As the fever left, memories flowed back. Shine’s betrayal, the explosion in his arm that had knocked him to the ground, his returning shot and struggle to mount his horse. Then, his wild ride through the streets, hanging onto Horus. His ever-stalwart horse had sensed the danger and had stepped lightly but swiftly back to the house. Horus had even whinnied and stamped his feet when they’d arrived to the door.
Freddy had run out, only thinking to relieve him of his horse. Hayes had noted the whiteness of Freddy’s face as the boy stared at his drab overcoat soaked in blood as he’d slid off his horse. Cobb and Molton had been out in a trice and they’d carried him into the house. He had a vague recollection of being hauled down the stairs to the kitchens and complaining loudly about it.
Cobb had since told him that he’d lost a fair amount of blood. To quell the servants talk, Cobb had given them a story. Their lord had acted as a second to a friend and then been set upon by highwaymen on the way home. His panniers had been packed with bandages and such, in case his friend was hit. The highwaymen must have thought the panniers carried valuables.
Hayes had grimaced upon hearing the tale. There were vast holes in that story—his pistols had not been dueling pistols and nobody met for a duel in the dark. The only detail that had the ring of truth was the panniers. Cobb had been observant enough to notice that he’d had them when he left and had returned without them. Although, it would be rather foolish to believe a second and not a surgeon had brought bandages. He did not know if they believed half of it, but Cobb had taken the further precaution of warning them all that if the matter was spoken of again, they would be dismissed without reference. The housekeeper had sniffed at the threat; Molton had been equally unimpressed. However, the rest had been cowed to silence. He hoped that silence would hold over time.
As far as Mr. Shine was concerned, Hayes prayed they’d seen the last of him. There was always the danger that an unhinged individual might try something else, but just now Shine would be nursing a wound in his leg. With any luck, it would fester and kill him. If he lived, Shine had got enough money to relocate himself. He hoped the man had some sort of self-preservation instinct and would move on.
Hayes felt stronger now and had been out of bed for a half hour at a time. That was well, as he’d had to beg off on a number of engagements already. He’d claimed a fever—a vague enough complaint that it might be construed as anything. Though, he would have to make a reappearance soon. He would also have to send some sort of communication to Mrs. Hemming. There was still a guard on her house and they were followed from place to place, but it must seem odd that nothing had been heard from him beyond telling them to stay home and not attend Lady Blakeley’s half mask. He supposed they might have gone after all, but at that moment he had not known if Mr. Shine had associates who might try to kidnap Miss Farnsworth while he attended his midnight meeting in the park.
He thought it would be best if Miss Farnsworth and her aunt never knew what had actually occurred—it would only serve to frighten them. He must just communicate that the danger had likely passed.
Hayes went to his desk by the window and pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer.
Mrs. Hemming,
Please excuse my absence, I have been much taken up with discovering more about our mutual acquaintance. By the evidence I’ve gathered, I have hope that we will not be troubled further by that particular gentleman. For now, I will leave my men in place on Cork Street and you will continue to be discreetly followed but I believe the danger has passed.
Hayes bit his lip as the wound began to pulse in his arm. He might wish to write more, but he dared not test the wound before he had to. He might wish to write something that would be a hint to Miss Farnsworth. Though, he was not certain what that hint should be. As he’d laid in bed hour upon hour, she’d been much on his mind.
What a start they’d had! Both with their backs up. She’d claimed a particular skill at piquet. He’d condescended. She’d taught him a lesson. He’d found he was neither used to nor fond of being taught a lesson. They had gone on prickly and uneasy.
His feelings had begun to change in some slight way at Lady Catherine’s ball. They had been more affected as he’d watched her rescue young Sam from Riddick’s cudgel on Lady Jersey’s steps. Sam, who had now become a favorite in the stables, due to his propensity for telling of the horrors of St. Giles. And there was Sam’s mother, who was less of a favorite with the housemaids for her propensity for telling of the horrors of St. Giles.
Then, he and Miss Farnsworth had been locked together in a room, under threat, and she’d shown her real worth. Her bravery. Her nerve. And of course, the Bergrams’ ball, where he’d stared at the ringlet of a curl against her neck. Where he’d found out her real circumstances. Her dowry would be small. Too small for him to consider.
Hayes paused. He was not considering her dowry! Good lord, the laudanum was playing tricks with him. Why else would he be thinking of dowries?
He was a gentleman of the Dukes’ Pact. He would take his time, no hurry to marry. He would have his way, and his way was to avoid the state for a year or two. His way was to have the estates on firm footing before committing himself. Miss Farnsworth would be off the scene before it was his time to declare to any lady. A woman like that did not drift from season to season. In any case, he doubted she could even afford to come back for a second round.
For all he knew, she was being courted as he lay there. Why shouldn’t she be? She would make a rational choice for a husband, she would not leave the town without her future secured. She had too much care for her sisters to do otherwise.
Though, why should some worthless fool win the lady? He could imagine the fellow—he was of a suitable estate and would provide adequately. It would all be very adequate. She would accept him as her duty. Or worse, she would like him, though Hayes was certain she should not.Adequatedid not seem adequate for Miss Farnsworth.
Or, Good God, what if Grayson prevailed? Grayson was intent on making Miss Farnsworth his latest romantic conquest. The lord might think he’d toy with the lady’s feelings and then be off to the next. But Grayson played with fire and one of these days he would not escape. Why should he not take his fall at the feet of Miss Farnsworth?
Like a wayward horse, his thoughts went this way and that way as he used all of his strength to steer them back to the right path.
None of it mattered, he did not know what he would write if he could and he could do no more just now than sign his name.
*
Mrs. Hemming sortedthrough her various correspondence. Lily saw her pause at one particular letter. Her aunt’s expression was so singular that Lily wondered if it were another communication from Lady Carradine. She’d given up wondering if Lord Ashworth would write something—she’d spent too many days waiting with bated breath for the post to arrive, and then nothing to show for it. She had allowed herself to hope for naught, his silence said everything that needed to be said.
The past days had been spent fulfilling their engagements, always aware that there was a man on horseback who trailed them. Both she and Mrs. Hemming were cognizant of the idea that Lord Ashworth did not yet believe it entirely safe to dispense with the precaution. He would provide a guard for them. Though, he wouldnotprovide himself, as he had done on the way to the Bergrams.
She had not seen him at the Findlay’s dinner, though Lord Findlay was a cousin and she’d been certain she would. Then, she’d heard he had some sort of fever complaint—the flimsiest of excuses one used when one wished to absent oneself. A person claiming such a disease had bought themselves at least a week if they cared to and were in no danger of having visitors. Lily knew in her heart that it was not fever that kept him away. It was she. After all, was not a hopeful female more dangerous than any disease?
She wished they would finally meet again, so that she could show him she had no thought of him. That shedidwas beside the point. She was skilled enough at hiding her feelings that she might convince him of it. She would wear her card player face. Then, they could go back to their old footing.
“Ranier,” Mrs. Hemming said, laying down the letter, “I wonder if you might give us a moment alone?”
Lily dropped her napkin. Was the letter her aunt had just read indeed another from Lady Carradine? Or even, finally, from Lord Ashworth? Surely, it was something of importance.
Ranier appeared as surprised as Lily at the request, but shooed the footmen from the room and closed the door behind him.
Mrs. Hemming slid the letter across the table.
