Page 25 of A Slight Problem with the Wedding (The Farthingale #11)

London, England

October 1826

Lord Julius Thorne felt a prickle run up his spine the moment he stepped into his elegant bedchamber in the Huntsford townhouse sometime after three o'clock in the morning. He was foxed, but not so deep in his cups that he could not sense something was amiss in here. It was dark...unusually dark, even for this late hour. "Who's there?"

Someone must have closed the drapes all the way so as not allow the smallest trickle of dawn's light to steal in. Whoever that someone was, he was still in here. Julius could feel the intruder's presence in the thickness of the air.

He slowly reached into the lip of his boot to grab his pistol, but had yet to withdraw it when a soft feminine voice called to him from behind those drawn curtains. "Julius?"

His heart shot into his throat upon recognizing who had called to him. "Gory?"

Was he more foxed than he realized?

There was no chance Lady Gregoria Easton, better known as Gory to her friends, would ever be in his bedchamber. Especially not now that she had caught herself a viscount and would be married by the end of the week.

He did not like to think of her married to that pompous clot, Chandler Allendale. The man was completely wrong for her, but what right did he have to judge when he had never let on about his feelings for her?

Now, he feared it was too late. "Gory, I'm drunk. Am I imagining you?"

"No, Julius. It's really me," she said, little more than a slender shadow stepping out from behind her hiding spot. Her voice was so thin and shaky, he'd never heard her sound like this before. "I didn't know where else to turn?"

"So you came to me?" He hurriedly lit a lamp before rushing to her side.

That he was drunk and lovesick did not help the situation. Nor had his foolish agreement to escort Gory around London all week long because her betrothed was too busy to attend to it helped in the least, either. He had foolishly thought spending more time in each other's company might rid him of his feelings for Gory, but he was wrong.

She was stubborn, opinionated, independent, and determined to be the greatest forensic specialist in all of London. What other young lady would rather spend more time examining dead things than going to balls, musicales, and fashionable dinner parties?

Her quirky traits and stubborn disposition ought to have cured him of these unwanted feelings he had for her.

His stupid ploy had failed.

He was falling more deeply in love with her than ever.

He held the lamp up for a better view, and his heart immediately surged into his throat. "Dear heaven! What happened to you?"

She was wearing her wedding gown, a soft, pearl silk that he had seen when taking her to the fashionable modiste for a final fitting only yesterday. Not that he had wanted anything to do with enabling her to marry that dimwit viscount, Allendale. But she had needed a ride and he, like the clot he was, had volunteered to assist her as she went on this wedding errand to her modiste.

He blinked.

And blinked again.

The blood splattered all over her gown was still there.

It wasn't a drunken delusion.

Crimson trails of it seeped into the delicate silk, and dried splotches of crimson red stained her hands. "Never mind. You'll tell me later," he said gently, realizing she must be in shock when she did not immediately respond to his question. "Let me check you for injuries first."

He set the lamp on a nearby table, and then ran his hands along her body with aching care.

Once. Twice.

He was not surprised by the soft allure of her curves, for he'd gotten a good look at her yesterday, accidentally walking into the modiste's fitting room while she was still undressed. Why had the modiste's helper told him Gory was finished and needed assistance with her packages when she was still in there, standing in her chemise of sheerest fabric that hid nothing from his view?

Even though her back had been turned to him, there were several large mirrors in the room, so that in addition to her sweetly curved backside that was pointed at him as she bent slightly to retrieve something out of her reticule, he could make out her nicely shaped breasts in the mirror's reflection. Those ample mounds that were about to spill out of the bodice could fill the cup of his hand. He refused to dwell on what else he saw, but it was not an exaggeration to admit he would pay a king's ransom to explore her body.

He would have been sent straight to hell had he acted upon the possibilities then and there.

Instead, he had backed away before she noticed him.

But the sight of her delectable attributes was seared into his eyeballs as well as his heart.

Gory always hid her charming figure beneath the most hideous clothes. Who knew she had the body of an angel beneath all those layers of dark muslin? Well, he'd always suspected it because she was a very pretty girl.

He liked everything about her and should have said something when Allendale began to court her.

But he didn't.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. Gory, the wonderfully eccentric, brilliant bluestocking who studied dead things, and was one of the foremost scholars in advancement of medical science, was now betrothed to Viscount Allendale.

They had made the announcement three months ago.

The wedding was to take place next week.

He and his brothers had been invited, of course.

His brothers were married to Gory's best friends, Adela and Syd. The wedding reception was to be held right here at the Huntsford townhouse immediately after the ceremony. His brother, Ambrose, Duke of Huntsford, had insisted upon it when Gory's uncle had cheapened out.

Her uncle was an unmitigated arse.

Had Gory accepted Allendale in order to escape the untenable situation in her own home? Julius had known she was unhappy there and ought to have done something about it, proposing to her himself.

He quickly shook off thoughts of Gory's wedding, an event that he was now determined to stop if Gory gave the slightest hint she might reciprocate his feelings. But none of it mattered now, for she was in a desperate way and trembling.

Gory never trembled.

She was afraid of nothing.

"Tell me what happened," he said, taking her cold hands into his warm ones, and having her sit in one of the cushioned chairs beside his hearth. "Let me fetch the ewer and basin. I need to clean you off while we speak. Gory, I can't find any wounds on you. Have I missed something?"

Blessed saints, his hands had skimmed over every luscious inch of her and found nothing obvious.

"I don't know. I feel dizzy," she said.

He frowned. "Perhaps you were hit on the head. Hold still while I take a look at your scalp."

She pushed his hand away. "No."

"Gory, I need to?C"

She pushed his hand away again. "No!"

He sighed. "All right. Maybe later. How did you get all this blood on you? Where have you been? Was someone else hurt?" He stopped, for he was throwing too many questions at her all at once.

When she shivered again, he realized he ought to get something warm and liquid into her. But it was the middle of the night, too early for the Huntsford scullery maids to be stirring yet. In any event, he did not think it wise to alert anyone else to her presence, not until he got more information out of her.

The sky had been threatening rain all night and Julius now heard the first droplets striking against his window panes. He grabbed a fresh cloth from his dressing room table and dampened it in the water he had just poured from the ewer into the basin.

By the soft amber glow of the lamp, he rinsed her hands, and then washed the dabs of blood off her face and off a few tendrils of hair that framed her heart-shaped face. The pins had loosened from her hair and all those glorious chestnut tresses were about to spill onto her shoulders. After cleaning her face and neck, and wiping a few droplets of blood off the swell of one breast, he took the pins out and smoothed back her hair.

Big hazel eyes framed by dark lashes stared back at him.

Her mouth was pink and lush, although tightly pursed at the moment because she was so scared. "Gory, may I help you out of those clothes? The blood has soaked through all the layers, even to your chemise. I'll give you my robe to wrap around yourself for now. As soon as I hear the staff stirring, I'll have Adela's maid fetch you an outfit from her wardrobe."

"No!" She groaned. "No one can know I am here."

Julius was not certain what to do. "You cannot walk around in my clothes. They are too big for you and will never fit your slight frame. Besides, you won't fool anyone into thinking you are a boy."

She glanced down at her breasts and sighed. "When is Adela due back?"

"You know she and Ambrose are in Oxford for the next few days. They won't be back until the day after tomorrow."

She nodded. "They've been gone all week."

"Which is why I was enlisted to escort you around Town. But you needn't worry about the wedding breakfast, all is in readiness. Adela organized everything before she and Ambrose left. Will you allow me to help you out of your gown now?"

She nodded again.

He only meant to loosen the laces she could not reach on her own. But once he had done this, she still did not move. His brother, Octavian, now an admiral in the Royal Navy, had told him how some men, when strained to their breaking point, succumbed to battle shock. This is what Gory appeared to be suffering. "Gory, can you undress on your own?"

??No, Julius. Look at me. My hands are shaking too hard."

Dear heaven, what had scared this fearless girl so badly?

He groaned softly. "May I help you then? Would that be all right?"

The blood was so thick on her clothing, it surely had soaked through to her skin. He would need to wash everything off her as soon as possible.

"Yes, please," Gory said, obviously mimicking his thoughts. "I cannot bear to look at myself or touch anything I am wearing."

"All right." This was not how he ever dreamed of Gory shedding her clothes for him. He got the clothes off her with painstaking care, and looked his fill only for the purpose of examining her more thoroughly to determine if she had any significant wounds. Once again, he did not even find bruises or scrapes.

Her body was sweet perfection.

But her eyes looked a bit glazed.

She must have struck her head on something, but when he attempted to reach out again to inspect her scalp, she pushed his hand away. "No!"

And yet she made no protest when he cleaned the traces of blood off her stomach and breasts. He stifled a shudder because this girl was beyond perfect and he had lost her to another because of his own stupid procrastination.

Why did he wish to prolong his bachelor life when it was not all that enjoyable? He rarely drank to excess, although he had tonight. Of all the nights to be foxed when he needed to have his head clear! He was not one for gambling, and had not even touched another woman in months because his heart wanted only Gory.

He wrapped her in one of his robes, a black silk that fell only to his knees and had shortened sleeves. He thought she would not be completely drowned in it. His fingers grazed her soft shoulders as he tried to get her arms in the sleeves. "Gory, does it hurt to raise your arm?"

"No, Julius. My arm is fine."

But she clearly wasn't fine.

He sighed, silently debating whether to press her about her injuries. But she was too fragile at the moment, and did not appear hurt other than a blow to her head that she still would not allow him to examine. "All right."

She was so lovely, she made his heart ache. The robe was too big for her and she ought to have looked ridiculous in it.

She didn't.

When she shivered once more, he carried her to his bed. "Get under the covers, Gory. You'll be warmer that way. I'll pull up a stool beside the bed and we can talk."

She whimpered. "My uncle is dead."

Julius feared it was something serious like this that had brought her running here. Why had she fled here and not to her darling viscount? Well, he didn't care. All that mattered was that she was here and he was going to protect her. "We had better notify the authorities. But first tell me what?C"

"No!" she cried softly. "You cannot let anyone know I am here."

He raked a hand through his hair. "Why should I keep you hidden? Others will worry when they realize you are missing. Worse, the authorities might think you are the one who did him in and are now on the run because of it. And what about your viscount? You are getting married in a week's time. Do you intend to hide out here until your wedding day?"

"May I? Do you mind?"

Did he mind Gory in his bed?

If it were up to him, he would want her there permanently. "I don't mind having you here, Gory. But is it not better to report the crime to the authorities before others find your uncle's body? Where is your aunt?"

Gory sat up, and then winced. "She's visiting her sister in Windsor."

The effort of sitting up must have pained her.

She put a hand to her forehead to give it a delicate rub.

Did this not confirm she had been struck on the head?

Why would she not allow him a better look? Not that he knew the first thing about proper treatment of a head wound. But he knew just the man to summon...Dr. George Farthingale. He was the best doctor in London and could be counted upon to be discreet.

However, Julius hesitated.

He did not want to embroil anyone else in this possible murder situation until he had more facts. "Gory, when is your aunt due back?"

"Later this afternoon."

"All right, this gives us several hours to attend to the problem. Tell me everything you know."

"Julius, you haven't asked me."

"Asked you what?"

She stopped rubbing her forehead and looked up at him with her hazel eyes wide. "Whether I killed my uncle."

He arched an eyebrow. "The thought never entered my mind...but, did you?"