Page 3 of A Marriage for the Marquess (Barrington’s Brigade #1)

“H ow severe?” God’s blood. Glenraven’s chest tightened as a hot, swollen lump grew in his throat. He sprung out of his chair, the brandy spilling from his glass. “Is he…”

“No, he is still with us, but we came close to losing him,” Barrington assured him, his hand resting on Glenraven’s arm to steady him.

Glenraven’s mind raced, the news of his father’s accident igniting a familiar fear. Paris. “I must go to him.” The memory of his past failure drove his need to be present and not let history repeat itself.

Barrington’s grip tightened gently. “We’ve brought him here, to Barrington Hall. It’s safer.” His eyes met Glenraven’s. “The accident, we believe, was no mere mishap.”

“Here?” Glenraven’s surprise quickly turned to disbelief. His breath came in spurts as flashes of the Parisian street, the flash of a knife, and the chaos that followed rushed through his mind. Life was so fragile, a lesson he’d learned all too well.

“Yes, and there’s more,” Barrington continued. “Your father’s valet and coachman acted swiftly.”

“Watts and Pearson are both good men. But tell me the rest.”

“I agree. Their quick thinking likely saved his life. It’s reminiscent of the night in Paris, isn’t it? When quick action was all that stood between life and death of the Duchess.”

The chaos and the aftermath haunted his dreams. He had captured the assassin, yes, but at a cost, he still carried with him.

“Your mother is here too, though she’s out at the moment. We’ll need to discuss security measures, Glenraven. We can’t take any chances.”

“I must go to him.” Glenraven glanced at the door. He had to make certain his father was alive.

“Not just yet. There is more you should know.”

Barrington’s grim tone made him give his former commander his complete attention.

“Your father slipped into unconsciousness upon his return to London and remains there. Since we have a hospital room here, I offered it to your mother. She decided that he would stay here.”

Glenraven sank back into the chair. His face was gray with concern as he stared at the man he trusted with his life. This time, he would be there for his family.

“What happened?” Glenraven searched Barrington’s face for an answer.

“Your father and Watts rode into a dreadful storm on his way to Northampton. They were crossing the River Lea at the Harmony Bridge when the bridge gave out. Watts got him safely to shore. He had bumps and bruises, and all seemed well.”

“I can’t sit here.” Glenraven got to his feet. “I must see him now.”

Barrington stood. “We’ll both go see him.” They walked through the hall and climbed the staircase. “Watts is not only a good valet. He took care of your father’s wounds until Dr. Manning and I reached them. Somehow, Pearson put the carriage back together and brought your father back. Watts is upstairs with your father.”

As they reached the landing at the top of the stairs, Glenraven fixed Barrington with a questioning stare. “Northampton? To see the Quinto family?”

“Yes. Watts said when he got your father to shore, he kept mumbling about Enrico Quinto. I know he was upset with Quinto’s sudden passing.” Barrington led Glenraven down the hall. “Quinto was a good soldier and a finer man. He often played cards with your father. My brother Edward said fine words about him in Parliament.”

“From your tone, I gather you think Quinto may have had some assistance in leaving this world.”

Barrington stopped in front of a door and faced him. The importance of the accusation hovered between them. “So did your father. He thought the circumstances surrounding his passing were most irregular.”

“As are the circumstances around Father’s accident,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Which makes me glad, if for no other reason than his protection, that your father is here.”

“For his protection? From whom, himself?

“Not at all. Your father can control his demons. He actually has put them to work for him. That’s why I sent the coin,” he nodded toward Glenraven’s pocket. “to you. I will tell you about that but now is not the time. First, you should know the details of what happened on their way to Northampton. I’ve told you what I can about the accident, but I’d rather you hear the details from Watts.”

Barrington opened the door. The curtains were drawn, making it difficult to make anything out. His eyes grew accustomed to the dark, and he saw his father’s valet, John Watts, sitting next to him. The room was large. To his left was the large bed and end table cluttered with various items. To his right was a sitting area.

The valet got up and came to him. “It is good to see you, my lord.”

The patient turned his head. They all glanced at Lord Aurington.

“Dr. Manning mentioned that His Grace’s random movements are to be expected and are nothing to be concerned about.”

“Mr. Watts, are you here for Father’s protection?” Glenraven walked over to his father’s bedside.

“Not at all, my lord.” Watts followed him to the bed. “As his valet, I stay with him to ensure he has everything he needs. In his current state, when I am not here, one of the staff or Lady Aurington takes my place. Someone is always with your father so that he will not be alone when he wakes. Dr. Manning says he is making some progress.”

Glenraven stood next to his father, trying to collect his thoughts. He took his father’s hand. It felt weak. This was not the robust man who arm-wrestled with him.

Glenraven’s nature was to make things right, but he could not fix this, which frustrated him. He felt his father’s strong pulse and his tension eased. Noticing the beads of sweat on his forehead, Glenraven glanced at the nightstand and reached for the cloth. He also caught sight of a deck of cards, the ace of hearts face up.

Still holding his father’s hand, he mopped his forehead. His father squeezed his hand. He didn’t care if it was a random movement. Excited at being comforted by his father’s small gesture, Glenraven bent close to him. “I’m home, Father. You can rest easy. I will take care of everything. All you need to do is recover.” He stood and waited, hoping his father would open his eyes. He took the ace of hearts from the deck of cards. He turned it over and examined the back, expecting to see the Aurington family crest. Instead, he found a black raven with wide-spread wings inside a geometric diamond on a gold background. Many clubs had their crests or initials on the back of playing cards. This one was not familiar to him. He glanced at his father, put it in his pocket, and then bent close to him again. “And, Father, no more cards.” In the past, teasing and removing the ace of hearts, his father’s signature card, would gall his father, but not today, what he would give for his father to argue with him.

“We should let him rest. We can sit over here,” Barrington motioned to the sitting area, “and Mr. Watts can tell you the details of the accident before Hughes arrives.”

He, Barrington, and Watts took seats by the fireplace. A polished mahogany table stood in front of them. On it lay a worn leather folio, its edges scuffed from years of use.

“Start at the beginning,” Glenraven said to Watts. “And don’t leave anything out.”

“Of course, my lord.” Watts settled himself and began. “We were on our way to Northampton, south of Luton. The weather had taken a turn for the worse. His Grace was in fine spirits. He teased Pearson about using the carriage based on an unusual perfume fragrance, which was distinct and unfamiliar. When we got to the Harmony Bridge, the river was fiercely racing, splashing over the banks onto the roadway. We’ve crossed that bridge a hundred times and never had to worry about it. So we went on. We were about one-third across when we heard the snap and felt the bridge shake. A board under the carriage had broken, then another, and yet another. With the wind and the noise from the water, we couldn’t tell how many more boards were damaged.

“We needed to back the carriage off the bridge. Your father said to hell with the carriage. Take care of the horses. He turned to me and said I was to come with him. He wouldn’t lose his best valet because of a little water.”

A rustle in the bed had them all turn in anticipation. The movement quieted, and they turned back to Watts.

“Pearson calmed the horses. His lordship and I attempted to leave the carriage when the axle broke, and the carriage tipped. We both slid into the water. I quickly found your father and helped him to shore.

“By this time, Pearson had the team off the bridge and tethered. He came to the shore and helped your father and me up the embankment.

“The carriage was seriously damaged. Even in the poor weather conditions, Pearson was able to see the broken axel. He offered to stay with the carriage while your father and I continued to the inn on horseback.

“Pearson and I prepared the horses, and His Grace and I were soon mounted. Your father established a quick pace as we set off for the Lutin Inn. When we arrived, we sent someone to help Pearson, and the innkeeper sent his boy to Lord Barrington.

“Pearson joined us before the fireplace, where we dried out and had a good meal. Other than the bruise on His Grace’s head, he appeared to be himself. When Lord Barrington and Dr. Manning arrived, the doctor examined him, and we prepared to return to London. We brought His Grace here in Lord Barrington’s coach. Pearson followed a day later with His Grace’s coach.”

“Your father was awake and talking the entire trip back to London,” Barrington said. “Thank you, Watts. You did an excellent job.”

Watts straightened his posture, his expression firm and determined. “Anything for His Grace. I am honored to serve him and will always do whatever is necessary to ensure his safety.”

Glenraven didn’t question the man’s sincerity. Watts had been with his father since before he was born. “One last question.” He took the ace of hearts from his pocket. “Do you know where my father got this card?”

The valet looked at the back of the card, then at Glenraven. “No, Your Grace. I didn’t see that deck of cards until I emptied your father’s coat pockets. I found a small tin container. Your mother opened it and found the deck of cards.”

Glenraven nodded as he stared at the card. His father never carried a deck of cards. No one would trust them. “Thank you, Watts.”

Watts quietly left the room.

Glenraven put thoughts about his father’s health aside and tried to piece together the puzzles of the accident. “Where is the carriage now?”

“I had it locked up in my mews,” Barrington replied, his tone somber and resolute. “The carriage had to be placed in a remote area. It smelled of lemon and smoke. Your father insisted that Watts entertained some doxy, which, of course, he denies.”

“Of course.” Glenraven relaxed, but only a bit. “You didn’t send the coin to me because of my father’s accident. But why do I feel that his accident and your coin have some connection?”