“Ah, but ye can, because, as I said, ye both will get nothing if anything happens to the boy.”
“Understood,” Holland snapped. He then turned his horse away and rode off alone, leaving the men he had hired to fend for themselves.
* * *
The uninjured man looked up at the earl and said, “Would ye please, flash covey, would ye see to m?
??brother?”
The earl sighed. “Aye then,” he said, looking at his three men still hovering protectively and nodding. “Put him in the coach, and one of ye stay inside with him. You two ride with them and take him over to Dr. Trunge and have him dig the bullet out of him and send them on their way. And, men, I thank ye for yer courage. It will not be forgotten.” He moved and took the reins of one of his men. “I’ll be needing this horse, lad. I trust ye to get back to Searington as soon as ye may and make sure nothing ill occurs there.”
He took his man’s mount and started off. He wanted to see the squire and give him the results of his efforts and peace of mind.
* * *
Lady Bess gazed out of her London townhouse’s bow street window but scarcely saw the occasional coach and passerby. All she could see was blue eyes staring into hers.
They had been in London for two days. Two entire days without any word from the earl.
Her father was reading the Chronicle at her back, but she felt his gaze stray to her now and then, and finally he asked, “Bess, my dear child, you have been in the doldrums for longer than I am used to seeing.”
“Yes, Papa. I am worried a bit about the situation with Thomas, and there hasn’t been any word from the earl.”
“There will be,” her father said with conviction.
She eyed him. “Do you know something?”
“Only that he will get word to you as soon as he may. Good man, the earl, solid. I like him.”
She smiled warmly at her father and said, “Do you, Papa? That is wonderful.”
“Humph,” said her parent, who then eyed her and patted a place beside himself. “Sit. I feel there is something on your mind that you would like to discuss.”
Bess considered him. She wanted to confess what she felt for the earl. She wanted to see what he thought of it. The words hung around in her throat. She had always trusted her father with the truth, and she wanted so very much to give him as much truth as she could and unburden herself and her doubts.
The door opened wide, putting an end to that, and their butler announced, “Lord and Lady Mabry.”
Donna went to Bess and worriedly asked, “Anything yet?”
“No, not a word, and I am going nearly mad with worry.”
“Silly chits,” declared Robby. “What—should the earl dash off a note and post it when he means to be here? Stands to reason he will arrive any day now, and then we’ll know.”
Donna sighed and looked at Bess speculatively. “Do we go to Jersey’s ball tonight?” She waved a hand. “It feels odd to go about enjoying ourselves when those awful people might be plotting against the boy.”
“I think we must, but I don’t think I can enjoy myself one bit,” agreed Bess.
“Doona ye think so? Even if I tell ye that I have matters in hand?” said a familiar and beloved Scottish voice from the library doorway.
It was all Bess could do not to run into his arms, and she did, in fact, heedless of anyone’s watchful eye, go right to him with her hands extended.
He took her ungloved fingers to his lips, and she almost felt as though his arms had gone around her as his blue eyes caressed her. He gently squeezed her hands before releasing them, and Bess felt locked in his gaze.
It was a moment—their moment, where all else faded. If anyone spoke at their backs, they did not hear them. If anyone moved at their backs, they did not see them.
The Earl of Dunkirk and Lady Bess lost themselves to each other. Static electricity filled the air around them, and it was all Bess could do not to melt against him and hold him with the intention of never letting him go.
Bess’s father coughed and broke the spell. The earl turned to nod respectfully to him and came into the room. He shook the viscount’s hand. “My lord.”