Chapter 24
Rupert’s injuries were not as serious as the doctor believed, or at least that was what Rupert concluded once the doctor had left.
He was shaken, yes, and in some pain, but he also knew it would be good for him to move, to get his blood pumping, and not to lie in bed recuperating like some kind of invalid.
“I simply need a strong scotch and to get my energy up,” he told his mother, as he limped from the bedroom half an hour after the doctor had bid him farewell.
“Rupert!” His mother called after him, looking nearly faint. “You should be in bed resting!”
Uncle Reginald, who was seated next to her, also frowned.
“You should listen to your mother, Rupert.”
“No, I should be speaking to Lord Ashford and Miss Ashford,” Rupert countered, calling back over his shoulder. “It is vital that they understand what is happening to me so that they can make the appropriate decisions about whether or not they want to go through with the engagement.”
“Go through with the engagement…?” His mother followed him out of the bedroom, her mouth agape. “Rupert, you cannot seriously mean to give up Miss Ashford!”
“I do not mean to give her up,” Rupert lied grimly. “But she must understand what is at stake.”
He found Beatrice and her brother downstairs in the library, both drinking small glasses of port. Their friends, the Carltons, were also there, and when Rupert, his mother, and Uncle Reginald entered, all of them jumped to their feet.
“Your Grace!” Beatrice cried at once. “Are you well enough to be walking around?”
“Of course I am,” he said, shining a grin at her that he hoped put her at ease. “I merely had a few cuts and scrapes.”
“You were covered in blood!” Beatrice protested, and Rupert could not deny the flash of delight he took in seeing the concern on her face, or the way she moved instinctively toward him.
As she came close, he allowed himself the liberty of touching her arm very gently.
As he did, he saw Theodore tense slightly, but he said nothing.
“I was not covered in blood,” Rupert said gently, looking deep into Beatrice’s eyes. “I had a little blood on me from where some broken-off wood dug into me. But it was just a scrape. I assure you, I am well.”
Beatrice still looked worried however, and Rupert felt another ache in his chest.
She really cares for me.
At least, she cared that he did not die. He was not sure that was the same thing.
He settled himself into a chair near the bookcase, and they all looked at him expectantly.
“What exactly happened?” Theodore said after a moment. “We got a report from the doctor, but we would all like to hear it in your words, as well.”
“Of course,” Rupert said, and he launched into the whole story. When he was done, Beatrice’s mouth was fully agape, her hand covering it, Vivienne looked very pale, and even Nathaniel and Theodore had worried expressions on their faces.
“You cannot be serious…” Theodore murmured. “Someone actually shot at you?”
“Was it a robbery?” Nathaniel asked, but Beatrice shook her head.
“It cannot just be a robbery,” she said at once. “This is the second time it has happened! It cannot be a coincidence!”
“The second time?” Theodore frowned. “When was the first time?”
Rupert met Beatrice’s eyes, and he carefully tried to indicate to her that she should not mention she was there.
“There was an incident on the road to London,” he said, “just a few weeks ago. Several bandits fired upon me, and I barely escaped with my life. At first, I just thought they were trying to rob me, but they did not try to take anything. Just fired at me and then rode off.”
Theodore gaped at him.
“Someone is trying to kill you,” he said, astonishment in his every syllable, while Nathaniel nodded in agreement.
His sister, Miss Carlton, looked less surprised, and Rupert suspected that Beatrice had told her the whole story.
She had, however, taken Beatrice’s hand, as if to comfort her during the distressing story.
“I do not know for sure,” Rupert said, “but it certainly is beginning to seem like it. And with everything that is happening with my title…” He looked at his uncle. “What do you think, Uncle Reginald?”
“I think it is a disgrace,” his uncle said. His face had gone red, and his hands were clasped into fists and beginning to shake. “You are my brother’s son, your life is in danger, and I have failed to protect you. If your father were here, I would be ashamed to look him in the face.”
“It is not your fault, Uncle,” Rupert assured him, but Uncle Reginald shook his head.
“They shot at you three times! They could have killed you!”
“You are very lucky to be alive,” Nathaniel said
“I know,” Rupert said, pushing away the fear that had been threatening to overwhelm him ever since that first day on the road. “But I am more worried about Miss Ashford.”
To his surprise, she was watching him softly, expression far less troubled than he would have expected.
“Worried about me?” She murmured. “Why would you be worried for me?”
He hesitated, then looked at Theodore. “Would you mind very much if Miss Ashford and I spoke alone for a few minutes? We will leave the doors open of course. I simply wish to speak to her about my concerns about these incidents and how they might affect her.”
He was even more surprised when Theodore nodded. “Very well,” he said, rising to his feet. “I shall be back in half an hour to check on you.”
And they all filed out of the library, everyone except Rupert and Beatrice. She was still seated close to him, and when at last everyone was gone, her eyes dragged up to meet his, and there seemed to be some shyness in her smile.
“I am glad you are well enough to be down here,” she said after a moment. The space in the library felt closer now, with no one else there. The books surrounding them muffled her voice, making everything seem softer and more intimate.
Rupert felt suddenly too aware of himself, and of Beatrice, and how beautiful she looked, still in her ball gown, her hair swept up into a delicate coiffure that seemed to soften her features and make her appear even more like an angel.
His throat suddenly felt somewhat constricted.
“I am glad as well,” he said at last. “But this is the second time this has happened, Beatrice, and I do not know what will happen should it occur a third time.”
“I know,” she said, her smile fading. “I am deeply worried. Whoever is after you has not given up, and although you have been lucky the first two times, I am scared that a third time, they will get lucky.”
Was it just a trick of the light, or was there moisture in her eyes?
It tugged on places in his heart he did not even know existed to see her eyes fill with tears over him, and he leaned forward before he could think better of it and took her hands.
She had removed her gloves, and the feel of her hands was soft and warm.
She seemed surprised when he took them, and for a moment, he thought she might pull away, but she did not.
And when he looked back at her face, her cheeks were flushed pink like the dawn.
She looked so beautiful like that, a little nervous and awkward but not pulling away, that he thought his heart might burst.
“Do not be worried about me,” he murmured. “I have a habit of getting myself out of sticky situations.”
“I am worried about you, though,” she whispered. “There have been two attacks on your life. Someone is threatening your title. We must get to the bottom of this.”
“No,” he said, gently but with emphasis. “Not us. Me. I must get to the bottom of this. I will not allow you to put yourself in danger, Beatrice. That is what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She swallowed. “What are you trying to say? Are you ending our engagement early?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I will not do so unless you want to. I will not dishonor you again. But I need you to know what you are getting yourself into. As you have said, there have been multiple attacks on my life. If we are together often, the next attack could occur when you are in my presence. You could… you could get…” his chest constricted violently, and he felt, for several seconds, as if he could not go on.
The thought of what might happen should she be with him again during an attack made him lose speech entirely. Made him lose all reason.
“You could get hurt,” he finally choked out, the words gruff and filled with emotion.
Her jaw tightened, but she looked determined as she gazed back at him. “I have survived one attack before,” she murmured. “And I will again.”
“I do not want you to have to take that risk.”
“But as you said, you will not end this engagement unless I ask you to,” she said, tilting her head to one side.
“So therefore you can worry all you want, but I am not going anywhere. Not until… not until…” she trailed off, clearly unwilling to discuss the plan they had put into place, where she would end the engagement in a few months and go to France.
She shook herself, then forced a smile. At least, it looked forced to him.
“I want to help you figure this out,” she said at last. “I am part of it now. And even if we are not to marry, I care about you, Your Grace. I do not want anything to happen to you. And you cannot simply push me out of this investigation. As you say, it could affect me.”
Rupert gazed at her for a long moment, then lifted his hand and, very carefully, touched her cheek. He knew he should not, but he needed some sort of physical proximity to her, after everything he had been through.
“I want to tell you not to help me,” he whispered.
“I want to protect you and take care of you like you deserve to be protected and cared for.” Her cheek was so soft, and he felt the insane urge to cup her chin and bring it close to his face, to trace his lips along the alabaster skin, to taste the saltiness of it, to bury his face in the crevice between her jaw and cheekbone.
But of course, he didn’t.
“But I know you,” he said, releasing her at last. “And I think that caring for you might actually be letting you be free. Not clipping your wings. And letting you help me, if that is what you need.”
The smile on her face was radiant, and she leaned toward him, as if by instinct.
“Thank you, Rupert,” she whispered, and the sound of his name on her lips sent a shiver through him. He leaned forward as well, and for one wild moment, he actually thought he might kiss her.
Then he blinked and remembered himself and managed to pull away just in time. For a few uncomfortable moments, they just stared into space, not looking at one another. His heart was hammering. Did she know what he had almost done in a moment of weakness and forgetfulness?
What did it mean?
Did she want him to kiss her?
He cleared his throat and looked back at her, smiling in a way he hoped was kind without being forward. She smiled too, albeit a little hesitantly.
“I just realized I never got the chance to thank you for the poem you sent,” he said. “It was very beautiful.”
At once, her cheeks flushed again, and her smile became even more sparkling. “I thought you had forgotten,” she said, laughing. “Or else had hated it.”
“Not at all!” he said at once. “The accident simply banished it from my mind for a while. But I loved it, and I should dearly like to read more that you have written. In fact… have you ever considered writing a book?”
“A book?” she laughed again, this time with incredulity. “Your Grace… You cannot be serious.”
“I am serious,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “I am very serious, in fact. You should put out a book of poetry.”
“But…” she stared around the room. “I would not even know the first thing about how to do that.”
“I can help you,” he said. “I have friends who have worked in Bloomsbury. If you wish, I can speak to them.”
Beatrice gazed at him in astonishment, then shook her head. “We can discuss it another time,” she said, “when you are well. But for now, we both have enough to think about. What with assassination attempts, your title in jeopardy, and our fake engagement.”
He laughed. “I suppose that is true.” But secretly, he made a note to look into it for her.
There was no reason to put off her writing a book simply because someone was after him.
In fact, it might be even more of a reason.
If he were going to be killed shortly, he’d at least like to die knowing that he had helped her achieve something that would make her happy.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Are you ready to retire for the night?”
Truthfully, Rupert was tired, but he wasn’t ready to say goodnight to Beatrice yet. Being in her presence was more restorative than any amount of rest would be. But of course, he didn’t want to say that out loud. It would frighten her.
“I have energy yet,” he lied. “Why do you not read me some of your favorite poems?”
She seemed excited by the idea, and she spent several minutes running about the library, gathering her favorite books of poetry for him.
He then poured them both more glasses of port, which they drank as she read aloud to him from Byron, Percy Byshe Shelley, and Walter Scott.
Her voice was low and rhythmic, taking on an almost chanting quality, and it was so soothing that he soon found himself entirely relaxed and at ease for the first time since the shooting.
She was just finishing up a poem when there was a knock on the door, and they both looked up to see Thomas standing in the doorway.
“Thomas!” Rupert cried in surprise. “I did not know you were back.”
“Yes,” Thomas said, bowing to Beatrice but then returning his gaze to Rupert’s, who could tell, from the way his friend’s brow knit together, that he was worried.
“I found your driver and helped him here, and the doctor has been attending to him. Then I came to find you. There is something I wish to discuss with you… alone.”
Beatrice nodded and stood up, setting aside her book. “I ought to be getting to bed anyway,” she said, smiling at Rupert. “Theodore has insisted that you will stay the night after your injuries. You and your whole family. So I shall see you in the morning.”
Her eyes lingered on him, and he wondered, if Thomas had not been there, what she might have done next. Instead, she simply curtsied and, with a final nod to Thomas, left, closing the doors behind her.
Once she was gone, Thomas turned to him, his expression very serious.
“I have discovered who spread the rumor about you and Miss Ashford on the road together,” he said. “It is Isabella Thornton.”