by Cheryl Bolen
Sinjin’s gaze centered on Alex’s chest. “Look at you! You’ve bled through your shirt.”
She shrieked and came to him. “Please, allow me to look at your wound.”
“What?” Alex said. “And have you swooning and possibly injuring yourself.”
Wycliff strode to them. “Back to bed, old fellow. I’ll have a look.”
Alex reluctantly agreed. “How did you know I was here?” he asked.
“Lady Georgiana wrote us,” Wycliff said.
Sinjin nodded. “We came right away.”
“From the lady’s letter, we feared we might not be in time.”
She shrugged. “I was rather worried.”
With great tenderness, Wycliff removed his shirt. “You’ve literally made a bloody mess. Whatever possessed you to think you were in good enough condition to travel to London?”
“I’ve learned who killed Freddie—and who tried to kill me.”
Wycliff stopped mid-action, his mouth gaping open. “Who in the bloody hell?”
“Lord Hickington.”
“And his motive?” Sinjin asked.
“He wished to unite himself with the fair Lady Georgiana Fenton—and her twenty thousand.”
Wycliff shook his head. “And you learned this how?”
Alex explained about the whorl on Hickington’s horse.
Sinjin shrugged. “I will own, no one knows horse flesh like you, and if you say that’s Hickington’s horse, then it has to be.”
Wycliff proceeded to remove the bloody wrapping from Alex’s midsection while Georgiana brought fresh linen with which to bind him. “Would you look at all those stitches!” Wycliff exclaimed. “And you were idiot enough to think you could make the trip to London. That wound on your head must have impaired your thinking.”
“How is the head wound?” Sinjin asked.
“It’s already healed,” Alex answered. “By the way,” Alex said, striving for casualness in his demeanor, “you must offer Lady Georgiana and me felicitations.”
Wycliff stopped dead in his actions, whirling around to face Georgiana just as Sinjin was saying, “Lady Slade and I knew at once you two were perfect for each other. We are both very happy to wish you many years of domestic bliss.”
“As do I,” Wycliff said. “I can want nothing more for my great friend than to wish him as happy with his wife as I am with mine.” He then turned from Georgiana to Alex. “You have demonstrated excellent judgment in one matter, it seems. A pity you would jeopardize your life just when you’ve found the perfect mate.”
After he finished bandaging and dressing Alex, he said, “In the morning Sinjin and I will return to London. We’ll get the magistrate and go to Hickington House to arrest the blackguard. Rest assured with the three of us all members of the House of Lords, we’ll be in a position to ensure our colleagues in that chamber convict him of Freddie’s murder.”
* * *
It was three days later when Sinjin, Wycliff and the magistrate went to Hickington’s House on Piccadilly to arrest him. They rapped at the door, which was in need of fresh paint. His footman answered. “Lord Hickington is not in London,” the servant said.
Wycliff wondered if this was a ploy used by the servants when addressing those to whom Hickington owed money. There was one way to find out.
Walking some little distance away from the house, he said, “We shall just go around to the mews. Someone there will know if Hickington was going on a journey.”
Hickington’s extraordinary horse was there as was a groom. “Where is Lord Hickington’s carriage?” Sinjin asked.
“His lordship sold it ‘bout a year back. Just this morning he hired a coach for a journey he’s taking.”
Wycliff and Sinjin exchanged questioning glances. “Did he say where he was going?” Sinjin asked.
The groom shook his head. “He just said he’d be gone four or five days.”
Good Lord! Had the murderer learned that Alex was still alive? Did he mean to go back and kill him?
* * *
It must be a sign that Alex’s condition was improving when his inability to get comfortable interfered with his sleep. It must also be a sign that his stitches needed to come out when they started to itch so badly he wanted to tear off his bandages and have a go at them right in the middle of the night. He might have done so were it not for his concern over awakening Georgiana.
There was also the fact she would not look favorably upon such an action by him. Her didacticism might have been trying were it not an indication of how thoroughly she loved him. It still felt as if he’d won life’s sweepstakes to have captured her heart. That knowledge made him feel as if he’d grown a foot taller.
He lay there wondering if it would hurt his wound were he to scratch with gloved hands. Better yet, he ought just to yank out those blasted stitches!
A noise near his window caused him to still and listen more carefully. It was impossible to see anything because his room was totally black. He tried not to breathe as his ears perked. The noise was barely discernible, but it had to be a gradual raising of the sash.
His heartbeat raced. Someone was trying to enter his bedchamber even though it was on the second story. Was it Hickington? It had to be.
The musket! Alex went to sit up but fell back when the mattress creaked.
There was the unmistakable sound of a foot hitting the floor by the window. The thumping in Alex’s chest grew louder. He lunged toward the side of his bed to grab the musket, but the pillow was yanked from behind his head.
He means to smother me as he did Freddie. Alex had no intentions of calling out, for to do so would jeopardize Georgiana. In this darkness, Alex hoped Hickington would never know she was lying beside him. The man likely had a weapon.
Just as the pillow was being shoved into his face, Alex used all his might to heave Hickington away.
Taken by surprise, the attacker gasped harshly.
It was enough to awaken Georgiana. “What’s going on?” she asked, panic in her voice.
By now the two men were engaged in fisticuffs. “It’s Hickington,” Alex managed. “Get out of here!”
She leapt from the bed. He could tell from her footsteps on the wooden floors that she was not going to the door. “Get the hell out of here, Georgiana!” he shouted.
Hickington punched him in the gut. Alex cried out in searing pain.
“Leave his grace alone, or I’ll shoot,” she said into the darkness. She must have snatched the musket. He’d wager she had no idea how to use it.
Alex spun away and lunged toward her, but he fell short.
“Now I’ll have to kill both of you,” the intruder sneered. The voice was unmistakably Hickington’s. Next a volley of fleet fists pounded into Alex’s abdomen. He cried out in excruciating pain. When he fell to the ground, the pummeling continued. Alex fought like a healthy twenty-year-old—even though his stitches ripped.
Then there was the deafening sound of a musket being fired, the smell of gunpowder.
Alex held his breath.
The pounding stopped. Then there was a thud as Hickington fell to the floor.
Chapter 21
London, three weeks later
A quiet wedding was in order. The Duke of Fordham’s name had saturated every newspaper in the country. Could there be a soul left who hadn’t read that in defense of his life, the duke had killed the murdering Lord Hickington?
So on this, the most momentous day of his life, Alex shared with just his two closest friends, his cousin Robert, and his unmarried sisters. His beloved bride had even fewer guests—only her mother and little Huey.
Unable to choose between Sinjin and Wycliff to stand up with him at the front of St. George’s, he chose both. Always, it had been the three of them sharing everything. Since their marriages, Alex had felt left out, not because he’d been replaced in their affections by their wives but because both his friends had achieved a perfect union, and it was something he longed for. He’d never though
t to find a woman who could bring him the happiness his friends had found with the wives they so adored.
In all but one respect, he had found his perfect duchess in Georgiana. He regretted that she aligned herself with the Tories, but he believed she would open her mind to the reforms he and the lords from Eton were working toward.
As he stood there clasping her hand and saying his wedding vows to the only woman he could ever love, he felt another’s presence: Freddie. He felt almost as if he could turn and touch him. It was as if his brother were giving him his blessings. He could almost hear Freddie say, “You two are perfect for each other, you lucky dog.” A deep contentment took root in him and swelled. He looked down into Georgiana’s lovely face and was nearly overcome with emotion.
After the ceremony the attendees gathered in the church’s vestibule as rain pounded against the tall timber doors. Huey limped up to the bridal couple, leaning on a thick cane. “Lookey, Auntie G! Grandmama permitted me to cut down her cane and use it—as long as I don’t hit my sister with it.”
Georgiana whirled to her Mother. “You aren’t using your cane anymore?”
Lady Hartworth shrugged. “No need. In fact, when we return to Hartworth House for the wedding breakfast, you’ll find that my bedchamber’s been moved back upstairs. It’s my wedding gift to you. I’ve fully recovered, and you needn’t worry about me anymore.”
Mother and daughter embraced.
Alex wondered if Lady Hartworth’s stroke had been fate. The lady’s long convalescence was what kept Georgiana from marrying Freddie. Alex was becoming a firm believer in fate.
Prine came to collect the bridal couple, offering a large umbrella. Once they were in the carriage, Alex tenderly kissed his wife. When he went to put his arms around her, she stiffened and pulled away. “You, my dearest husband, know very well that every time you try to embrace me, it aggravates your wound.”
“But, my dearest wife, it’s such an enjoyable way to hurt.”
They laughed.
That was something else he loved about her. She and he frequently laughed. She could laugh at herself, and she could admit when she was wrong, excellent qualities to have in one’s life partner.
She snuggled closer to him, on his good side. “My darling, I have a confession.”
His heartbeat thumped. “Pray, do not tell me you’re already wed to someone else.”
Her dark eyes flashing, she shook her head and frowned. “As much as I’ve insisted that my sympathies are Tory, I have to admit that I have no sympathies for the Tories. I’ve become as passionate over Whig causes as those ladies at the Tuesday gatherings.”
“I would say that’s the best wedding present I could have asked for.” He had married his perfect mate.
They rode for some little distance in utter contentment. “Do you know,” he said, “I think you realized very early on that I was smitten with you. I think you might even have believed I was falling in love with you.”
“I might have.”
“But it occurs to me that I’ve never articulated it. So, on this our wedding day, I want you to be perfectly clear on the matter. I did fall in love with you very early on. I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love a woman.” He stopped and drew a deep breath. “Whew! I hope I don’t have to do that again. I’m not terribly good at such confessions. Lack of experience, I suppose.”
He and his duchess laughed together. He could see that theirs was going to be very close to a perfect marriage.
The End
The Lords of Eton series
I hope you enjoyed Last Duke Standing. If you did, I hope you'll consider leaving a review at the site where you purchased it. (And let me know, so I can enter you for my $50 gift card drawing.)
This book is the third in my Lords of Eton series about three aristocratic lads who were best friends at Eton and how their escapades and interests continue to tie them--and the women they love--together after Eton.
The first book in the series is The Portrait of Lady Wycliff, which is loosely based on my out-of-print book, The Earl’s Bargain. It is available at Kobo.
The second book in the series, The Earl, the Vow and the Plain Jane, is loosely based on my out-of-print book His Lordship’s Vow and is available at Kobo.
Cheryl Bolen’s Books
Regency Historical Romance:
The Lords of Eton Series
The Portrait of Lady Wycliff
The Earl, the Vow, and the Plain Jane
Last Duke Standing
The Brides of Bath Series
The Bride Wore Blue
With His Ring
The Bride’s Secret
To Take This Lord
Love In The Library
A Christmas in Bath
House of Haverstock Series
Lady by Chance
Duchess by Mistake
Countess by Coincidence
Ex-Spinster by Christmas
Brazen Brides Series
Counterfeit Countess
His Golden Ring
Oh What A (Wedding) Night
Miss Hastings’ Excellent London Adventure
A Birmingham Family Christmas
The Regent Mysteries Series
With His Lady's Assistance
A Most Discreet Inquiry
The Theft Before Christmas
An Egyptian Affair
Pride and Prejudice Sequels
Miss Darcy’s New Companion
Miss Darcy’s Secret Love
The Liberation of Miss de Bourgh
My Lord Wicked
Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas)
Marriage of Inconvenience
A Duke Deceived
Romantic Suspense:
Falling For Frederick
Texas Heroines in Peril Series
Protecting Britannia
Murder at Veranda House
A Cry In The Night
Capitol Offense
World War II Romance:
It Had to Be You
American Historical Romance:
A Summer To Remember (3 American Romances)