At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

Cecil was in the study, stretched out on the chaise while cradling a glass of brandy. Lydia had never seen him look so relaxed and carefree.

Having found the horses in a nearby field, and hearing of Mr Gilligan’s confession from Dariell, Mr Drake had arrived at Dunnam Park at the same time as Dr Mason. Consequently, he’d been given the task of riding to Burgess Hill. Cecil had returned immediately though was less than devastated to hear the news of Arabella.

“This is the written consent you promised?” Lydia glanced at the letter on the desk. She snatched it before her brother could change his mind and slipped it into her reticule.

“Indeed, it is signed and sealed and should pose no problem.” Cecil smiled and sipped his drink. “Any sign of Lord Randall?”

“No. He was last seen stuffing lace handkerchiefs and snuff boxes into his portmanteau. His carriage is missing from the mews, and Seth seems to think the lord is on his way to Dover.”

Lydia considered her brother’s jovial countenance. For a man who loved his wife, he appeared wholly unconcerned about her current condition.

“I suppose it’s for the best, my dear. Truth be told, I found Lord Randall a little shallow.”

Only a little shallow? Then again, the fact her brother had noticed at all proved promising.

“Did Dr Mason say when Arabella might regain the use of her faculties?” Not that it mattered to Lydia. Never again would she entertain a woman so intent on causing her downfall.

Cecil made an odd puffing sound and shook his head. “She might never recover. Oh, that reminds me.” With some effort he sat up, placed his glass on the side table and ventured over to the desk. He scouted around in a drawer and handed Lydia another letter. “Take this one, would you? Deliver it to Mrs Danbury’s establishment on Jermyn Street. The place that takes destitute women and offers them employment. Tell the woman there that I need a nursemaid.”

“A nursemaid for Arabella?”

It was not a foolish question. Her brother sought help for the simplest of tasks.

“Of course for Arabella,” he said with surprise. “She needs constant care.”

“You do love her, then?”

“Love her?” Cecil scoffed. “That conniving wildcat? Lord, no.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but you pander to her every whim.”

Cecil tapped his finger to his nose and winked. “A ploy, dear girl, a ploy. That way she is not curious to know what I do on my trips to Burgess Hill.”

Lydia sighed. The man was a weak-spirited fool.

The sound of carriage wheels crunching along the gravel drive drew Lydia’s attention to the window. It was dark outside, but she glimpsed Greystone’s gold crest on the black carriage door as it passed by.

Her heart flipped. She rushed forward, kissed her dolt of a brother on the cheek and raced from the room.

Ada was waiting at the front door. Lydia hugged the maid and repeated her earlier instructions.

“Will you not come outside and wave me off?” Lydia said, noting the maid’s sudden reservation.

Fear flashed in Ada’s eyes, and she shook her head ten times or more. “Oh, miss, I can’t. Don’t ask me to. Not while that beast is skulking about out there.”

“Beast?” Lydia assumed Ada had overcome her fear of Lord Greystone.

“Mr Drake has come with his lordship. Oh, those eyes, miss, they’re like bottomless black holes. Every time I look at him I struggle to breathe, so I do.”

“I suspect the gentleman is not as terrifying as he appears.” Lydia hugged Ada again, disappointment surfacing at the thought of having Mr Drake as a companion on the journey. “But wait inside. I shall see you in a few days unless the archbishop refuses Lord Greystone’s request.”

Ada’s bottom lip trembled and she dabbed her eyes. “Take care, miss.”

Hopkins opened the door, and the footman carried Lydia’s valise to the waiting carriage before she discharged him.

Greystone stood leaning against the carriage door, pocket watch in hand as if surveying the time.

“I’m not late,” Lydia said with a smile. Indeed, Greystone hadn’t bothered to flick open the gold case.