by Lucy Adams
She sniffed and pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, her fingers feeling the cold metal of the key for the door. “What should I do?” she asked, wiping her eyes and then blowing her nose. “Should I awaken the butler?”
Lord Millerton considered this, then shook his head. “No, it is quite all right,” he said, slowly. “I will be able to bind this fellow quite easily, and if we lock him in another room, I highly doubt he will be able to find a way to escape.” He grimaced. “He may very well try, of course, but it will be impossible for him.”
Bridgette nodded quickly. “There is rope in the small outbuilding where the gardener keeps his tools,” she told him, quickly. “Should I fetch some?”
Lord Millerton pressed his lips together, looking at her with caution in his eyes.
“I am not afraid,” she told him, reassuringly. “I know that this man must be restrained and I —”
“It is only that I fear you may come across the gentlemen of the League,” he told her, his hand reaching out for hers again, his eyes moving around her features as though he sought to find some sort of understanding hidden in her gaze. “I do not know what has become of them.”
A sudden thrill of horror ran up Bridgette’s spine. If she did as she had suggested, then there was the chance she might come across one or both gentlemen in less than agreeable circumstances. But yet, she knew that Lord Millerton needed rope in order to bind the unconscious man at his feet, and it was this knowledge that bolstered her courage and forced her forward.
“I will manage to do so,” she told him, her fingers pulling from his. “I know you are eager to find and help the gentlemen who were keeping guard at the house, and I will do my very best to be as quick as possible.”
By the time Bridgette reached the servants floor of the house, she was so fearful that it was difficult to put one foot in front of the other. It was quite ridiculous, she knew, given that Lord Millerton had made her wait for some minutes before allowing her to go, making quite certain that there came no other untoward or unexpected noises from within the house. He did not expect there to be anyone other than the unconscious intruder present, but still she felt herself very anxious indeed.
It was made all the worse when she noticed that the door that led from the servants floor outside was already ajar. Her heart pounding, she stopped dead, her feet fastened to the floor as she looked at it steadily, fearing that someone would come striding into view.
No-one did so. Her breathing ragged, Bridgette stepped closer, her fingers pulling at the door gently until it swung open. She frowned. Normally this door was tightly secure, for her butler always made certain to do so. Why now would it be open?
It was then that her candlelight revealed to her the answer. Something had been forced into the lock, something that must have allowed the door to be opened without the intruder making a single sound.
“You there!”
The loud voice had her shrieking with fright, one hand grasping her shoulder tightly as the sound dropped from her throat.
“I am Lady Callander,” she squeaked, not quite certain if such a name would make any particular difference to the person holding her so tightly. “Who goes there?”
The grip on her shoulder relaxed almost at once and she lifted her candle a little higher, revealing the sharp eyes and square jaw of Lord Windsor. She relaxed at once, just as an exclamation of surprise came from him.
“Lady Callander,” he said, stepping back. “Whatever are you doing out here? It is dangerous indeed, for I simply have not been able to find Lord Pilkington.”
Still feeling a little weak from the shock of what had occurred, Bridgette quickly explained what had happened and what she now required. Lord Windsor did not hesitate but held out one arm for her to lead the way, although he promised he would only be a step or two behind her.
Bridgette hurried along the path to the gardens, picking her way carefully and fully aware that her skirts were becoming increasingly damp from the dew that had already settled upon the earth. The outbuilding was a small building in the corner of the gardens, hidden by a trellis of roses. Without even thinking to hesitate, Bridgette moved closer, only for Lord Windsor to catch her shoulder and tug her back.
“Please,” he said, meaningfully. “Please allow me to go first, Lady Callander.”
She hesitated for a moment, then allowed him to step forward. He took the candle from her and moved slowly behind the trellis, to where the shadows were deepest. Pressing her lips together tightly, she held her hands tight against each other, shivering just a little although it was not from the cold.
“Good gracious!”
The way Lord Windsor exclaimed made her catch her breath, her feet moving forward of their own accord as she hurried behind the trellis. What she saw had her skin prickling with fright, her eyes fixed to the gentleman who now lay on the ground, propped up beside the wall of the outbuilding and his eyes closed. Lord Windsor bent over him.
“It is Lord Pilkington,” Lord Windsor said, darkly. “He has been struck very badly indeed.”
Bridgette pressed both hands to her mouth, suddenly afraid that the gentleman was dead.
“I will need to take him inside to recover,” Lord Windsor continued, as Bridgette let out a long breath of relief. “Might you be able to find what it is you require, Lady Callander?”
His eyes darted to hers for a moment before returning to Lord Pilkington. Bridgette nodded quickly and stepped closer, pulling open the door to the outbuilding without any anxiety but rather a newfound sense of determination. Her fingers found the rope without too much difficulty and she hefted it onto her shoulders, her chest tight again with the effort of carrying it.
“Bring him to the servants entrance and I shall have Lord Millerton come to assist you in bringing him up the stairs at the very first moment he can be spared.
Lord Windsor said nothing, grunting his agreement as Bridgette hurried as quickly as she could, from the outbuilding and back out to the gardens. It did not seem to take her as long to return to Miss Sarah’s bedchamber, even though the weight of the rope had sweat breaking out on her forehead.
“You have returned.” The relief on Lord Millerton’s face was evident the moment she stepped inside. He took a moment to grasp her hands and to look down into her face, leaving Bridgette filled with both relief and gladness that nothing had changed since she had left.
“I have found Lord Windsor,” she said hoarsely, as Lord Millerton pulled the rope from her shoulder. “And Lord Pilkington.”
Lord Millerton stilled. “Where are they?”
Still breathing quite quickly, she chose her words carefully. “Lord Pilkington is not dead, but rather appears to have been quite badly beaten,” she said, softly. “The door from the servants entrance to the gardens had been opened.” Swallowing hard, she sank down into a chair, feeling now quite exhausted. “Lord Windsor was looking for him, I believe, when he came across me. He is now with Lord Pilkington at the small outbuilding in the garden and says he will bring him into the servants kitchen just as soon as he can.” Closing her eyes, Bridgette let a wave of tiredness rush over her, pulling the last of her strength from her. “I said you would assist him in bringing Lord Pilkington above stairs once you were ready.”
Lord Millerton rubbed his chin, clearly a little upset to hear that his friend had been so injured. “I thank you,” he said, gruffly. “I will go at once.” He made to say more, his mouth open and his eyes fixing to hers, only for a low groan of pain to come from the man on the floor.
Bending down, Lord Millerton quickly began to tie the man’s hands behind his back, using intricate loops that Bridgette could not help but marvel at. The way his fingers moved was quite extraordinary, relief flooding her as she realized that the man in question certainly would not be able to move.
“I will finish the rest once I take him to whatever room you think best,” Lord Millerton said, gruffly. “His legs will need to be bound.”
Bridgette nod
ded quickly, then gestured to the door. “There is a room beyond the library that is entirely unoccupied, save for a table and chair,” she said, slowly. “It does not have a bed, however.”
Lord Millerton said nothing but rather hauled the semi-conscious man to his feet. For the first time, Bridgette was able to look into the man’s face, taking in his stubbled chin, the dark smudges below his eyes, the way his large arms hung uselessly by his sides. She did not think that this was a gentleman, given the cut of his clothes, but then again, he might very well have donned something that would not bring him a good deal of suspicion should he be discovered walking along the pavement in the late hours of the night.
“I do not know him,” she said, a little disappointed. “Do you?”
Lord Millerton shook his head, a strain on his face as he held the man upright. “I do not,” he answered, quietly. With a deep breath, he moved towards the door. “I will not be long.”
“I will come with you,” she said, only for Lord Millerton to shake his head. “Go to Lord Windsor,” he told her, grimacing. “I shall join you in a short time.” A tiny smile caught the corner of his mouth. “I believe that he needs you more than I at present.”
Bridgette glanced back over her shoulder but the nurse only nodded, looking a good deal more reassured and certain than she had been before.
“Very well,” Bridgette murmured, as the nurse let go of Miss Sarah’s hands and rose to her feet. “You will be quite all right here, I hope?”
The nurse nodded, coming closer and bobbing a rather untidy curtsy in front of Lord Millerton and Bridgette. “I will,” she said, quietly. “I do not think I could sleep, even if were to try to do so.”
Bridgette, who felt quite weary but not at all tired, accepted the lady’s remarks with as warm a smile as she could muster and handed her the door key. Without even another word given just how tired she was, Bridgette hurried out after Lord Millerton, closing the door tightly behind her. She waited until she heard the key in the door lock before making her way back down the staircase and into the servants kitchen, where Lord Pilkington now lay.
“Lord Pilkington,” she said, having never once been introduced to the gentleman but looking down at him with sympathy blossoming in her heart. “He has not awoken as yet?”
“No,” Lord Windsor replied, heavily. “Not as yet.”
Bridgette let out a small sigh, put one hand on Lord Pilkington and silently prayed that he would recover. She did not like having one person in her house without any particular signs of life, and certainly did not want to add other to it.
“Who was it that came into this house?” Lord Windsor asked, sounding quite frustrated. “What is his name?”
Bridgette shrugged heavily. “I do not know,” she said, quietly. “I could not say. Lord Millerton might know him.”
Lord Windsor let out a long breath, shaking his head and looking back at Lord Pilkington. “Things are becoming a good deal more confusing,” he said, softly. “Are they not, Lady Callander?”
There was nothing for her to do other than agree. Lord Windsor was quite correct to state that there a good deal more confusing than before. With someone attempting to come to remove Miss Sarah’s life from her, Bridgette knew she would have to speak to Lady Madeline at her earliest convenience. Bridgette silently determined that she would write to her friend the very first moment she had, and if she received no reply, then she would go to Lady Madeline’s father’s house, so that she might be able to discover just whom she had spoken to.
“I am sure we will see a little more clearly in the light of day,” she said, feeling a little helpless. “And Lord Pilkington will recover?”
As though he had somehow heard her speak his name, a groan came from the lips of Lord Pilkington. Bridgette was beside him in a moment, with Lord Windsor at the other side.
“Can you sit up, sir?” she asked, as Lord Windsor wrapped one arm around the gentleman’s shoulders. “You have been injured, sir.”
Lord Pilkington’s eyes were fluttering, the candle now placed just a short distance from his head. As she held it to his face, she saw the red blood trickling down into his ears. A compress was needed, she determined, remembering what had worked for Miss Sarah’s wound. Leaving the candle where it was, she went in search of a cold cloth, finding one and rinsing it in a bowl of water.
“Nothing is to be spared,” she said quietly, as the cloth was pressed against Lord Pilkington’s head. “We must try to help him awaken.”
Lord Windsor let out a long breath and nodded, his hand over hers so that she might pull her hand away and step back, allowing him to do what was required.
“How is he?”
She jerked back , hearing Lord Millerton’s voice but having not heard anyone approaching.
“I apologize, Lady Callander.” His hand was on the small of her back, his presence beside her now entirely reassuring.
“He will regain consciousness soon, I am sure,” Lord Windsor replied grimacing. “It appears that he was struck hard from behind.”
Lord Millerton nodded. “Then he was waiting near the back of the house and you the front?”
“indeed,” Lord Windsor confirmed, “and we would meet to ensure that the other was quite well every hour or so. “When I could not find him, I feared the worse.”
Lord Millerton let out a long breath and Bridgette felt herself leaning back into him, drawing from his strength. When his lips brushed her forehead, she did not jerk back in embarrassment but rather allowed herself to close her eyes and simply rest in the warmth that rushed through her. It was just what she required at this moment.
“You should rest, Lady Callander,” Lord Millerton said, softly. “The perpetrator will not be able to escape and Lord Windsor will assist me with conversing with the gentleman we have just captured.” When she pushed away from him just a little, his smile was gentle. “I will speak to you the moment you awaken in the morning.”
“I thank you,” she answered, already missing his nearness. “I should be glad to sleep for a short time.”
“Then do so,” Lord Millerton smiled, clearly relieved that she and Miss Sarah were quite safe. “Thank you, Lady Callander, for all you have done.”
She wanted to protest, to state that she had done nothing particularly noteworthy, only for Lord Millerton to reach out for her hand and bend over it. Heat swirled in her stomach as he kissed her hand, making her blush furiously. When he looked up at her, there was such a tenderness in his eyes that she could not find the words to speak. Instead, she simply smiled at him, turned on her heel and hurried from the room, finding herself wrapped in a fresh warmth that chased all the lingering fears and doubts far away from her heart, and it was all thanks to Lord Millerton’s gentle touch, his sweet kiss and the warm affection in his eyes.
Chapter Ten
Sebastian cleared his throat as he waited for Lady Callander to attend the drawing room. He had asked a maid to awaken her an hour ago and, in that time, had been writing various notes to different gentlemen of the League, begging them to come to Lady Callander’s home at once.
So far, none had arrived but he expected them to attend him very soon. He wanted to speak to Lady Callander before such an event, however, to prepare her for what was to come.
The door opened and he turned at once, seeing the gentle smile on Lady Callander’s face as she walked into the room.
“Lord Millerton,” she said, softly, holding out both hands to him, which he took at once. “How are you this morning? How is Lord Pilkington?”
Sebastian smiled at her, grateful for her compassion and consideration. “You are very kind to ask, Lady Callander,” he told her. “Lord Pilkington awoke shortly after you retired. He has a very sore head indeed but I do not think there will be any lasting damage.”
“And the man you captured?” Lady Callander asked, her hands still in his. “What of him?”
Sebastian let out a long breath, clearing his throat. It had been a difficult few hours
, for he and Lord Windsor had found it very trying indeed to find out anything truthful from the man, given that he had first been recovering from his unconsciousness and then because he had steadfastly refused to say a single word. It had taken a good many threats and a little pain at the hands of Lord Windsor for him to finally reveal something of the truth.
“We have discovered something, yes,” he said. “A gentleman approached this fellow last evening and gave him a task to complete.”
Lady Callander’s eyes widened. “What sort of task?” she asked, her voice a little tremulous. “Did it involve Miss Sarah?”
He nodded, not wanting to tell her the truth but knowing he could not hide it from her. “He was to take her life,” he said, quietly, as Lady Callander gasped in horror. “The gentleman was quite clear about his task, apparently.”
“But how would he know it was Miss Sarah?” Lady Callander asked, hoarsely. “Or was he just to take the life of whoever it was that was unwell in the house?”
Squeezing her hands lightly, Sebastian tried to recall precisely what the fellow had told him. “He stated that if it was a young lady, with dark hair and a mark on the top of her arm, then that was his objective.”
“A mark on the top of her arm?” Lady Callander queried, looking at him in surprise. “I have not seen anything of the sort.”
“Nor I,” Sebastian admitted, “but I have not been looking for anything such as that.”
Lady Callander nodded. “That is true enough,” she admitted. “Thank goodness that you managed to prevent him from doing so.”
Sebastian gave her a wry smile. “I believe you had a good deal to do with it also, Lady Callander,” he told her, as she looked away. Recalling suddenly that the rest of the League was to attend soon, he pressed her hands. “I have asked some of the League to call,” he continued, quickly. “They are going to be here very soon.”
She nodded, dropping her hands and smoothing her skirts. “I see,” she said, quickly, moving away from him and seating herself down beside the fireplace. “Might you ring the bell for tea?”
