Page 12 of One Night in Vauxhall Gardens (Singular Sensation #11)
May 8, 1819
Hedgecomb House
Mayfair, London
Harry huffed as he glanced out the window of his bedchamber. It was raining; of course it was. This was London, after all, and they had been fortunate the past handful of days having fair weather, so he really shouldn’t complain, but he’d wanted to call on Theresa this afternoon with perhaps a stroll in Hyde Park.
Those plans were obviously not going to happen, so he would need to be creative if he wished to spend any sort of time with her… away from her brother or her mother.
“Your Lordship? Is all well?”
The sound of his valet’s voice wrenched him out of his musings. He glanced at the man who he’d met shortly after coming back to England from his stint in Rome. Every hair on his dark head was combed into place, his jacket, waistcoat, and breeches were just so, the folds of his cravat were starched within an inch of their life. But then, that was Hutton.
And they had met when Harry had needed to be sized for new clothes; Hutton had been a tailor, but since business wasn’t his strong suit, they’d come to this current arrangement.
“Yes, yes, all is as well as it should be.”
I hope.
“Then let’s finish your toilette, hmm?” The valet offered Harry a morning coat of blue. The double-breasted design was decorated with silver buttons, and the boys at the club often joked that he must wear so many blue coats because he was vain about the hue of his eyes. “And one more thing, my friend. Gossip has run through the servants that you’ve gotten yourself engaged. Is that true?”
Well, damn. It seems the rumor mill has made its way through all levels of society.
As he shoved his arms into the jacket, he flashed a slight grin. “It’s true.”
“How did any of that happen? You have always maintained you would never take a wife.” He frowned. “And what’s more, you’re marrying your friend’s sister?”
“It is quite the tale.” As succinctly as he could, Harry related the story. He conveniently left out the part where they’d coupled in the British Museum. That was strictly for his enjoyment. “So, I have a fiancée and no idea what to do about it other than try to make her happy.”
“Is that important to you?”
“Of course. Why would I want to spend the rest of my life with a woman who wasn’t happy knowing I couldn’t help her? Besides, her brother is one of my best friends. If he’s not pleased with how I’m keeping her, my head is on the chopping block so to speak.”
“But he wouldn’t have demanded you link yourself with his sister if he didn’t trust you or consider you in high regard in the first place.”
Except he’d attempted to strangle her to death upon first meeting, even if it was by accident. “Hmm, true. I hadn’t thought of it like that. And if I can manage to not do her harm while mentally lost at times, we might have a chance to rub along well.” He moved away to peer into the looking glass and adjust the folds of his cravat. “She has good reason for her secrets, Hutton, and quite frankly, one of those… things I want to grind into the dirt.”
Was the man who raped her eight years ago a viscount now? And if he was, did Harry know him? Had he come into contact with him in the House of Lords or somewhere in society?
“Ah.” The valet chuckled. “You want retribution on someone for something you won’t tell me.”
“Perhaps.” But without a name, he was walking around blind.
“And how does she feel about the forced engagement?”
He shrugged. “About as thrilled with it as I am. However, it does take the pressure off us both. No longer are we badgered or harassed about our marital state. But above all that, there is something about the lady that helps me to make sense out of the chaos of my own life. I have to pursue that.”
“Understandable. I’ve known you for only two years, Your Lordship, but I know you struggle. I can’t fathom what you struggle with, but if you’ve found something—anything—that might help, don’t let go.”
“I will try my best.” He took his top hat and gloves from the valet. “In any event, I am off to see Lady Theresa. I haven’t had time these past four days to call on her, and when I did, she was out with her mother. God knows what we’ll do since the weather isn’t conducive to walking outdoors.”
“Then I hope you have a lovely afternoon despite the rain. Take her to a lending library or perhaps call on a friend for tea. Or barring that, take her on an extended tour of London in your closed carriage. Anything could happen during such a drive,” Hutton said with a wink.
“I’ll bear that in mind. Thank you.” Just as he reached the door, the valet stayed him.
“Don’t you think you deserve to have a good life, Your Lordship? That you are worthy of waking up every morning to peace?” One of his dark eyebrows rose. “After everything you’ve given of yourself?”
Now that was an interesting question, or series of them.
With a frown, Harry glanced over his shoulder at his friend. “For years I did everything that was asked of me for the good of King and Country. Did I question some of those orders? Hell, yes. Did I do the dubious tasks anyway? I did. Do I regret the outcomes of some of those missions? I do, and they continue to haunt me to this day.”
Hutton nodded. “You still haven’t answered the question, Hedgecomb,” he said with a grin.
“To be honest? No, I don’t. Perhaps it’s penance for everything I’ve done in my life, and what would I do without needing to worry?” Though it was something he desperately wanted. “However, I can say this. When I’m in Lady Theresa’s company? That is the closest to heaven I have ever come, and for that, I am truly grateful.”
But he suspected he and Theresa needed to talk a bit more together. There were still large gaps in what each of them wanted for the future.
Just as he was about to meet his closed carriage at the curb in front of his townhouse, a man darted across the street with a large stick in one hand, came around the horses, and then slammed the makeshift weapon into Harry’s side.
Pain screamed through his hip and ribcage as he fell back against the side of the vehicle. “What the hell?” He peered through the rain at his attacker, but he didn’t recognize the man. “I’ll see you in Newgate for that.”
“I’ll wager you won’t. You’re a weak-minded man who isn’t strong enough to meet what’s coming for you and your friends.” Again, he lashed out with the stout branch and this time caught Harry in the opposite shoulder.
Another round of pain slammed through his body. “Why don’t you give me a hint, and then I’ll tell you why none of that is possible.” He sprang away from the carriage as his driver leapt down from his seat. If this miscreant thought to hit him again, he would be sorely disappointed.
“Lady Stover has already broken through the protective defenses of the Rogue’s Arcade. It’s just a matter of time before she bursts all the way in. Then the club will fall completely apart.” As the tall, lean man bragged, he swung out again with the branch.
Harry jumped out of the way, which caused the other man to miss a step. “Just because she won a battle doesn’t mean she’ll win the war.” He ran and then tackled the other man to the ground. The branch flew from the attacker’s hand, but as soon as they hit the wet ground, he flipped them over and got off a punch to his adversary’s chin.
“This is a warning to you, Hedgecomb.” The other man scrambled to his feet then kicked Harry in the side, sneering when he grunted with pain. “The days of you and your friends are numbered. Soon, there will be none of you left to fight, and with Edenthorpe at death’s door, so too will the rest of you fall.”
Harry peered at the man with renewed interest as his driver came rushing through the rain with a pistol in hand. Somehow, this man still operated on the false assumption that Edenthorpe was near death and still unconscious; therefore, he hadn’t gotten his news directly from the core network of rogues. Which meant he’d been fed the false information from the remainder of the men at the club, one of whom was the spy.
“Leave His Lordship be, or I swear I’ll put a hole in your chest.”
“God, you’re pathetic, having all these people around you for protection,” the man said to Harry, clearly ignoring the threat from the driver. “But know this. We will strike, and soon, and none of you will be able to halt our plans from going forward. Before summer ends, London will be rid of all the rogues at your club.” Then he followed the threat with a swift kick to Harry’s shaft and stones before loping off.
Acute pain went through his body as he fell to his knees while clutching his privates. That had only happened one other time in his life, and that had been the year he’d acted as a spy for England. He’d been caught in a lie during a mission when he’d gone undercover as a footman, and the lady in question took harsh exception to that.
The agony and the beatings coupled with the rain were enough to send him back to that time in his life and the memories therein.
“Your Lordship?” Barely aware that his driver shook his shoulder, Harry didn’t respond. “Come, my lord. Let’s get you up and out of the rain. You’re not in any shape to pay a call today.”
Before the driver could assist him to his feet, another carriage rumbled to a halt behind his. Though Harry peered through the rain at the newcomer, he had the devil’s own time identifying him, for memories were overlapping reality in his mind. It wasn’t until the man was nearly at his location that he could see through the pain and recognize him.
“Winteringham?” It had been a few months since he’d seen the red-haired man, for he’d been away on a wedding trip with his new wife as well as his son. “You’re back?”
“Yes, a few days ago, only to find everything in chaos.” He glanced at the driver, saw the pistol in the other man’s hand, took in Harry’s own discomfort. “What the hell happened here?”
“His Lordship was attacked just now, by some thug with a large branch. Beat the shit out of him, too.” The driver shoved a shoulder beneath Harry’s right arm and helped him upright. “Needs to get inside.”
“Right.” The viscount was quick to spring into action by assisting the driver with moving Harry inside the townhouse. “You look like a dog’s breakfast, Hedgecomb.”
“Feel like I was left on a battlefield two days ago.” If he wasn’t careful, he’d cast up his accounts. “He was part of Lady Stover’s gang. Issued a bunch of threats, said before the summer was out, the rogues would be gone.”
“Doubtful.” When Winteringham left Harry propped against the wall as the butler came toward them with concern etched on his face, he tugged a folded piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. “I stopped by the club before coming here. Viscount Aldren was there and in quite a state, said to give you this note, for he was going on to Edenthorpe’s home with the news.”
“What news?”
“One of the other men discovered the owner of a certain Mother-of-Pearl button, which means we—the rogues collectively—can move forward in apprehending the blackguard.”
“That’s wonderful news.” The longer he stood there, the more garbled his mind grew. “If you don’t mind, would one of you help me upstairs to my bed? I’m about to have an episode.”
“Of course, Your Lordship,” the butler murmured as he slipped an arm about Harry’s waist. “You are safe now.”
It was something most of his staff had learned over the years to say to him if they ever came upon him while going into a nightmare or just coming out of one.
He glanced over his shoulder at his driver. “Deliver a message for me?”
“I will, Your Lordship. What is it?”
“Go to Lady Theresa Bollinger’s home. Tell her I can’t call on her after all today, and that I will make it up to her some other time.” Cold disappointment circled through his chest to know he wouldn’t see her again today, when he needed her the most.
“Consider it done.” Then the driver left him in the care of his butler and Winteringham as pain continued to swamp him.
The viscount cleared his throat. “Hedgecomb is courting a lady?” Incredulity rang in his voice.
“He is actually engaged, my lord,” the butler said, with a partial grin. “To St. Vincent’s sister. We were only informed of the news a few days ago, but we are delighted for him.”
“The devil you say!” Winteringham was positively giddy as he assisted Harry up the stairs. “I’m going to need details.”
Harry shook his head, for he didn’t have the strength to recount the story again, and he was fading fast into the murky darkness of his mind. “Tomorrow.”
His last coherent thought was of Theresa and how disappointed she must be in him, to have such a broken man for a fiancé.