Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)
“I shall do my best to rise to the occasion,” said John quietly. “I am very aware of being naught but the messenger. The message comes from…” He hesitated, darting sidelong glance at his son. “…From a far more powerful force than me alone.”
“Yes, there is an army of learned philosophers from both the past and the present whose ideas on justice have served as inspiration.” The coach swerved sharply, and Olivia used the sudden play of shadows to shift her gaze back to the shades of drizzled gray outside the windowpanes.
John seemed just as willing to let the subject drop. Turning his attention back to Prescott and the chessboard, he placed the lad’s rook back in its previous position.
“I shall allow you to replay your move, Scottie. Look carefully and see if you can spot the other dangers lurking close by…”
Yes, I must keep my eyes open, too, mused Olivia. Her own errant moves on the checkered tiles could not be reshuffled, so going forward, she must be extra vigilant about guarding her emotions.
“Thank God you are all safe!” Cecilia enfolded Prescott in a fierce hug as he clamored down from the coach. “I can’t tell you what a relief it was to receive your note in yesterday’s mail assuring me that all was well,” she went on, looking up at John with a radiant smile. “Of course, I am now agog to hear what happened.”
He descended the iron rung steps and turned to assist Olivia. “And so you shall. But let us do it over tea and sustenance, if you please. We’ve not been traveling quite as swiftly as the Royal Mail, but I daresay we are all feeling a bit tired and bruised from the rigors of the road.”
“Of course—”
“Look, look! I’ve got another shiner, Aunt Cici,” piped up Prescott. “And Miss Sloane assures me it’s even more gruesome than the first one.” He swiveled his chin to give her a better view of the mottled purples. “I can’t wait to show it to Lucy.”
“You look truly awful,” agreed Cecilia. “And as for Lucy, her father and I thought it best that she remain here at the Manor until you arrived and assured us that the dangers were truly over. So you are in luck—”
“Scottie!” Lucy’s excited shout interrupted the explanation. A moment later, she came bolting out of the manor’s main entrance, trailed by the earl’s huffing and puffing valet.
“Hold yer horses, Missy!” he bellowed. “That’s no way te greet His Lordship—”
“At ease, Withers,” called John watching his son race to meet his best friend. “I think in this instance we may dispense with formalities.”
“Yes, sir!” The burly former batman slid to a halt and snapped a smart salute.
“And Withers…” Prescott and Lucy’s animated voices rose above the helter-pelter flapping of skirts and shirttails. “From now on, try to loosen up a little—there’s no need to wear a steel corset.”
“Corset?” The valet blinked. “Yes, sir!—Er, no, sir!”
Cecilia raised a brow but refrained from comment. Turning away, she linked arms with Olivia. “Please come this way, Miss Sloane. We’ll leave the Scottie to regale Lucy with the tale of his adventure, but I’m sure you would welcome the chance to sit on a seat that isn’t bouncing and partake of some refreshments.”
“Thank you.”
“You, too, John. For of course, I am dying to hear the full story of Scottie’s rescue.”
“Of course,” he murmured, though there would be some judicious editing of the parts pertaining…to personal matters.
Once they were settled on the facing drawing room sofas, Cecilia went through the ritual of pouring tea and passing fresh-baked pastries as she listened to his report.
“Good heavens, how very brave and resourceful of you, Miss Sloane!” she exclaimed after he recounted the part about Olivia knocking Lumley unconscious with sling and stone. “I cannot thank you enough for all your help—without your courage and cleverness from the very beginning, Scottie might well still be in the clutches of those dastards.”
“Anyone in my position would have done the same,” murmured Olivia.
“Indeed they would not.”
John picked up where he had left off, yet he couldn’t help but note that a strange tension seemed to be tightening its grip on his sister. As she shifted against the sofa pillows, her expression turned more and more distracted. On her plate, the sultana muffin was now reduced to naught but a pile of buttery crumbs.
He paused in explaining his punishment of Lumley and took a sip of his tea. “Before I go on, Cecilia, has something occurred here at the Manor that I ought to be aware of?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” answered his sister. “And as I was informed that the matter was urgent, I feel ought to tell you of it without further delay.” With an audible sigh, she put aside her plate. “There is a letter for you in your study. It was delivered yesterday by one of Lord Seabury’s servants.”
Lady Serena’s uncle. John felt his chest constrict.
Without a word, he rose. “Please excuse me.”
The thud of his boots on the parquet floor of the hallway seemed to ring with a foreboding echo, and the rasp of the door hinges swinging open took on a sinister growl. Entering his study, he slowly crossed the carpet and took a seat at his desk.