She tried valiantly to swallow the lump that had been in her throat for days now. It felt as if her whole being was straining against her skin as the conveyance bumped along the lane and turned into the drive, passing through the iron gates. She dropped Jane’s hand and began to wring her own in anticipation as they slowed and—at last—pulled up in front of the great house.
Lucy leapt from the carriage, heedless of the thick mud staining the hem of her traveling gown as she ran to the foot of the steep front stairs, pausing briefly to catch her breath. She turned to see Jane lift her skirts and carefully pick her way across the flagstones, Colin guiding her by the elbow. Unable to wait a moment longer, Lucy skimmed up the stairs and rapped loudly on the door.
It seemed an interminable time before the door swung open. The somber-faced butler eyed her with raised brows before Jane and Colin stepped up, flanking her protectively on either side. “Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Rosemoor, Miss Rosemoor,” the butler said, smiling wanly. “I suppose you’ve heard of my master’s misfortune.”
“Good day, Chadwick. Yes, we’ve heard. What’s the prognosis?”
“I’m afraid, sir, that it looks rather bleak. An infection has taken hold...” The butler choked on his words, his eyes becoming watery. “And he’s quite ill with fever. It doesn’t look well at all.”
Lucy stepped forward, her legs trembling so violently that she feared they would buckle. She reached for Jane’s arm. “I must see him,” she whispered.
Chadwick looked at her sharply, his bushy gray brows drawn together.
“This is Miss Lucy Abbington, Chadwick, a close friend of my family’s,” Colin offered. “And of Lord Mandeville’s, as well. I’m certain he’d wish to see her, if it’s at all possible.”
Chadwick studied her for a moment before perception lit his pale eyes. He offered Lucy a stiff bow. “Of course, miss. Please, come in and have a seat.” He led the trio to the front parlor and disappeared. Lucy watched his departure, frustrated by his slow, shuffling gait.
“He’s a strong man, Lucy,” Colin said, laying his hand upon her sleeve. “If anyone can survive this, he can.”
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. “This is entirely my fault. If only I hadn’t turned him away. I’ll never forgive myself if he—”
“Don’t say it, Lucy, nor think it,” Jane cut her off. “You have to believe he’s going to survive. This isn’t your fault.”
“Of course it’s her fault.”
The three of them looked up in surprise as Lady Mandeville strode into the room, her face drawn into an ugly sneer. “My only son is lying there, practically on his deathbed, and there’s no one to blame but her.”
“How dare you?” Jane said, rising to her feet, one hand resting on Lucy’s shoulder.
“No, how dare she come here and disturb us? Please leave, Miss Abbington. Henry has made it quite clear that he has no desire to see you—ever. Your presence here is unwelcome and likely to disturb him further.”
“Does he know I am here?” Lucy’s voice trembled.
“Of course, and he asked that we send you away at once. I’ll ask you not to disturb us again. Good day.” She turned and left them standing there, staring at one another in open-mouthed surprise as they listened to her footsteps fade away.
“So it is true,” a voice called out, and Lucy looked up as Lady Worthington hurried into the room, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. “Chadwick told me that Miss Abbington was downstairs, but I could barely believe it.” She hastened to Lucy’s side and grasped her hand. “I had to see for myself. Mr. Rosemoor, Miss Rosemoor.” She nodded politely to Colin and Jane before returning her full attention to Lucy. “Whatever my mother has said to you, I hope you’ll realize that she speaks only for herself.”
“She said Henry doesn’t wish to see me.” Lucy choked on the words.
“I find that difficult to believe, Miss Abbington, as my brother has barely regained consciousness in more than three days.”
Lucy dropped her head into her hands as a sob tore from her throat. “Please tell me he’s going to live.”
“I...I wish I could tell you that, but his condition is terribly grave indeed. But don’t give up hope just yet. He’s a strong man, and bullheaded to boot. I can’t imagine him giving in so easily. I would take you to him, but it would take a battle to get you past my mother. This is her home, and I’m afraid I cannot...” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head sadly. “Besides, he wouldn’t even know you were there.”
Lucy nodded wordlessly. Dear God, was it really so bad? Or was Lady Worthington attempting to be kind, not wanting to admit that her brother had sent her away? Her stomach began to churn. Whichever was the case, it wasn’t good—wasn’t good at all.
“Are you staying at Glenfield?”
“Yes,” Colin answered for her, “she’ll be staying with us awhile.”
“I’ll do what I can, Miss Abbington, to get you in to see him, but I can’t promise anything. Just give me a few days.” Lady Worthington reached her arms around Lucy’s shoulders and hugged her close. “I know he’d wish to see you,” she whispered into her ear before releasing her. “I’ll send word if there’s any change in his condition.”
“Thank you,” Lucy murmured, her vision blurred by unshed tears. To come this far—to be this close to him yet unable to see him, to touch him, to tell him that she was wrong, so very wrong to have sent him away... The pain tore at her heart, ripped at her lungs. She wasn’t certain she could bear it. But there was nothing more to do—nothing but to go to Glenfield and await news.
“Mr. Rosemoor, Miss Rosemoor, thank you for coming, and for bringing Miss Abbington here. Your friendship means so much to me at a time like this.” She bent her head toward Colin’s. “Please take care of her,” she said. “She needs you now more than ever.” And with that she was gone, leaving only the scent of lemon verbena behind.
***
“Lucy, Lucy...” Henry tossed his head from side to side, the pillow uncomfortably damp beneath his cheek. Where was Eleanor? He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavy, leaden. He reached out blindly for his sister’s hand.
“Ssshhh, hush now,” a voice said, and a comforting hand brushed his forehead. The hand felt so soft, so cool. He struggled again to open his eyes, to make out the face looming over his. Damn it, it felt as if every inch of his body was afire.
Slowly, the face before him came swimming into focus, and he recoiled in shock. He tried to sit up, to move as far away from her as possible, but he could barely move a muscle without experiencing exquisite pain. His mind was spinning, working to grasp the situation before him.
What was his mother doing in his bedchamber?
And then it all came back to him, washing over him like a dousing of cold water. He’d gone to Nottinghamshire to see Lucy but she’d turned him away, refused to see him. He remembered dozing in the post chaise, awakening to a bloodcurdling scream from above. There had been a struggle—he’d tried to force off the masked men but there had been too many of them. And then he’d felt it—the cold, hard blade piercing his flesh, slicing through skin and muscle. And then...nothing.
He forced his eyes to focus. He looked down and saw the evidence of his injury—a bloodied bandage covered his left side from his shoulder to his ribcage. Gingerly, he reached across his chest to touch it, flinching at the pain from the movement.
“There now, son. Try not to move.”
He looked up and eyed his mother coldly.
“I should go call for the surgeon. He’ll be delighted to hear you’ve awoken. You’ve had us all so worried, Henry.”
He said nothing, wondering again where his sister was. He vividly remembered her voice, telling him that Lucy had been there, that she had come to see him. He hadn’t been able to respond, but he was sure he had heard her. “Where’s Lucy?” he managed to rasp, his voice faltering from disuse.
“Lucy? You mean Miss Abbington? Why, I’ve no idea. In Nottinghamshire, I suppo
se, or wherever it is she hails from.”
“No, she was here.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Now lie back. Here, let me put this cool cloth back on your head.”
“You’re lying.” She had to be. He struggled ineffectually to sit. Damnation, the pain tore at him, taking his breath away.
“Shh, calm down. Ask your sister if you don’t believe me. Eleanor insisted she send word to the girl, though I’ve no idea why. I saw the letter myself. Miss Abbington’s disinterest was evident in her lack of reply.” She stood and backed away from him. “Let me get the surgeon.”
Could it be true? Bloody hell, he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t make sense of it all. His stomach lurched; he thought he might start retching. He squeezed his eyes shut as his whole body succumbed to a violent bout of quakes. He’d truly lost her—lost her for good. He wished the steel blade had found its deadly mark. A life without the woman he loved would be nothing more than a living death.
The surgeon bustled in, a wide smile deepening the lines on his face. He reached for Henry’s wrist, felt his pulse, and nodded approvingly before reaching up to lay the back of his hand on Henry’s forehead. “The fever has broken at last,” he said, then busied himself with removing the bandage and dressing the wound.
Henry looked up at the woman standing an arm’s length away, studying him intently. He hated her, despised her with an intensity that almost frightened him.
Where was Eleanor? Why had Lucy forsaken him?
He didn’t want to think anymore. He closed his eyes and wearily accepted the laudanum the surgeon spooned into his mouth. Within moments, the draught’s effects took hold, and he began to feel as if he were floating. “Lucy,” he whispered softly, and then remembered she wasn’t there, that she wouldn’t come.
With a heaving sigh, he gratefully drifted back into nothingness.
***
Opening the door to her bedchamber as softly as possible, Lucy held her breath and peered out into the darkened hallway. Turning her head first to the right, then to the left, she tentatively extended one breeches-clad leg beyond the threshold and paused. The floorboard creaked at the contact with her boot, and she sucked in her breath and froze. She stood there in the doorway—still as a statue—for perhaps a minute or two, unable to discern any sounds in the house besides the wild beating of her heart. Cautiously, she set off on tiptoe, glancing about nervously as she made her way across the hall and carefully picked her way down the stairs.
She crossed the foyer on silent feet, pausing again at the front door. Holding her breath, she listened intently, then heaved a sigh of relief. No one had heard her. Her hands shook as she reached for the doorknob and let herself out into the warm, still night. With one last glance about, she fled down the front steps.
“What in God’s name are you doing, Lucy?”
She gasped in surprise, one hand clutched to her throat, as Colin stepped out of the shadows. “Goodness, Colin, you just about frightened me to death.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but it’s not under normal circumstances that I find you outside, clad as you are, at three in the morning.”
Lucy’s gaze traveled over Colin, taking in his rumpled coat, untied cravat, mussed hair. He wasn’t wearing a hat and he smelled strongly of a masculine mix of brandy and tobacco. She couldn’t help but smile. “And I might ask what you’re about, sneaking around in the middle of the night. You look as if you’ve had a rough night. Not out gambling again, I hope.”
“Gambling?” he sputtered, his face reddening. “Who told you—”
“Ah, so it’s true, then.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Besides, don’t change the subject. Where do you think you’re going at this hour?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d go for a ride and watch the sun rise.”
Colin eyed her suspiciously.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Please, let him believe the lie.
“Rubbish, Lucy. You’re lying to me. Tell me the truth before I drag you inside by the ear.”
She hesitated.
“And I will do it, you know,” he threatened, moving closer to her side. “Don’t force my hand.”
Lucy let out an exasperated breath. “Oh, all right. Fine. I thought to ride over to Covington Hall.”
“Covington Hall? Whatever for?”
“It’s been more than a sennight, Colin. I can’t wait any longer. I’m taking matters into my own hands. I’ve got to try to see him myself.”
“But Lady Worthington sent word just two days ago that he’s much improved. Besides, what were you planning to do? Just waltz through the front door in the middle of the night and demand to see him? Be reasonable, Lucy.”
“I’m tired of being reasonable.” Lucy shook her head. “I need to see him. Now.” She knew Lady Worthington was trying her best, but her patience was fast unraveling. She didn’t know how but, by God, she was going to see him. Tonight. “Just let them try to stop me,” she said, placing her hands on her hips defiantly. She tipped her chin in the air and leveled a challenging glare at Colin.
He stared back at her, his mouth slowly curving into a smile. “May God save anyone who gets in your way, Lucy Abbington,” he said. “Very well, then. I’ll help you. We need some sort of a plan, however. You can’t just push in the door and storm your way through the house. Let me think...”
She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Colin.”
“Yes, well. I think you’re turning me into a hopeless romantic. How can I refuse to aid your cause when it’s clear you love him? Let’s go. We’ll think of a plan while we ride. Hush, quiet now. Follow me.”
In minutes she found herself astride her favorite mare, galloping along the riverbank toward Henry’s estate, but her nerve began to falter as the walls of Covington Hall took form before her in the hazy moonlight. How would they do it? They were sure to get caught. She shook off her doubts as she and Colin dismounted and stealthily made their way on foot the last hundred yards. There had to be a way. She was prepared to do whatever was necessary.
Colin stood under a gnarled old oak, one hand stroking his chin thoughtfully. Finally he pointed to a first-floor window. “That’s the master bedchamber, I’m near enough certain of it.”
Lucy looked up and nodded. “It’s perfect, then. I’ll climb the tree and try the window.”
“Have you lost your wits? It’s a good three feet from the closest limb to the window. How will you get over? Besides, we’ve no way of knowing whether it will hold your weight.”
“Of course it will. Come, Colin, you’ll help me. Climb up behind me, and I can hold onto your hand while I reach up to the window. You can help push me in.”
“You’ve gone mad.”
Lucy let out an exasperated breath. “It’ll be just like when we were children. We’ve climbed trees higher than this one, many a time. Just stay a bit behind till we reach the window.” Without waiting for his reply, she hurried over to the tree and began feeling around for footholds. The knotted trunk was perfect. She nimbly began scaling up to the lowest limb.
She heard Colin grumble in protest as he followed her lead. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. We’re likely to break our necks, you know. Or worse yet, get shot.”
“Shhh,” she called down as she made her way higher, closer to her goal. “I’m nearly there. Here, is this it?”
“That’s the one. The master’s room.”
“Ooof, ouch. Here, take my hand.” She reached out to Colin, and he grasped her hand in his. As soon as she’d tried to squeeze his hand, it slipped from her grasp. “Blast it, Colin. Take my hand.”
“I’m trying. You’re too far.”
“Well, then, come closer.”
She saw Colin look down at his feet, at the narrow limb supporting them.
“It will hold,” she assured him.
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m right. Here
, closer.”
“You know, you’ll owe me dearly for this. Risking my neck for you, and all. And for what? For love.”
“I’ll name my firstborn son for you, will that do?”
“I suppose. There.” He grasped her wrist firmly.
“All right. Now just let me move closer to the window.” She took several shuffling steps until the windowpane was even with her chin. She stood on tiptoe, leaned closer, and peered in. The heavy curtains were parted slightly, and she could distinctly make out the draped bed against the wall with a supine form under a white sheet. Her gaze traversed the length of the form, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw the face resting upon the pillow. “This is it, Colin,” she whispered. “You were right. Hold me steady while I open the window.”
She curled her fingers into the slit between the two panes and effortlessly pulled open the window. Oh, this was far too easy. “Move closer, Colin,” she whispered. “When I hoist myself up, give my backside a good shove.” She grimaced as she heard him suppress a snort of laughter. Mustering as much strength as she could, she pulled herself up on her elbows into the window. “Now,” she called out. He gave one sturdy push, and Lucy toppled head over heels into the yawning opening, right onto her bottom on the floor below.
She saw Henry’s body jerk, and then he sat bolt upright.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, and then clapped a hand over her mouth.
Chapter 23
“What the hell?” Henry called out, his voice thick with sleep. Lucy watched in horror as he rubbed his eyes and made as if to swing one leg over the side of bed before he groaned and slumped back down upon the twisted bedclothes.
She used her palms to push herself to her feet and hurried across the room to his side. “Henry, oh, dear God, are you all right?” She stood by the side of the bed wringing her hands, afraid to touch him. He lay motionless, the sheet wrapped around his lower half, naked from the waist up. A wave of relief swept over her at the sight of the rise and fall of his chest as he drew in ragged breaths. Her eyes skated to the bandage that covered a goodly portion of his left side. It pained her to see it, tangible evidence of his injury.
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