And, if she did not send for a physician immediately, it might soon become that very crime.
“Edward, you must stay here. I will only be a moment. I must awaken the household and have the physician sent for.” She did not want to leave him, in case the attacker returned, but what choice did she have?
Laying him gently on the ground, she jumped up and raced towards the house, screaming blue murder at the top of her lungs as she burst through the front door.
“Help! Someone help!” she screamed. “Help!”
A few moments later, footsteps hurtled across the balcony above and several figures came running down the stairs. Her father, the Duke, came first, with her mother and sisters close behind. Several of the valets appeared, too, all of them dressed in their nightclothes, their eyes wide in bleary shock.
“Whatever is the matter, Lydia? Are you hurt? My goodness, look at her!” Her father spoke first, approaching her uncertainly. Glancing down at herself, she realized she was covered in Edward’s blood.
“It is Edward, Father.” She reined in her anger, for Edward needed her help first. She could launch her accusations later, once he was safely out of danger. “He is in the stables. He has been shot twice. You must send for a physician now, or I fear he will die.”
Her mother peered over her husband’s shoulder. “What in heaven’s name were you doing out in the stables?”
“I was reading late into the night, and I heard the gunshots. I went to see what was happening, and I found Edward lying on the ground, covered in blood. He needs help, and he needs it now.”
The Duke looked to the valets. “Take two of the horses and ride to Doctor Bartlett this instant. Do not leave without him, do you understand?”
The valets nodded and ran out of the door, whilst her father pushed past her and strode in the same direction. Lydia attempted to hurry after him, but her mother caught hold of her wrist and dragged her back.
“You will remain here. Let the men see to this awful business,” she said firmly.
“I must go with them,” Lydia protested, but her mother’s grip only tightened. “Mary, Caroline, take your sister to her bedchamber and burn these clothes.” She turned to one of the timid lady’s maids who had come to see what the ruckus was about. “Violet, will you draw a bath for Lady Lydia?”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Violet dipped her head and scampered up the staircase.
“Mother, please. I must go with Father. Edward’s attacker may still be out there, attempting to kill him.”
“You will do no such thing. Your father will know precisely what to do, and I will not have you cause a scene in my house. Now, follow your sisters to your bedchamber or I shall march you there myself.” The Duchess’ voice was rife with warning, and Lydia lacked the strength to protest any further. It was a fruitless task, that would only lead to more upset.
“Come now, Lydia.” Caroline reached out her hand, which Lydia took weakly. Propped up between her two sisters, they carried her back to her bedchamber and sat her down in the armchair by the fireplace.
“What happened, Lydia?” Mary sank down in front of her sister and clutched her hands.
Lydia’s eyes filled with tears. “There was a man, and he shot Edward. I did not see his face, but he was out there. He may still be out there.”
“Were you really reading?” Caroline stood by the mantelpiece, her gaze turned away from Lydia. There was sorrow and suspicion in her voice.
“No.”
“I did not think so.” Caroline turned and sighed. “You love him, don’t you?”
Lydia nodded feebly.
Mary gasped. “The stable boy?”
“He is more than that,” Lydia shot back.
“Do Mother and Father know?” Caroline came over and sat on the arm-rest.
Lydia shook her head. “I do not know. I have my fears about Father.” She did not want to go into detail. She would save that for the following day, once she had gathered her nerves and knew what had become of Edward.
“We will not tell a soul,” Caroline promised, looking at Mary. “Agreed, Mary?”
“Agreed. I will not breathe a word. Cross my heart.”
Caroline smiled and cupped Lydia’s face. “You may think me dowdy and stern, darling sister, but you ought to have confided in me. I would not have told, and I would have supported your decision. Love is one of God’s gifts, and if you have found it, then who am I to deny you that?”
Tears fell down Lydia’s cheeks. “I was so afraid.”
“I can only imagine, sweet sister.” Caroline stroked away the tears and smiled warmly. “If you love him, you must find the courage to tell Mama and Papa. Even if they are angry, they cannot decide your fate for you. They may believe they can, but that is not how love works.”
“What if he dies, Caroline?” Lydia sobbed.
“Papa has sent for the physician, and he has gone to attend on him. If you would like, I can go there now and see what is happening? I will come back straight away with any news I may find.”
Lydia nodded. “If you would. I cannot go on without knowing that he is alive. He was barely breathing when I rescued him.”
Mary gasped even louder. “You rescued him?”
“I heard the gunshot and charged out on Conker. If I had not been there, he would surely have died.” Her hands were shaking, and no warmth from the fire could ease it.
“But why were you out there, in the first place?” Mary arched a curious eyebrow.
“That is enough questioning for now, Mary,” Caroline interjected. “Lydia is exhausted and in need of clean clothes. See to it that Violet draws a warm bath and stay with her whilst I go to the stables. Do not inquire further, or I shall be rather cross.”
“As you wish,” Mary pouted. Lydia was grateful to her older sister, for she did not have the energy left to discuss what had happened, or why she had been at the stables. Caroline had always been kind of heart, but she had never expected this kind of generosity. It was much needed.
Caroline rose and left the room, whilst Lydia stared into the flames of the fire and prayed for Edward’s life. She envisioned him, alone and bleeding on the stable floor, and knew how close he was to death’s door. The gunshot wound above his heart had not ceased to bleed, and she feared the bullet had torn right through the organ itself.
If your heart is broken, Edward, it shall break mine too.
Chapter 21
Adrian awoke, cold and shivering, on the floor of his bedchamber at Summerhill Hall. Gray daylight shone in through the window, prompting him to blink his scratchy eyes awake. His mouth felt dry, his tongue furred, and his body aching all over.
What happened to me? The last thing he remembered was taking a sip of his brandy and walking to the window. After that, it was a black haze.
Hauling himself into a sitting position, he ran a hand through his unkempt hair and realized that someone was knocking at the door. They sounded rather persistent, to the point where he wondered why they did not simply walk in. On unsteady legs, he crossed the room and tugged on the door handle, only to find it locked. Strange.
The key was no longer in the lock, either. He looked around the room for it, his eyes blurred and bleary, until he found the item on the side table by the fire. Puzzled, he picked it up and took it over to the door, unlocking it with a nauseating heave.
“Adrian?” James stormed in. “Thank goodness, we thought you were dead.”
Adrian shook his fuzzy head. “Not dead.”
“Are you unwell?”
“A little.”
James nodded. “Me, too.” He walked over to the side table and grasped the crystal tumbler. He sniffed it suspiciously and set it back down. “It is as I thought.”
“What?”
“Last night, you and I were the victim of poison. I had gone to visit with my mother, and when I returned to my bedchamber, I found a tumbler of brandy waiting for me. Being tired, I took a gulp of it. The next thing I remember, I was waking
up on the floor.”
“Yes, that is the same with me.” Adrian’s head pounded viciously, as if a villain were trying to escape through his temples.
“We were followed,” James murmured, eyeing the window.
A flash of memory came back to Adrian. “I saw a hooded man, waiting in the gardens below. He ran when I called to him, but I had already consumed too much of the brandy. I collapsed, and that is all I recall.”
“And did you recognize the servant who brought you your drink?”
Adrian shook his head. “I did not, though I do not know many of the staff here.”
“I will arrange a meeting immediately. If you see the devil, you must point him out.”
“Yes, Cousin.”
James grimaced. “And once we discover who it is who did this terrible deed, you and I must leave for Woolford Grange without delay.”
“Yes, Cousin.” He lacked any further vocabulary, for his brain pulsated violently in his head.
“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes. I will have the staff gathered for you.” Without another word, he swept out of the room, leaving Adrian to wonder what on earth was going on. Who could have followed them to the merchant’s house? The brother, maybe? Perhaps, they were following the same trail and Miss Veronica’s brother did not wish to be apprehended mid-mission.
Whatever the case may have been, Adrian sensed that their situation was growing more dire by the second. Every moment they wasted, certain death grew closer to Edward. If the brother did not shoot Edward outright for disgracing his sister, then a duel would almost definitely ensue. And Edward had always been a terrible shot.
* * *
“Which one of you did this?” James roared, his cheeks enflamed with anger. “Adrian, do you see the perpetrator?”
The staff were lined up in the entrance hall, each of them quaking in fear. The Duchess had not been awoken, for fear of causing further distress, and James was glad of that. He did not wish for his mother to see him so irate. She already thought him emotional enough.
Adrian looked along the line and shook his head. “I do not, Cousin.”
“Describe the person who brought you your drink.” James glowered at his staff. “If any of you have seen a person who matches the description my cousin gives, you must tell me immediately.”
“It was a young man, with chestnut hair and blue eyes. He had a lanky frame and seemed somewhat nervous,” Adrian said. “He had a faint accent, though I could not place it.”
An older woman raised a shaky hand. “I may know who it was, My Lord.”
“Then speak!” James snapped.
“A young man came to the door yesterday evening, and said he’d been sent to replace one of the valets. With the valet missing for over a week now, I presumed what he said was true. He said that the master of the house had employed him, and he was to begin right away. He was not instructed to bring either of you any refreshment, so I can only assume he was acting under his own influence.” She looked up the line. “Although, he is not here today. He said his name was Arnold.”
“And which valet was missing?” James could not believe the incompetence of his staff.
A young man raised his hand. “It was me, My Lord, but I had already asked for the time from His Grace. My wife has recently been taken ill, and he said I could take a week to care for her. Today was my first day back, My Lord.”
“And you know nothing of this Arnold?”
The valet shook his head. “His Grace never said a word about replacing me. He said I could have my job when I returned, and he would keep it open if anything further occurred with my wife.”
“And we just let strangers wander in off the street, and give them employ in this house, do we?” James scowled at the older woman, who he knew to be Mrs. Pearson, the housekeeper.
“No, My Lord, but he sounded mightily convincing. And, with Philip away, I presumed His Grace had sought temporary measures until he returned.”
James narrowed his eyes. “This is an outrage. If I did not have business to attend to, you would all be at risk of losing your jobs. Now, get out of my sight before I dwell upon the idea more intently.”
The staff scuttled away like startled rats, leaving James in the center of the entrance hall, his hands balled into fists. Adrian came up to him and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“It is an easy mistake to make, Cousin. Do not be too hard on them.”
James frowned. “That is easy for you to say; these are not your staff.”
“They thought they were doing the right thing.”
“Yes, and that almost saw us both killed.”
Adrian sighed. “Nevertheless, we cannot waste another moment. We must depart and pray that Miss Veronica’s brother has not reached Woolford Grange before us.”
“You are quite right.” James shrugged off his cousin’s hand, and his anger along with it. “Are you well enough to leave?”
“I will be, Cousin. You lead the way and I will follow. If everything works in our favor, we will have Edward back before tomorrow dawns.”
“I hope so.” James was quite finished with chasing Edward the length and breadth of the country.
They exited the house, mounted their horses, and headed for Woolford Grange, with James allowing Adrian to go ahead of him. He was unfamiliar with the house itself, but his cousin seemed to know where he was going. And, as he had said, they were running out of time to find Edward in one piece.
* * *
Stopping only once at a roadside inn, they arrived at the gates of Woolford Grange just after nightfall. It was a charming house, nestled on the border between England and Wales. Adrian would not have classed it as the North, per se, but then he had a Scottish wife who forbade such talk. Anything below the ruins of Hadrian’s Wall was the South to her.
I miss you, my love.
He had thought of her a great deal throughout this journey to find Edward. He wondered what he might be doing if he had never come along on this wild goose chase.
I would be in your arms, in our bedchamber, bathing in the glow of our love.
Instead, he was freezing cold, and the rain was beginning to draw in.
They trotted through the gates and headed up the gravel driveway to the front door of the property. It was a gargantuan building made of clean sandstone, with carvings embellishing the rooftop. Even in the dark, Adrian spotted graceful goddesses and vases dripping with stone fruit and vines. He imagined it would look even more remarkable in the daylight.
“Let us hope we are not too late, Cousin,” Adrian said, as he got down from his horse. An older gentleman opened the front door and came down the steps to greet them.
“Good evening, Sirs. How may I be of assistance?” He was evidently the butler of this lovely house. Adrian just wished they were there on friendlier matters.
“Could you tell me whose seat this is?” Adrian replied.
“That of Lord and Lady Woolford.”
Adrian nodded. “And has the house received any guests of late?”
“Yes, Sir. There are many folks who come in and out of these doors.”
“Has a gentleman, by the name of Edward Godwin, come this way?” Adrian did not bother with vague details, for he was losing his patience. Unfortunately, after their jaded history, neither Edward nor James were as well-known as they ought to have been. Nevertheless, he simply wanted to know if his cousin was here, so they might drag him out and take him home. It was a good sign that the butler did not seem too flustered, for if Miss Veronica’s brother had made it here before they did, there would have been chaos afoot.
The butler paused in thought. “No, Sir. Nobody of that name.”
“How about a young lady named Miss Veronica Simpkins, possibly Simpson,” James cut in.
The butler’s face darkened. “Yes, there has been a young lady here, who goes by such a name. It is Simpkins, if I am not mistaken.”
Adrian’s heart leapt. “And is she still within? Did a gentleman com
e to meet with her?”
“Her brother, Leopold, you mean?” The butler practically spat the name. “Yes, he has been here. He arrived late last night and demanded entry. When I told him that his sister was no longer here, he almost broke one of our pillars.” He gestured to the one closest, which had a considerable chunk of stone missing.
“Wait, Miss Veronica is no longer here?”
The butler sighed. “It is as I told her brother—she departed early yesterday morning after receiving a letter. I did not ask who it was from, but it sent her into a rather anxious state. She left shortly after.”
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