Merely the Groom (Free Fellows League 2)

Prologue

“If we are marked to die, we are enough

To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater share of honor!”

—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

King Henry V

Derbyshire, England, 1793

The Knightsguild School for Gentlemen

“Don’t look down,” Jarrod Shepherdston, the twenty-second Earl of Westmore, ordered as he and Griffin Abernathy, seventeenth Viscount Abernathy, gave Colin McElreath, twenty-seventh Viscount Grantham, a leg up onto the outer wall of the bell tower that stood watch over the quadrangle in the center of the Knightsguild property. “There’s nothing to fear. Just keep your mind on what you’re doing and you’ll be fine.”

“And whatever you do, Colin, don’t look down.” Griffin gave Colin one last boost up the wall, then stepped away and stood shoulder to shoulder with Jarrod to watch as their fellow Free Fellow began the Herculean task of overcoming his fear of heights by climbing the Knightsguild bell tower.

Don’t look down. There’s nothing to fear. Just keep your mind on what you’re doing and you’ll be fine.

Colin pressed his face against the moss growing between the crevices in the mortar in the old stone wall, and reached up, feeling for a handhold as he inched his way up the tower. He clenched his teeth, jammed the toe of his boot into a crevice, and slowly crept skyward.

Don’t look down.

Easy for them to say. Jarrod and Griffin had their feet firmly planted on English soil. They weren’t climbing the outside of a bell tower in the middle of the night in order to conquer their aversion to heights. But then his cohorts, the two other Free Fellows, didn’t fear a bit of altitude. They were destined to become England and Scotland’s greatest heroes, and heroes were above such foibles.

And he would be, too. After tonight. Colin took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and fought the fear. It was well after midnight, but it wasn’t completely dark. The pale sliver of moonlight was enough to illuminate his way. Colin didn’t know whether that made the journey easier or harder. It was a long way to the quadrangle below.

Don’t look down.

Grunting with the effort, Colin felt for the next handhold. He gripped the stone with his hands and planted his right foot into a foothold, pulling with his arms while pushing with his feet, propelling himself forward toward his goal. Left hand, right foot. Right hand, left foot. Pulling and pushing. Pushing and pulling in rhythm as he moved higher and higher. Until the bit of mortar providing a foothold in the stone beneath his right foot tumbled to the quadrangle.

Colin tightened his grip, clinging to the wall, fighting the terror threatening to overtake him. Perspiration beaded his upper lip and his heart pounded against his chest as he scrambled to regain his foothold and keep from falling.

“Thunderation!” Griffin swore, ducking as bits of stone and mortar rained down on the courtyard. “He missed a foothold. He’s slipping.”

Jarrod looked up, shielding his eyes with his hand as he squinted into the night sky, mentally gauging Colin’s progress. “He’s hit that tricky bit. But he’s made it halfway and I’ll wager he hasn’t wasted a single thought on anything except reaching the top of the tower,” he replied with the greater wisdom of his advanced age of ten years and six months. “He’ll be all right.”

“If the fall doesn’t kill him,” Griffin replied.

“I don’t think he’s far enough off the ground for the fall to kill him,” Jarrod said. “The most he’ll do is break an arm or a leg. And injure his stubborn Scots pride.”

“Then he’ll make it,” Griff predicted. “He knows we’re watching, and he’s far too proud to allow us to see him fail.”

Jarrod nodded. “Especially since his disappointment over Esme Kelverton is the reason for all of this.”

Jarrod was right. The climbing of the Knightsguild bell tower had become a graduation rite of passage in recent years—like scaling the bridges while punting down the river Cam was one of the old and venerable ways of celebrating graduation from Cambridge, but graduation from Knightsguild was two years away and Colin wasn’t climbing it in celebration. He was climbing it to test his mettle. To prove that Lord Kelverton had made a huge mistake in doubting his worthiness as a future bridegroom for his daughter.

“Colin wasn’t to blame. He couldn’t help the fact that Esme Kelverton’s father broke Colin and Esme’s marriage contract because Lord McElreath can’t gamble worth spit.” Griffin shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s true,” Jarrod said. “But you thought of it because of him.” He nodded toward Colin. “Because he went and got his hopes dashed and his heart trampled by a girl.”

“The League was my idea, but we all want to be heroes. We all embraced the idea and we all agreed to it.” Griffin stared at Jarrod. “Besides, I thought it would take his mind off his problems. And a broken heart is as good a reason to form a secret League as any.”

“That’s true.” Jarrod nodded his head. “And suggesting we perform feats of bravery and daring seemed a perfectly acceptable way to prove our worthiness to be Free Fellows.” He turned to Griffin. “But I didn’t expect Colin would choose to scale the bell tower so soon.”

“Why not?” Griffin retorted. “Tall places are the things he fears most.”

Everyone knew true heroes were born to accomplish acts of extraordinary courage and bravery and climbing the bell tower was the perfect way to start. It was a feat only the most athletic and determined boys could accomplish. Jarrod and Griffin had done it twice. On two consecutive nights. In complete secrecy. Their goal hadn’t been to prove their athletic prowess or test their mettle, but to help Colin overcome his fear and forget his heartbreak over his broken betrothal.

After picking the lock on the outer door of the structure, and reaching the bell tower by way of the interior stairs, Jarrod and Griffin had used ropes to lower themselves down the outer wall in order to painstakingly craft the dozen or so additional hand and foot holds needed to make the climb easier for Colin. Jarrod and Griffin had gladly forfeited two nights of sleep, and risked discovery and a public caning in order to come to the aid of their compatriot.

Now, all they could do was stand below and keep watch as Colin struggled to prove himself the hero they knew him to be.

High above them, Colin squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, ignored the bile rising in his throat, and reached for a foothold. Keeping his gaze focused on his goal, Colin toed the moss-covered stone until he found a crack in the wall. He wedged the toe of his boot into the crevice and pushed toward the top.

Three more feet or so and he’d make it. Colin inhaled deeply, then slowly expelled the breath and took another. Don’t think about it. Don’t look down. Breathe. Push. Pull. Climb until there was nothing else to climb.

Colin swallowed his bile once again and stared into the opening of the bell tower. A rush of satisfaction raced through him. He’d done it! He’d climbed the tower! And survived!

He had conquered his fear and proved himself worthy of the honor of being a founding member of the secret league he and Griffin and Jarrod had founded. Colin had always known he had what it took to be a true hero despite the fact that he’d had a foolish fear of tall places and a father with a penchant for gambling away his inheritance.

He didn’t have the money Jarrod and Griffin had or the pure English bloodlines, but he had an ancient and honorable title and the blood of Scottish kings flowing through his veins

. And Colin was loyal and true. He would never fail or betray his friends or cause them to doubt his devotion. Just as he would never have failed Esme or given her reason to doubt his fidelity or his worth.