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

by Jillian Chantal

  “Why do you think you can come in and tell us what we have to do?” John asked.

  “She’s right. We need to all go together.” Her mother ran a hand over her eyes. “I’m already exhausted so please don’t bicker any longer. I’ll wait in the small dining room with a cup of tea, Simpkins, while Mr. Roundtree is held for Mr. Fortescue in the parlor.”

  “But Mother, Mr. Roundtree is a prominent Member of Parliament. We cannot leave him tied up in our house. Can’t you see how that would seem?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Mr. Fortescue made sure your father wasn’t lost to us and if he wanted me to tie up the Prince Regent and leave him in the kitchen eating scones with the cook, I would do so.”

  “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.” Hetty laughed as she walked up the staircase.

  Soon, hot water was brought and the tub filled. She knew she needed to hurry as everyone was waiting for her in order to make haste to London but she really wanted to soak there for the rest of the day.

  Instead of indulging herself, she soaped her hair and body and once she was clean, stood for Mary to pour clean water over her.

  Once she was dressed in a green gown, Hetty let out a deep sigh. It was so good to be in her proper attire. “Just wrap my hair with a couple of ribbons. It can dry while we ride in the carriage. I know my mother must be ready for me to come down.”

  Mary made quick work of the remainder of Hetty’s toilette and soon she was ready to slide on her slippers.

  As she made her way downstairs, she heard a loud noise from the direction of the parlor.

  Running toward the sound, she made it at the same moment as her brother. He flung the door open and dashed into the room with Hetty on his heels.

  Roundtree had woken and had somehow managed to wriggle his body off the sofa where the footmen had placed him.

  “Get me loose from these bindings, Hale,” Roundtree yelled.

  “Don’t you dare touch him,” Hetty said to John who was on his way to Roundtree’s side.

  “I’m letting him go. It seems I’m the only one who cares about this family’s reputation. We can’t hold this man without his consent.” John knelt beside Roundtree and took hold of the ropes tying the man’s legs first.

  Hetty ran to him and kicked John in the side of his leg.

  He swatted at her.

  She kicked him again.

  “Get away.” He shoved her backward with his hand making contact with her knees.

  Falling on her bottom, she scrambled to get to John before he could untie Roundtree’s hands. She had to stop him from letting Roundtree go free.

  Losing one slipper in the process, she moved as quickly as she could on her hands and knees with her gown knotting up under her.

  In the moment she reached John’s side and reached out to push him away from Roundtree, the door to the room was shoved so hard it hit the jamb.

  John, Roundtree and Hetty all turned to face the door.

  Laurence stood blocking the exit.

  Roundtree, freed from his fetters, stood and brushed aside the ropes. “I suggest you move out of my way, Fortescue.”

  “No. You’re going with me to London to pay for your crimes. You may as well realize it and come willingly.”

  Instead of doing as Laurence asked, Roundtree lunged for Hetty and grabbed her. He put one arm around her stomach and the other around her windpipe. “Let me go or I’ll break her neck. It would take one second to kill this delicate little miss.”

  Laurence stayed still, torn about what to do. He couldn’t allow Roundtree to escape, but he also had a duty to protect Hetty. He only focused on that duty, not any personal feelings he might have for her. Thinking about her in that way would only lead to disaster.

  John Hale was of no use. He merely sat on the floor as if stunned by Roundtree’s actions.

  “Let Miss Hale go and face me like a man. Using a woman for protection is a coward’s way to behave.”

  “I care nothing for that. Whatever it takes for me to leave here and meet my comrades, I will do. Even if it means taking the lady with me to London and dropping her body in the Thames.” Roundtree took a step toward Laurence. “I suggest you move out of my way.” He jerked Hetty up against him. “Now.”

  Hetty gave a slight nod of her head and glanced down at the floor then back up at Laurence.

  Hoping he was understanding her signal, he tilted his head in agreement.

  As soon as he did, she stomped her foot on the instep of Roundtree’s left one and jerked one of her arms back into his stomach.

  “Stop that,” Roundtree yelled. He moved as if to tighten his grip on Hetty, but before he could complete the act, Laurence took advantage of his distraction and fired off a shot.

  A woman in the hallway screamed. Laurence presumed it was Mrs. Hale.

  Roundtree fell to the floor and let out a squeal as he went down.

  Hetty dashed over and picked up the ropes. “Come and tie him up again, Laurence.”

  John stared from his sister to Laurence and back. “What’s this all about?”

  Moaning and rolling on the carpet, Roundtree said, “You’ve killed me. I’m going to bleed to death.”

  “You’re barely wounded. I’m not surprised you’d behave this way since you’re a man who hides behind a woman’s skirts.” Hetty stood over him as Laurence secured the ropes on his wrists and ankles.

  “Please don’t untie this man again,” Laurence said to John.

  Mrs. Hale entered the room. Laurence looked up at her. “Sorry to disturb your home’s serenity, ma’am.”

  “The only thing I’m concerned about at the moment is my husband. May we be on our way to him now?”

  “Yes, we may. I apologize that we will be subjected to this lout in the carriage, but there’s no choice about it since I need to get him to London so he can be charged with a few crimes.”

  “How about we send you and him in the small carriage and Hester, her brother and I go in the larger one?” Mrs. Hale asked.

  “That would be acceptable although I’ll be bereft without the company of you two lovely ladies.”

  John let out a snort at his words, but Laurence didn’t care. He was a bit embarrassed to have uttered them since he normally didn’t speak that way, but he truly didn’t have any real respect for John Hale. What that young man thought of him meant less than nothing to Laurence.

  “And we will miss you as well,” Mrs. Hale said.

  “May we have the same footmen assist my prisoner to the small carriage?” Laurence asked.

  “Of course.” Mrs. Hale left the room. Laurence presumed she was calling for the requested footmen.

  Roundtree was still moaning. “I need medical attention.”

  “I’m quite sure you didn’t care when my father needed the same so we’re not going to be in a hurry to find a doctor for you,” Hetty said.

  Laurence was surprised she would say such a thing, but she was right. Besides, the man didn’t appear to be wounded badly at all. It wasn’t as if Laurence had shot to kill. He presumed Roundtree’s skills in oratory were being brought to bear in acting as if he were dying.

  “Maybe you could give me some bandages in case we need them on our travels,” Laurence said the Hetty.

  “Not that I really want to help this person, but in the interest of not ruining the seats of my father’s small carriage, I’ll have Simpkins bundle some for your use.” Hetty smiled and left the room.

  As soon as they were alone with just Roundtree left in the room, John asked, “Is anyone going to tell me precisely what’s going on? Why are we holding a Member of Parliament as a prisoner and taking him to London? And exactly who are you? Why would a lecturer at Oxford be taking people as captives?”

  “That’s a lot of questions,” Laurence laughed, having no intention of answering any of them.

  He sure didn’t envy Hetty and her mother the long drive to London with John Hale in their carriage.

  Chapter Twenty-Three
<
br />   The trip to the London house didn’t take nearly as long as the one to Bristol, but Hetty could have sworn it was twice as many days. John kept up a diatribe about her, Laurence, scandal and their father. He couldn’t seem to help himself. Each time he would stop for a moment, Hetty allowed herself to hope he was finished, but then he’d draw another breath and start again.

  Several times, their mother tried to tell him to wait to get more details later, but he ignored her as well.

  Hetty could tell her mother was nervous by the way she continued to wring her hands together as the miles passed. She wished John would notice as well so maybe he would realize he was making things worse for the woman they both loved as if she’d been their real mother. Sadly, he was so focused on his own anger, he couldn’t see he was adding to her distress.

  Finally, their carriage arrived at their London house. Before they left Oxford, Laurence had indicated he would return the small one as soon as he could, but he would be meeting his supervisor, and the other men from the trip to Bristol before he could call at their home.

  Glad that she wouldn’t have to see Roundtree again, Hetty hoped they had also made it to their destination. She also prayed Laurence would return and let her know what happened and if he was successful in his mission. She still had possession of the spyglass and planned to return it to her father as soon as he was better.

  The butler opened the door as the carriage came to a stop. John was the first to disembark and he handed down first his mother and then Hetty.

  Inside the house, their mother dashed up the staircase to find their father. Hetty followed slower so as to give her parents a moment alone.

  John turned toward their father’s study. “I’m going to have a drink first.”

  Hetty shook her head. She wasn’t surprised about John’s choice of liquor over seeing to their sire. Truth be told, she was glad he chose not to visit yet. She was utterly ill of listening to him.

  She dallied as long as she could, but she was eager to check on her father’s condition.

  Upstairs, she opened the door and let out a sigh of happiness at what she saw. Her mother was seated on the edge of the bed holding hands with her father. He was partially reclined, but mostly sitting up leaning on some pillows.

  His forehead was wrapped with a white cloth and his face was still swollen. He had two black eyes as well as one arm in a sling. “Come here, Hester and let me see you.” He let go of her mother’s hand long enough to reach out to Hetty. “I still can’t focus very far away, but I can tell that it’s you.”

  “You look like you’re going to be all right. I’m so relieved. We were scared.” Hetty moved to stand on the opposite side of the bed from her mother.

  “When I thought I was going to die, I actually thought I saw you and talked to you.” He laughed. “Funniest thing about it was I somehow managed to see you dressed in boy’s clothes. It’s strange how the mind plays tricks, isn’t it?”

  Torn about whether to tell him the truth, Hetty decided she better before someone else did. “That wasn’t your imagination.”

  “What?” Her father stared at her as if she’d suddenly turned into a tortoise.

  “It was me. I was there in Bristol. I helped get you off that ship that was going to take you to France.”

  He tried to sit up straighter, using the arm in the sling to give himself some assistance. Letting out a yelp, he pulled it back to himself and rubbed it. “Say that again.”

  “I’m sorry, Father, but when I learned you were captured, I had to do something. I couldn’t sit idly by while someone tortured or killed you.”

  “But how? Who?” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “How did you manage it and who helped you?”

  “Please don’t be so distressed, my love. Your doctor would be worried about you being so distraught,” Hetty’s mother said.

  He patted her hand. “Penelope, I cannot help but be distressed. My girl here was gadding about the countryside dressed like a man. What am I supposed to feel about that, dear?”

  “She did it for you.”

  “By herself?” He turned from his wife to Hetty. “Please tell me you didn’t ride two days across the countryside by yourself. You could have been killed by highwaymen or worse.”

  Hetty wanted to laugh. What could be worse than being killed? Then she thought about those men in the gardens at Vauxhall and remembered. Yes, there was something worse. She wasn’t sure about telling her father she’d been with Laurence, but before she could decide what to say, her mother spoke.

  “Mr. Fortescue was kind enough to allow Hester to accompany him.” She patted her husband’s hand. “Don’t get agitated. He behaved as a perfect gentleman. Of that I have no doubt.”

  “Is this true, Hester?”

  “Absolutely, Father. He was as worried about you as I and drove the horses hard in order for us to get to you as soon as we did. He was also good to make sure I wasn’t recognized and so no one knows I was with him except for those at the manor house in Bristol.”

  A small tear gathered at the edge of her father’s eye. “I don’t want to think about those people at the manor house. Least of all that Henry Hammond. I trusted him and look what he had done to me.” He glanced down at his body in the bed.

  Hetty didn’t know the extent of her father’s injuries, but she was still just as upset as he was with Hammond and the rest of those men. Who did they think they were betraying the country that had been so good to them all? And them being high up in the political hierarchy as well. She sure didn’t plan to tell her father Laurence had initially suspected him of treason as well. That wouldn’t be forgiven even if taking his daughter across the countryside would be.

  “I agree, Father but they’ve all been captured now and will be punished.”

  “I hope I’m well enough to attend their trials.” He leaned back on the pillow. “I need to sleep now, but be assured, I plan to talk with young Mr. Fortescue about the propriety of his actions.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him. He helped get you home safely.” Hetty leaned over and kissed her father on the cheek.

  Passing her brother on the way out, she said, “Be nice. He’s tired.”

  “I know how to behave. Unlike you.” He stomped past her.

  Giving up on trying to make John see sense, she went downstairs planning to call for some tea.

  At the foot of the stairs, the butler greeted her. “You have a caller, Miss Hale.”

  Hoping it was Laurence, she stepped into the parlor without asking who had come.

  A man she didn’t recognize stood in front of the fireplace. He was dressed in what she knew to be quite expensive clothing. The cut of the fabric as well as the way it hung on him gave it away.

  Confused, she shook her head and hoped she was presentable. She didn’t relish being judged by this person and found wanting. Why, she didn’t know, but somehow it seemed important for him to think she was respectable. Maybe it was his intimidating presence.

  He turned as if he’d heard her enter.

  Looking at his face was even more disconcerting. He seemed somehow familiar, but not.

  “I’m the Earl of Aylesbury.”

  An Earl? What was he doing here? He was so formal she almost felt compelled to curtsy. She refrained but was embarrassed that her voice cracked as she responded. “And I am Hester Hale. How may I help you?”

  “I seek my son. I heard he might be here.”

  “No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. There’s no one here but my family and I’m afraid your son is not of my acquaintance. You must have received the wrong information.”

  Before the man could respond, the butler stepped into the room and announced, “Mr. Fortescue is here, Miss.”

  Laurence entered, turned ashen and said, “Father?”

  What was the Earl doing here at the Hale home? Laurence had hoped to have a few moments to check on Hetty’s father’s condition and now here was his own parent.

  All he could do w
as stand and stare.

  Finally, Hetty seemed to sense his discomfort. “I’ll ring for some tea.”

  “Never mind, young lady. I need to speak to my son and fear we will need the privacy of the room for a few minutes. May I beg your indulgence?”

  “Of course. I’ll be out in the corridor. If you need anything, just ring.” She swatted the bell pull on her way out as if pointing out its existence to them.

  “What’s this about, Father? Couldn’t you have sent for me to come to you instead of arriving here at the Hale’s house unannounced?”

  “No. It’s quite urgent.”

  “What can have happened that you need to find me so promptly?”

  “Both of your brothers have been in an accident.”

  Laurence’s stomach fell to his knees. Stunned, he backed up and luckily, his legs made contact with a settee before they gave way. He sat hard on the fabric of the furniture. “Are they alive?” Dear Lord, let them be alive.

  “I’m sorry to say the Viscount is gone.” A tear formed at the corner of his father’s eye which shocked Laurence since his father never displayed emotion. “Thomas is alive, but barely.”

  “No.” Laurence covered his mouth with his hand. “How? What happened?”

  “They were stupidly racing horses and one of the other young men’s mounts developed some kind of trouble. When it pulled up lame, a number of the men and horses fell into a pile. The Viscount’s neck was broken and he died on the field. Thomas is grievously wounded. I thought I better find you and let you know.”

  “How is Mother taking it?” Laurence was still in a state of shock. Being the third son gave him a kind of liberty his older siblings never enjoyed and now one was gone. How quickly life could change.

  “She and the Viscountess are secluded at the town house. Elizabeth is keeping vigil at Thomas’ bedside.”

  “I shall come immediately.” Sensing his legs would hold him now, Laurence stood.