. When he didn’t pay her any attention, she turned to Effinger.
He pushed back from the table and gathered his winnings. “Well, gentlemen, this has been an enjoyable evening. However, since I shall be traveling to my estate at first light, I think I will call it a night.” Knowing his friends wanted to go upstairs for some bed sport, he told them, “Don’t let me take you away from your entertainment. I shall find a hackney to take me home.”
Renwick grinned. “Very good, my friend. I shall see you next week when I return to my holdings. I wish you an uneventful journey back to Dorset.”
“Yes, Billingsley, have a safe trip,” Effinger added. “I’ll see you in the fall when you return for the little season. Please give your lovely wife my regards.”
“I shall. Gentlemen, goodnight.” Then with a purposeful stride, he walked from the room.
He made his way outside but could not find a hackney. Since it was a clear, warm night, and not too far from his residence, he turned in the direction of his townhouse.
He felt much better, now that he had decided to go to Kathleen instead of patiently waiting for her to write. As he planned out what he would say to her, a thought slammed into him.
Good God. He had never told Kathleen he loved her. How could he have neglected that? Once he told her he had fallen in love with her, surely she would believe him when he explained what had actually occurred that night.
No longer aware of his surroundings, he set off at a brisk pace. He must be ready to leave at dawn. Now that he had a plan, he could not wait to set it in motion.
Lost in his thoughts, a man stepped from the alley and caught him off guard, brandishing a knife. Unease settled in the pit of his stomach.
He should have waited for a hackney. Here he was next to a dark alley with no one in sight, other than the vagrant standing in front of him, ready to accost him.
“Hand over yer winnin’s and ye won’t get hurt,” the man demanded in a gravelly tone.
The knot tightened in his gut.
He refused to give in to panic. Andrew sized up the man. They were close to the same height, but his attacker was brawnier. That might not help the villain though. Not when Andrew had speed and agility on his side, and his own dagger hidden in his boot.
He gave the man what he hoped was his most menacing stare, aiming at intimidation. “You need to think a moment before you take this any further. I refuse to give you a farthing.”
Jeering, his opponent said, “It’s on ye, Gov.”
The man rushed him. As Andrew moved to block his attacker, someone grabbed him from behind.
Struggling with the new assailant, he jabbed at him with his elbow and heard a grunt, but the man only tightened his hold.
Damn! He’d never sensed the other man.
One man, he could take, but not two.
Better to lose a few quid than his life.
The man waging the frontal attack, growled, “Ye shoulda ’anded over th’ blunt. Now, I’ll takes it all.”
Gooseflesh skidded across his arms, his stomach rolled. “You shall regret this, you blackguard!”
“I’ll see ye in hell before that happens. Pay fer yer error.”
Then he struck while his cohort held him tightly against his chest, driving the knife into his belly and giving it a jerk.
The blade tore through skin and muscle, striking bone. His stomach seized as blood poured from the wound. His body jerked from the terrible blow.
Oh, God. This can’t be happening!
At the last moment before consciousness slipped away, Kathleen’s beautiful face flashed through his mind, causing his heart to seize, as he whispered, “Sorry…my love.” Then all went black.
****
The day after Kathleen sent her letter to Andrew, she felt immeasurably better. While she was impatient for her husband’s return, she held hope that she was right in her summation that he didn’t betray her as she had originally thought. She went through her morning responsibilities with a smile on her face and spent a pleasant hour with Arianna. Since the weather had finally turned fair, she spent an hour riding, and then she took Rosebud out to the kennel. That way, she could see her mother and play with his brothers and sisters, and of course Silky had to come along.
The following afternoon, as she sat in the drawing room with her stitchery, while Silky played with a ball of yarn, Masters entered the drawing room and bowed. “Lady Billingsley, Lady Deborah is here to see you. Do you want me to send her in?”
“Certainly, Masters. Order a tea tray.”
“As you wish, my lady.” Then he turned and left the room, returning a few minutes later with her friend.
Kathleen stood with her hands outstretched as she entered. “Deborah, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you as well, Kathleen.” After Deborah squeezed her hand in return, she sat on the sofa beside her. “I must say you look decidedly better than when I visited last week. There’s a twinkle in your eyes I haven’t seen since that dreadful house party. Do tell me what has changed?”
“I wrote Andrew,” she explained, “asking him to come home. The other night, I realized my husband may not have been at fault. He is far from stupid; he would not schedule an assignation under my very nose. He was frantic when he came to your door that night, shouting that it wasn’t as it appeared. I at least should have given him a chance to explain.”
Deborah reached over and patted her hand. “That’s wonderful, Kathleen. I think you’ve made the right decision. In fact…never mind that now. You know…I’ve wondered that myself. Knowing how hateful that woman is, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d planne
d it. Come to think of it, why did you want to go to the conservatory that night?”
Why had she gone to the conservatory? Then she remembered. “A footman told me Andrew was there and that he was looking for me.”
“Oh, Kathleen,” she exclaimed. “That must be what happened. Lady Holcombe set you up. She probably told the footman to tell you that, then hastened there so you would catch them in that torrid embrace.”
“I believe you’re right. Ooh, that…that…strumpet!” She jumped up and began pacing. “Oh, no. He must hate me. I showed no trust in him at all. If I’d been the one in his position, I would have expected him to listen to me. But no…I let my anger and hurt blind me to such a degree, I may have alienated my husband’s affections.”
Deborah stood and hugged Kathleen, offering her comfort. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. He may be hurt, but he’s desperately in love with you. He would forgive you anything.”
Startled, Kathleen reared back. “You think Andrew’s in love with me?”
With a puzzled look on her face, her friend replied, “Of course he loves you. George told me he’s head over ears. He can’t talk of anything else. Oh, yes, Kathleen…he loves you. Never doubt that.”
Her stomach flip-flopped and her pulse raced. “I pray you’re right, because I’m hopelessly in love with him. I have been since the day of our wedding.”
“What do you mean the day of your wedding? I thought you fell in love back in April when you became engaged.” She inclined her head. “Kathleen?”
Embarrassed, she told Deborah the real story of how they ended up married to one another. When she finished, she said, “That’s why I don’t believe he loves me. How could he? We were forced into this marriage.”
“It may have started out that way, but all that has changed now. Oh, goodness, I just remembered why I came to see you today. I received a letter from George this morning, and I wanted to tell you what he wrote. Andrew has been so out of sorts; he hasn’t seen any of his friends. He’s kept the knocker down on his door and told the butler to turn everyone away. My brother wanted me to ask you to send for your husband.”
Kathleen’s heart dropped to her toes. It was her fault he felt dejected. If she’d trusted him, all this pain could have been avoided.
Oh, Lord, please let Deborah be right.
Please don’t let it be too late.
“I must go to him without delay.”
She rang for Masters. When he entered, she told him, “Order the carriage. I’m leaving for London as soon as I can pack.”
“Your Ladyship, I was on my way to you when you rang. A courier just arrived with an urgent message. I believe it’s from Lord Renwick. The letter bears his seal.”
She looked over at Deborah. “Why would your brother be writing me?”
“I have no idea. Open it and find out.”
Kathleen took the letter from Masters. She dropped to the sofa, and her hands shook as she broke the seal. A sense of impending doom settled in the pit of her stomach as she opened the letter and read.
Dear Lady Billingsley,
You are needed in London at once. Your husband was attacked last night while walking home from an establishment we had visited earlier in the evening. I blame myself, because he came with me. When he wanted to leave, I was otherwise engaged. He said he would take a hackney, but evidently he decided to walk. As I write this letter, the surgeon is trying to keep Billingsley alive. It does not look promising. Please come posthaste. He is delirious with fever, and he keeps calling for you. I am sorry to be the bearer of these awful tidings.
Your servant,
Renwick
She slumped against the cushions and for the first time in her life, fainted. She awoke to the scent of burning feathers. “What happened?”
Deborah massaged her icy fingers. “You passed out after you read your letter. I took the liberty of reading it. I couldn’t imagine what my brother had written that would make you faint. Oh, my dear, I’m sure he will recover. What can I do to help you in your time of great need?”
She pushed up to a sitting position. Her heart pounded so fast she feared it would leap from her chest. “Masters, have you ordered the carriage? I must leave immediately. Send for my maid.”
“I’m here, my lady,” Louise replied.
Fighting off waves of nausea, she ordered, “Quickly! Pack my valise. We leave as soon as I have seen Arianna.”
“Yes, my lady, right away.” And her maid rushed from the room.
She turned to Deborah. “Will you come by and check on Arianna while I’m gone? She’s teething, and I shall worry about her. I can’t take her with me. It would be too difficult.”
“I would be happy to. I shall come every day. Try not to worry, although I know you will. I’ll pray fervently for your husband’s speedy recovery. Well, I should leave you to your packing. Godspeed.” Then she hugged her and left.
As soon as Deborah departed, Kathleen raced upstairs to her room. With haste, she donned the carriage dress Louise had ready for her, then rushed to the nursery to give her darling daughter kisses and a hug. After she gave explicit instructions to Matilda, she hurried downstairs and out to the waiting carriage that would take her to her husband.
After traveling well into the night, she had her driver break their journey, but she could not settle. Fear gripped her heart. She tossed and turned amidst the tangled sheets. Her dreams were filled with visions of Andrew lying at death’s door and calling for her.
The next day, it took all her endurance to maintain a calm demeanor in front of her maid. Thoughts of Andrew dying raced through her mind. She had to get there, but the time crept by, even though the coachman made sure they traversed as swiftly as possible. However, no matter how fast they traveled, it was still too slow for her. Every clip-clop of the horses’ hoofs drilled into her, escalating her fear that she would not reach her husband in time.
That night, when they stopped at a coaching inn for a few hours—even though exhausted beyond anything she had ever experienced before—she could not find any respite. Her heart galloped at an alarming pace whenever she thought of Andrew.
Oh, please dear Lord, let me arrive in time.
Keep him safe and let him live!
Finally, from sheer exhaustion, she fell into a troubled sleep. Dawn came early, and she awoke feeling wearier than the day before. When she tried to break her fast, her stomach rolled and knotted until she cast up her accounts. After she bathed her face with cool water, her maid helped her don her dark blue traveling gown. Then she went outside to endure another day of countless hours bouncing around in the carriage, her fear growing as every mile went by.
A constant litany for Andrew’s survival played itself over and over again in her mind as she traveled each never ending mile of the journey. As day turned to night, she began to think she would never reach London. Finally, out of the coach’s windows, she saw the outskirts of town. Soon, she would find out her husband’s fate.
Oh, please, please let him be alive.
As soon as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the townhouse, Renwick stepped outside, then came down the steps and assisted her out. “Thank God, you’ve come.”
“How’s my husband?” she asked, her heart filling her throat to the point she feared she would strangle.
As Renwick led her inside the house, he told her, “He’s still delirious and calling your name whenever he’s awake. We’ve had to tie him to the bed to keep him from re-opening his wound. While his fever hasn’t broken, it’s not gotten worse, thank the good Lord. The surgeon comes twice a day to change the bandages. He’s with Billingsley now. I’ll take you to him.”
Kathleen’s pulse pounded with each footfall on the stairs, one step after the other, filling her with so much anxiety that it captured her breath. When they reached the landing and turned toward her husband’s room, her knees trembled so badly she stumbled, and Renwick grabbed her elbow to keep her from falling.
“Are you all
right?” he asked.
She stiffened her spine. She would not give in to the terror. “I’m fine, just anxious to see my husband. Please, lead the way.”
Finally, they reached Andrew’s door and Renwick opened it, then stepped back. Candlelight bathed the room, and an oil lamp glowed beside the bed. It cast light upon him as he lay sleeping with his arms and legs tied to the bedposts. To see him like that sent a searing pain straight to her heart.
Oh, my poor husband!
To be brought so low.
The surgeon turned toward her. “You must be Lady Billingsley. I’m Harold Sanders, your husband’s surgeon. His lordship is resting as comfortably as can be expected under the circumstances.”
“Must he be restrained? It must be awfully uncomfortable for him. Has he been sleeping long?” she asked, doing her best to keep her tone even and her face calm. Giving in to panic would not benefit Andrew.
The surgeon replied, “After I gave him his last dose of laudanum and changed his bandage, he fell asleep. That was an hour ago. I know it’s distressing to see your husband tied up, but at times he thrashes around too much, and I fear he’ll tear his wound open.”
“Since he is feverish, does that mean his wound has become infected?”
The surgeon’s gaze filled with compassion as he answered her. “It is, and I greatly fear it has gotten worse. It still looked swollen and red when I changed the bandage. We shall keep a close eye on it until the infection leaves his body. If the fever abates, and the wound is no longer red and inflamed, then he will be on the road to recovery. Thank God the knife missed your husband’s vital organs, or he would have died, especially if his entrails had been cut. The knife barely missed them.”
“I thank the good Lord it did.” For the first time since she’d read the letter, her heart slowed a bit, no longer beating a tap-tap-tap against the walls of her chest. A flicker of hope filled her soul. “What can I do to speed my husband’s recovery?”