by Buck, Gayle
Chapter Twenty-three
Lord Cardiff did not waste time on the road. He directed his servants to return to the small inn where he had first met Miss Stafford. He hoped that his valet was still to be found there and was relieved to find the manservant still in residence. He had half feared that Potter might have attempted to hare off in pursuit of his employer.
The stout innkeeper was delighted to receive Lord Cardiff. His broad face creased in a wide smile. “My lord! I am that glad to see you hale and hearty, as it were.”
“Thank you! And my man, Potter?” asked Cardiff, beginning to pull off his gloves.
“Upstairs, my lord. I shall take you to him at once.” The innkeeper immediately led Lord Cardiff up to the bedchamber, keeping up a running commentary. “I did all that you requested, my lord. The physician was brought, and after poking and prodding a bit, was very encouraging. Your man is still weak as a cat but a game ‘un. If he hadn’t felt so dizzied whenever he tried to lift his head, I am certain he would have chased after to save you from those blackguards.”
“That sounds like Potter.” Cardiff swept into the parlor and strode across it to the bedchamber. He entered the bedchamber to discover his valet lying in the bed.
Lord Cardiff’s voice had carried and upon hearing it, the valet had tried to raise himself and there was a strained expression on his face as he stared anxiously toward the door. When his lordship stepped across the threshold, the manservant heaved a huge sigh. “My lord!”
Cardiff stepped quickly forward to the bedside and firmly pressed down on the valet’s shoulder. “No, don’t get up. Potter! You look like death warmed over, man.”
The valet gave the ghost of a laugh and subsided on the pillow. A formidable sticking plaster decorated one side of his head. His face was unnaturally wan. “Yes, my lord. I may rest easy now.”
Cardiff thoughtfully regarded the valet. There was some color coming into the manservant’s face, and the haunted expression that he saw when he first entered the bedchamber had vanished from the valet’s eyes. “When you are well enough to travel, Potter, I shall have you conveyed directly back to London. I think you will recover faster in our own lodging.”
“I shall recover faster now that I know you are safe, my lord,” said Potter simply.
Cardiff once more squeezed the valet’s shoulder. “You’ve fret yourself into flinders, fool that you are,” he said with rough affection. He conveyed more than mere words with his gesture, and the valet obviously understood since the man gave the slightest of nods. It had been a heroic act on Potter’s part to intercede on Cardiff’s behalf, and his lordship would not forget, it.
“I shall be ready to leave this place as soon as may be, if that is your lordship’s desire,” said the valet, intensity in his eyes and his voice.
Cardiff understood that his manservant would not willingly remain behind while he himself continued to London. At once he made the decision to carry the valet back with him, even though it meant a slower pace than he would normally set. “Very well, Potter.” He turned to the waiting innkeeper. “I shall have luncheon before I leave. At that time I shall pay you whatever I owe for taking care of my valet.”
“Aye, m’lord.” The innkeeper bowed and left.
The valet sighed and closed his eyes. His former tight expression had relaxed, and even as Lord Cardiff stood watching, he slept deeply.
Cardiff quietly left the bedchamber, a frown on his face. He went downstairs and had a word with his coachman before returning to the parlor for his luncheon.
The innkeeper served Lord Cardiff himself, counting it as his privilege. The man told Lord Cardiff about how the constable had come and a complaint had been lodged against the Staffords by himself and by the valet. “Your man looked almost done to death, and the constable took it very seriously indeed, m’lord.”
Cardiff listened with knit brows. It seemed his departure would be delayed yet a while until he could see the constable. He had promised Miss Stafford that her brothers would not suffer through the law for their ill-advised actions.
Cardiff therefore sent for the constable, and when the man was ushered upstairs he talked with him for several minutes in private. The constable consequently left, feeling dubious and mystified by his lordship’s wishes. It was not in his honest character to allow such lawlessness to go unpunished. However, he had no choice except to comply since his lordship had withdrawn all charges.
When the valet wakened and was informed by Lord Cardiff of his lordship’s decision, he remonstrated as strenuously as he was able with his master. “I wish you hadn’t, my lord. I would like to see those ruffians clapped in gaol.”
“If they had broken my head, I might have felt just the same as you do,” said Cardiff with sympathy.
“But my lord!”
“Content yourself with my safe return, Potter,” said Cardiff firmly. “I made a promise to a lady. Now let us see about getting you out of that bed and down to the carriage.”
The valet recognized that the subject was closed, and though he was reluctant to let it go, he did so without any further protest. It was almost more than he could do to stand up without feeling himself to be reeling and he clutched the bedpost for support.
“Now let our good innkeeper here lend you a strong arm. It is time to be off,” said Cardiff cheerfully. Well aware that it would have both scandalized his valet and injured the manservant’s pride if he were to offer his own help, he had enlisted the aid of the stocky innkeeper to guide the valet’s tottering steps.
“Yes, my lord,” said Potter meekly.
Their progress downstairs and through the inn was necessarily slow since the valet could not force himself to move at more than a snail’s pace.
When the trio reached the carriage, the valet’s appearance was met with shocked expressions by Lord Cardiff’s other servants. “Mr. Potter!” exclaimed the groom. “Ye’re all knocked up.”
“I’ll have none of your sauce, my lad,” said Potter with a faint assumption of his old authority.
“O’ course not, Mr. Potter,” said the groom hastily.
“ ‘ere, Mr. Potter, let me help ye,” urged John Coachman.
The valet consented and the coachman solicitously took the manservant’s weight from the innkeeper and helped Potter up into the carriage.
Cardiff settled his account with the innkeeper, which left his purse very much lighter. He also got up into the carriage. He had himself packed all of his belongings which had been left at the inn when he was kidnapped, and a waiter had already carried out the baggage to be loaded onto the carriage. Satisfied that he had seen to everything, Cardiff gave his coachman the order for London. As he sat back against the squabs, he remarked, “We are back at the point from which we started, Potter.”
“I am more glad than I can say, my lord,” said Potter wanly. The valet closed his eyes against the movement of the carriage.
Cardiff was left to his own reflections, and they were many and varied. A smile never quite left his face as he recalled the details of the last very strange days. He believed it had been the most bizarre episode of his life, and he already had many strange experiences to his credit.
Lord Cardiff’s own team had been recovered and now drew the carriage with steady gait towards London. The journey to the metropolis was swiftly accomplished by evening, despite being made at a slower pace than was his lordship’s usual habit, since the cold had frozen the roads to iron and there was no more snow or damp to turn what was already on the ground to slush.
Arriving at his lodgings, Cardiff gave orders for the care of his valet. His manservant naturally protested that he should at once resume his former duties, but Cardiff was firm in rejecting Potter’s services. He managed to change his attire and went out to a hotel frequented by the soldiery, where he could be assured of a decent meal and perhaps fall into convivial company.
The clientele was sparse that evening, but Cardiff recognized a couple of gentlemen, soldiers like himse
lf, and he was invited to join them. A game of cards was proposed and another gentleman was pressed to make a fourth.
“By the by, Cardiff, I heard there was someone looking for you,” remarked one of the gentlemen.
“Oh? Did you hear who it was?” asked Cardiff, laying down a card. His curiosity was vaguely stirred since there were none who yet knew that he had returned to London.
The gentleman shook his head, frowning over his own discard. “No, unfortunately. However, I daresay whoever it is will catch up with you now that you are in town.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Cardiff, dismissing the remark from his mind.
Cardiff made an early night of it, saying good night to his acquaintances, and returned to his lodgings where he swiftly dropped into sleep.
When he presented himself at Whitehall the following morning, he was greeted with mild curiosity because of the few days’ delay in his return to the metropolis. Cardiff turned aside the queries with a laughing allusion to carriage trouble on the road. Recalling the chance remark from the night before, he asked if there were any messages for him, but there were none. He shrugged and decided to forget about it. If there was indeed someone looking for him, the word would eventually get around to him.
His report was well received and Cardiff left Whitehall, free to pursue his plans either to drive down to Armouth to visit his parents or perhaps to make arrangements for his return to the army in Spain.
When it came right down to it, Cardiff felt a strange reluctance to leave England. He did not know whether it was mere whimsy on his part or because he had a dislike for the discomfort that the crossing to Spain in the gathering winter weather would entail. In any event, he decided it would be the height of selfishness on his part to expect his valet to endure a rough sea crossing until poor Potter was more fully recovered from his concussion. He could leave the valet behind, of course, but Cardiff at once dismissed that option. He had done too long without his manservant already. He was not going to extend the inconvenience for weeks more.
The decision made, Cardiff returned to his lodgings and gave orders for preparations to be made for a filial visit to his parents at Armouth.
Potter insisted upon accompanying his lordship, and not all of Lord Cardiff’s firmly stated wishes otherwise could sway the valet. “I am sorry to disobey you, my lord, but I cannot and will not let you depart to Armouth without me,” said the valet. “I have my reputation to think of, and I would be ashamed if you were to sit down at their graces’ table in all your dirt.”
“For the last time, Potter, I have no intention of sitting down in my dirt,” said Cardiff, becoming almost impatient with his manservant. “These histrionics are not necessary, believe me. Why, you are still scarcely able to stand upright without staggering.”
“My lord, pray do not deny me,” said Potter in a low voice. “I failed you horribly just days ago. I cannot bear to do so again.”
There was a short silence as Cardiff realized that to his manservant, more was at stake than professional reputation. “Potter, you did not fail me. You did as much as any man could in the circumstances. I have never voiced it, but my thanks are in order for your fearless action,” he said.
The valet flushed. “Thank you, my lord.”
Cardiff made a show of rotating his right shoulder. “Do you know, my shoulder is still a bit stiff. I have had the devil’s own time getting into my coats since I have been without you. Have you the recipe for a hot poultice? Perhaps at Armouth it will do me good for you to quack me.”
The valet at once assured his lordship that he knew of the very thing to relieve the stiffness. He bustled around with almost his old energy in packing for the journey.
Cardiff shrugged, a grin of self-derision on his face. He was patently too softhearted for his own good. Now he would have his manservant insisting upon coddling him, the one thing that he most disliked. However, it was a small sacrifice if it would serve to restore Potter’s fallen sense of self-worth.
Lord Cardiff’s porter came upstairs to announce a visitor and stood aside for the extremely tall and large gentleman to pass him into the room. Cardiff was surprised by the identity of his visitor and he instantly went forward, his hand held out. “Lord Henry! I did not expect to see you in London!”
Lord Henry Cummings laughed as he warmly clasped his host’s hand. “No, and I did not expect to be in London. I came up a couple of days ago and thought to inquire for you, but you had not yet arrived. I escorted my aunt, Lady Mackleby, and Miss Paige, wishing to satisfy myself that the ladies were well settled.”
“No doubt you wished to place an advertisement of your engagement to Miss Paige in the Gazette at the same time?” asked Cardiff with a smile. He lifted a decanter with an inquiring glance, and at his guest’s nod, he poured out a measure of brandy for each of them. He handed the glass to Lord Cummings.
Lord Cummings laughed again, taking the wineglass. He sat down in a wing chair at Lord Cardiff’s invitation, throwing one knee over the other. “That, too,” he agreed. “Lady Mackleby will see that Dru is established socially, but I wish it known that she is already spoken for. By the by, my sister sends her regards. You left Chester before it was announced, but Chastity and Jeffrey Halston have become betrothed, as well.”
“Miss Cummings?” Cardiff had difficulty bringing the lady’s charming countenance into focus. It surprised him because he remembered that not many days past he had believed he would remember her face for a very long time. Now he could scarcely recall the color of the lady’s eyes or the shape of her profile. “Why, this is good news, to be sure! A toast in honor of the happy couple, my lord!”
Lord Henry agreed to it and they drank together. There were several minutes of companionable conversation and the wineglasses were refilled a few times. Finally, Lord Henry set down the emptied wineglass. “I will not keep you any longer, for your porter informed me that you will be shortly setting out for Armouth. I take it that you will not be returning directly to Spain?”
Cardiff shook his head. “It was my original intention, as you know, to rejoin the army as soon as possible. However, I have changed my mind. I find it strangely difficult to leave England.”
“Perhaps you have found something that holds you here in our dear England,” said Lord Cummings, smiling, as he rose to his great height. He easily stood well above six feet tall and so he was several inches taller than Lord Cardiff. He held out his hand to his host, who had also risen. “I shall miss you, David. Pray keep yourself safe over there.”
Cardiff grinned. “I shall miss you, too, Henry. I promise you, I will not take too many unnecessary chances.”
The gentlemen shook hands warmly. Then Lord Henry left. His friend’s leave-taking left Cardiff with a vague feeling of letdown. He frowned over it, playing over in his mind Lord Henry’s visit. The news of Miss Cumming’s engagement had been surprising, but not unpleasantly so. In fact, it had scarcely registered with him. What had touched him with far greater impact was Lord Henry’s casual reference to something about England holding him.
All at once, Miss Stafford’s laughing face rose before his mind’s eye and a revelation blindsided him. Lord Cardiff drew in his breath in true amazement. He had fallen in love with the lady.
Everything fell into place. His reluctance to leave England was instantly made plain. “I cannot leave, not without seeing her and letting her know,” he murmured to himself.
“My lord?”
Cardiff turned swiftly. His valet had come into the room and had paused, regarding him with inquiry. “Potter! I am glad you came in. I have decided we are not going to Armouth after all.”
“Very good, my lord. I assume we shall embark for Spain as soon as a suitable passage can be found,” said the valet.
Cardiff grinned. “No, we are not. We are leaving London at once on a visit to new acquaintances of mine, the Owens.”
The valet was somewhat startled. “As you wish, my lord. Are the Owens expecting you, my lord?”<
br />
Cardiff laughed. There was a glint in his eyes. “No, they are not! However, I hope that they will not turn me out of doors.”
“No, my lord, let us hope not indeed,” said Potter repressively.
Chapter Twenty-four
Cardiff left London that same day. His valet traveled with him inside the carriage, and his baggage was strapped on behind. His coachman had muttered to himself and shaken his head when he was told their destination, but it was not for him to remonstrate with his lordship.
The carriage made good time. The bad weather had cleared, leaving cold and hard-frozen roads that allowed speed. Cardiff optimistically estimated that he would arrive at the Owen manor shortly after dusk.
Of a sudden there was an ominous crack. The carriage shuddered and lurched to a jolting stop, going over on one side. The vehicle was canted at such a sharp angle that Lord Cardiff and his valet had to climb out of the door.
Cardiff leaped lightly down to the frozen roadway. “What’s the damage, John?”
The coachman shook his head. “It’s the worst it could be, my lord.” He reported that an axle had splintered and broken in two. “It will take hours to walk to the last village and have a new one brought up, my lord.”
Cardiff swore, pithily and comprehensively. The coachman and valet regarded him with sympathy.
A carriage swept down the road towards the scene of the accident. Its horses were drawn up opposite Lord Cardiff’s ruined vehicle. A window was let down. “May we be of service, sir?”
Lord Cardiff, who had half turned at the carriage’s approach, now turned sharply around. Surely he knew that voice, he thought in disbelief. “Mr. Owen?”
An exclamation, followed by a flurry of talk, was shut off with the closing of the window. The carriage door was flung open. Mr. Owen carefully descended, and behind him appeared the curious faces of his wife and his niece. He closed the door behind him.