Page 7 of The Ladies Road Guide to Utter Ruin (The Ill-Mannered Ladies #2)

7

The doctor prescribed rest over the next few days for both Samuel and me. Samuel had a cracked rib and I had suffered no more than a wrench to my previously injured shoulder.

It had to be said that resting did not come easily to either of us. In the end Weatherly had to set Samuel—who was back to his ebullient self—the task of cleaning the smaller silver just to get him to sit down. Julia insisted I convalesce with Lady Hester and amuse her with games rather than pace the house waiting for The Times to arrive.

It transpired that Lady Hester particularly enjoyed piquet, and so for the next two afternoons we sat for as long as she could manage at the small table in her bedchamber and played hand after hand under the watchful eyes of Miss Grant. In the three weeks or so since we had rescued Hester from the asylum, she had gained some weight and strength on her tall frame. The ominous gray cast to her skin had receded and her high Belford cheekbones were no longer just stark bones. Even so, she remained weak and able to move around for only a short time before fatigue laid her low.

Occasionally she talked of her eldest brother, her voice still heartbreakingly hoarse from months of fugue silence. I admit I encouraged any stories of Lord Evan. It seemed he had always been generous to his little sister, or perhaps it was the glamouring of memory—or my own bias—that made him seem so kind. She did not mention Lord Deele at all, an understandable omission.

Every now and then as we played, I saw a glimpse of Evan in Hester’s face and it clenched my heart: her smile, so like his, and the mischief in her blue eyes when she held a winning hand. At other times, the specters of the asylum would drain her features into a gaunt otherworldly mask. Then the sound of a door closed too heavily or the clatter of a dropped pan would shudder through her body and leave her shaking for minutes after. At those times, Miss Grant would hold her, murmuring soothing words and drawing Hester’s head upon her shoulder. At those times, I would leave them, unnoticed, and carefully close the door behind me.

During one game, she paused before placing her card and asked, “Do you think my brother will communicate soon, Lady Augusta? I so wish to see him again.”

“I do not know,” I said, which was more or less true, since there was every possibility that Evan would not see the notice. Still, her words brought a pang of guilt.

“We must speak to him at the earliest opportunity,” Miss Grant said from her own chair. She stood and walked across the room, her steps too purposeful for the space. I recognized the impulse to walk out a frustration—I did it myself, often enough. She looked out the window, then swung around to face me again. “I believe we must leave in the next week or so, and Lord Evan may know the best way to proceed.”

I could not argue with her urgency. I even agreed with it. Yet I still did not tell them of my plan to meet him. Instead, I picked up a card, returning us to the game.

···

Of course, I could not expect an answer from Evan in the first few days. He would have to first read our notice, then write his return and deliver it to be published in the next day’s edition. At least three days, or more with no paper on Sunday, or if he did not see it the first time it was published. The wait was torturous.

Finally, on the fourth morning, I opened the newspaper at the breakfast table and scanned the pages, my searching gaze catching upon the words To RENEGADE .

“Julia, it is here!” I could not contain my smile or the leap of my heart.

She rose from her chair to look over my shoulder. I pointed to the sliver of text and read it aloud. “To RENEGADE. Invitation accepted. LENNOX.”

“Well, that is to the point,” Julia said. She patted my shoulder. “Soon you will know about his association with that club.” She returned to her chair. “And you must tell Lady Hester that you are meeting him. She will want to send a message, I am sure.”

I made a noncommittal sound as I read his words again. Very to the point. A tiny part of me was disappointed, but what did I expect? A love letter at a halfpenny a word?

“Gus!”

I looked up at my sister. “Yes?”

“Why are you refusing to tell Lady Hester and Miss Grant about this meeting?”

I opened my mouth to deny the accusation but met Julia’s stern look. I could not lie to her, or indeed to myself any longer.

The truth, then, to my shame.

“What if Lord Evan decides the only course of action is to take his sister far away from their brother? I do not want to stand in the way of Hester and Miss Grant’s safety, but I do not want Evan to leave either.”

“You thought he was leaving three weeks ago, and you had come to terms with it then,” Julie pointed out.

I looked down at the notice again. To RENEGADE. “I was fooling myself.”

“You are also assuming that will be the plan. Who knows what resources Lord Evan has at his disposal?” She rose from her chair. “Come, let us go upstairs and tell them now.”

Grudgingly, I put down the newspaper and followed her from the room. I did wonder, however, whether she was accompanying me upstairs for moral support or to ensure I finally informed our guests of my imminent meeting with Lord Evan.

···

“I wish to accompany you,” Lady Hester said, propped up against her pillows in her bed. Miss Grant picked up the tray on which sat the remains of Hester’s breakfast. The plate held an intact omelet. Cook would be most disappointed she had not tempted the invalid.

“No, you cannot come,” I said flatly. “You are not up to it.”

“I am up to it. I insist on accompanying you.” She looked across at me, her mouth held in the same obstinate line as Lord Evan’s when his mind was made up.

“I think my sister means that it is quite a distance and you are not well enough for such a journey,” Julia said more diplomatically. “Let us carry a letter for you.”

Us? I shot a look at my sister standing on the other side of the bed; did she think she was coming as well? I had imagined my reunion with Lord Evan a thousand times over, and every time it had been the two of us. Alone.

She met my frown with a tilt of her head: Of course I am going—you cannot meet a man by yourself.

Hester twisted the top of her sheet in her hands. “No. I must see him! You do not understand. It is imperative.”

“Dearheart, Lady Julia is right. You are not yet strong enough. I will go to meet your brother and speak to him on our behalf,” Miss Grant said, placing her hand over the frantic twisting of cloth. “You must not overexert yourself.”

Miss Grant too? This was rapidly becoming a crowd. “No, I am going alone,” I said. “It will be hard enough to leave this house without the Runners or Mulholland following me, let alone the entire household shifting itself.”

“No need to exaggerate, Gus,” Julia said. “I am sure you have a plan to hoodwink them all.”

I did, in fact, have a plan. But that was not the point.

Miss Grant directed her attention to me. “It is time Hester and I planned our future, Lady Augusta, and Lord Evan is crucial to those plans. I must speak to him as a matter of urgency. A letter will only create a delay that is not necessary.”

A good point. But I rallied. “What if you are seen?”

“There is going to be risk whatever we do. For me. For you. And especially for Lord Evan.” She straightened. “I am beginning to think you are trying to obstruct us. First you did not tell us you were contacting Hester’s brother and now you do not wish me to accompany you.”

I looked at Julia for support, but her mouth pursed: She is not altogether wrong.

Damn. I gave a truculent sigh; farewell to a solitary reunion.

“There is no obstruction, Miss Grant.” I smiled tightly. “Of course you may accompany us tomorrow. And my sister is correct—I do have a plan, so we must start making our preparations.”

Miss Grant gave a curt nod. “Thank you.”

Only one more day before I saw my love again. At least there was that.