Chapter Fourteen #2
Since she had hours to come up with a plan during dinner, she set the matter aside and strode forward to greet Lord Folger and the other guests who had arrived before them.
Lord Berwick expressed his regrets and told everyone about his wife’s unfortunate accident, a much-discussed topic of conversation as they sat down to dine.
Berry adored Lord Berwick, but she was relieved to find him placed at one end of the table while she was seated at the opposite end. An earl sat to her right and a viscount sat to her left. Both men were bachelors, and Lord Folger must have arranged the seating by design.
It was a thoughtful gesture, but both men were as dull as turnips.
Since Lord Berwick was studying her from the opposite end of the table, she made certain to toss back her head and laugh at their remarks that they considered witty but were mostly inane and occasionally crude, because they were both outrageously flirting with her.
These men clearly assumed that a wealthy spinster in her late twenties must have taken a beau or two to her bed by now, and therefore saucy language was permitted.
But Berry hadn’t any experience with men. In fact, she did not understand most of their lewd jests. She would ask Miranda to explain what they meant when she next saw her.
Miranda was the experienced one among them. She had been married once and widowed quite young, so was she not the logical one to ask about matters of intimacy? Berry dared not ask Gideon for fear he would march out in a fury, seek out those crude lords, and punch them in their faces.
Lord Folger’s dinner party finally came to an end as the hour approached midnight.
Berry had eaten to the point of bursting and imbibed far too much champagne. This was another reason she wished to go home and climb under the covers, for she was sated, bloated, and tired.
Lord Berwick attempted to resume their earlier conversation as soon as they climbed into his carriage and the horses began their sprint toward Duchess Square.
The Claremont Inn was not all that far from Gideon’s Musket Club. In fact, they were riding past it as Lord Berwick began to question her about Gideon’s intentions toward her.
She glanced out the window and noticed the carriages lined up by the door of his club. The ladies looked so elegant.
How could Gideon possibly desire her over them?
They were traveling at a fast clip, and the club was soon out of sight.
Lord Berwick placed his hand over hers to regain her attention. “Berry—”
Whatever he was about to say was cut short when their carriage came to a sudden, jerking halt that knocked her out of her seat. In the next moment, they heard shots and shouts, and then the carriage door flew open.
Berry screamed as a masked man pulled her out. “Help! Help!”
A large hand clamped over her mouth. “Shut up or we’ll kill Lord Berwick.”
They could have threatened to kill her and she would have continued screaming. But to threaten this man who had cared for her like a father for all these years? The scream died in her throat.
Although she dared not cry out, she still fought to break free from her assailant’s grasp, and had almost succeeded when another man came up from behind her and hit her over the head so hard, it dropped her to her knees.
A blinding pain shot through her temples. However, the blow did not knock her out completely. She was dazed and her eyesight blurred, but she forced herself to blink away the fog surrounding her vision because she needed to make out whatever details she could about her assailants.
“Take them both,” the man who had struck her said, and she recognized Lord Hawthorne’s voice.
He then grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back so she was forced to look up at him. He called her a horrible, blasphemous word, and then said, “You won’t escape me now, you stupid—”
He suddenly released her and fell to the ground while yelping in pain. He uttered more vile words.
What had just happened? Berry was suddenly free of his grasp.
A young man urgently whispered in her ear, “Quick, Lady Berry. Come with me. I’m Henry. Mr. Knight’s man.”
She staggered to her feet and leaned on Henry as they ran in what she hoped was the direction of the Musket Club.
She heard footsteps behind them and, suddenly, footsteps rushing toward them as Henry called out, “Joss! Pudge! Help!”
A man told Henry to “get her inside quick.”
“Save Lord Berwick,” she cried, and then collapsed at the club’s door.
Someone picked her up and began to carry her up a staircase. “Berry,” came the anguished voice she recognized as Gideon’s. “You’re bleeding, love.”
“Gideon! Oh, Gideon!” She wrapped an arm around his neck and held on tightly while she tried to tell him what happened. The other arm hurt too much when she tried to raise it, so she left it dangling at her side.
“Hush, sweetheart. My men are after them. They’ll save Lord Berwick. Just lie still. You’re badly hurt. Henry will tell me what happened when he returns. He’s leading the others to Lord Berwick.”
Another fellow spoke to Gideon. “Shall I have one of the boys fetch Dr. Farthingale?”
“Yes, at once.” Gideon shoved open a door and carried her inside. “Berry, I’m sure you know of him. He’s treated the orphans at St. Brigid’s. He’s my doctor now, as well. And he’s the best there is in London.”
“But he must tend to Lord Berwick first. He must.” She sobbed against his shoulder. “He’s old…and Hawthorne’s men were beating and kicking him. How could they be so cruel?”
“I don’t know, love. But they’ll get what they deserve. Pudge and Joss have gone to rescue him.”
“And Henry?”
“Yes, love.”
“He’s the lad who saved me.”
“Yes,” Gideon said with a trace of wry relief in his voice. “Seems he was on Hawthorne’s trail after all.”
“He did not merely rescue me—I think he saved my life.”
“I know, love.” He set her down on a bed, a big, soft one that held his scent on the pillows. She felt bereft when he left her side. But he only moved away for a moment to issue more instructions to the club’s staff.
He was so gentle with her when he returned. “One of my lads has gone to fetch the doctor. My cook is preparing a marrow broth for you. My steward will bring up more blankets for you. You’re shivering, Berry.”
She gave a slight nod. “You mentioned someone called Pudge?”
He smiled. “He’s one of my best men and will protect Lord Berwick. Wait till you see him. He’s the size of a mountain. He’ll give Hawthorne a good scare, and a good thrashing if the fool resists.”
Berry nodded, but the slightest jostling made her wince. “I know Dr. Farthingale fairly well. He’s been looking after Mrs. Garland, too.”
“Has he, sweetheart?”
“For many years now,” she said, her voice sounding raspy to her own ears, which were still ringing from the blow she had taken to the head. “I have every confidence in him.”
“So do I. He provided excellent medical services to the orphans. Mostly after my time, but that’s how I learned of him. He’s treated several of my wounds over the past few years.”
She reached out to touch his face. “You were hurt?”
“Nothing too serious. You’ll be in good hands with him. But it could be a while before he arrives. I’ll need to stop the bleeding.”
“Am I really bleeding?”
“Yes, love. You must have been struck hard over the head with a cudgel.”
“It hurts like blazes. Hawthorne is the rat who hit me.”
“I’m so sorry, Berry.” He plucked the egret feather out of her hair and set it on a night table beside the bed. “I should have stayed with you.”
“Not your fault. You couldn’t have come with me.”
He moved away again and returned with a wet cloth that he gently used to dab the blood away, and then he set another dampened cloth upon her forehead. “I’m going to take off your shoes now, and then I need to have a closer look at your arm and shoulder. Does anything feel broken?”
“No, just bruised. I fell on my knees and then hit my left arm and shoulder when I stumbled to the ground. Oh, Gideon. I suddenly feel ill.” She rolled over to the side of the bed and began to heave.
“Bollocks,” he muttered, and grabbed the chamber pot from under the bed. “I have you, love. Let it come out. I won’t let go of you.”
“Don’t. Please, don’t ever let go of me.”
“I’m right here, Berry. Always. For as long as you need me.”
She expelled every bit of the delicious supper she had just eaten. When there was nothing left inside of her, Gideon set aside the disgustingly odorous chamber pot and eased her gently onto her back in his bed.
He tucked pillows behind her head so that she was not lying flat, and then dampened yet another cloth and dabbed cologne on it before putting it back on her head. “There, sweetheart. Are you feeling any better?”
“Oh, not yet.” She rolled forward again, clambering over him as she aimed for the chamber pot and tossed up more of her supper.
When the heaves finally stopped, she collapsed in a sprawl across his lap. Her bosom rested upon his muscled thighs, and her heart was racing so that she thought he might have felt it beating against his thighs. It was quite scandalous, but she hadn’t the strength to move off him yet. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Berry. You needn’t apologize. You have a concussion. Nausea is one of the symptoms.” He turned to one of his staff members who must have walked in while she was heaving. “Horace, bring up some apple cider. And some oat biscuits.”
“At once, Mr. Knight,” the young man said, and hurried away.
“Berry, you might have to spend the night here.” Gideon spoke so gently to her and stroked her body to soothe her as she remained limp and exhausted atop him.
“You’re going to have a wicked lump on your head by morning.
Dr. Farthingale might decide it is too dangerous to move you in your present condition. ”
“But I must go home.” Although, how would she manage it when she could not even lift her head and was speaking into his leg? “I’ll be ruined if word gets out that I spent the night here. Oh dear. Others have seen me.”