Page 2 of King of Clubs (The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society #9)

“A very happy coincidence,” Lady Colburne told him. “I happened to be out on Piccadilly when I saw your accident. I was able to bring you home immediately and call for Colburne.”

Accident? Before he could even try to continue with that thought, a man’s voice distracted him.

“Ah, Wickford, how does that head feel?” Lord Colburne said, coming up by his wife’s side. Joshua could just make out his white-blond hair and tall, slender form.

“Like someone jabbed a knife into it,” Joshua told him truthfully.

“Hmm, yes, I can imagine it does. If you wouldn’t mind, my dear?” Colburne said to the lady. She immediately got up and moved away, leaving room for the physician to come closer. He picked up Joshua’s wrist and held onto it while he looked closely at his head.

“I don’t think anything’s wrong with my arm,” Joshua told him.

Colburne gave a little chuckle. “No? Good. I was checking your pulse. It feels much better. Stronger, I’m happy to say.”

“What happened? Why am I… where am I?”

Lord Colburne moved away slightly. “You’re in my home. Do you remember what happened?”

Joshua shook his head but immediately regretted the action.

“Hmm… I don’t think that’s uncommon. How is your vision?”

“Blurry.”

Joshua thought he nodded his head, but wasn’t entirely sure. Between his vision and his splitting headache, he could hardly keep his eyes open at all.

“Um-hmm. I believe you are suffering from a concussion. I do want to keep you under observation until tomorrow to make sure it isn’t anything more serious.”

“But how…?” Joshua tried again. His mind felt like a large blank slate. He was certain he was missing some vital pieces of information.

“From what Diana tells me, it was a combination of a cart laden with tree trunks and a carriage going much too quickly which caused your horse to rear. To put it simply, you’re damned lucky you’re alive and have only a splitting head to show for it. Pretty amazing you didn’t break anything, either. There was another equipage on your left which could have easily run you over, not to mention Diana’s carriage on your right, which could have done the same. Thank God, all the various drivers reacted as quickly as they did.”

“My God,” Joshua whispered. He’d nearly died. He’d nearly been run over. No, he couldn’t think. He couldn’t… pain lanced through his head again. He couldn’t think of this just now. He hurt entirely too much. He gave up and let his eyes close, as they were so desperate to do.

“Rest for now. I’m sure Diana will see to some broth for you, but for now, I wouldn’t have anything heavier than that.”

“Thank you,” he said, but truthfully, he wasn’t hungry. He just wanted to sleep.

~April 5 ~

Gwendolyn’s father had said nothing more than, “I’ll take care of it” after he’d been assured she hadn’t been in the carriage at the time of the accident. She was grateful to have such an understanding father. She’d also gotten from him a promise that he wouldn’t sack Bobby. She liked her coachman.

Her father had asked that she discover the gentleman’s name when she went to apologize and make sure he was doing all right and so, first thing in the morning—she hoped not too early—she’d set out for the Colburne’s residence. Lady Sorrell had assured her that they were very kind people, so she only felt a slight nervousness upon knocking on a stranger’s door.

“Miss Gwendolyn Sherman here to see Lady Colburne,” she informed the footman answering the door. She handed him her visiting card as she walked through the door. She was immediately shown into a very handsome drawing room on the first floor. It wasn’t as fashionable as her own, but it was certainly better than merely serviceable.

She was surprised, however, when the footman returned just a few minutes later to escort her upstairs to her ladyship’s private drawing room.

A very pretty, petite, brown-haired young woman greeted her. Gwendolyn was shocked to discover that this was Lady Colburne—she couldn’t be any older than Gwendolyn was herself. But the lady came forward saying, “Miss Sherman, how do you do? Lady Sorrell sent me a note last night, saying that you would be by today. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“She did? That was very kind of her,” Gwendolyn said as she rose from her curtsey. “I understand that you were at the scene of the accident yesterday and took charge of the gentleman who was injured.”

“Yes. It was extremely lucky I was.” She indicated that Gwendolyn take a seat on the lovely, dark-blue, damask sofa while the lady sat across from her on a matching piece.

“Can you tell me what happened? I have my coachman’s version of the story, but I would appreciate hearing yours.”

“Of course. I was driving home, heading down Piccadilly when it happened. I have to admit, it all happened so quickly, it’s nearly impossible to tell how it occurred. There was a cart laden with tree trunks, heading toward Bond Street, and a barouche that I believe was trying to make that awkward jig from St. James to Bond—you have to turn right onto Piccadilly and then immediately left onto Bond Street. It’s almost straight but not quite and can be quite tricky if there’s a good deal of traffic, as there so frequently is. I believe Lord Wickford’s horse was spooked first by the cart and then by the carriage trying to cut in front. It reared up and threw poor Lord Wickford into the street where there was an oncoming phaeton! I was terrified, but the driver managed to avoid His Lordship. It turned out the phaeton was Lord Wickford’s as he was just coming back from Tattersall’s having purchased the horse he was riding. His man took care of the horse while I took His Lordship home to be cared for by my husband.” She let out a breath of relief.

Gwendolyn felt like doing the same but restrained herself. “How very complicated! So while my coachman was partially to blame—”

“Oh, no, I don’t think you could lay the entire thing on his shoulders, honestly. I’m sure the cart and the skittish horse were equally at fault,” the lady said quickly.

“That is very kind of you to say so. We will, of course, take care of any damage or expenses as a result of the accident. My father only needed to know the gentleman’s identity, and he said he would have his solicitor take care of everything.”

Lady Colburne waved a hand through the air. “I’m certain that won’t be necessary. There was no damage except to poor Lord Wickford’s head—and perhaps his ego—although because of the concussion he suffered, he doesn’t remember a thing.” She gave Gwendolyn a little smile.

“I’m afraid I don’t know Lord Wickford… I’m new to Town,” Gwendolyn explained.

“Of course! Lady Sorrell said in her note that you were a school friend of her sister’s and were going to be making your debut this Season.”

Gwendolyn gave her a tentative nod. That was all true, assuming she could convince the Duchess of Bolton to sponsor her as Cassie had suggested.

“Lord Wickford is a very kind man, truly. I’m certain he won’t cause any sort of a dustup, but will want to put this unfortunate incident behind him.”

“You don’t think I could meet His Lordship…?” Gwendolyn asked. The lady may think the gentleman was kind, but it would be best to find out for herself. She generally considered herself a good judge of character. She also was feeling horrible that the accident had happened at all.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. Last I heard, he was still asleep, and from what Colburne says, it’s best that he try to get as much rest as possible in order to recover quickly and completely.”

“Of course! I just… I feel awful for what happened. I know I am responsible—”

“You truly shouldn’t give this another thought!” Lady Colburne interrupted.

“But I do want to apologize, at the very least,” Gwendolyn pointed out.

“Perhaps, you could write Lord Wickford a note. I’m sure he would appreciate it.”

There didn’t seem to be anything further she could do, so Gwendolyn just nodded and thanked the lady for her time. On her way home, she decided that the idea of writing a letter of apology, while not nearly enough to assuage her guilt, would at the very least be a good first step.

~*~

Joshua awoke with a pounding headache and a grumbling stomach. He was incredibly relieved to find his vision had cleared up. It showed him a maid working on some stitching as she sat next to his bed.

He cleared his throat. “Is there some water?” he asked.

The girl jumped as if she’d been struck by lightning.

He tried his best not to laugh. It wasn’t as if he’d come back from the dead—at least, he didn’t think so.

“Of course, my lord,” the girl said, getting up. She handed him a glass of water, then quickly packed up her sewing basket and scooted out of the room as quickly as she could. Joshua took advantage of her absence to use the chamber pot he found beneath the bed.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed when there was a brief knock before Lord Colburne came in. He stopped just inside the door. “I have to admit I’m a little shocked to see you attempting to get out of bed.”

“Nature forced me to make it this far. Dizziness has kept me from going any farther.”

Colburne gave a little laugh. “Do you need some assistance?”

“No, thank you. I’ve taken care of what I needed,” Joshua said, grateful now that his head had given him enough of a reprieve to do that much. “I’m not entirely certain I want to get back into bed, though. Comfortable as it is, I do feel that I should somehow make my way to my own.”

Colburne nodded, understanding immediately Joshua’s desire to be in his own home, in his own bed. “Let me do a quick exam first, then perhaps some breakfast if you’re up for it?”

His stomach growled loudly at the mention of food, causing Colburne to laugh and Joshua to cringe in embarrassment. “That’s a good sign, indeed!” Colburne said. He paused to call a footman to bring his breakfast and then, as promised, gave Joshua a quick look-over.

“Well, you seem to be doing much better,” he said just as Joshua’s breakfast was brought in. “I see no reason why you can’t go home. You do need to promise me, however, to continue to rest for at least another three or four days. That means no going to your club, no going over books, or doing whatever it is you might need to do to keep your business running. I’m sure the place won’t fall down if you take a few days off.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Joshua hedged. Indeed, he hadn’t left his club for even a day since he’d started it four years ago. He didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t show up for work for nearly a week.

Colburne gave him a stern look. “Either I get an assurance from you that you’ll stay away, or I’ll keep you here and ensure that you do myself.”

Joshua held up his hands in surrender. “I promise, I will stay away for as long as I can. No guarantee as to how long—”

“At least four days. Wickford, you have a concussion. They don’t just go away in a day or two. Surely, the pounding in your head will confirm this?”

Joshua couldn’t argue, and in the end, he agreed to stay away from his club for as long as he could.

Colburne was kind enough to personally see Joshua home a few hours later, although Joshua thought it a little much when he nearly insisted on seeing him straight into bed.

“Honestly, Colburne, I swear to you, it is all I can do to stay on my feet to argue with you,” Joshua assured him.

“I can well believe that, but I also think I know you. You are a driven man, and right now I am going to emulate you. I am driven to see you ensconced in your bed with some laudanum by your side should you need it.”

“No. That I will most definitely not need.”

Joshua’s man interrupted them. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but Lord Ross—”

“Joshua, what is this,” Joshua’s closest friend came in on the man’s heels. “Why am I being told you’re indisposed? You’re never—” He stopped and looked from Joshua to Colburne and back again. “You look like hell. Colburne, is he all right?”

“It’s great to see you too, Jamie,” Joshua said, managing to pull up a little smile, despite the fact that his head had begun pounding so loud his ears were ringing with it, and the dizziness was returning.

“I beg your pardon, but for someone who is naturally brown-skinned, you look horridly pale,” Jamie said. He’d never been one to mince words—it was one thing Joshua had always liked about him.

“Wickford was in an accident yesterday. He has a concussion and needs to get to bed immediately.” His last word was punctuated with a quick movement to steady Joshua, who had suddenly felt the world begin to tilt and turn. Thank God for Colburne’s quick reflexes and strong arm.

Jamie was on his other side a moment later, and the two of them helped him into his room and into bed.

“I don’t think I’m going to be arguing with you about staying here for a while at least,” Joshua quipped. He allowed Jamie to pull off his coat and waistcoat in one action after Colburne had helped him with his boots.

Colburne laughed. “Well, that’s a relief. I will, however, be back tomorrow to check in on you. You had better be right here,” he warned.

“I promise, I will be.” A groan escaped him as he settled his aching head back on his soft pillows.

“I’ll look after him,” Jamie offered.

“Thank you, Rossburke. I know I can rely on you,” Colburne said.

“No, Jamie, you’ve got a new wife to look after,” Joshua managed.

“Does he ever stop arguing?” Colburne asked Jamie.

“Not when he’s feeling unwell. When he’s in top shape, he’s as witty and charming as one can get,” Jamie answered. “But when he’s sick? No, you’ve never met a more surly fellow, ever.”

“It’s true,” Joshua agreed. He couldn’t help it.

Colburne just sighed. “Well, good luck with him.”