“Right, I’ll go up and see the mister squared away. Have a stiff brandy while you wait, that will set you up.”
Felicity nodded, vaguely aware that Lady Albright was attempting ten things at once. She was directing the footmen who helped Mr. Stratton, sending the butler for the doctor,sending another footman to the stables to find the padlock that was supposed to be on the tiger’s enclosure, loudly explaining how Tiberius simply did not know his own strength and would not have purposefully hurt anyone, outlining what the tiger had eaten for his dinner to point out that it was not as if he were hungry, explaining how the padlock had no doubt been forgotten when the tiger had been served that dinner, and finally hurrying up the stairs behind the patient.
The duke followed the lady and the patient up the stairs and Felicity had far more faith in her father’s ability to set things right than Lady Albright.
The house had emptied, but for the servants and Lord Denderby. He rushed forward and Felicity could not think where he had been when the latch came undone. Where had anybody been? Where had Lord Rustmont been?
People had disappeared out of that garden like a magician’s trick. As far as she could tell, they’d kept going right out the front doors. She could hear the distant sounds of carriages and people, but Lady Albright’s house was eerily empty.
“My son!”
“He has been taken above stairs and a doctor has been sent for, Lord Denderby,” Felicity said.
“Look what you have brought him to,” the viscount said, fairly spitting the words out. “He is an only son! You are a family of lunatics, that’s what you are.”
The viscount headed toward the stairs.
“It was not my tiger, my lord, and it was not me who forgot to put the padlock on the door!” she called after him. “Furthermore, you hightailed it out of that garden without your son, I noticed. And even furthermore, the door was locked when we tried to get in the house—where was all your concern then?”
The viscount paused his race up and stairs and cried, “There was a tiger on the loose!”
Felicity crossed her arms by way of answer. The viscount turned and continued his ascent, disappearing down a corridor.
Felicity began to feel a bit wobbly on her feet as the shock of what had happened began to leave her. She thought she’d best follow her father’s advice and drink something strong to settle her.
She wandered into the empty drawing room and grabbed the decanter of brandy. She did not bother with a glass, nor did she bother about sitting on Lady Albright’s white velvet sofa in a dress soaked in blood.
Her mind felt rather blank, her ability to think flown off somewhere. All that would come to her was that she was glad to be alive, and she hoped Mr. Stratton remained alive too.
She took a long swig from the decanter, and then two more for good measure.
*
Percy had beenlaid on his stomach in one of Lady Albright’s bedchambers. It had all happened so fast! One moment, they were facing a tiger who’d just realized his door was open, the next the beast was tricked back inside and the problem solved, then the next the dastardly creature had swiped at him through the bars of his enclosure.
He could not see the damage done to his back, but he could feel it. At first, it had been more of a shock than pain, but the pain had set in by degrees. Just now, it felt as if he was on fire.
Somehow, Lady Felicity’s father had taken charge of the sickroom. The duke was sending the staff in all directions for hot water, bandages, turpentine to clean the wounds, and a large brandy for the patient. Lady Albright seemed to be hovering at the edges, occasionally defending the tiger, who Percy now knew was named Tiberius.
Tiberius could make his way to the ninth circle of hell for all he cared.
“Well then, Stratton,” the duke said, “the good news is you saved the day. The bad news is your wounds are looking… not very good.”
Though Percy ought to have been considering the duke’s assessment of his injuries, his mind settled on the fact that the duke had for once called him Stratton, rather than mister.
He supposed one must get oneself gravely injured for the duke to remember one’s name.
“Lady Felicity,” Percy said. “She is all right?”
“As right as can be expected. I advised her to dose herself with brandy and I advise you to do the same. Of course, I’ll have to hear from her what upsets her more—facing down a tiger or turning round to notice that her precious Rustmont had flown the coop.”
“He’s a stick,” Percy murmured.
“And a coward, as far as I can see. I expect it’s all up with him—Felicity knows well enough that I can’t have a coward for a son-in-law. I’d harass him to the edges of his sanity!”
Percy laughed, though the movement caused the burning on his back to surge.
“You seem a stalwart sort—why don’t you make a run at her? At least I’d know she was safe from wild animals. Probably the best I can hope for.”
