Chapter Twelve
“Go via the terrace,” Lord Wolf said at his elbow. “We’ll hold him up.”
Through the suddenly open space between them, Durward met Carina’s frightened gaze.
Her hand lifted very slightly, a plea. And God, it was tempting.
A mad dash through the garden to the stables, hand in hand with his lady love.
.. He had no doubt he would find a ready-saddled horse.
He could throw Carina onto its back, leap up behind her and ride hell for leather to Harwich.
To Isbourne’s boat and Captain Jasper. Leaving Duncan to Bethany, now clutching the boy’s arm as though to prevent him from bolting with Durward.
Such fun, to escape it all in such a way... But he would still be running, still escaping. And Foster would still be dead.
He had hoped for more time, to marry Carina and make her safe.
Well, he hadn’t chosen the time, but he had chosen his path. He felt his lips curve into a sad, apologetic little smile meant only for her.
Then he turned to face the runner, whom he could no longer see for all the people blocking his path to his quarry.
The Grandisons, Calton, the bride and groom.
Wolf and his intriguing lady, Tabitha and Isbourne.
Baldeston and Bethany...Jonathan Berry who now seemed to be trying to shake hands with the man from Bow Street.
Durward even noticed the bewildered Mansels, avidly absorbing the situation without quite understanding.
“Your pardon, Lady Grandison,” Durward said loudly. “And yours, Lady Sanderly—I appear to have interrupted your wedding.”
Everyone turned to gawp at him. Gently, he shouldered his way back through his well-meaning protectors, whose loyalty made his throat ache. What had he ever done to deserve their friendship? They let him through, until he faced the set-faced runner, who looked as surprised as everyone else.
Understanding, Durward smiled at him. “Left a colleague at the stables, did you?”
“Yes, as it happens. A horse was already saddled, I can only presume by you.”
Which was when he noticed the children had all vanished. “Actually, no... I’m not running, constable, though I could wish you had waited until after the breakfast.”
“The law does not wait for breakfast,” the runner pronounced.
“Very commendable,” Durward said. A hand slid into his. He knew whose without even looking. He could smell her, feel her. He closed his fingers around hers because surely no one would notice.
He was wrong.
“Look!” Lady Mansel hissed in outrage. “I knew there was something between them, the sly minx.”
“Sly indeed,” her husband sneered.
Durward ignored them. He sought Lady Grandison’s gaze. “You will look after her until I can make it right?”
It was Grandison himself who answered. “Of course,” he said gruffly.
Durward turned back to the runner and asked the only question that really mattered. “Is Foster dead?”
“Probably,” said the runner.
“Not quite,” said another voice altogether.
Like everyone else, Durward snapped his gaze to the salon door, where a tired, pale, almost emaciated young man stood. A boy—Alex—supported him on one side. Orchid held his other hand as though she had dragged him here.
An audible gasp echoed around the room. In the suddenly empty space between them, the newcomer’s gaze clashed with Durward’s.
Everything in him tightened. His heart—all of it that wasn’t held by the girl at his side —flew to his old friend. Oh God, Foster, I am so damnably sorry...
“Not remotely dead,” Foster said, detaching himself from both Alex and Orchid and walking unaided into the room. “No death, no charge, constable.”
“The charge is attempted murder,” the runner, Dance, maintained. “My warrant stands.”
“Not against me, it doesn’t,” Foster retorted.
“I have made no charge against Lord Durward, and nor will I. In fact, I deny it, and I believe I am meant to be the victim. Sir John? These delightful children tell me you are the magistrate here. Perhaps you would explain the matter to our man from Bow Street. After the wedding breakfast, of course. I apologize for my interruption.”
Laughter caught in Durward’s throat, though it felt more like a sob. Emotion, elation, overwhelmed him and yet he could not move. Dance strode to him and grasped his arm, as though fearing he would bolt.
“My dear fellow,” Grandison said seriously, going to meet Foster with his hand held out. He was the perfect host. “No one has ever been more welcome. A short rest, perhaps, before you join us for breakfast?”
Foster shook hands briefly. “You are kind.” His voice was civil but unspeakably weary, and Durward’s weight of guilt crushed him. “But don’t let me keep you from your guests. Sanderly, my congratulations.”
Sanderly too clasped his hand, as though secretly grateful for the sign of friendship.
And it suddenly struck Durward that this was why, despite everything repulsive in Sanderly’s manner and everything people said about him, Durward had always liked him.
Beneath the haughty sarcasm he was vulnerable, secretly hurt by the way supposed friends and strangers alike had turned on him.
Everyone is vulnerable. There is no shame in it. This realization, on top of all the others this morning, almost overwhelmed him.
Foster bowed to the room in general, and turned back to the door, where the old butler awaited him. He took a couple of exhausted steps, then paused, glancing over his shoulder to meet Durward’s helpless stare once more.
“Travis. Perhaps you would give me your arm?”
Durward’s throat closed up. Carina slipped her hand from his. He couldn’t recall shaking the runner off, but Dance no longer held him back. Durward moved, his paralysis broken by the knowledge that the friend he had wronged needed him.
He linked arms with Foster, taking as much of his weight as he could, and they walked slowly from the room together.
CARINA SWALLOWED HARD. She had no idea what this meant. She could not think further than this present moment which was surely good for everyone.
As the chatter started up again with fresh excitement, something tugged at her hand. She glanced down at Orchid. In fact, she was surrounded by children.
Of course... She swept her gaze around them. “You were up to something. How did Mr. Foster get here? How did you find him before the rest of us knew anything about his presence at Grand Court?”
“We wrote to him,” Rose said apologetically.
Carina blinked. “But why? When? Surely none of you is acquainted with him? Except Duncan, perhaps, and he only just got here!”
“I spoke to Snake,” Alex admitted, “asked him about Lord Durward.”
“And I asked Harriet about him,” Lily admitted.
“But why?” Carina asked again.
Orchid tugged her hand. “We didn’t want you to be unhappy. His name made you sad, and we thought maybe he was the reason you weren’t betrothed like Harriet and everyone else we know.”
“We learned about the duel,” Alex said, “and Lord Durward having to escape. But Snake said he was not a bad man, just a troubled one who was already sorry and that the man he’d shot was still alive.”
“So we wrote to Mr. Foster,” Rose said with an air of pride. “And told him about the wedding.”
“Alex wrote it and signed it,” Lily said anxiously, “so there was no impropriety such as a female writing to a strange gentleman.”
In spite of herself, Carina felt her lips twitch. “Quite right. Though I still don’t see why a letter from you should bring him from his deathbed to someone else’s wedding!”
“We told him Snake wanted Lord Durward to be his best man,” Rose said.
“So he came to see Durward...” Carina murmured. Of course he did. They were friends.
“He came to save Lord Durward,” Lily said.
Alex said, “I received a letter from him by return—well, written by his valet but it was from Mr. Foster.”
“How?” Carina interrupted. “How can you receive letters in this house without anyone knowing?”
“Francis the footman brings the post up from the inn and puts it all on the hall table,” Rose said. “At the same time every day, more or less. All we had to do was make sure one of us was there every morning to look for one addressed to Alex.”
“To be honest we weren’t perfectly sure we’d get one,” Lily admitted. “But Orchid nabbed it—”
“I had to hide under the hall table when the maids went to dust the reception room,” Orchid interrupted. “But I had all the letters with me, so I found the one with Alex’s name and put it in my pocket before I put the other letters back on the table and ran upstairs.”
“She was very clever,” Lily said.
Orchid preened. “I was! Even Rose says so.”
“Well, you clearly are,” Carina said, “though I’m not so sure the underhand nature of all this—”
“I saw a bit of your letter from home,” Alex said, reddening with shame. “I know I shouldn’t have looked, and I’m very sorry and won’t do anything like that ever again.”
“He was worried about you,” Lily defended him. “We all were.”
“Why?” Carina asked, bewildered. “I thought we were quite happy together.”
The children exchanged glances, but none of them spoke.
It was Duncan who said, “They like you, but they know this isn’t right for you. I don’t know how they know these things, but they have an intense sort of...understanding of people. I knew they were right, because there’s something different about my brother too. Since he met you.”
It was Carina’s turn to blush. “Do you mind?”
“Good God, no. Just don’t let him fight any more duels. They make me pretty popular at school, mind you, but I don’t want him fleeing the country! It upsets Bethany,” he added, in case, presumably, anyone thought him soft.
Bethany in fact, had joined the group around them. “Why isn’t Durward back yet?” she asked worriedly, fixing her gaze on Carina. “You don’t suppose they’re fighting again, do you?”
DURWARD EASED FOSTER into the library’s comfortable chair and went to pour a couple of glasses of Grandison’s excellent brandy.