Edith Layton (25 page)

“So, let’s begin our celebrations now,” he said.

They strolled the path along the Serpentine like a family, Lucy on Wycoff’s arm, his head bent to her as they whispered together. Jamie went on ahead, Sukey at his side. It was bright, though rain clouds were forming in the west. The park was filled with laughing children and frolicking dogs. Couples strolled past, horsemen cantered by, milkmaids laid their yokes down and chatted together in the sunshine, servants and street mongers taking an hour off from their duties sat on the benches, or dozed in the grass. The water in the lake sparkled as if with gilt, swans glided by the banks. Children fed them bread, their nursemaids gossiping like geese. Jamie stopped to join them. Wycoff and Lucy stood watching, Lucy holding her parasol up against the
glare from the sun dancing off the water.

“Such a simple thing,” Wycoff commented. “I can think of so many other pleasurable things to do with you, Lucy, but I confess, this is delicious, too. Am I getting old? Too old for you, I wonder? After all, I have a decade more than you, my dear.”

“It wouldn’t matter if you had two,” she said simply.

He looked at her with amusement. “Once you decide something, you
are
steadfast, aren’t you? Now that you trust me you trust me utterly, even to my ability to defy old age?”

She looked at him seriously. “Old? You make me feel young again. Don’t forget, I’m not considered young anymore. Women age more rapidly than men, in the eyes of men, at least. You might have a wife half my age.”

“Indeed?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “What a disturbing thought. What would I say to her, do you think? Whatever would I do with her? For all my sins, I never fancied infants. ‘Ripeness is all,’ as the poet said. And you are that, my dear.”

He was courting her still, and she knew it. He watched her plush lips curve in a little self-satisfied smile. He yearned to do something about it. He tore his gaze from those entrancing lips and looked around. They stood near a towering willow whose graceful branches bent down to sip at the edges of the lake. His eyes were filled with mischief as well as light when he looked back at her. “The sun’s so bright,” he said, drawing her back toward the tree.
“Let’s wait here, for a space.”

She followed, then stood smiling up at him. The dappled shade danced over her face, giving her a hundred shifting freckles to add to the ones on her cheek he so badly needed to taste. They stood for a moment, looking at each other. Then he spun her around in one swift motion, so she was behind the tree and he could kiss her with no one the wiser but the squirrel on the branch above them.

Her lips were warm and opened to him—he was kissing her in mid-laughter. Her laughter stopped when she heard a crack of thunder and heard him gasp against her lips, as he was flung forward. He let her go, his hand flying to his shoulder. He pushed her back against the trunk of the tree, his eyes wild with shock and fury. “Stay here,” he said, and ran, one hand clapped to his shoulder.

The children at the pondside froze as geese and swans rose up into the air in a frantic scrambling flutter. The nursemaids twittered, strollers went stock still, horsemen pulled rein and stared around, standing in their stirrups. The clouds were still far off. It hadn’t been thunder they heard.

Lucy gathered Jamie to her side. Her heart pounded with the effort of staying where she was. But he’d said “Wait!”, and he knew what he was about. If she’d trusted him this far, she couldn’t betray him now, even though every impulse told her to run to him, wherever he was.

When Wycoff came back ten minutes later, he was winded and pale, and grim about the mouth. He
kept his hand clamped to his shoulder, dark red blood sluggishly seeping from between his fingers. “Gone,” he muttered. “I chased him into some trees and across a lawn. He had a horse waiting. Damnation! But I saw the back of his head. Let’s get you and Jamie home.”

“But your shoulder,” she said.

“Can wait. Let’s get you home.” He looked at a horseman sitting transfixed on his horse, watching. “Sir! Would you get word to Mr. Perkins at number four Grosvenor Square?” he asked, “Tell him the Viscount Wycoff needs his services at the Pulteney, at Mrs. Stone’s rooms, and now!”

“Servant!” the horsemen said, sketching a bow, and galloped off.

T
he shot went through, taking some flesh. It’s in the tree trunk, not me, thank God,” Wycoff told his audience. He sat back in his chair, the edges of his mouth going white from the effort.

“I’ve seen worse, my lord,” Perkins said as he rolled up the rest of his bandages.

Lord Drummond nodded. Damon Ryder looked pensive.

“You’ll probably run a fever tonight,” Rafe commented with professional interest. “Drink water and stay still, and for God’s sake don’t let them bleed you.”

“Who did it?” Gilly Ryder said, cutting to the heart of the matter, her little hands closed to fists.

Wycoff shot her a look. “If
I
knew, my dear Gilly, you’d be the last person on earth I’d tell. You’d
be after the fellow with a cleaver. I want that satisfaction for myself.”

“Huh!” she said. “‘Satisfaction,’ is it? I know you
gentlemen
,” she emphasized the word with sarcasm. “But the best end to such a rogue is a quick and painful one and honor be damned!”

“Gilly,” Damon said softly, “let be.”

“Anyway, it’s my place, not yours, Gilly,” Lucy said, attempting to keep her voice light. “If anyone’s to snatch up that cleaver, it’s me. We
are
promised to wed.”

“
G’wan
!” Gilly exclaimed, spinning around to look at her, “s’truth?”

Lucy smiled, honestly at last. “Yes. That’s what we were going to tell you today—before this happened.”

Gilly whooped, her husband grinned. Drum and Rafe exchanged smiles before they congratulated Wycoff and wished Lucy well, and shook a grinning Jamie’s hand. Then they all made silly jests, and suggested tea to toast the happy couple. But when they saw how pale Wycoff’s face was, they started to make moves to go.

Wycoff began to rise, with effort.

“Must you leave?” Lucy asked him worriedly.

“Much as I enjoy your ministrations, I must,” he said. “It’s growing late. I’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“Yes, tomorrow!” she promised. “I’ll be there early.”

“We’ll see him home and locked up tight,” Rafe promised Lucy as Perkins and Drum helped Wycoff
stand, “so he don’t escape before the happy day.”

“Will you—can you keep an eye on him?” she asked nervously, “If that’s at all possible?”

“It is,” Damon said, “consider it done. Drum and Rafe had experience with such things during the war. I know a trick or two, too. But it was likely only an accident, as Wycoff himself said. A boy with a gun taking aim at the swans or some such. But we’ll be on hand and alert, don’t worry.”

“Don’t fret,” Wycoff told her with a wan smile as he left her, touching a finger to her cheek. “You won’t escape me that easily, not after all the trouble I’ve taken to win you. Remember, only the good die young. Till tomorrow then, get some rest, my dear.”

She wept when he’d gone. Then locked the door and went to bed, tired and confused, but not so much so that she couldn’t offer up prayers of thanksgiving first.

Wycoff didn’t sleep. He sat in a chair in his study, receiving guests. “Be damned if I’ll sleep till something’s discovered,” he growled to Perkins. “Have done. Now. My lord Drummond,” he asked his most newly arrived guest. “What did you discover?”

Drum shucked off his greatcoat. “The park ranger said it might be a poacher. Or a foolish boy with a gun.”

“What they’ve been saying all along, the fools,” Rafe muttered, from his chair by the fireside.

“It’s not likely, I agree,” Damon said thought
fully, his handsome face grave in the firelight. “Wycoff didn’t chase a boy.”

“No,” Wycoff said, resting his head against the back of his chair. His wound throbbed in dark counterpoint to his pulse, his anger building. “And a poacher dressed so fine? I don’t think so.”

“Then who?” Gilly said in agitation.

“I do wish you’d go home and go to sleep,” Wycoff told her, opening one eye.

“If you dare tell me a female’s place is in the home,” she said angrily, “I’ll—I’ll smite you myself, my lord.”

“Well, it is,” Rafe said. “But you’re a mad piece, so we’ll let it be.”

“You’d better,” Damon said, smiling, slipping an arm around her waist, “or you’ll be her next target. Much as I’d prefer she was at home, do you think she’d shut an eye tonight until she knew all? At least this way she’ll sleep when she does go to bed, and I won’t have to keep her up longer retelling everything we’ve said.”

“Point taken,” Wycoff said. “But Lucy is not to know.”

“Of course,” Gilly said, offended. “What do you think of me?

They all laughed at that, including Gilly—after a moment.

“Who was it then?” Drum finally asked. “You must have an idea. You followed the villain.”

Wycoff sighed. “An idea, yes. The man was medium height, dark, stocky in build, dressed in
good, but not really fashionable clothing. He took care to keep his face from me when he saw me pursuing. So all I got was an impression, a glimpse.”

“Dark, stocky? Her newly appeared suitor from America is that!” Gilly gasped. “That Bellows fellow! She introduced us after we saw him mooching about in the lobby the other day!”

“Yes. So I think. Who else could it be?” Wycoff asked, leaning back, closing his eyes. “No one else is angry with me at the moment that I know of. My old flames are cold as ice and I’ve been immaculate since we returned to England. But William Bellows followed Lucy here, and was very angry with her—and me, of course—when she told him our plans. She did that just this morning, she said. He has a hasty temper as well as a lost cause now. We’ve an old score to settle, too.” He opened his eyes. “Perkins, my friend, we challenged him once, on a different shore. That time we made a May-game of it to discourage him, because it was only a warning. This time I think we must be serious about it. The man tried to blow my head off. Not saying that wouldn’t please a great many folk. But we can’t have it, can we?”

“No, my lord,” Perkins said. “Since you are indisposed, do you wish me to offer the challenge?”

“Be damned to that,” Wycoff said with a spurt of the anger he felt. “I’ll be fine in the morning and do it myself, not with a glove, but a fist. The sooner the better, I think.”

“A duel? I see the necessity—but your arm!” Drum protested. “Let one of us do the honors.”

“Don’t worry,” Wycoff said wearily. “I’m sinister in that, as in everything,”

“His lordship is left-handed,” Perkins translated, with the ghost of a smile.

“But if you win—
when
you win,” Gilly said, “you’ll have to leave the country! Don’t do that now—not now, when you’re about to win everything.”

“What should I do?” Wycoff asked her. “Have one of you have to go instead? No. Any rate, I don’t intend to kill, it would distress Lucy. Nor do I care to leave England. But I’m accounted a fair shot. And an adequate swordsman. I can make my point very well without it being lethal. I doubt he’d duel again when I’m done. Any rate, I doubt it will be done at all. The fellow wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of a duel last time, and that was on his own territory. This time he’s only here on a visit, and it was a failed mission, at that. Come the fatal dawn, he’s more likely to slip out on a outgoing ship than to meet me on some damp and grassy knoll.”

“Huh,” Gilly snorted. “He knows you’ve been wounded. That’s just the sort of thing a coward would try to take advantage of.”

“Then he’ll be unpleasantly surprised,” Wycoff said.

“I’ll second you,” Rafe said quickly, as Drum and Damon began to volunteer, too.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Wycoff said, “but Perkins can do it, he’s done it before. You can serve me better by keeping Lucy occupied and out of the
picture entirely. She used to like the fellow. And I believe she has a care for me,” he added with a proud and genuine smile. “But please don’t let my father get wind of this. He’s just helped me back into the fold. I’d dislike making him think he was wrong to do so. He’d understand, I think, but there’s no sense troubling him.”

“Agreed,” Drum said. “We’ll let Gilly divert Lucy. Damon can engage your father; I saw them talking at the Swansons’ ball.”

“Yes, we had a lot to say. He knows my father from school,” Damon said. “I’d be honored to keep him company.”

“Rafe and I will use some of our old skills to see if we can discover more,” Drum went on, “so you can add evidence to your threats when you see Bellows.”

“Thank you,” Wycoff said. “You’re better friends than I deserve. Tomorrow I issue my challenge. We’ll have the thing out as soon as it can be arranged. Then I hope we can all go on to lead long and boring lives.” He looked around the room, his expression growing shuttered. But his heart was full. This was where he’d first made love to Lucy, where she’d promised her life in trust to him. He’d have to live in order to fulfill his promise to her. He’d every intention of keeping his word.

“I’ve done much in a short time to restore my name so I can give it to her with the pride she deserves,” he said evenly. “I’ve groveled at the feet of hypocrites and liars. I’ve flattered knaves and
jades. I’ve swallowed advice from fools and asked for more. It didn’t bother me as much as I thought it might. I’d something bright and beautiful and good in view, I saw it through all the folly. No one’s going to take me from that now.
No one
.” He stared into the fire, his eyes cold. Then he smiled at them, a small, wan smile. “But this is not such a dire matter. The man’s a coward and a sneak. I’ll face him down and turf him out. Don’t worry on my behalf.”

His guests took their leave of him then, because he looked drained and haggard. Not one of them mentioned what they were all thinking. Because though Wycoff was acknowledged to be a fine marksman and brilliant swordsman, his opponent was a sneaking villain. And each of them had good cause to know that Fate never played fair, or honestly, with any man.

“I don’t need another bonnet!” Lucy laughed. “Not only do I have more fripperies than any woman needs, yes, don’t say it again—even a new bride—but you should rest more, in your condition.”

“My condition?” Gilly asked as they strolled down the street arm in arm. Jamie was in the park with Sukey, so they were followed by Gilly’s maidservant. It was a clear morning after two days of teeming rains, and the fashionable avenues were already thronged. Ladies and gentleman ambled by, their servants in tow behind them. Horsemen and carriages filled the roads. Lucy and Gilly had to stop on each corner, and not just to wait for street sweep
ers to ply their brooms to clear a path free of mud, straw, and horse manure for them.

“Huh,” Gilly said, slowing their pace as they approached another corner. “Ladies may think they should sit on a fine cushion and not lift a finger until the happy day. But I’m not a lady, thank you. I’d be a bowl of aspic by the time the child came if I did that! Bed’s for invalids. And I never felt better.”

“You’re right,” Lucy said. “I kept moving till the day Jamie was born. Well, I had to—we journeyed across the sea, and had to keep looking for a place to live when we got there. Jamie’s birth was quick for a firstborn, or so the midwife said. And easy, she said, though—Well, really, it’s nothing, you’ll see,” she added with a sidewise glance at the younger woman. She wasn’t going to breathe one word that might worry Gilly, even if she had any. “I was up and about in no time at all. In fact, I think Francis was a little shocked by it. His mama spent his lifetime moaning about how difficult having him had been.”

“She was trying to bind him tight to her,” Gilly said wisely. “Damon’s mama told me how some women do that, after some old aunts of his frightened me up into the trees with their memories of childbearing. Made Rafe and Drum’s reminiscences of battle sound tame! And Bridget, Lady Sinclair—my friend I’ve told you about? She says while it’s no lark, it’s not doomsday, neither. Makes sense. There wouldn’t be a world full of people if it was terrible as the old hens try to make out.”

“It wasn’t for me,” Lucy said, “and I wouldn’t
pretend it, though some men prefer to think of their wives as fragile, I think. Francis was surprised by my resilience, but overlooked it. He overlooked a lot, actually, he was so eager to be gone again,” she added sadly, “and glad he could leave me with a clear conscience.”

Gilly patted her hand. “Nothing but happiness ahead of you,” she said stoutly. “You’ll see.”

Lucy stopped and turned to smile at Gilly. If she hadn’t, she’d have been thrown in front of the carriage bowling down the street. Instead Lucy stumbled and fell to her knees half on the pavement instead of entirely in the gutter.

Lucy was shocked, her knees hurt and her head swam, but she waved off Gilly’s outstretched hand. “I was
pushed!
” she gasped, rising on one bruised knee and pointing a wavering finger at a man running away through the crowd. “He pushed me!”

Gilly spun around. “There he goes!” she shrieked in a voice that could be heard a block away. “Catch him! The bloody bastard tried to kill a lady!”

It wasn’t a ladylike thing to say, nor said in ladylike manner. But it got attention. Gentlemen, servants, and street vendors began to give chase to the rapidly retreating figure.

Lucy staggered to her feet. “Stay here!” she told Gilly. “I have to see for myself.”

Gilly put her hand hard on her arm. The delicate-looking young woman was surprisingly strong. “Damned if you will!” she said angrily. “With your
knees bleeding like that. Are you mad? They’ll get him faster than you can.”

But they didn’t. “The fellow gave us the slip,” a young army officer who’d appointed himself captain of the little company of pursuers said in chagrin when they straggled back a few minutes later. “Disappeared round a corner and lost himself somewhere. Are you hurt? I say! You are. Let me call a hackney cab for you.”

“Did you see him clearly?” Lucy asked. Her gown was torn, her palms and knees were bleeding. She trembled. But she stood tall, and with dignity.

“Well, yes. Nasty looking chap,” the lieutenant said. “Dark, thickset, dressed well enough, I suppose. But he tried to get your purse, did he?”

“No,” Lucy said, biting her lip. He hadn’t done anything but try to kill her.
The same man that had shot Wycoff the other day? The dark man?
She’d been wondering about that, and worrying, too.
Could it have been…?
The day after Wycoff was shot, she’d called on William. She’d tried to mend fences, and told him what had happened. And watched him carefully. He’d said he was shocked, said he was appalled. He’d said what a lucky chance it had been that Wycoff hadn’t been killed. But his eyes had been glad. Typical, she supposed, William was as awkward as an actor as he was as a suitor. And he bore grudges. Natural enough…perhaps. She couldn’t stop thinking about it.