Page 36 of No Match for Love (Regency Love Stories)

“Lucas?” Mother’s voice—small, timid, and scared—came behind him. He couldn’t turn. He needed a plan before he could face her. He needed—

Lydia. Lydia would be able to help. She was but a few streets over. He could be there and back in a handful of minutes.

He looked directly at the footman awaiting his orders.

“Send servants after Peak and Codstine.” He listed the names of the closest trusted surgeons in the area.

The footman nodded and disappeared. Lucas turned to his mother.

“I will be back within a quarter of an hour. I am going to get someone who can help.” His gaze landed on Charlie behind her.

Still—eerily still. He clenched his jaw.

“I will be back.” He bolted from the room, brushing past Drake and Mrs. Humphries, who’d just entered the hall.

When Lucas pulled open the door, however, he froze in place.

Miss Faraday stood there, hand raised as if about to knock, carriage waiting in the street behind her.

Lucas sent a prayer up. “Lydia,” he breathed.

Her eyes searched his face. “Is something the matter?”

“Charlie is hurt, he—”

She took a sharp breath. “Can I help?”

Lucas felt a flood of relief. “Yes. Please.”

“Come.” She pushed past him, following the noise into the drawing room.

The transformation he’d seen twice before, where he could see her analyzing and taking over the situation, took place as she pulled off her gloves and flung them onto a chair.

She sent a reassuring look to his mother and knelt beside Charlie on the rug.

Her hands deftly moved over Charlie’s head, eliciting a groan from him. But still, his eyes did not open. Miss Faraday met Lucas’s eye. “I need water, towels, thread, and a needle, something for bandages and vinegar or alcohol. And if your housekeeper has anything for the pain.”

Lucas nodded, turning on his heel. Mrs. Humphries met his eye and nodded, rushing out of the room. Lucas turned back and watched Miss Faraday, hands clasped tightly behind him.

She didn’t look up but spoke to him. “The cut does not seem deep, though the bleeding must be stopped. I think it was likely a fall that has caused his unconscious state. I am worried about his shoulder too. It is possibly out of place, and I do not have the strength to fix that.”

“I have called a surgeon. If ever he comes.”

Miss Faraday nodded. Mrs. Humphries returned at that moment. Lucas traded her the supplies she had brought for instruction to wait for the surgeon, and then he brought Miss Faraday all she had asked for.

Immediately she set to work, and Lucas, pacing at the foot of his brother’s prone form, watched in concern as she cleaned the wound and brushed aside his hair for a closer look. Lucas forced his feet to move in her direction, coming to kneel beside her. “Is it shallow, as you thought?”

“Yes.” Her eyes remained on the cut. “I do not think it needs stitches. They could be put in to speed the healing, but if he will agree to stay in bed for a few days, I think in the long term it would be best not to have any. They tend to cause extra discomfort and require removal.”

Lucas nodded.

Miss Faraday glanced at him then leaned close. “Sit with your mother, will you? I think she could use some comfort.”

Lucas followed her gaze to where his mother sat, hands pressed tightly in the folds of her dress, eyes trained on her youngest son.

Lucas immediately strode to her, berating himself for not realizing her need before then.

He sat beside her, taking her hand. “Miss Faraday believes he will be all right. The cut is not so bad as it appeared, and the surgeon will see to his shoulder.”

She nodded stiffly then started forward. “Your father. He went to his club before Parliament’s session. We need to inform him.”

Miss Faraday wiped her hands on a towel, pushing to a stand. “If it is not overstepping, I can find a servant to alert him on my way out?”

“You are leaving?” Lucas asked, surprised by the panic the thought brought.

Miss Faraday’s eyes shifted from his and then back again. “I can do nothing more for him. With a surgeon coming, I believe you will be well in hand.”

It occurred to Lucas that he hadn’t a clue why she had come in the first place. He’d not seen her for the last week now, and a flood of questions pushed aside his fear for Charlie for just a moment.

“Do stay, Lydia,” his mother said, her voice small.

Her Christian name still sent a wave of feeling through him. Lydia. He’d called her that at the door without thinking. It was a beautiful name.

And not at all what he should be focusing on as his brother bled all over his mother’s drawing room rug. Though, in truth, the bleeding had mostly stopped, and Miss Faraday had put a towel beneath his head.

“If you are certain?” Miss Faraday herself did not seem certain, but Mother nodded. “I will find a servant, then return.”

“Thank you,” Mother said.

Miss Faraday slipped from the room, and Mother pressed her eyes shut, swallowing. “I never was good with blood. You are certain Charlie will be well?”

“Yes. Miss Faraday is very proficient. I believe her.”

Opening her eyes and straightening her shoulders, his mother slipped from the couch, coming to kneel beside Charlie and hold his hand in hers. Again, Charlie moaned softly, but he did not stir. Mother brushed his hair back from his forehead, avoiding the location of the cut.

Miss Faraday came back into the room, taking in the scene and coming to perch on the sofa beside Lucas. Well, a foot from Lucas.

They all watched Charlie in silence, waiting for the surgeon to arrive. In Lucas’s experience, they could be waiting for hours. It would be entirely inappropriate to keep Miss Faraday out that long, which begged another question.

“Is your maid with you?” he asked.

Miss Faraday nodded. “Yes. She is in the carriage. I came to speak with your mother.”

“Is everything well?” he asked quietly.

Miss Faraday—his mind tugged at him to call her by her Christian name, but he would not bend to its will—hesitated. “My guardian is ill.”

“Lord Tarrington?”

She nodded. “I have suspected it for a time, but it seems to have grown beyond his control. We are leaving London.”

Lucas stilled. “Leaving?”

“Yes. I wanted your mother to know that it was not choice that kept me from accepting her very gracious invitations. Lord Tarrington has not felt well enough to attend, and now the household is preparing to return to the country.”

“What will you do?”

“In the country? What I did before coming here.” She laughed a little. “I suppose I will be trading balls for tenants’ laundry.” She didn’t seem too upset about the fact, but something in her tone had him curious.

“How sick is Lord Tarrington?”

Her expression turned grave. “Very. The physicians are concerned about the trip but agree it is necessary.”

“And if he... That is, who will...” Lucas did not know how to phrase his question.

“If he dies, I will become the ward of the next Lord Tarrington, I suppose.” There. The emotion in her tone intensified with her words, and Lucas was able to pinpoint it. Fear. She was scared.

His heart clenched. “Do you know the next Lord Tarrington?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never even heard his name.”

Lucas swallowed. How terrifying to have her future in the hands of someone she did not even know. What if he was a brute? Or still a child?

What if he wished to make Miss Faraday the new Lady Tarrington?

The very thought had Lucas itching to hit something.

He inched forward on the sofa, eyes intent on hers.

The fear in her prompted fear in him, and he felt a need to protect her however he could.

Could he offer her a place here, in his household?

The idea was ridiculous. If she was living with them, it would be even harder for him to put off the growing feelings he was experiencing. But how else could he help? He could not leave her to fend for herself.

Charlie stirred then, and they all bent forward. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the scene. With a groan, he said, “Who died? You all look blasted grave.”

“Language, Charles,” Mother said, but the rebuke was weak.

“Sorry, Mother.” Charlie moaned. “My head hurts something awful. And my shoulder. Gads but that’s bad.”

“You were hit,” Lucas said. “In a fight.”

“Oh yes. At your club.” Charlie pressed his eyes shut.

“At whose club?” Mother looked up at Lucas in question.

Lucas sighed internally. Was this when he’d have to come clean? As he’d always said, his funding of Colin’s club was not clandestine, but he’d kept it a secret so long, it was hard to share, especially with all the danger that seemed to be surrounding it now.

Thankfully, Father chose that moment to burst into the room. His hair and cravat were askew, presumably from his dash home, and he made straight for Charlie and Mother on the floor. Miss Faraday came to her feet, and so did Lucas. A tap at his arm had Lucas turning to Miss Faraday.

“I should leave you now,” she said. “But do ask your mother to inform me of your brother’s health. And extend my apologies regarding her invitations, if you will.”

Lucas clenched his jaw but nodded. “I will see you to the door.”

“Thank you.”

He led her out of the drawing room to the entry hall beyond. Drake had stepped from the room for a moment, leaving them alone. Miss Faraday glanced at the door.

“If I can help in any way... If you are fearful to go...” He didn’t know what to say. He could not make promises of protection without speaking to his parents, but he hated the haunted look lurking behind her gaze.

She blinked quickly, and he thought he saw her eyes fill. “I admit to worry—no—I admit I am terrified. I do not want to be forced into marriage, but if it is that important to him, what if he finds the first willing man and forces me to the altar before his sickness worsens?”

He grasped her hand, only just realizing that neither wore gloves. The way her palm molded into his sent energy shooting straight to his heart. Her eyes stared down at their hands, but he couldn’t see her expression.

He took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Why does he care so much for your marriage?”

After a long moment, she met his eyes. “I cannot guess. He never tells me anything, and I cannot learn his motives for myself.” She swallowed. “I wish I could. Then perhaps I would know how to stop him.”

He nodded, mind racing to find a solution for her.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he should offer marriage, but he could hardly think the thought, let alone speak it.

So instead, he remained stupidly mute, and they stood in silence for a handful of seconds before she spoke again, her tone less shaky.

Less watery. “Lord Charles said he was at your club?”

Lucas nodded, the reminder painful.

“That does not make this your fault, you realize?”

He could come up with nothing to say. That was exactly how he’d been feeling, but how had she known it? And how could he explain to her that it was entirely his fault?

Drake returned, and with one last small smile and nod, she left.

But it could not be for the last time. He would come up with a solution. He had to.