Lightning Strikes Twice (The Heart of a Hero Book 4)

by Jillian Chantal

  “I confess, I was worrying about that very thing. Thank you for putting my mind at ease. If you’re sure Cook’s meal isn’t the culprit, I won’t take her to task.”

  “Please don’t. She is a fine cook and the food was delicious.” Guilt flooded Laurence. He didn’t want the woman to be in a bad situation with the lady of the house casting blame for his condition on the poor cook who had no way of knowing Laurence wasn’t being honest about it.

  He stopped close to the front door. “Promise me you won’t discipline your cook. She had no way of knowing what a sensitive guest you had at table.” He glanced around at the man of this house and their daughter. “After all, no one else had any ill effects from the meal so you see, it was all on me.”

  “When you put it that way, Mr. Fortescue, how can I blame Cook?” Mrs. Hale smiled. She tilted her head. “May we be allowed to invite you again with a list of your dietary restrictions supplied in advance to Cook?”

  “That would be lovely.” Laurence bowed over her hand and then took Miss Hale’s hand as well and bowed over it. “Please enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies.”

  Miss Hale gave him another of her piercing gazes that made him wonder if she saw through him to know the truth he was trying to keep hidden.

  Eventually, he made his escape and boarded the carriage. As soon as the coachman clucked at the horses to move, Laurence leaned back on the squabs and let out the deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

  Once he was left at his parents’ home by the driver and the carriage was out of sight, he walked to the corner of the house to the mews and had a horse saddled so he could make his way to Vauxhall.

  Inside the gardens again, Laurence strolled around among the others enjoying the delights of the evening. He even saw John Hale from a distance and presumed the son of the family arrived here after his father threw the glass at him.

  Laurence made sure he wasn’t seen in return. It wouldn’t do if word got back to his host and hostess that he left their dinner for other pursuits.

  The evening grew later and he was worried he’d already missed his quarry. He wasn’t sure they’d been here, but he sensed they had. How could they not? What better place to plan something nefarious? No one would pay the least attention to them.

  Giving up on his quest, Laurence turned to leave but, from the corner of his eye, spotted Roundtree skulking off the path, glancing over his shoulder.

  Resisting the urge to rub his hands together in glee, Laurence followed in Roundtree’s footsteps. He made sure to move from tree to tree and never in a way where the other man could see him.

  His efforts paid off when Roundtree came to a stop and was joined by Hammond and Talbot.

  Stepping closer so he could hear what the men were saying, Laurence stepped on a stick. He cringed at the cracking sound that echoed through the glade. Or maybe it was his imagination. It surely didn't carry as far as Laurence imagined. He held his breath, but the men kept up their conversation as if they hadn't noticed it.

  "I know he's got the information. He might be a gentleman, but Hale has other talents," Talbot said.

  "Not the least of which is his comely daughter." Hammond's sly laughter raised Laurence's ire. What nerve he had to think of Miss Hale in a lewd manner.

  "Would you stop making this about your desire for the chit and pay attention to the mission? Our friends across the channel expect us to work for the common good not for you to be distracted by a skirt." Roundtree's voice rose on the last word.

  "Shh. You're too loud. Remember, we're in a public place and you're one of the most popular members of parliament who always ends up on the political cartoons," Talbot said.

  "That's one reason why we should've had this meeting somewhere else," Hammond said. "We keep taking unnecessary risks."

  "Once Hale returns to Oxford, it'll be easier to meet. My face isn't as well-known there." Roundtree turned his back and Laurence couldn't quite make out the rest of what he said, but he did hear him say Hale's name again.

  "We should leave the woods separately. I'll go first," Hammond said.

  Laurence's heart raced and he prayed fervently that none of the three would walk past the tree he hid behind.

  Willing himself to be smaller, Laurence sucked in his stomach and pressed his back against the bark so hard, he could feel the ridges poking against his spine.

  The sound of someone’s shoes scuffling in the dirt toward his direction made Laurence even surer he was going to be discovered. He searched his brain for a plausible story for being in the area.

  The steps came closer and closer and in the moment he was sure to be noticed by whoever was coming, a feminine voice called out, “Is that you over there in the trees, Mr. Hammond? Come this way and see what an amusing little fox we’ve found playing by the cascades.”

  The shoes changed direction and Laurence let out a relieved breath. He stayed hidden for a few extra moments before making any kind of move in case any of the other co-conspirators were still in the area.

  When he sensed the way was clear for him to emerge, Laurence edged around the perimeter of where the three men had stood to see if they’d dropped anything that would help him in his investigation, but there was nothing.

  The only thing he’d accomplished by leaving his dinner companions early was to learn his suspicions were correct about Mr. Hale, his benefactor. It was a physical blow to the gut that the man he’d come to think of as a mentor and be grateful to for the use of his laboratory was a traitor to his country.

  Not normally a sentimental man, Laurence wanted nothing more than to take a few moments to mourn the loss of his illusions about the man he’d come to think of as more a man to model himself after than his own father. But there was no time for that. If he was going to be a success, he’d have to put those personal feelings aside and move forward relentlessly. And maybe pray for a miracle or that he was wrong about the man he’d thought worthy of admiration.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hetty was thrilled when her family finally returned to Oxford. She loved the diversions of London, but she also loved being at her true home. The London house always seemed stuffy and over perfumed with the smell of too many roses and other cut flowers. The Oxford house was more comfortable and it seemed as if her mother didn’t feel as compelled to be as showy there as she had to be in London.

  Alighting from the carriage, Hetty almost tripped over her gown in her haste to be back on her own soil. She really wanted to run down the road and laugh in joy, but she held herself at bay since it would surely scandalize her brother and to a lesser extent, her parents.

  The trip to Oxford was fraught with tension since John and her father hadn’t made amends and were not on speaking terms. Only one at a time would be inside the carriage with the other riding one of the horses alongside the conveyance.

  Her joy at being home warred with the pure glee of being free of the constriction of the enclosed space. Even the staff were better here than the ones there.

  “I swear if you smile any broader, Hester, your lips are going to slide off your face and into the street.” Her mother laughed. “It does my heart good to see you so happy.”

  “It’s a long journey and you know how I hate to be confined. I’m merely glad to have survived another trip to town and back.”

  “And now you have your father’s permission to visit the laboratory when you want. I wonder how soon you’ll be taking advantage of that.” Her mother followed her down the walkway to the front door.

  “I’m sure I’ll wait until Mr. Fortescue returns to work there. There’s no reason to go unless he or Father are there since they’re the ones to conduct the experiments.”

  Simpkins, the butler, opened the door for them and Hetty’s mother ordered some tea to be delivered to the parlor.

  When he left to do her bidding, she led Hetty into the room to wait. “I’m sure your father hasn’t noticed, but I sense you have an attachment to young Mr. Fortescue.”

>   Hetty didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to confirm the suspicion since she knew it most likely would come to nothing as her father would be choosing her mate. Much as she hated the idea of that, it was the way things were done. He’d consider her feelings, but the ultimate decision was his. She had no doubt he wouldn’t make his choice a man from the university.

  “I can see by your face that I’m right.” Hetty’s mother reached a hand out to her. “It’s easy for me to say you need to let go of these feelings, but I also know it will be difficult. You must at least try, my dear.”

  Swallowing hard, Hetty struggled to find her voice. Working her mouth until the words formed, she finally said, “Does Father mean to betroth me to someone?”

  Tears pooled in her mother’s eyes. “Not yet but I know Henry Hammond has asked his permission to court you and consent has been granted.”

  At what had to be the look of horror Hetty knew was on her face, her mother went on, “You know your father wants only the best for you. Mr. Hammond is well established and has enough income to keep you in the style you’re used to.”

  “I know all that, Mother, but he’s so much older than me and not pleasing at all.” Hetty’s hands shook and she realized the rest of her body was as well. It was a bit of a shock to have her legs moving under her skirts of their own volition. She placed her hands on her thighs to try to get all of herself under control.

  “You will find that things will get better in time. You’ll get used to him. My first marriage was arranged, but I grew to have great affection for my husband before he died.”

  “But now you’re happy and in love with my father. Can’t you see that’s what I want, too? Love for the man I will spend my life with?”

  Simpkins came in with a footman carrying the tea tray. “Mr. Hale has gone out again and asked that I let you know.”

  “Thank you, Simpkins. I presume my son has left as well?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He has.”

  “Very well, then I shall pour for Hester and myself.”

  When they were alone again, Hetty said, “Am I to prepare myself for upcoming nuptials or not?”

  Her mother took a sip of tea and contemplated Hetty over her cup before answering. “No. It’s too soon for that, but I wanted to let you know so you would be coming to terms with the idea before Mr. Hammond comes to call.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful for the information.” All Hetty’s joy at returning home was gone and she wanted to wail and cry. Maybe even kick something.

  It was all Hetty could do to sip her tea. She knew she would have to try to convince her father that Henry Hammond was not an ideal choice for her, but how? It seemed to be already decided.

  The more she thought about it, the sicker she got. Her stomach rebelled and she decided she better put her cup down in case she needed to dash from the room to purge the bile that rose in her throat.

  That's when she realized the liquid in the vessel was so hot her hands were burning. She looked down at the moment it boiled over the rim.

  "Hester, what are you doing with your tea? You've spilled it all over the Aubusson."

  Horrified at the turn of events, Hetty set her cup down on the table with a clatter, spilling more in the process. The hot tea soaked her gown, scalding her thighs.

  Her mother stood and crossed the room to ring for the butler. "Go to your quarters. This behavior of destroying your father's property because you're angry at his choice of suitor is childish and unacceptable."

  "But—“

  "No buts. Your father will deal with you when he returns. I'm terribly disappointed in you, as he will be. I had expected you to be upset for a few days, but never imagined you would behave thus."

  Before Hetty could respond, Simpkins came in and immediately taking in the liquid on the carpet, set to work on remedying the spill.

  As Hetty left the room dejected, her mother called out behind her, "I hope you're satisfied. Now I'm also going to have to tell your father I spoke out of turn and told you about Mr. Hammond. He will be upset with me as well."

  Her mother's words added to Hetty's guilt and fear of her father’s reaction as she made her way down the corridor and up the stairs to her room. And even scarier, she was more concerned about this abnormal heat issue. Her mood was now affecting that aspect of the lightning strike symptoms. Laurence needed to come home and help her. Sooner rather than later. Lord only knew what bad thing could happen if Mr. Hammond caused her to become emotional in front of him. She didn’t even want to think about that.

  The next morning after her father never arrived to confront Hetty about her behavior the evening before, she worried about what would happen at the breakfast table. Mary brought a tray for her dinner so Hetty knew the conversation that was going to take place was going to be worse than she thought. For her father not to even come up and speak to her and leave her banished to her room meant he was so angry he didn’t know how to discuss things with her rationally. She’d experienced that before. But not since he’d married Penelope.

  Fretting and fidgeting as Mary dressed her, Hetty bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out in anguish. Not only because her father terrified her when he was in one of his moods, but because she might have to someday soon allow that odious Mr. Hammond to touch her. How would she bear it?

  “Miss, you must try to stay still or I’ll never have you ready to go downstairs in time for breakfast.”

  “Would that be so terrible, Mary? Maybe I don’t want to go down at all.” Hetty looked in the mirror and met her maid’s eyes in the reflection.

  “Not to be impertinent, but I heard downstairs last night that the master was powerful mad at your mother and you. It might be best if you were on time or even a mite early.”

  “I know. I bet he was awful to her and I feel so terrible about it, but I cannot abide Mr. Hammond.”

  “Molly said he seemed angrier over the rug in the parlor. She was in there dusting when your mother showed him the spot. Cook thinks she has something that will get it out, but she’s scared he’ll go on and stay mad at her if it doesn’t.”

  “I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I, Mary?” Hetty couldn’t believe the ramifications of the incident with the tea. It seemed everyone in the house was in a state over it.

  “I’m sorry, Miss. I hope your father will be better this morning.” Mary finished tying Hetty’s white ribbon and patted her hair. “All done.”

  Hetty stood and smoothed her gown. “I guess it’s time to go down.”

  Wondering what she would find in the morning dining room. Hetty dragged her feet as she moved.

  John came by and poked her in the shoulder blade. “Congratulations. You always find the perfect way to get Father upset.”

  “At least he has never thrown a glass of wine at me when company is here.”

  “Not yet, but it could happen. Even as soon as this morning.” He kept walking, leaving Hetty behind since her gait was shorter than his.

  “What do you mean, this morning? Is someone here?” If possible, she slowed her steps even more.

  “I should say so. Your suitor.”

  “I don’t have a suitor.”

  Over his shoulder, John said, “Yes, you do and he’s here having breakfast. I suggest you come along before Father gets even madder.”

  Hetty couldn’t believe it. They never had visitors for breakfast unless there was a house party and on the day her parents were both unhappy with her, there was a guest?

  Since John said it was her suitor, it could be either Laurence or Mr. Hammond. She wasn’t sure what her brother knew about the permission their father gave Hammond, but he was definitely aware she was enamored of Mr. Fortescue so she hoped for the visitor to be the latter rather than the former.

  When she turned the corner to enter the dining room, she had the answer to her question before she even entered. Rather than the voice of the soft-spoken Laurence, she heard the braying so
und of Mr. Hammond’s laughter.

  Steeling her spine before facing what felt like her doom, Hetty sucked in a deep breath.

  Upon her entry into the room, Mr. Hammond stood and smiled. “My dear Miss Hale. You look lovely this morning. Perhaps we can go for a stroll after you have a chance to break your fast.”

  Forcing herself to return his smile, Hetty said, “Of course, that would be lovely.” She turned to her mother. “I presume you will accompany us as my chaperone, Mother.”

  “I think your maid should suffice,” John said with a smirk and a glance at their father. Almost as if daring his sire to challenge him.

  Hetty flinched and waited for the explosion of her father’s temper.

  It didn’t come. To her amazement, he said, “I agree, John. Hester is a sensible girl and Mr. Hammond would never take advantage of her so her maid will certainly be all that’s needed.”

  Hetty moved to the sideboard and placed some food on her plate. She debated with herself on what would take the longest to eat in order to delay the inevitable walk with Mr. Hammond.

  When he continued to converse incessantly with her father as she ate, she realized she should have chosen a quicker meal so Hammond would leave sooner. She tried to block out their discussion, but a few words seeped in periodically. They were discussing some kind of weapon, but being easily bored with war talk, she focused on her plate and trying to think of other, more pleasant things.

  Finally, she folded her napkin and placed it on the table. “I’m ready when you are, Mr. Hammond.”

  “Surely you can call me Henry? I’m sure your mother and father would consent to the familiarity.”

  “I prefer to call you Mr. Hammond if that’s all right.” Hetty was going to do her best to obey her parent, but she was not going to give the man any liberties before she had to.

  She cast a glance at her father. His face was red, but he said, “I think that may be premature, Hammond. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”