by Laura Landon
Willow didn’t ask anything more. She raced through Blake’s office on the upper floor to his bedroom. The moment she saw him, her legs weakened and she stumbled. Thankfully, Liam was close enough to reach out to support her.
“Oh,” she moaned. On legs that threatened to buckle beneath her she walked to the bed, then sat on a chair near Blake and reached for his hand.
She tried, but couldn’t stop the tears from spilling from her eyes. She brushed them away, then leaned closer to him. “I’m here, Blake,” she whispered. “I’ve come to be with you.” She brushed a lock of his dark hair from his forehead. “Don’t give up, Blake. Please, don’t give up. I don’t want to lose you. Do you understand? I don’t want to lose you.”
She rinsed a cloth in cool water and placed it on his forehead. “It’s important, Blake. I need you to get well. I couldn’t go on if you weren’t here.”
She rinsed the cloth again then placed it on one cheek. In a short while, she rinsed it again and placed it on the other cheek. When she lifted the cloth from his face, she realized that she wasn’t alone. Liam was in the room with her. “Who did this to him?” she asked. “You know, don’t you?”
“I can guess but I don’t know for sure.”
“Is it because of the ready-made garments? Does someone want to eliminate him because he’s successful?”
Liam shook his head. “I don’t think it has anything to do with Blake’s success. I think it’s personal.”
Willow couldn’t hide her surprise. “Someone hates him that much that they’d beat him nearly to death? Who?”
Liam hesitated for several moments. At first Willow didn’t think he would answer her, but eventually he did. And when he did, he said the last words she’d expected him to say.
“His father.”
“What? Did you say his father?”
“Yes. The man who sired him. Although he doesn’t know that Blake is his son. He thinks his son is dead. He’s the only person I know who hates Blake enough to kill him.”
“Who is his father? And why would he hate Blake enough to want him dead?”
Liam shook his head. “That’s not for me to reveal. Blake will have to tell you that.”
Willow rinsed the cloth once again and placed it on Blake’s forehead, then she placed the back of her hand to his cheek. He was warm, but not overly so. She breathed a sigh of relief, then checked his bandages. Blood had seeped through one or two of the gashes the doctor had sewn but not so much that Willow was afraid he’d torn the stitches open.
“I’ll be here until morning. Get some rest, Liam. You need it.”
“Thank you, my lady. I’d appreciate a few hours of sleep. Call if you need anything.”
“I will,” she said and Liam left the room.
When she was alone with Blake, she reached for his hand and held it. “Sleep well, sweetheart,” she whispered. “The longer you stay asleep, the more you will heal and the less pain you will have when you wake.”
Willow stayed with him for several hours and talked to him while he slept. She hoped he realized that he wasn’t alone and that she was with him. She was glad that he slept…
…and then, his peaceful sleep changed.
He became more restless. His head thrashed from side to side as he struggled to hold off his imaginary attackers. He cried out and lurched on the bed.
Before Willow could defend herself, his arms flailed through the air and struck her across the shoulders.
Willow cried out in pain, then tried to pin his arms against the mattress. But even as injured as he was, he was too strong for her to overpower him. “Stay calm, Blake. You’re all right. You’re safe.”
Her words didn’t reach him. He released an agonizing growl and fought her with a strength she couldn’t overpower.
He swung his arms through the air again, only this time Willow saw his arm coming toward her and was able to ward off his attack. When his arm came perilously close to striking her jaw, she lunged out of the way.
Yet again he came dangerously close to striking her. His movements were becoming more violent and she knew if she didn’t stop him he’d tear out the stitches the doctor put in.
“Blake! Stop!”
“Liam!”
Chapter 14
Willow threw herself across Blake’s chest while pinning his arms beneath her. She knew she’d do irreparable damage if she fell on his ribs, but he’d do even more damage if she didn’t stop him from moving so violently on the bed.
“Blake, stop! You’re safe. No one can harm you.”
Before she could say more, Blake freed one of his arms and threw her from on top of him. She landed on the floor and struggled to get up. Thankfully, the door to Blake’s room opened and Liam rushed to the bed. He had the strength to pin Blake to the mattress until Blake collapsed in exhaustion.
“Mix some laudanum with the whiskey in that glass,” Liam ordered and Willow rushed to follow his orders. When she’d added the laudanum to the glass, she took it to the bed.
“Lift him enough so I can get him to drink,” Willow said. She placed the glass to Blake’s lips and thankfully he opened his mouth and drank. It took several tries before the glass was empty.
“Are you all right?” Liam asked after he’d lowered Blake’s head to the pillow.
“Yes. Just a bit shaken.”
“I think from now on I’ll have one of the men stay with him.”
“That might be for the best. He’s too strong for any of the women to handle.”
Willow placed a damp cloth on Blake’s forehead, then lifted it when he moved. “You’re safe, Blake.” She reached for his hand and held it. “I’m here with you.”
“Willow?” he said in a weak whisper.
“Yes, Blake. It’s me.”
“Is… Liam… here?”
“Yes, Blake. I’m here. What do you need?”
“Guards…” he gasped.
“I’ve already taken care of that. I have guards posted outside and inside.”
“They’ll be… back.”
“Don’t worry, friend. They won’t get in.”
Blake’s breathing was more labored now and his face and chest were drenched in perspiration.
“You need to rest, Blake,” Willow said. “You can talk later.”
Blake breathed a jagged sigh and fell asleep. Thankfully, the laudanum was taking affect.
When Willow was sure Blake was asleep, she turned to Liam. “What is going on? You said you thought his father was behind the attack. What kind of father would want to harm his son?”
“The kind of father Blake is unfortunate to have.”
“Who? Who is his father?”
“I can’t say. Blake will have to tell you that.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I’m not sure he wants you to know.”
“Then what can you tell me? Surely you can tell me something about Blake, and why someone would want to harm him.”
Liam walked to the cabinet and poured some whiskey into a glass then returned to the chair that sat beside Blake’s bed. He took a sip from his glass and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Blake is the illegitimate son of one of Society’s most influential men. Blake’s mother was an actress and the man’s mistress. When Blake’s mother became pregnant with Blake, Blake’s father walked out on her. He refused to acknowledge Blake or provide for him. Consequently, Blake’s mother was forced to sell herself in order to feed herself and her son.
“When Blake was nine, his mother became ill. They didn’t have enough money to pay a doctor, so Blake went to his father to ask for help. Not only did the man refuse to help, but he had Blake thrown out onto the streets. Blake was forced to watch his mother die a horrible death.”
Willow held Blake’s hand in hers. She struggled to focus on his features, but her eyes filled with tears and his face swam before her. “How could anyone be so cruel? Why wouldn’t he help him? Blake was his son.”
“I don’t
know. Perhaps because Blake was an embarrassment. Or, perhaps Blake’s father was desperate to hide his illegitimate son’s existence from his wife.”
“He’s not the only member of Society who had a child out of wedlock.”
“But this man relied on his wife’s money to keep up appearances. And she doled her wealth out with a sparing hand. She was as straight-laced as any Society matron could be. If she ever found out that her husband had an affair while they were married, and that a child had resulted from that affair, she would have cut her husband off without another farthing.”
“Oh, my. I’m glad Blake wasn’t influenced by this man. I’d hate to think how he would have turned out.”
“He’s lucky he survived,” Liam said. “He was forced to fend for himself from the time he was nine years old. And the streets aren’t a good place to grow up.”
“How did he earn his wealth?” Willow asked.
“He was fortunate enough to be taken in by the man who owned the import business before Blake—Silas Witherspoon. He had no one to leave his warehouse to, and because Blake showed such loyalty, and had been such a faithful worker from the time he was sixteen years old, the man chose to leave his business to Blake. At the time, Blake had begun buying the business from Silas, so the old man could retire. But then he died, and Blake discovered he’d left him the whole thing in his will. It was a thriving business when Blake inherited it, but Blake made it even more successful.”
Willow was well aware of the depth of Liam’s feelings for Blake. Their friendship ran deep. “How did you and Blake become friends?”
“After Blake’s mother died, he lived on the streets. We both did. He saved my life.”
Willow watched the expression on Liam’s face turn serious.
“I lost my parents at about the same age that Blake lost his mother. I was forced to live on the streets, the same as Blake. But where Blake was always tall for his age with broad shoulders and formidable strength, I was the opposite. I was small for my age and quite weak.”
Willow looked at Liam and smiled. “Then I would say you’ve made up for your lack of height and muscle since then.”
Liam smiled. “Yes, but none too soon. When I was fifteen, a certain gang that roamed the streets attempted to kidnap me and sell me to an establishment that was favored by a male clientele. The members were particularly fond of young boys. I’m not sure what would have happened had Blake not come to my rescue. He fought the kidnappers off, then took me to the warehouse where he worked. He convinced Silas Witherspoon to take me on.”
Liam took another swallow of the liquor in his glass and looked at Blake. The concern on his face was evident. “Silas said I was too scrawny to keep up with the other workers, but Blake told him I was stronger than I looked. When I couldn’t keep up, Blake would do my work as well as his own. He did enough work for the both of us so Silas wouldn’t let me go. I owe him my life. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.”
Willow would have liked to ask Liam more, but Blake began thrashing on the bed and talking was no longer possible. It took everything they had to hold Blake down and calm him.
“Lie still, Blake. You’re not alone. I’m here with you.”
At last Blake fell into a restful sleep and Willow sent Liam back to try to get a few more hours of sleep. She stayed with Blake until just before the dawn’s first light. “I love you,” she said when she was sure that he was asleep. “Don’t think of dying on me. I won’t let you. I’m not sure I could go on if you weren’t in the world with me.”
She talked to him until Madame Boulereau arrived. Willow greeted her with a warm hug, then went to the sewing rooms to make sure the workers had enough fabric to keep them busy for the day. When everything was organized, she went back a final time to check on Blake before at last taking her leave. She needed to return home before any of the servants might rouse and discover she’d been gone all night.
. . . .
The chairs around the grand table at the Duke of Somerset’s townhouse were filled. The Duke of Somerset sat at the head of the table, with Willow’s father at the far end of the table and Willow’s mother at his right. The duke’s son, Lord Kendrick, and Willow occupied the center on one side. Willow’s two older brothers and their wives took up the opposite chairs, flanked by the two bachelor brothers.
Everyone was in a festive mood, as if they knew there was a special reason they’d been invited to the Duke of Somerset’s home for a private dinner celebration. From the smiles on several faces, it was obvious that they had guessed what they were celebrating.
Willow tried to portray excitement—or at least good cheer—but it was difficult. All she could think about was Blake and wonder how he was doing. Hopefully, he had improved since she’d left him early that morning.
The meal proceeded with more than one healthy conversation struggling to be heard over another. But what did Willow expect when her four brothers were together? Laughter was common in her household. She couldn’t imagine what a meal must be like in the Duke of Somerset’s house. Not only did the duke have a serious disposition, but since his son was an only child, he lacked anyone other than his father to converse with.
Willow glanced in her oldest brother’s direction. Jonathan was the most serious of the four of her brothers. No doubt that was because he was heir to the earldom, and educated to assume the most responsibility.
Next, she glanced at the brother born second. Her father had always said his second son, Richard, didn’t have a serious bone in his body. He said it was fortunate that he hadn’t been born first or the Wyndfield dynasty would be in severe trouble. But Willow doubted her father meant his words. Everyone knew Richard had a stronger business acumen than he let on. He’d simply never needed to show his strengths. Both of her older brothers were here with their wives, who fit into the family as if they’d been born into it.
Joe and Phin also added their fair share to the conversation. Both were more handsome than they had a right to be, and were two of the most sought-after bachelors in Society. At least they would be if they could provide their potential wives with homes and a means to support them.
She turned her head and caught Lord Kendrick’s gaze. He smiled at her and she smiled back. At least, she hoped the expression on her face was a happy one. She hoped the corners of her mouth were raised enough to form a sincere smile and that her eyes contained an adequate amount of happiness.
Lord Kendrick turned to the footmen standing at the sides of the room and in unison they approached the table and filled everyone’s glass with champagne.
Conversation stopped and all eyes focused on Willow and the marquess.
“Are we celebrating something special?” the Duke of Somerset asked.
The expression on his face was bright with anticipation and Willow was forced to lower her gaze so His Grace didn’t see the lack of enthusiasm in her eyes.
“Yes, Father. We are.” Kendrick pushed back his chair and rose. When he was on his feet, he extended his hand and Willow rose to stand at his side. He looked at her with a broad smile, then wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her close to him. “It is with the greatest honor that I am privileged to announce that the Lady Willow has consented to become my wife.”
The room exploded in cheers and applause.
“Congratulations!” her family said in an enthusiastic chorus. En masse, they made a decorous rush around the table and pulled her into their arms. It was obvious that they were happy for her.
If only she shared that same excitement and happiness.
. . . .
After several toasts to celebrate Willow’s engagement to the Marquess of Kendrick, everyone moved to what was known as the blue drawing room. Willow’s four brothers had sequestered Quinton in a far corner of the room so her married brothers could supposedly reveal all the secrets to a successful marriage, and her single brothers could lament the loss of another bachelor who’d succumbed to the lure of matrimony.
&nbs
p; Willow turned her gaze when a raucous burst of laughter came from their corner and her gaze locked with Quinton’s. From the amount of liquor they were consuming, she was certain the only leftover result from their conversation would be five severe headaches in the morning.
The man she’d agreed to marry smiled at her and she smiled back. Her path was set and it was too late to undo the decision she’d made. As if she’d had a choice. There was nothing left for her but to make the best of her future.
Willow glanced around the room. Her mother and sisters-in-law were engrossed in conversation, and her father and the Duke of Somerset were discussing something that seemed important, and, of course, her brothers still held Lord Kendrick captive.
Willow felt the need to be by herself for a few moments, so she walked to the back of the room where two double French doors opened onto a terrace. The warm evening breeze washed over her and she felt an overwhelming moment of clarity to look at and evaluate everything that was happening. And for the first time all evening, she had a moment to let her mind think about Blake and what might have been.
The stars shone brightly and drew Willow to the garden balustrade where she had an unfettered view of the twinkling sky. It was the perfect night to say a fervent prayer that God would give her the strength to accept the path she’d been given to travel. And that He would watch over Blake and let him heal. Her silent words slipped away when she realized someone had joined her. She turned.
“It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?” the Duke of Somerset said as he approached her.
There was something intimidating about her future father-in-law. Even frightening. Although he appeared almost regal in his stance and demeanor, there was also something formidable about him. As if he possessed a sinister side that warned Willow she needed to be wary of him.
“Yes,” she answered, lifting her face to gaze at the full moon.
“You have made my son a very happy man, my lady. I must admit that for a time I doubted whether you would accept Quinton’s proposal, even though your marriage to my son would be of great benefit to at least two of your brothers.”
