The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley (26 page)

The morning of Stephen’s wedding dawned gray
and gloomy, but brightened by the time the entire clan reached the
church in the village. David and Knightwick waited with Stephen for
Lady Jane Marwick and her family to arrive. As both families were
prominent and well thought of in the area, the pews were filled
with their neighbors, the ladies in their gayest bonnets, and
children defied their parents’ attempt to keep them quiet.

Stephen stood proud in his regimentals. The
only sign of nerves showed in the way he clasped his hands in front
of him. The visible scars on his face were a faint pink now, so
that only the eye patch, and the way he turned his head to one side
when listening to others, hinted at how severe the injuries were
he’d received in battle the summer before.

The vicar came out the side door to where
the three men stood. “Sir Perry’s carriage has arrived. Stephen,
Knightwick, will you come with me?”

David followed them through the door and
joined his family in the front pew. He kept his eyes on his cousin
when Jane walked up the aisle, and almost felt sorry for the man.
An odd mixture of love and…terror were etched in Stephen’s
features. David could relate, he realized. The love he had no
control over, his entire being overflowing with the desire to give
Lady Joanna everything she could ever wish for, whether she wanted
it from him or not.

The terror he could only imagine, since
she’d turned him down. If she’d accepted his offer, she would have
been dependent on him for everything in life. Her happiness, her
security. Those would have been up to him to provide. Every
decision he made at Fernleigh, every chance he took at a race
meeting, reflected on his livelihood and the status his family
enjoyed.

He was not foolish in the risks he took, and
Fernleigh Stud had no financial problems to be concerned about.
David knew he could put those concerns aside and trust himself to
provide for his family. But Lady Joanna had no interest in starting
a family with him.

The knowledge burned a hole in his gut.

The service wound down, the couple hurried
outside, and everyone piled into their carriages to return to
Bridgethorpe Manor for the wedding breakfast. The outdoor room
Mother had created under the canvas tent could compare to the
finest dining rooms in all of London. The tables were covered in
white damask cloths, with pristine white china and gleaming silver
at each place setting. Bowls of pink and yellow flowers were dotted
about the space, their perfume subtle.

Jane sat at a table near the back, her
parents on one side, Stephen and the Earl and Countess of
Bridgethorpe on the other. David’s breath caught when he thought
how much his aunt would have enjoyed this day. He said a quick
prayer for her and his uncle that they continued to rest in
peace.

Making a path through the well-wishers,
David reached the happy couple. He bent and embraced Jane, who’d
grown up on the adjoining property. They’d all been friends since
they were old enough to leave the nursery. “Never was there a more
beautiful bride.”

“Thank you, cousin. You are all my cousins
now; I am so blessed! I might still be lacking in brothers and
sisters, but the differences are merely words, aren’t they? I am so
pleased to be part of the Lumley family at last.” Her eyes glowed
with excitement, shifting to a warmer love when she looked at
Stephen.

David tapped his cousin on the shoulder to
draw the man’s attention from his bride. “Good show, old man. May
your blessings be many.”

Stephen clasped David’s hand in both of his.
“Thank you. I can’t imagine being more blessed than I am now.”

Just eight months ago, Stephen had returned
from hospital still adjusting to the loss of vision in one eye and
hearing in one ear. He’d discovered his parents had died in a fire
just days before, and he’d been certain his life was over.

David remembered the early days of worry,
when he feared his cousin might harm himself even more, or
accidentally kill himself when drunk, but Stephen had healed
quickly, in both spirit and body. No one deserved a happier life
that these two, who’d loved each other since childhood.

Their betrothal had also had a rocky
beginning, with Stephen being deep in his cups when he professed
his undying love. Jane had calmed down eventually and accepted his
second proposal.

Was there any hope Joanna might do the same?
It wasn’t very likely. Being drunk was not even close to the
transgressions he’d committed.

Pushing on and letting someone else
congratulate the two, David found his seat at his family’s table,
and sat between the twins, Patience and Madeleine. Patience hugged
him, as she was wont to do at random times. “I can’t wait until you
or Knightwick marries.”

He chuckled, tamping down the sorrow those
words stirred in him. “Why is that?”

“Weddings are so much fun. You’re almost as
old as Stephen. Will you marry soon?”

He rubbed the pad of his thumb on her cheek.
“We’ll see. That requires finding a lady who would have me, you
understand.”

Madeleine scoffed. “Who wouldn’t have you?
Hannah writes that all the ladies she has met envy her for her
handsome brothers.”

“There, you see? They wish they had me for a
brother, not a husband. My case is hopeless. I’ll never find a
woman to love me.” He cupped his hand over his heart, mocking the
pain that was more real than he’d admit.

Hannah chose that moment to join them.
“Perhaps if you opened your eyes, you’d see the one right before
you.”

He glanced playfully around the table. “All
I see are my sisters. As lovely as you all are, I cannot marry any
one of you. And no woman could compare to your beauty and
grace.”

Ten-year-old Lucy Anne waggled her head back
and forth. “I know who you’ll marry. Patience told me so.”

The sister in question gasped. “Hush. I said
no such thing.”

“You did, too. You said Hannah wrote that
David was going to propose to a lady named Joanna, and Joanna would
be our sister.”

David lifted an eyebrow in the direction of
the eldest of his sisters. “Is that true, Hannah? And what other
tales have you told them?”

“She said—” Hannah’s hand abruptly cut off
Lucy Anne’s ability to speak.

Hannah smiled and fluttered her lashes.
“I’ve been writing them about the balls, who wore what color gown,
and which lady cropped her hair in the latest mode.”

He nodded, fighting to keep the stern press
to his brows. “I’m certain you would never gossip about what your
brothers did. Which ladies they escorted about town, or danced with
every night.”

Wide-eyed, she replied, “Never. My brothers’
lives are their own to live. I would never tell tales on them.”

“That’s good to know. Because your brothers
would never speak of the lord who you attempted to step off the
path with in Lady Brackelhurst’s garden. Or anything else you might
have neglected to include in your letters to your sister.”

The twins gasped. “What lord is this?”

“Did he kiss you?”

“Who’s Lady Brackelhurst?” asked Lucy Anne
with a frown. “Do we know her?”

Grateful at least one of his sisters still
retained some innocence, David slipped away from the table. He
shook his head, realizing in another five years, Patience and
Madeleine would take London by storm. By then, Sam would be old
enough to assume the role of scowling watchdog. David planned to be
busy filling his own nursery.

If only he could convince the woman he loved
to marry him. How could he, when she didn’t want to see him? He
needed an excuse to talk to her, a way to prove how important she
was to him, without angering her further.

Chapter Twenty

Two nights later, David was startled from a
sound sleep by someone pounding on his bedchamber door. “What is
it?”

“A rider brought you a message, sir. He
claims it’s urgent.” The butler Hodgson’s voice was graveled by
sleep.

David pulled on a wrapper and opened the
door. Hodgson handed him a sealed letter, which David tore open,
then took the candle from the butler’s hand. The writing was
difficult to make out.

Lumley,

My sister has taken ill in suspicious
circumstances. I fear it’s connected to the incidents we recently
discussed, and I beg your assistance in finding who did this to
her. We are staying at the White Harte in Windsor until the doctor
says she may travel, if she recovers. I’ve sent for my mother to
join us.

Northcotte.

“Damn.” He crumpled the letter and tossed it
into the cold fireplace. “Is the messenger still here?”

“Yes, sir. He was ordered to wait for a
reply.”

“Tell him I’ll ride with him to Windsor.
Wake Knightwick and tell him he must join me. Take the messenger’s
horse to the stables and have three mounts readied.” David opened
his wardrobe and pulled out some clothing.

“Yes, sir.”

David didn’t bother to pack a bag. He could
send for his clothes from London, or buy what he needed in Windsor.
They must travel quickly, only resting long enough for fresh horses
to be saddled along the way. He’d be unable to sleep until Lady
Joanna was well.

Knightwick met him in the hallway, buttoning
his waistcoat while their valet, still in his wrapper, scurried
behind with a coat and cloak. “What has happened?”

“Lady Joanna is ill. Northcotte suspects
it’s connected to the poisonings at the other race meetings.” He
trotted down the stairs.

“Was she not in London? I don’t see how the
events could be related.”

“Northcotte said they’re at the White Harte
in Windsor, so they were likely at the race meeting at Ascot Heath
when she took ill.”

In the courtyard off the servant’s entrance,
a man sat waiting on a horse. One groom stood nearby with a
lantern, and another held the reins of two more horses. David and
his brother mounted. “We can talk more when we stop to change
horses. There’s no time to waste.”

Daylight had come and gone again by the time
they arrived in Windsor. The messenger took their horses to the
stables while David and Knightwick entered the White Harte Hotel.
Upon enquiring as to the location of Northcotte’s room, they were
led to a small suite on the second floor. David rapped on the door
and barged in when it opened. “How is she?”

Northcotte looked quite pale and disheveled,
and fidgeted with the bottom button on his waistcoat, his voice
rough when he spoke. “She sleeps, still. The doctor says if she
wakes, it will mean she most likely will recover. Until then, we
wait.”

“May I see her?”

“Of course.” Northcotte led David to a
closed door. Knightwick took a seat in the main room to wait.

David stepped into the dark, quiet chamber.
Lady Joanna’s maid sat in a chair near the bed. She rose and
crossed to the dressing area and made herself busy there. A lamp
burned with a low flame on the table beside the bed, throwing
flickering light on Joanna’s face. The shadows beneath her eyes had
a pink tinge, and her lips were almost as white as the pillow she
rested her head upon.

He reached a hand out to brush a stray curl
off her face, but caught himself in time, remembering the maid’s
presence. The fact that Northcotte waited in the outer room spoke
volumes about his trust in David. Did he know Joanna had turned
down David’s offer? Her brother had let her attend the race
meeting, so perhaps he thought them engaged.

Or perhaps Northcotte had paid off Sir
Frederick, and he no longer felt the desperate need for her to
marry. As much as David wanted her for himself, knowing he’d had
the power to save her from marrying that man gave him some small
relief from the guilt he carried over what he’d put her through.
Even stronger than the guilt was the knowledge he was powerless to
save her now.

Joanna’s brows drew together and her lips
parted. Her head thrashed one way, then the other, and her hand
pressed against her stomach as she moaned.

No longer caring that her maid might be
watching, he ran his fingertips over her cool cheek. “Shhh,” he
whispered. “Rest, dearest. You must get well.”

He reached for the cloth draped over the
edge of a bowl on the table. Dunking the cloth and wringing it, he
patted her forehead and the sides of her face. She was not
feverish, but she seemed to calm under his attentions. If he found
out who did this to her, he would kill that man with his own hands.
She must recover, so he could beg her forgiveness and plead with
her to marry him. He couldn’t live without her.

“Come back to me.”

She sighed. Her lips moved, but no sound
came out. He prayed she heard him.

He turned and left her bedchamber.

Knightwick and Northcotte sat discussing the
incident. Northcotte imparted the details of the morning at Ascot
Heath. “She was in the stall with Patriot. I’ve tried to keep her
out of the stables, even before Bruce was killed, but she slips
away from her maid, or my mother. I cannot keep her safe.” He shook
his head, wrapping his hand around the back of his neck and looking
at the floor.