by Joyce Alec
Something was gravely wrong.
“It is Lord Wiltshire, is it not?” she whispered, sinking back down into her chair slowly. “What has become of him?”
Lord Hoskins licked his lips, looking a little uncomfortable. “He lives, Miss Williams,” he said slowly. “I should not like you to think that he is at all in danger of passing from this life to the next, for that is certainly not the case. We were blessed with the presence of a doctor in White’s itself and—”
“In White’s?” Lucinda repeated, her stomach twisting itself in knots as she tried her best to keep as calm as she could. “Whatever happened in White’s?”
Running one hand over his eyes, Lord Hoskins gave her a rueful smile. “Forgive me, Miss Williams. I am not being as precise as I should be. I did not have many hours of sleep last night and my mind is a little fuddled.” Taking in a long breath, he spread his hands. “Allow me to start again. Last evening, both Lord Wilshire and I were in White’s. Lord Wiltshire stepped outside for a moment, having been told that there was someone who wished to speak to him. From what I understand, there was no one present but, for whatever reason, someone attacked him.”
Lucinda sucked in a breath, one hand now pressed at her stomach, the other to her mouth. Shock washed over her, leaving her feeling weak.
“Lord Wiltshire somehow made his way back into White’s and, as I have said, we were very fortunate that there was a doctor already attending another gentleman there. Lord Wiltshire is now recovering back at my townhouse, having had his wound seen to by the good doctor.” He held up one hand, as though he already knew just what it was that Lucinda was about to ask. “All it will take is a little time, Miss Williams. He will soon be back within society, but it is something that will take time. Time that he does not wish to give, I might add.” The corner of his mouth quirked but Lucinda did not smile back at him. Her heart was pounding with fright, her eyes searching his face as she tried to take in what he had said.
“Good gracious,” Lady Crampton said, her voice rather quiet. “That is most dreadful. Might I ask if you or Lord Wiltshire himself know who it was that attacked him?”
Lord Hoskins shook his head regretfully. “No, indeed not,” he said, an expression of sorrow on his face. “The man was gone well before anyone went out to search for him. He allowed Lord Wiltshire to return to White’s and did not steal anything from him, which makes me question why he might have attacked Lord Wiltshire in the first place. There seems to have been very little motivation for such a thing.”
Closing her eyes, Lucinda felt herself sway in her chair but forced her hands to grip the edge of the table as she attempted to draw in any sort of strength into herself.
“That is very unusual, certainly,” she heard Lady Crampton say. “I cannot give any advice for—”
“The note.”
Lucinda heard her voice, thin and wispy, as she tried to make it clear to her aunt what she meant. Opening her eyes, she looked toward Lady Crampton and saw the color drain from her face as her mouth formed a perfect circle.
“Note?” Lord Hoskins repeated, looking from one to the next, but Lucinda shook her head.
“It is not of any importance,” she said quickly, forcing strength into her voice. “Might you take a short note from me to Lord Wiltshire, Lord Hoskins? It will only take me a few minutes.” She steadied herself in her chair, wondering if she would have the strength to rise from the table, but knowing precisely what she had to do.
“But of course,” Lord Hoskins replied with a small smile. “I am certain that Lord Wiltshire would be very glad to hear from you, Miss Williams. I know he greatly regrets being unable to come and speak to you himself. Indeed, he was quite determined to do so until he realized he could barely remove himself from the bed in which he lay.”
A small, tight smile flashed across Lucinda’s face as she forced herself to stand. Lady Crampton looked at her with concern, speaking her name, but Lucinda gave her only a small shake of her head. They would have to discuss the matter at length later but, for the present, there was no question in her mind as to what was required of her. If she wanted to keep Lord Wiltshire safe from further harm, then there was only one choice. A choice that she had to make no matter how difficult or torturous she found it.
Excusing herself, Lucinda made her way to her writing desk and, with shaking hands, pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. Her eyes were already filling with tears as she picked out her quill and her ink. She did not want to have to write these words, did not want to have to break herself away from him, but the threat from Lord Astley was clear. If she did not, then worse was to come. Lord Wiltshire might lose his life—and all on her account. It was best to do what she could to keep him safe, even if it meant bringing her own sorrows to the fore.
Shall I tell him of Lord Astley’s note? Lucinda thought to herself, as she considered precisely what she was to write. Do I inform him as to why I have been forced into such a decision?
Hesitating, Lucinda quickly shook her head to herself before commencing. There was no good reason for her to do so. If she was to tell Lord Wiltshire of what had occurred, then no doubt, he would do whatever he could to confront Lord Astley in order that he might secure his continued acquaintance with Lucinda. Given that Lord Astley was a man who clearly was well used to doing precisely what he wished without any difficulty—and, as her aunt had said, using intimidation and threats to have men do as he wished—Lucinda was certain that nothing Lord Wiltshire said or did would remove the threat of Lord Astley. No, she would not be specific as to her reasons why. Instead, she would simply inform him that she had changed her mind, even though her heart was breaking at the very thought of putting such words onto the parchment.
‘Lord Wiltshire,’ she wrote, her hand shaking slightly as she penned each word. ‘I am deeply troubled to hear of what has occurred. I do hope that you continue to recover and that the person responsible for your attack is found and punished, however unlikely that might seem at present.’ She drew in a long breath, closing her eyes as tears trickled down her cheeks with one splashing onto the parchment itself. Carefully placing down her quill, she took out her handkerchief and wiped carefully at her eyes, praying that any remnant of her tears on the letter would be put down solely to her concern for him.
Picking up her quill again, Lucinda continued her writing, hating every word that she had to put there.
‘I do not want to add to your injury or to your pain, but I believe that now must be the time to bring our acquaintance, such as it is, to an end. I have enjoyed our conversations but, after some consideration, I believe it is for your best that such an intimacy ends. I will miss your friendship and your good humor, Lord Wiltshire.’
Tears were once more beginning to burn in her eyes and Lucinda was forced to stop a second time to wipe them away. Finishing her letter, she sanded it quickly and then sealed it up, looking down at it with deep despondency. It felt as though something within her very heart had twisted and broken, shattering to ash and removing itself from her being entirely. There was already an emptiness forming within her, a deep valley that she was certain would never be filled.
Closing her eyes and fighting back yet more tears, Lucinda drew in a long breath and then pulled out a second piece of parchment. This time, her hand shook all the more and the words she wrote were all the more reluctant but every time she wished to stop, every time she wanted to give in and throw the parchment from her, she recalled Lord Wiltshire’s warm smile and felt her resolve grow. The news Lord Hoskins had revealed to her was still forcefully in her mind, planting a vision there of Lord Wiltshire lying, weak and wounded. She could not allow that to become worse, could not permit him to be lying there again only a few days after the first injury, to then find himself drawing closer to death than to life. Whatever Lord Astley wanted, he was about to be given without hesitation, so that she might protect Lord Wiltshire from all his wickedness.
‘I will accept your court,’ she wrote, the word
s tearing at her soul. ‘There is nothing more you need do. You have achieved your victory and it will not be taken from you.’
Sanding it and sealing it, Lucinda forced herself to her feet. Swallowing hard and praying that her countenance was not one of great upset, she lifted her chin and forced herself to walk back to the dining room.
“Have this taken to Viscount Astley,” she said, her voice shaking as she handed the first note to the butler, who had just emerged from the dining room. “It must go at once.”
The butler looked at her keenly for a moment before nodding. “Yes, Miss Williams,” he said at once, his expression holding concern. “Might I ask if there is anything further you need from me?”
Knowing that he was expressing his concern in the only way he could, Lucinda managed to smile, even though her heart was being torn into pieces as she shook her head.
“No, I thank you,” she answered, before turning toward the dining room. It took her a moment to regain her composure before she stepped inside, knowing that what she was about to do could never be undone.
“My dear,” Lady Crampton rose the very moment Lucinda stepped inside. “Are you all right?”
Lord Hoskins stood up also, turning to face her. “I am sorry if such news has upset you, Miss Williams. I did not mean to—”
“I am quite all right,” she lied, holding out her letter toward him with a shaking hand. “Please, if you would be so good as to take this to Lord Wiltshire, I would be very grateful.”
“Lucinda,” Lady Crampton interrupted, coming toward her, but Lucinda only shook her head mutely. Lord Hoskins looked from one to the other before he took the letter carefully, his eyes still fixed to hers.
“If you are quite certain, Miss Williams,” he said slowly, clearly aware that there was some sort of reluctance on both her and her aunt’s part. “I shall give it to him the moment I return to the house.”
Much to her mortification, Lucinda’s tears began to spill onto her cheeks as she nodded, forcing her to pull out her handkerchief and dab at her eyes. “I thank you,” she whispered as Lady Crampton hurried toward her, one arm immediately going around her shoulders. “And please, Lord Hoskins, might you do me one more thing?”
Lord Hoskins nodded, his eyes a little wide as he looked back at her. “But of course,” he promised, taking a small step forward. “Anything you wish, Miss Williams, I would be glad to do.”
Lucinda nodded but was forced to take a few moments as she struggled to hold her shattered emotions together. “Please, Lord Hoskins,” she whispered, looking up at him, her vision blurred. “Please tell Lord Wiltshire that I am truly sorry.”
10
Quite how long he had slept for, Phillip did not know. He had awoken a few times with pain but had quickly drifted back into the depths of slumber, his body needing the time to recover. There was still daylight coming in through the chink in the curtains, however, and Phillip pushed himself into a seated position with a groan. He had only one purpose in his intentions: to recover quickly so that he might once more be in Miss Williams’ company.
Pain knifed his side once more as he reached to ring the small bell that sat beside his bed, but the sound alerted the staff at once, for a footman came into the room almost immediately, his expression anxious.
“Is Lord Hoskins at home?” Phillip rasped as the footman nodded.
“I will let him know at once that you are awake,” the footman replied, anticipating Phillip’s need for something to drink by handing him a glass of water. The cool liquid helped restore Phillip somewhat, and he finished the glass quickly, before handing it back to the servant. “There is a dinner tray being prepared for you, if you are hungry.”
Phillip opened his mouth to say that he was not hungry at all, only for his stomach to growl loudly. “Yes, I think I shall have it,” he answered, a small smile flitting across his face. “And a brandy.” Shifting his body slightly, he let out another quiet groan but forced himself to remain where he was rather than lie down again. He wanted to remain awake now, wanted to speak to Lord Hoskins and to know whether or not he had managed to speak to Miss Williams.
“The doctor has left laudanum, my lord,” the footman told him, carefully edging toward the door. “If you should wish for some, I—”
“No,” Phillip replied, as forcefully as he could. “No, no laudanum. Just Lord Hoskins and that dinner tray will suit me very well.” The last thing he wanted was for his mind to become foggy, his body heavy and tired. Despite the pain, he wanted to remain as awake as he could, wanted to be able to speak to Lord Hoskins without impediment. The laudanum could be discarded.
“Very well, my lord.” The footman inclined his head and then quickly disappeared, leaving Phillip alone in his bedchamber. Closing his eyes, Phillip rested his head back against the pillows, the pain in his side a dull, throbbing ache that never seemed to fade. The memory of what had occurred slammed back into his mind with force and no longer did he have to struggle for the details. He could remember everything clearly: the footman informing him that there was a man outside of White’s wishing to speak to him; the way he had gone out of doors without concern, only to find no one present; the shadow that had moved in the dark, giving him only a second or two to prepare himself. He could recall the way he had fallen to the ground, the weight of his attacker atop him, only for the man to disappear; how he had then struggled to climb the steps back to White’s, how he had collapsed on the floor and how everything had turned to darkness.
Phillip closed his eyes and let out his breath slowly, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest as something unsettling began to swirl in his stomach. Why had he been attacked in such a way? It had, obviously, been planned and carried out by someone with a clear intention, even though Phillip himself had very little idea as to what such an intention could be.
“You are awake, then?”
Phillip’s eyes flew open and he lifted his head, just as Lord Hoskins strode into the room looking, Phillip considered, still rather concerned.
“I am sorry,” Lord Hoskins continued, his eyes wide as he held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Did I just waken you? I did not mean to do so, but the footman informed me—”
“I was not asleep,” Phillip interrupted, seeing the look of relief that swept over Lord Hoskins’ features. “I was merely thinking.”
“Thinking, eh?” Lord Hoskins sat down in the chair next to the bed and looked up at Phillip with interest. “What about, might I ask?”
Considering for a moment, Phillip explained everything that he had remembered, seeing how Lord Hoskins’ eyes widened somewhat as he recounted what had happened outside of White’s.
“What I cannot understand,” he finished quickly, “is why someone would attack me in such a manner. It is very strange indeed, for they did not attempt to steal from me, even though I had coins in my pocket.”
Nodding slowly, Lord Hoskins ran one hand over his eyes, before sighing heavily. “I do not know,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I went back to White’s to speak to the staff, but no one remembers informing you that there was someone outside of White’s who wished to speak to you.”
“What do you mean?” Phillip asked at once, quite astonished. “One of the footmen—”
“Appears to be denying that they did so,” Lord Hoskins interrupted, shrugging. “I do not know why, but there is none there who admit to sending you out of doors. Perhaps it is out of fear—fear that they will be sent from their post if they admit to doing so, or fear that they will be punished by the person who asked them to do such a thing in the first place.”
Phillip considered this, sinking back slowly against the pillows. His heart had quickened when Lord Hoskins had spoken about returning to White’s, only to fade into a slow, sorrowful beat that made him question everything he remembered.
“It must be as you say,” he agreed eventually. “But that in itself is very frustrating indeed. I would have liked to speak to that particular footman and�
�” He looked up sharply at Lord Hoskins. “When I am recovered, I shall go there again in search of that footman and will demand to know what was said to him to make him do such a thing.”
Lifting one shoulder, Lord Hoskins gave him a small smile. “You certainly could attempt to do such a thing,” he agreed as Phillip nodded fervently. “Although I would wager that the man in question will hide himself away or take on different duties until you leave again. It is clear to me that they do not wish to say a word about what happened.”
Phillip closed his eyes and blew out a frustrated breath. “I can but try,” he said irritably, before another thought pushed itself into his mind. His eyes flew open. “And Miss Williams?”
“Yes, I went to call upon both her and her aunt early this morning,” Lord Hoskins replied, shifting slightly in his seat to pull out a letter. “She was very distraught, I confess. She wished me to give this to you.”
Phillip reached for it, only for Lord Hoskins to pull it back for a moment. “She was also most insistent that I tell you that she is deeply sorry, Wiltshire.”
A note of dread threw itself hard at Phillip’s heart. “Sorry?” he repeated as Lord Hoskins handed him the note. “Whatever for?”
“I do not know,” Lord Hoskins replied slowly, just as the door was opened and a dinner tray brought in. “Miss Williams was very tearful indeed and I had the strong impression that her aunt was rather upset about whatever your letter contains.” He looked steadily at Phillip as the maid set the dinner tray out on the table next to Phillip’s bed. “I should say, in fact, that the lady was very distressed. Very distressed indeed.”
Swallowing hard, Phillip looked down at the letter and, turning it over, broke the seal. Waiting until the maid had quit the room before he unfolded it, he took in a long breath and steadied himself, feeling an increasing sense of foreboding.