Chapter Eighteen #2
“As I suspected,” the duke said. “Winny, we’ll take him home and have the physician give him the once over and then I imagine he’ll need to sleep it off.”
“Winny,” Lord Manderbey said, laughing to himself. “You called her Winny. That’s how I knew. The letter.”
“Yes, Valor’s unfortunate letter,” Winsome said.
“Cheeky minx,” Lord Manderbey said, before his eyes closed entirely.
“All right now, girls, we have one very tall and sturdy gentleman currently incapacitated. Lady Wilton’s coachman and the groom can help me get him in the carriage and then we’ll all have to find a way to get in too. It will be a tight squeeze.”
“I could stand on the running board, Papa,” Patience said.
“You’ll do no such thing,” the duke said. “We’ll all pile in somehow.”
Winsome vaguely listened to these arrangements.
She was far too busy holding Lord Manderbey’s hand, watching his eyes slowly open and close as if he were trying to wake up, and thinking of his proposal.
It might not have been flowery, but it was very much to the point.
He must say it again on the morrow when he was not so…
indisposed. She only hoped he’d remember that he’d done it.
Her father moved her gently out of the way so the coachman and footman could assist Lord Manderbey into the carriage. “Come now, my girl, get yourself inside the coach.”
Winsome climbed in the carriage, and found Serenity back on Felicity’s lap and Patience on Grace’s lap.
“See Winsome, we have arranged it all,” Grace said. “You sit there and Lord Manderbey can sit between us, and Papa across.”
Winsome smiled. Her sisters really were so good. She sat herself down, leaving a space between herself and Felicity. The coachman and groom hauled Lord Manderbey in. There was a bit of a close call as they made to seat him across from Winsome, but Verity slid over and took up most of the room.
Seeing they would have no luck in that direction, they propped him between Winsome on one side, and Serenity on Felicity’s lap on the other. The coachman appeared dubious and did not seem satisfied with the arrangement. “I’m a’feared he’s gonna slump over, my lady.”
“We’ll keep him upright,” Serenity said from atop Felicity’s lap.
The coachman nodded, though he did not look convinced. “I’ll drive all careful-like.” He climbed out and the duke climbed in.
Winsome’s father looked at the arrangement and suppressed a snort. “They’ve got you all right and tight, Manderbey.”
Lord Manderbey’s eyes flickered open. “Right and tight,” he murmured. The carriage jerked forward and he slid toward Serenity and Felicity. Felicity and Serenity helpfully pushed him back toward Winsome until his head rested on her shoulder. It was delightful.
The swaying of the carriage caused Lord Manderbey to several times loll over in her direction. Whenever he lolled the other direction, Felicity and Serenity pushed him back toward her.
She was so close she could smell the bergamot soap on his skin, and then him. His own particular scent. She felt the rough wool of his coat on her arm. At one point he leaned so far over that his cheek brushed her own. Winsome felt as if she could ride in the carriage all night long.
All too soon, they reached the square. It was another procedure to get Lord Manderbey out of the carriage, into the house, and up the stairs.
It was initially thought that Charlie and Thomas might do it, but they collapsed under the weight of Lord Manderbey as they pulled him out of the coach.
The coachman and groom were once more employed and got the lord into a spare room.
That room happened to be next door to Winsome’s room as it was the only spare that had not had its linens packed away. She fully intended on listening at the wall when the physician arrived. She must hear that he would recover before she slept a wink.
Mrs. Right had been apprised of the situation but, fortunately, Valor had not. She was already abed and that was just as well. She would not be happy to understand that Lord Manderbey was just now installed only a few doors down the corridor from her.
Lady Wilton’s coachman, who had done far more than he would have expected to this night, took her sisters back to the masque to be reunited with their husbands.
It was imagined those husbands would be speechless to hear of where they’d gone and what they’d done.
As for her sisters, themselves, they were exceedingly jolly and Winsome heard their laughter as the carriage trotted off.
One of the duke’s grooms had saddled a horse and rode off to fetch the physician. Winsome had done what she could do, but now she must wait. Her father had sent her to bed.
Mrs. Right had been in to help her out of her dress and braid her hair. The housekeeper had also thought she might bring Winsome a cup of tea, but then changed her mind and brought her a glass of Mr. Perry’s sack. Winsome was glad of it, as it would assist in unwinding her very wound nerves.
After Mrs. Right left and shut the door behind her, Winsome dragged a chair to the wall.
The Grosvenor Square house was well-built, but not quite as solid as their house in the Dales.
There, the stone walls were so thick a person had not a hope of hearing anything on the other side.
However, Winsome knew from experience that these walls were not so thick.
When she’d been younger, she and Verity used to listen to Felicity and Grace talking about their more grown-up problems and try not to get caught giggling.
The night Felicity had talked of her love for Mr. Stratton they’d nearly died of laughter.
Now, she curled up with her glass of sack and leaned her ear close.
She heard Thomas come into Lord Manderbey’s room. He said, “The duke has sent nightclothes.”
“How are we supposed to get him into them though?” Charlie asked. “He’s too heavy to move.”
“We’ve got to try,” Thomas said.
“We fell on the pavement trying to get him out of the carriage,” Charlie pointed out.
“He’s heavier than he looks.”
“I know what we’ll do, we’ll get Mr. Wicket to help. He does little enough around here.”
Thomas must have nodded, as she heard the door open and close and footsteps on the stairs. Not too long a time later, she heard footsteps coming back up.
Mr. Wicket said, “What happened to him? What’s wrong with him? Did he fall off a horse?”
“He’s drugged, is our understanding,” Charlie said.
“Was it the French?” Mr. Wicket asked.
“No,” Thomas said, “it was the ambassador to Portugal.”
“Really?” Mr. Wicket said. “I suppose I’ve been out of the game too long. I’d no idea Portugal would get up to such a thing.”
“Not from Portugal,” Thomas said. “The English ambassador to Portugal.”
“Why in the world…” Mr. Wicket said.
“Mr. Wicket?” Charlie said. “Perhaps you could lend a hand?”
That kicked off a lot of grunting and complaining.
“He’s like a sack of bricks.”
“Even heavier. It’s like trying to move the Rock of Gibraltar,” Mr. Wicket said.
Winsome supposed it was no easy task to move Lord Manderbey. He was a very tall and vital sort of man.
“I am sorry to say,” Mr. Wicket said, “the nightclothes simply cannot be done.”
Then Winsome heard rapid footsteps on the stairs and the duke’s voice. “This way, Phillips. He’s just in there.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” the physician answered.
Winsome laid her glass of sack on the side table and leaned closer to the wall. She must know what the physician would say of Lord Manderbey’s condition.
“Good God,” Phillips said, “what have you done to him?”
“Nothing, Sir,” Charlie said.
“Where are his clothes?”
“On the floor, just this moment,” Mr. Wicket said.
“We’ve tried to get him into nightclothes,” Thomas said, “but we’re having a time of it.”
“I’ll say,” Phillips said.
“We don’t think it can be done,” Mr. Wicket said.
“Never mind that. We’ve got to get him up and walking—it’s the only way through from an overdosing of laudanum. He’s got to stay awake and keep moving.”