The Eligible Earl: Heirs of London Book Five

by Alec, Joyce

  “Betrothed?” Percy choked, only for Lady Frederica to laugh, her eyes twinkling.

  “I meant, by your own choosing,” she said as Percy closed his eyes with relief. “Not that you would be forced into such a situation.”

  “I see,” he replied, laughing now at his own foolishness. “I confess that I have—”

  “If we might all consider coming through to the music room?”

  The voice of their host caught Percy’s attention and he looked away from Lady Frederica, seeing Lord Ambrose lead the first of his guests through to another room. Turning back to Lady Frederica, he offered her his arm. “Should you like to join me, Lady Frederica?” he asked, his heart lifting all the more as she accepted immediately. “Have you ever seen a conjuror before?”

  “I have not,” Lady Frederica replied as they made their way toward the music room, the Duke and Duchess behind them. “I am very excited, I confess.”

  “As am I,” Percy agreed, feeling a good deal more at ease with Lady Frederica beside him. There was nothing more for them to do but sit down together and watch the performance, so surely nothing untoward could happen then?

  * * *

  “Goodness, that was one of the most remarkable things I have ever seen.”

  Percy chuckled as he led Lady Frederica back through to the drawing room. “It was rather magnificent,” he admitted as Lady Frederica shook her head in evident astonishment at what she had seen. “I should very much like to go and ask him how certain things were done, but I do not think he would tell me.”

  “I should think not,” Lady Frederica laughed, her eyes twinkling. “For then what employment could he get if he told you all of his methods?”

  “Lord Wetherby, Lady Frederica. Might I ask what you thought of the performance?”

  Percy stopped and inclined his head toward Lord Ambrose. “My congratulations on an excellent evening, Lord Ambrose,” he said, seeing how his host beamed with pleasure. “We were only just speaking of how wonderful that was.”

  “I am very glad to hear it,” Lord Ambrose replied with such a look of relief that Percy wanted to laugh. “It was something of an unusual engagement, but if it has gone well then I am very contented indeed.”

  Lady Ambrose drew near and began to engage Lady Frederica in conversation. Percy, seeing that his time with the lady was at an end, took his leave of them both and did not miss the way that Lady Frederica held his gaze for a long moment before she turned back toward Lady Ambrose. His heart soared, making him fully aware of just how much he had come to appreciate Lady Frederica’s company. She was, as he had said to her himself, one of the most extraordinary young ladies of his acquaintance and he was very glad indeed to know her a little better. Meandering around the room for a short time, he nodded and smiled at a few acquaintances.

  “Will you come join us for cards, Lord Wetherby?” Lord Taylor clapped one hand on Percy’s shoulder, making him turn around. “We are to set up a few games in the library.”

  Pleased to have been asked, Percy nodded. “I should enjoy that,” he agreed, turning toward the door. “The library, you say?”

  The gentleman nodded and stepped away. “I will join you in a moment,” he said as Percy made his way toward the door. “I must also ask Lord Fothergill if he wishes to join us.”

  Making his way back out into the hall, Percy hesitated for a moment, his steps slowing. He had not given a moment’s thought to stepping away from the rest of the guests, for a card game was usually the done thing at a soiree. But a niggle of uncertainty entered his heart as he continued to make his way toward the library, not quite certain whether or not he was doing the right thing.

  The library door was ajar and Percy stepped inside, only to stop dead as he realized the room was entirely empty. Where were the others?

  Perhaps Lord Taylor is the one seeking to set up the game, he told himself, taking a small step inside and ignoring the thrill of dread that ran up his spine. You are being overly cautious.

  A small sound came from behind him and Percy turned around at once, expecting to see someone there.

  A sharp pain seared across the back of his head and blackness began to surround him almost at once. Groaning aloud, he pressed one hand to his head and felt himself begin to sway. His vision blurred as he put his other hand out, seeking desperately for something to hold onto.

  Someone grasped his arm and the next moment, Percy felt himself falling backwards, fearing that he would hit the floor and knock himself out entirely, only to land on something soft. Try as he might, his vision simply would not clear and, although a figure moved about in front of him, he could not make out their face.

  “What are you doing?” he tried to say, only for his words to come out in a garbled mess. Closing his eyes against the pain that now ricocheted through his head, he tried to find some strength to sit up, to push himself away, or to stand and make his way from the room, but weakness poured through him like a river.

  He could see nothing, finding it too difficult to even open his eyes. He heard sounds but they seemed to come from very far away. And then, someone touched his forehead, their hand cool against his skin.

  “Lord Wetherby?”

  Percy recognized the voice but could not seem to speak a single word.

  “I think he is bleeding,” he heard someone say. “We should return him home at once.”

  “No,” said another voice. “To our townhouse. Quickly now.”

  Somehow, Percy found himself being raised to his feet, his head drooping down so that his chin practically rested on his chest. Blinking rapidly, his vision still blurred, he managed to take a few steps forward, being supported by someone on his right.

  “Come, Lord Wetherby,” he heard someone say—someone he was sure now was Lady Frederica. “You are quite safe now.”

  “Safe,” he muttered, the word falling from his lips. Another person came to support him on his other side and, trusting now that he would be helped in whatever way he required, Percy allowed them to lead him wherever they intended to go.

  11

  Frederica bit her lip as she paced up and down the drawing room, her heart quailing with anxiety. The duchess watched her with a concerned expression, having already begged her to be seated but having been met with refusal.

  “He will be quite all right,” the duchess said, not for the first time. “It was an injury to the back of his head. The doctor will be able to clean it and make certain he is well.”

  Frederica swallowed hard, turning to the duchess. “He was so very pale,” she said, her heart constricting as she remembered the sight of him lying on the chaise longue as they had entered the library. “The way he could not lift his head, the way he tried to speak…” She closed her eyes tightly, dragging in a shaky breath. “It was most distressing.”

  “He will be well,” the duchess said firmly. “I know you are anxious, my dear, but trust the physician to do as he is trained to do. I am quite certain that Lord Wetherby will, himself, walk into this room unaided and you will see that he is recovered.”

  Wanting desperately to believe this but not fully able to do so, Frederica nodded, turned, and resumed her pacing. The memory of walking into the library and seeing Lord Wetherby lying there still plagued her. It had only been by chance that she had seen him depart and, after a moment, had found her worries increasing given that no other gentleman appeared to be doing so. A quick conversation with a footman told her that Lord Wetherby had made his way to the library, although he did not know why. With the duchess and the duke by her side, Frederica had hurried toward the library, throwing the door open wide. It had only been a moment before the two ladies that they had discovered within had fled from the room, running around the furniture until they had escaped through the doorway, their skirts billowing. She had not even had a thought about going after them, looking only to Lord Wetherby and realizing that he had been injured.

  The door to the drawing room opened and, as Frederica turned toward it hopefu
lly, she saw that it was only her uncle. Her shoulders slumped as the duke came forward, although she prayed that the serious expression on his face did not speak of something all the more concerning as regarded Lord Wetherby.

  “He will join us in a few minutes,” the duke said quietly. “I have sent some staff to his townhouse to collect items he will require, given that he should stay here for the present.”

  Frederica blinked rapidly, one hand settling against her heart. “He is recovering?”

  The duke nodded. “A blow to the back of his head,” he told her by way of explanation. “There was some bleeding, but it was not severe. The doctor has cleaned the wound and has declared that he will be back to his usual strength in a day or so. However,” he said, sitting down next to his wife and taking her hand in his, “I have insisted that he remain here until tomorrow at the very least.” His expression was serious, his eyes narrowed as he rose from his chair and went to pour two brandies. “This is certainly now becoming a little more serious.”

  “If only we could have found those two ladies,” the duchess said, regret in both her expression and the way she shook her head. “I know that it was right for us to ensure that Lord Wetherby was quite well, but I feel as though we have done him an injustice in being so close to identifying them but permitting them to leave.”

  Frederica gave her aunt a brief, encouraging smile. “We had no other choice,” she said, one hand thrown up carelessly. “Lord Wetherby needed our help, and evidently, we arrived a few minutes before they had fully prepared the scene.” When she had thrown open the door and walked in, one of the ladies had been bending over Lord Wetherby, with the other standing by her. With only a few candles lit around the room, Frederica had been entirely unable to make out their faces and, thus, as they had escaped from the room, she had not had even a flicker of recognition.

  “It is frustrating, I admit,” the duke agreed, sitting back down again with both brandies now set on a table near to him. “However, we did what was required. To remove Lord Wetherby from the house was of great importance. We do not want the ton to be aware of what occurred, for then all manner of rumors might begin.”

  Nodding, Frederica again began to pace up and down, her anxiety a good deal more settled now that she knew Lord Wetherby was well on his way to recovery. The strain of the evening had begun to take its toll, for she found herself very fatigued even though, had they remained at Lord Ambrose’s soiree, she would not have had a thought to return home as yet.

  “Ring for tea, Frederica,” the duchess said gently. “I can see that you require some refreshment and both the butler and the housekeeper are still attending to their duties, given that we are to have Lord Wetherby reside with us.”

  She nodded and rose to do so, and as she rang the bell, she saw the door handle turn and push open slowly.

  Her heart jumped into her throat as Lord Wetherby stepped into the drawing room, looking all about him as though he was not at all certain what sort of welcome he would receive.

  “Lord Wetherby!” Frederica exclaimed, hurrying toward him, unable to keep the relief from her voice. “You are recovered?”

  Lord Wetherby smiled weakly and, even in the candlelight, Frederica could see the dark shadows underneath his eyes and the lines of strain that ran across his forehead. Before she could stop herself, she had found his hand and, clutching it in both of her own, looked into his eyes. “You are a little better, then?”

  “A little better, yes.” His voice was thin and rasping, his fingers cold. “I am very grateful indeed to you all for what you have done.” He placed his hand on top of Frederica’s, his fingers pressing hers. “I heard your voice, Lady Frederica, and knew that I was safe from whatever danger had pulled me into its grasp.”

  Frederica swallowed the ache in her throat and looked back at him steadily. “I am only glad that we were there in time,” she said quietly. “It seems that the ladies who have been attempting to force you into matrimony have gone to greater lengths than before.”

  “Indeed.” The duke raised his eyebrows and Frederica let go of Lord Wetherby’s hands at once, stepping back as the duke held up a glass of brandy in Lord Wetherby’s direction.

  “Please, do be seated, Lord Wetherby,” she said, hastily returning to sit down herself. “You must be very tired.”

  He did so at once and accepted the brandy from the duke gratefully. “I am greatly fatigued,” he admitted, “although the doctor states that it is increased due to what has occurred. I will be vastly improved come the morrow; I am sure of it.”

  “I do hope so,” the duchess replied, just as the door opened and the housekeeper stepped inside. After requesting tea and something to eat for them all, the duchess dismissed her housekeeper and turned back to Lord Wetherby. “You were very pale when we found you, Lord Wetherby. That must have been a very painful blow.”

  Lord Wetherby winced and reached up to touch the back of his head, grimacing as he did so. “It seems that I was struck rather hard,” he said, dropping his hand. “The doctor thought it was perhaps a poker or some such thing.”

  “Something that could easily have been wielded by either of the ladies present,” Frederica said as Lord Wetherby’s eyes widened.

  “Do you mean to say that there were two ladies present?” he asked, and Frederica nodded. “Whatever for?”

  “One, I suppose, to strike you and the other to guide you to the chaise lounge,” Frederica replied. “You were placed there, I presume?”

  Lord Wetherby frowned and rubbed at his forehead. “I do not recall precisely,” he replied, grimacing. “I remember falling back into something soft, with my head feeling as though it were burning with an intense pain.”

  “I believe,” Frederica said as the duchess reached to pour the tea, “that the two ladies intended to stage it as though you were in something of a compromising position with the young lady—whoever she may be. When others came in to join the card game, they would find you there and thus, all would be as they intended.”

  Lord Wetherby nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. “I do not understand their desperation,” he said eventually. “Why should they be so determined? Why should they not just speak to me in a quiet manner and ask if I am to fulfill these supposed obligations so that I might then inform them that they are mistaken?”

  “I do not think they would believe you, even if they did as you suggested,” Frederica replied as Lord Wetherby sighed and took a sip of his brandy. “They appear to be quite certain that it is your hand they intend to force.”

  The duke rose to his feet, wandering across the room as he gestured, one hand held out in front of him. “You must have said something to them, Lord Wetherby, that has made them believe you have no intention of marrying this young lady,” he said slowly. “Therefore, they must, as Frederica says, force your hand.”

  “It is just as well that you came to find me when you did,” Lord Wetherby replied, his eyes turning back toward Frederica. “If you had not…” It seemed he could not finish his sentence, shaking his head to himself and looking away from her.

  “It was Frederica who noticed your absence,” the duchess replied quietly. “It was she who then asked one of the footmen where you had gone. It is to her that you owe your thanks.”

  A flush of heat began to creep up Frederica’s spine as she looked first at the duchess and then toward Lord Wetherby. The look in his eyes was unfathomable, as though there was a great deal he wanted to say but simply could not find the words. Her heart began to quicken, her whole body seeming to burn with heat as Lord Wetherby leaned a little closer to her in his chair.

  “I can say nothing that will express my true depths of gratitude, Lady Frederica,” he said softly, as though it were only the two of them in the room. “Had you not been aware of my absence, had you not been so concerned for my wellbeing, then I might now be at home with a drink in my hand, attempting to accept my fate.”

  Frederica did not know what to say. She did not think that
she could say anything, given that her mouth had gone very dry. Instead, she merely smiled and sat back in her chair, fully aware of the look that passed between the duke and the duchess. Her chest was tight, feeling as though her awareness of Lord Weatherby’s presence, his words of thankfulness, and the deep intensity of his eyes as he gazed at her were much too overwhelming to bear.

  “It does beg the question of what we are to do now,” the duke continued after a few moments, allowing Frederica to breathe a little more easily as she glanced toward the duchess, who was smiling knowingly. “There is a greater concern for you now, Lord Wetherby. There is clearly a desperation there, a deep, unsettling fear that is being pushed to the very fore of these ladies’ minds.”

  Lord Wetherby finished his glass of brandy. “There is nothing I can do, save to be on my guard,” he said heavily.

  A sudden idea slammed hard into Frederica’s mind, making her catch her breath. Her eyes widened at the audacity of it, knowing that she would be risking a great deal should she do so. It might mean that her second Season would end just as the first had done. It would ask her to set aside her own intentions for the Season, her hopes and her dreams for what might have come to pass, and all for the sake of Lord Wetherby. Her brow furrowed and she leaned forward, rubbing her fingers lightly over her forehead as she thought, worrying her lip with her teeth.

  “Frederica?”

  She looked up, seeing the concern in her uncle’s eyes as he came nearer to her.

  “Are you quite well?”

  Frederica drew in a deep breath, feeling herself tremble as she nodded. “I—I have a suggestion,” she said slowly. “It is one that should, I would hope, protect Lord Wetherby to some degree and, mayhap, find out who precisely is behind all of this.” She looked first to Lord Wetherby and then to her aunt, seeing the duchess frown, her eyes holding a good deal of worry as though she knew what Frederica was about to suggest.

  “I would be glad to hear any suggestion you might have, Lady Frederica,” Lord Wetherby said, looking back at her eagerly. “I do feel a little uncertain about what else I am to do, other than continue what I have been doing at present.”