Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
The physician left shortly before dawn after ordering Harriet to remain in bed. She was not to be left alone, permitted to exert herself or subjected to anything which might excite or distress her.
Benedict had agreed to all of it while knowing perfectly well that Harriet would reject at least half the instructions as soon as she was awake enough to understand them.
For the moment, she slept. Mrs. Mercer and a maid had removed her wet clothes, washed the blood from her face and as much as was possible from the mass of her dark hair.
Then they cleaned the wound at her temple.
The swelling appeared to be subsiding, but the large and ugly bruise was only growing darker by the minute.
Her face was pale against the pillow, but her breathing was steady.
Benedict remained in the chair beside her bed.
Each time he closed his eyes, he saw her lying in the field or imagined what might have happened if the coachman had not freed himself.
They might not have known Harriet was missing until someone went to Alderley in search of her and was informed she’d departed.
The door opened, and Mrs. Mercer entered with a folded paper in her hand. Her expression warned Benedict that whatever she carried was not another instruction from the physician.
He rose and met her near the hearth. “What is it?”
“I shouldn’t have done it, my lord. But I don’t trust the man.
Haven’t from the moment he stepped foot in this house…
So I searched Crandell’s room.” Mrs. Mercer spoke without apology.
“Lady Everton told the household where she meant to go yesterday. Selby knew the road she would take and when she would be upon it. I could think of only one explanation.”
She handed him the paper. It was a brief set of instructions from Selby. Crandell was to inform him whenever Harriet left Everton, where she meant to go and when she was expected to return.
Benedict read it twice before looking up. “Where is Crandell?”
“Belowstairs,” Mrs. Mercer replied. “I have two footmen keeping him occupied.”
“Send someone for the magistrate. Crandell is to be confined until he arrives.” Benedict folded the letter, though his first impulse had been to tear it apart. “He delivered Harriet into Selby’s hands. I want him out of this house before she wakes.”
Mrs. Mercer did not move. “You should speak to Lady Everton first.”
“There is nothing to discuss. He aided an attempt to abduct her.”
“And involving the magistrate will require her to explain why Selby abducted her. Whatever he intended, it was not ordinary robbery.” The housekeeper glanced toward the bed.
“There may be details her ladyship would prefer not to offer to a local magistrate and, through him, every household in the county.”
Benedict disliked the argument because it was sensible. “Crandell cannot remain free to send another message.”
“He will not. But how this is handled should be decided by the person who suffered for it.”
“No magistrate,” Harriet said from the bed. Benedict turned. Her eyes were open, though the effort of keeping them so was evident. He crossed to her while Mrs. Mercer poured water from the pitcher.
“You should be asleep,” he said, lowering his voice as if that might somehow return her to it.
“I have been asleep. It did not prevent either of you from discussing me as though I were not present.” Harriet accepted the glass from Mrs. Mercer and drank before looking at the paper in Benedict’s hand. “What did you find?”
He gave her the letter. Harriet read it slowly, her mouth tightening as she reached the final line.
“Crandell must not know he has been discovered,” she said. “Not until we have dealt with Selby.”
“I have every intention of dealing with Selby. Crandell’s arrest will not prevent it.”
“It will warn him.” Harriet returned the letter. “Selby did not mean merely to take me. He believed our marriage had not been consummated and intended to prove it.”
Mrs. Mercer looked from Harriet to Benedict but said nothing. Benedict sat upon the edge of the bed. “How?”
Harriet’s fingers tightened about the glass. “He meant to force me to submit to an examination by a physician. He said that if a doctor attested that I remained untouched, he could challenge the marriage and overturn the settlement.”
For a moment, Benedict could not speak. The thought of Selby placing Harriet in the custody of some man willing to participate in such an examination made him regret that he had not ridden directly to Selby’s house upon leaving the field.
“I will kill him,” Benedict said with enough calm to make the declaration more than an expression of anger.
“Not while I am confined to bed and unable to witness it.” Harriet handed the glass to Mrs. Mercer. “That would be very inconsiderate of you.”
“Harriet, this is not amusing,” he warned, though the familiarity of her response offered more relief than he wished to reveal.
“No. It is not.” The humor left her expression. “But Selby knew enough about our private arrangement to believe he could act upon it. Crandell gave him that information. If we summon the magistrate now, both men will begin inventing explanations before we have decided what questions to ask.”
Benedict wanted Crandell removed from the house.
He wanted Selby dragged from his bed and placed somewhere he would never again come within reach of Harriet.
But she had been denied all control over what happened to her the previous day.
He would not do the same simply because his motives were better.
He looked at Mrs. Mercer. “Keep Crandell belowstairs. He is not to leave, receive visitors or send any message. He must not know that we have found the letter.”
“Very good, my lord.” Mrs. Mercer gathered the physician’s bottles from the bedside table. “I will return with broth shortly. Her ladyship is not to be encouraged in the belief that nearly dying excuses her from eating.”
“I knew there would be some punishment attached to surviving,” Harriet said.
Mrs. Mercer gave her a look which promised a far lengthier lecture when she was stronger, then left the chamber.
Benedict remained beside the bed. During the search, he had promised himself that if he found Harriet, he would tell her that he loved her.
It had seemed simple while he was riding through the dark, when the possibility of never speaking the words frightened him more than her response.
It was less simple now that she was watching him.
“You are staring at me,” Harriet observed. “Has the physician forbidden that as well?”
“No. Only excitement and distress.” Benedict took her hand, careful of the bruises upon her wrist. “I am attempting to decide if what I have to say will cause either.”
“Considering our history, it will likely cause both. You may as well proceed.”
He looked down at their joined hands. “Selby was wrong. Whatever brought us to the altar and whatever agreement we made afterward, our marriage is not a sham. You are my wife. I am your husband. There is nothing false in what exists between us.”
Harriet’s fingers tightened around his. “No. There is not.”
Benedict lifted his gaze and told her the rest before caution could interfere. “I love you.”
She looked at him for a moment, then smiled. “Of course you do. I’m entirely lovable.”
He laughed. After the hours of fear and anger, the sound felt almost unfamiliar. Benedict raised her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. “That is not what I mean, and you know it. I am in love with you.”
Harriet nodded as if he had confirmed something she already suspected. “Good. Because I would hate to suffer such a fate alone. It would be a terrible thing to be in love with one’s husband and have said husband not be in love in return.”
Benedict stared at her, uncertain for once that he had understood her correctly. “You love me?”
“I believe I do. I have had a difficult night, and my head is not at its best, but I do not think I am mistaken.” Her expression softened. “When Selby stopped the carriage, all I could think was that I had to reach you. Not Everton. You. I knew if I could get to you, I would be safe.”
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to lift her from the bed and hold her until the memory of finding her in that field no longer made his hands shake. Instead, Benedict pressed his lips to her palm.
“When you are recovered, we will finish the conversation which was interrupted yesterday morning,” he said.
“I should hope so. I went to considerable effort to begin it.”
“And I have spent a considerable amount of time considering my response.”
Harriet’s cheeks colored, but the smile remained. “Then I shall expect a very thorough discussion.”
“You may depend upon it.” Benedict settled back into the chair without releasing her hand. Harriet’s eyes closed a few moments later. He remained there until her breathing deepened and the first daylight appeared beyond the curtains.
Benedict met his father in the lane later that morning. The earl sat stiffly in the saddle, one arm still held close to his body after the previous day’s fall. He had plainly learned of Harriet’s return and Crandell’s betrayal from the men who assisted in the search.
“I assume you are going to Selby’s house,” the earl said, his attention moving to the horse being brought for Benedict.
“Yes.” Benedict mounted. His father’s presence would not prevent him from going, and arguing about it would only delay them. “Harriet told me what he intended to do. If you mean to persuade me to wait for the magistrate, you may save your breath.”
“I have no expectation of persuading you. I mean to prevent you from killing him before I have an opportunity to speak.” The earl turned his horse. “Whether I succeed will depend upon how irritating Selby elects to be.”
They rode in silence. Selby’s butler attempted to stop them in the entrance hall. Benedict pushed past him, opened the study door without knocking and crossed the room before Selby could rise fully from behind his desk. Then he struck him.
The first blow sent Selby into the edge of the desk. Benedict caught the front of his coat and hit him again. “You left her in a field to die.”
Selby raised one arm to protect his face. “I never touched her.”
Benedict hit him a third time. Selby attempted to strike back, but the blow glanced off Benedict’s shoulder. Benedict seized him and threw him to the floor, overturning a chair as he fell.
He followed him down. His fist was drawn back when his father caught his arm and ordered him to stop. Benedict attempted to pull free. “It is not nearly enough.”
“No, but if you kill him, gossip will ruin you both. I doubt she will appreciate the inconvenience.” The earl tightened his grip. “Go outside and allow me to finish this.”
Benedict looked down at Selby. Blood ran from the man’s nose and mouth, but Benedict could summon no regret for it.
“If you ever approach my wife again, I will kill you,” Benedict said. “If you speak her name, send another man to watch her or involve yourself in any matter which concerns her, I will consider it an approach. Do you understand me?”
Selby glared at him without answering. Benedict leaned nearer and repeated the question. Only then did Selby force out a grudging, “Yes.”
He released Selby and rose. His father waited until Benedict had left the study before closing the door behind him.
Outside, Benedict mounted and rode beyond the gates. His knuckles ached, and the anger which had sustained him since reading Crandell’s letter showed no sign of easing. Several minutes passed before his father joined him.
“What did you say to him?” Benedict asked when his father drew alongside.
“That he can take the honorable way out or he can be ruined. The choice is his.” The earl adjusted the reins with his uninjured hand.
“If he refuses the first, I will expose his connection to Crandell, find the men who assisted him and ensure every creditor and magistrate with an interest in his affairs receives what we know. He will lose his property, his standing and, very likely, his freedom.”
“Selby has never possessed enough honor to choose it now,” Benedict replied.
“No,” the earl agreed. “But he has proven himself a coward and that may be enough.”
They had ridden only a short distance when a shot rang out behind them.
Benedict reined in and looked back at the house. Birds rose from the trees around it, startled into flight by the sound.
His father did not turn. “He made his choice.” Benedict remained still for a moment.
He felt no satisfaction in Selby’s death, but neither could he find any grief for it.
Harriet was safe. There was nothing at Selby’s house more important than returning to her, so he turned his horse toward Everton.