by Lucy Adams
Quite what happened after that, Esther did not know. Hunched into a ball, she hid herself as best she could, feeling weakness coursing through her that had taken the place of any strength she felt she had. The fact that she had managed to remove herself from her assailant now meant that she was left tired, weak, and desperate, knowing that her only hope was in Lord Westbrook. If he could not defeat their foe, then Esther had no doubt she would be taken.
The two men continued to fight as Esther kept her hands over her head, the blood roaring in her ears and her body aching in pain. It was only when all about her grew silent, when the shouts and exclamations of the two men faded to nothing, that she finally lifted her head to see.
Lord Westbrook was standing there, his hands on his knees and his body doubled over. Breathing hard, he wasn’t even able to say a single word, but instead rather just looked back at her, his eyes white in the gloom. Her body still tense and sore, she lifted herself off the ground carefully, seeing him stretch out his hand towards her and accepting it gratefully.
“Are you all right, Lord Westbrook?” she asked, seeing how he still gulped in air. “What happened? Who is that gentleman?” She looked into his face, her hand still tight on his arm and his hand holding her other hand in his. Whatever it was that had just occurred, they were now within these strange circumstances together, battling as one and defending each other as best they could – even though Esther knew she had done very little to assist Lord Westbrook!
“I do not know, Lady Esther, nor do I know what his intentions were,” Lord Westbrook rasped, his breathing still labored. “Did he say anything to you?”
Remembering that Lord Westbrook had been knocked unconscious by the fall from the hackney, Esther nodded, a sense of coldness beginning to wrap all about her like a cloak. “He asked about my father,” she said softly, as Lord Westbrook slipped one arm about her waist, clearly aware that she was struggling to keep her strength. “He asked if he was gone from London. Why would he ask me such a thing? What is it that he wants?”
Lord Westbrook shook his head and turned her back towards the hackney, perhaps unaware of the driver’s fate. “Now is not the time for questions,” he said, with a growing firmness in his tone. “I must return you at once. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after that, I might call upon you and we can speak at length about what has occurred this night.”
She shuddered as they passed the driver, hearing Lord Westbrook’s swift intake of breath and knowing that he had only just seen the fellow. “How am I to return home?” she asked, beginning to tremble all over despite the reassuring presence of Lord Westbrook. “The driver, he…”
Lord Westbrook patted her shoulder and then helped her up inside. “The hackney wheels do not appear to be damaged, and we must pray that there are no other difficulties with it.”
“But the driver,” Esther said, as he helped her sit down. “He–”
“I shall drive it,” Lord Westbrook interrupted calmly, catching her hands and holding them firmly. “Have no fear, Lady Esther. I shall take you home. Just tell me where I must go, and you can be assured that I will have you there just as soon as I can.”
Esther let out a long breath, feeling her shaking subside a little. Lord Westbrook was going to be her rescuer yet again, it seemed.
“Thank you,” she murmured, as he began to withdraw to the driver’s seat. “I do not know what would have happened to me this night if you had not been here, Lord Westbrook.”
“Think nothing of it,” he told her, before closing the door and leaving her alone in the darkness of the hackney.
Chapter Five
“Good gracious, Lord Westbrook, you look as though you have been in the sparring ring!”
Charles grimaced, aware that he was now sporting a black eye as well as a good few other bruises across his face and neck.
“Whatever happened, old boy?” asked Lord Watt, coming closer towards him and looking him up and down. “Was it a fight?”
Charles looked about Whites, seeing each and every gentleman and taking them in. He noted their names and titles, aware that there were two he did not know and certainly could not trust.
“A thief,” he answered in a low voice. “That is all.”
“Is that so?” Lord Watt said, with a small smile, although his eyes remained serious. “Well, I presume that you managed to prevent him from taking whatever it was he wanted?”
A slight shrug lifted one of Charles’s shoulders. “I could not quite say,” he replied honestly. “I am not certain what it was that he sought.” He watched the expression on Lord Watt’s face change, clearly now fully aware that Charles had something of importance to share.
“Then shall we sit?” Lord Watt asked, a little too casually. “And I shall fetch you something to drink. Brandy?”
Charles considered. “Port,” he said, seeing Lord Watt nod before he made his way through Whites and into one of the quieter corners of the establishment. Sitting down, he let out a long breath of relief as his body collapsed into the chair, still aching from the attack some two days ago now. His jaw tensed as he recalled what had occurred, thinking just how foolish Lady Esther had been to come out into London alone at night. She was risking not just her reputation but her life also, and he had been forced to defend her, not once, but twice. The assailant, whomever he had been, had attacked Charles fiercely, clearly utterly determined to get to Lady Esther – although for what purpose, Charles did not yet know.
And from what Lady Esther had said at the time, she did not know either.
Shaking his head, Charles leaned back and closed his eyes. He had sent a note to Lady Esther only yesterday, making certain that she was not unwell or badly injured from what had occurred. She had responded very quickly, informing him that she still had a few bruises but that she was healing quickly. More important, she stated that her questions were many and that she was now deeply concerned. However, she had informed him that she would need three days of rest in order to recover from her ordeal and had begged him to give her a short respite before they next met in order to discuss matters. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he remembered how she had written that she had been required to take to her bed under the guise of a heavy cold so that her aunt would not question the redness of her cheeks or the darkness of her eyes. But then the smile faded just as quickly as it had come, as he realized that the only reason Lady Esther was required to hide her face from her aunt was because of the injuries she had suffered.
The gentleman in question was no gentleman at all. He had been attempting to take Lady Esther from the hackney, although neither he nor Lady Esther had any understanding as to why such a thing had occurred. The man had asked about her father, Lord Leighton, but Lady Esther had promised that she had given him no answer. Had the man been so desperate to discover the truth about Lord Leighton that he had been willing to take Lady Esther away until she spoke to him? A slight tremor of horror ran through him at the thought.
“Is that you, Lord Westbrook?”
He opened his eyes at once to see a young gentleman standing directly in front of him, a slight smile on his face and a gleam in his eye.
“Lord McBride,” he said, knowing the Scottish baron at once. “Yes, for my sins, it is I who sit here.”
Lord McBride chuckled, his smile growing into a grin. “I heard that you were making eyes at a wench a couple of nights ago, Lord Westbrook,” he said, sending a chill running down Charles’s back. “A young lady you wanted to keep all to yourself.” He lifted one eyebrow in question, making Charles struggle for an immediate answer.
“I was defending the lady,” he said eventually, trying not to reveal anything he did not need to about Lady Esther. “There were two drunken gentleman seeking to take hold of her, and I was not about to allow it.”
Lord McBride chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming. “Well, they are not particularly pleased with you, Lord Westbrook. I should watch out for them if I were you.”
“I highly do
ubt that it will come to fisticuffs,” Charles replied dryly, gesturing to his face. “And if it did, then I will put them to rights as I did before.” He lifted his chin and looked steadily back at Lord McBride, who only chuckled. “Might I ask the names of these gentlemen so that I might keep my distance from them, should it come to that? I would rather avoid them – not out of fear but rather to ensure my name and theirs remain as free from scandal as possible.”
Lord McBride shrugged, seeming to quickly lose interest in the conversation. “Baron Dalrymple and a Sir Thompson,” he replied with a sigh. “Not that they would dare speak to you about what has occurred since you are an earl.”
Charles’s felt irritation burst within him almost at once. “Then why bring it to my attention?” he asked, seeing how Lord McBride shrugged then turned away. He slid back down into his chair, realizing that Lord McBride was just one of many gentlemen who liked nothing better than to gossip and to spread rumor. Most likely, many of the other gentlemen in Whites would now know that he had been seen defending a wench, regardless of whether or not such a thing was true.
He groaned inwardly, closing his eyes and wishing that he had never come to Whites. Perhaps it had been an error in judgement to show up when his bruises had not yet fully healed.
“Is something the matter?”
Opening his eyes, Charles accepted the glass of brandy from Lord Watt with a grunt.
“You are not pleased with the brandy?” Lord Watt asked, sitting down opposite and looking at Charles with concern. “Or is something paining you?”
“Lord McBride was speaking to me a moment or two ago,” Charles muttered, quickly relaying the story of what Lord McBride had said. “Perhaps it was foolish to come here when my bruises are still so obvious, but given the lateness of the hour, I did not think that many would be present and certainly would not notice.”
Lord Watt frowned. “You were aiding a wench then?” he asked, before taking a sip of his brandy. “What was she doing there?”
“No, she was not a wench,” Charles replied, with a quick roll of his eyes. “She was a lady of society.”
Lord Watt blinked in surprise. “And she was at The Shrew?” he asked, clearly taken aback. “For what reason?”
Charles shook his head and then threw back his brandy in three gulps, knowing that this would require a good deal of time in order to explain what had occurred. “She was seeking her father,” he said, glancing around Whites and making certain that no one could overhear him. “Her father being Lord Leighton.” He watched carefully, seeing how Lord Watt’s expression changed at once, from confused to utterly astonished. He, too, saw the significance of the name and knew at once that there might be something more afoot.
“Lord Leighton was at The Shrew?” Lord Watt asked after a few moments had passed. “What was it he was doing there? Gambling?”
Again, Charles shook his head, leaning forward conspiratorially. “He was not present, I am certain of it,” he said quickly. “I checked with a footman only yesterday and was informed that Lord Leighton was not present at The Shrew.”
“Then why was his daughter seeking him there?” Lord Watt asked, clearly now quite confused. “And what was her urgency in finding him?”
“Lord Leighton has left his townhouse and left his daughter in the care of Lady Ware, his sister, who is married but with her children all grown and settled.” He waved a hand, realizing that such details were not important. “He has gone from London to his estate, it seems, but without speaking to his daughter prior to his departure.”
Lord Wells did not dismiss this at once, as so many other gentlemen might have done. Instead, he nodded slowly, realizing that a slight change in behavior might be worth considering instead of simply throwing it aside. “I see.”
“His daughter is concerned for him and did not accept what her aunt said about him returning to his estate for urgent business, even though a note from Lord Leighton to Lady Ward was read out. She considers there to be something wrong and so went in search of him having discovered The Shrew written in his correspondence on a few occasions.”
“That was incredibly foolhardy,” Lord Wells muttered, shoving one hand through his short fair hair and blowing out a long breath. “It is just as well that you were there to ensure that she was kept safe.”
Charles shook his head. “I very nearly did not manage to do so,” he said, quickly telling Lord Watt about the attack on the hackney and how he had been knocked unconscious for a time, having been thrown from the hackney. He kept his voice low so that only Lord Watt could hear. “I am to meet with Lady Esther in a day or so,” he concluded, “to discuss the matter further, for there is a good deal more that I think must be talked about. I believe that Lady Esther has good instincts, Lord Wells. If she believes that her father is not at his estate and has, in fact, either been taken somewhere against his will or gone to another location where no one can find him, then I am inclined to accept her conclusions.”
“Particularly because Lord Leighton is known to The King’s League,” Lord Watt muttered, closing his eyes and rubbing at his forehead. “Did you say anything to her about that?”
“No, I did not,” Charles replied with a heaviness to his voice. “I did not think it wise to do so, not when she was already in such distress.”
“It would come as a great shock to her, I am sure,” Charles replied with a sigh. “Lord Leighton will have kept his part in The King’s League a secret from his family, as we all must do. Therefore, she will know nothing of it.” Lord Leighton was no longer a part of The King’s League, having served the king for some years but being granted retirement when his wife had passed away. It had been before Charles had joined the League, but his name was still well known to them all. He had worked tirelessly to ensure that England was kept safe from its enemies and some of his exploits were still being spoken of, such was the enormity of them. To hear that the man himself had now gone missing from London was of great concern to both Charles and Lord Watt, and Charles was quite certain that it would be equally worrying to the rest of the gentlemen in The King’s League.
“You believe, therefore, that the girl herself might be in danger?”
“I…” Charles hesitated, thinking hard. “I am not certain,” he said eventually. “The man who attacked the hackney was asking questions as to the location of Lord Leighton. I cannot know whether he already knows the location of Lord Leighton and is trying be sure Lady Esther doesn’t know where her father is, or if he is trying to seek the information for himself of where Lord Leighton has gone.”
“I see what you mean,” Lord Wells agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “He might well have been trying to ensure that Lady Esther did not know of where her father had gone and was, mayhap, trying to frighten her so that she would not seek him out again.” His eyes flared, and he looked back sharply at Charles. “Do you think that she will do that? That she will now accept that her father is away on urgent business and will merely wait until he returns?”
A broad smile settled on Charles’s face as he looked into his friend’s eyes. “No, I do not think that at all,” he replied with honesty, remembering the tenacity that Lady Esther had shown. “She was very afraid, of course, and yet still had the courage and strength of will to fight off her attacker. Her questions were still many once the attacker disappeared, and I cannot imagine that she will give up seeking the truth about her father.”
Lord Watt nodded, then chuckled. “It sounds as though you are going to have a difficult time with her,” he said with a grin. “You are going to have to stay as close to her as you can, Westbrook. You are aware of that, are you not?”
“I-I am,” Charles replied, knowing that this was what he must do and yet finding something within him beginning to rebel against the idea. “The ton will make a meal of my attentions towards her however.”
“So be it,” Lord Watt replied, shrugging. “She must be kept safe.”
Charles shifted in his chair, his back a l
ittle painful still. “It may turn out to be nothing of consequence, Watt.”
“But we cannot take that chance,” Lord Watt determined. “Lord Leighton was a gentleman of great importance to The King’s League. Therefore, we must ensure that his daughter is protected and we must discover where he is at present. I shall have someone sent to his estate at once to see if he is there.”
“And if he is not?”
Lord Watt paused, his eyes narrowing as though he were already considering that there was a good deal of difficulty yet to come. “If he is not at home – and both you and I consider that there is a good possibility that it may be the case – then we shall have to begin some sort of search for him. In the meantime, speak to Lady Esther and find out all you can about her father’s business of late.”
Fully in agreement and feeling a good deal more at ease than he had before, Charles let out a long, slow breath and sat back in his chair, gesturing to one of the servants to bring him another brandy. “And I shall speak to The King’s League about all I have said to you,” he said, seeing Lord Watt frown. “When do we next meet?”
“In a few days’ time,” Lord Watt answered, being the one who coordinated their meetings. “I will wait until the man has returned from Lord Leighton’s estate. That way, we will know for certain whether or not this is a matter of great severity.”
Charles nodded again, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. “I did not even get a chance to step into The Shrew,” he said, apologetically. “I did not manage to look within to see if Lord Breton or Lord Autry were present.”
Lord Watt waved a hand. “That is of no consequence.”
“I think I shall speak to Lord Silverstone and ask him to continue with that,” Charles continued, seeing Lord Watt nod. “I believe my first duty must be to Lady Esther, as you have rightly said.” Something within him shifted as he stated that, thinking of the days to come and knowing that he would have to be by Lady Esther’s side as often as he could. The ton would think him caught by her beauty and would expect him to be courting her just as soon as he could, and he was entirely unused to such a thing occurring. He had never shown particular affection to any young woman, and if he was to do so now, then Charles knew that the beau monde would take note. He would be spoken of, whispered about, and laughed at. There would be gossip and rumors and all manner of suggestions made. He would have to prepare not only Lady Esther for that—but also himself.
