Page 42 of Restored
Freddy proceeded to tell them that he’d been walking through Hyde Park when he’d spotted a man attacking a woman from afar. When he’d shouted and begun running towards them, the man had taken off, leaving the lady lying on the ground.
“Was she badly hurt?” Marianne asked worriedly.
“Thankfully, no,” Freddy said, “but she was terribly shaken. I escorted her home—she’s a widow who lives with her brother.”
“She was an elderly lady?”
“Not at all, perhaps only four- or five-and-twenty, though her brother was older.”
Pride warmed Henry’s heart. “Well, I think you’re a veritable Sir Galahad,” he said. “I daresay she was very relieved you came along. Her brother too.”
Freddy flushed a little, ducking his head. “It was nothing. Just what anyone else would have done. But I admit, I’m glad I was there. Goodness knows what would have happened if I had not been.”
“Do you have any engagements this evening?” Marianne asked, changing the subject.
“Percy and I are going to Sharp’s.”
Marianne frowned. “That’s a gambling hell, isn’t it?”
Freddy rolled his eyes. “It’s not ahell,” he said. “It’s a very respectable club.”
Marianne carried on doggedly, “So, you won’t be playing cards then? Or gambling at all?”
Freddy rolled his eyes at that. “I don’t plan to. Percy’s been asked to make up a table with Skelton, Tavestock, and someone else. I shall probably just watch.”
Henry frowned. “Skelton?” he said sharply. “NotLionelSkelton?”
Freddy visibly bristled at the disapproval in Henry’s voice. “What’s wrong with Lionel Skelton?”
“He’s a scoundrel,” Henry said flatly. “His reputation is appalling, and Nigel Tavestock’s isn’t much better. I suggest you stay away from them, Freddy.”
Freddy blinked. “I beg your pardon?” he said. He sounded disbelieving and his cheeks had reddened.
“My advice to you is to stay away from Skelton and Tavestock,” Henry said firmly. “I can assure you that if they are being friendly to you and your friend, it will only be with a view to fleecing you.”
“I’m not a child,” Freddy said, getting to his feet. “I’m perfectly able to make my own judgments on the people I come across.”
“Whilst I would like to think that’s true,” Henry said, “your choice of companions lately rather suggests otherwise.”
Freddy opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, but his expression told Henry everything he needed to know about his state of mind—there was resentment in his gaze, and his jaw had a stubborn thrust to it.
“I’m going to change for dinner,” he said flatly, and left the room, shutting the door sharply behind him.
For a few moments, the rest of them were silent, then Henry sighed. “Well, that went well.”
“It’s not your fault, Papa. He’s so bad-tempered these days,” Marianne said.
“Hmmm,” Henry replied, not quite agreeing. Freddy had always had a bit of a temper, even as a little boy, but it stemmed from that boundless energy of his. With direction, he would be a formidable young man. His actions today—rushing to the rescue of that young woman without hesitation—demonstrated as much. But without direction or purpose, he had a tendency to become easily bored.
Marianne said, “I don’t think he’s going to take your advice, Papa.”
Henry agreed. And though it would prevent him getting to Redford’s promptly, he knew what he had to do.
“Well, I think I’ll call in at this gaming club he’s going to,” Henry said. “And see for myself what he chooses to do. Besides,” he added. “I’d like to get a look at this new friend of his. Percy Bartlett.”
By ten that evening, Henry was near grinding his teeth in frustration.
He’d told Christopher—Kit—that he would arrive at Redford’s at some point after nine o’clock, but now he had to stop by Sharp’s first. Freddy had only left half an hour ago, and Henry had decided to wait a full hour before venturing to Sharp’s for himself. No point arriving before Freddy had so much as sat down.