Though there had been so much excitement out of the house, Felicity had not forgotten her duty to Mrs. Right inside the house.
“Mr. Sykes-Wycliff,” she said with a bright smile, “how do you settle in?”
“Very well, Lady Felicity,” he said.
Though he said he was very well, he looked a deal paler and worn out than he had done when he arrived at the house.
“Rest when you can. When we are in the Dales, things are a deal more… what would you call it, Grace?”
Grace, having been talked to beforehand, as had all her sisters, nodded knowingly and said, “Fraught? Is that the word you’re thinking of?”
Felicity noted the footman press his lips together and turn away—he would be well-informed of the plan from Mrs. Right.
“Oh,” Patience said, “you mean Papa going round knocking on doors in the middle of the night and then clobbering whoever opens for him? I suppose it’s the country air that does it.”
“Actually,” Felicity said, “I was thinking of the servants’ hunt. Mr. Sykes-Wycliff, you might claim a limp on the day and just refuse to go.”
Verity nodded. “It’s meant to be great fun, you see. What with all the servants running across the moors and Papa chasing them with his fowling piece.”
“If only he had better aim,” Serenity said sadly.
At this inconvenient juncture, Valor ran back into her room with Mrs. Wendover in her arms. “It was lonely up there and then Mrs. Wendover thought she might want a biscuit.”
They had all hoped Valor would not be present for the ruse, as they did not like to give her nightmares. But there was nothing for it now—they had got started and must finish it.
“Accidents will happen, as poor Jimmy well knows,” Grace said.
At this comment, Valor quite naturally looked entirely confused. She suddenly piped up. “That’s what happened to Jimmy? He had an accident?”
Felicity nodded gravely. Jimmy, of course, had not been shot down by the duke. He’d left to become an apprentice in a town some hours away.
“You are not to worry, Valor,” Grace said. “He was only shot in the leg and he continues his recovery.”
“Though he’s been very loud about refusing to ever come back,” Patience said.
“That’s too bad,” Valor said, “I liked him.”
“He blames Papa, Valor, which is very unfair. Everybody knows our dear father cannot help it—he’s not a very good shot!”
Valor nodded sadly, though she did not know the first thing about it.
With that, they put their attention to their tea and allowed Mr. Sykes-Wycliff to stagger out of the room.
Chapter Nine
Percy had spenta further two days at Lady Albright’s house in a manner he would not like to ever repeat. The doctor, a good sort of fellow, had kept him well-dosed with laudanum, else he would have gone mad.
It was not so much the pain of the wound, which was slowly lessening, but Lady Albright.
She came into his room at all hours of the day and night, talking and talking and talking. He was to know everything about the charming qualities of Tiberius. She’d had him since he was a cub and he’d been very cuddly then. She claimed she did not know how the padlock had been off the enclosure. She swore it was not her who locked the door to the house against him.
After those querulous arguments, she seemed to gain some confidence and did an about face. Suddenly, the diatribes were all about her velvet sofa. She had discovered it bloodstained and she could only lay the blame on Lady Felicity.
Why had that lady sat on her velvet sofa when she had blood on her dress? That was what Lady Albright wished to know.
Percy could make a guess that Lady Felicity had been fully aware of creating a stain on the lady’s sofa and had not given a toss about it.
On day two, a flower arrangement of daffodils had arrived for him. It had been signedHousehold of the Duke of Pelham. The note had rather given it away though.
