Protecting Lady Esther (The King's League)

Quite what happened after that, Esther did not know. Hunched into a ball, she hid herself as best she could, feeling weakness coursing through her that had taken the place of any strength she felt she had. The fact that she had managed to remove herself from her assailant now meant that she was left tired, weak, and desperate, knowing that her only hope was in Lord Westbrook. If he could not defeat their foe, then Esther had no doubt she would be taken.

The two men continued to fight as Esther kept her hands over her head, the blood roaring in her ears and her body aching in pain. It was only when all about her grew silent, when the shouts and exclamations of the two men faded to nothing, that she finally lifted her head to see.

Lord Westbrook was standing there, his hands on his knees and his body doubled over. Breathing hard, he wasn’t even able to say a single word, but instead rather just looked back at her, his eyes white in the gloom. Her body still tense and sore, she lifted herself off the ground carefully, seeing him stretch out his hand towards her and accepting it gratefully.

“Are you all right, Lord Westbrook?” she asked, seeing how he still gulped in air. “What happened? Who is that gentleman?” She looked into his face, her hand still tight on his arm and his hand holding her other hand in his. Whatever it was that had just occurred, they were now within these strange circumstances together, battling as one and defending each other as best they could – even though Esther knew she had done very little to assist Lord Westbrook!

“I do not know, Lady Esther, nor do I know what his intentions were,” Lord Westbrook rasped, his breathing still labored. “Did he say anything to you?”

Remembering that Lord Westbrook had been knocked unconscious by the fall from the hackney, Esther nodded, a sense of coldness beginning to wrap all about her like a cloak. “He asked about my father,” she said softly, as Lord Westbrook slipped one arm about her waist, clearly aware that she was struggling to keep her strength. “He asked if he was gone from London. Why would he ask me such a thing? What is it that he wants?”

Lord Westbrook shook his head and turned her back towards the hackney, perhaps unaware of the driver’s fate. “Now is not the time for questions,” he said, with a growing firmness in his tone. “I must return you at once. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after that, I might call upon you and we can speak at length about what has occurred this night.”

She shuddered as they passed the driver, hearing Lord Westbrook’s swift intake of breath and knowing that he had only just seen the fellow. “How am I to return home?” she asked, beginning to tremble all over despite the reassuring presence of Lord Westbrook. “The driver, he…”

Lord Westbrook patted her shoulder and then helped her up inside. “The hackney wheels do not appear to be damaged, and we must pray that there are no other difficulties with it.”

“But the driver,” Esther said, as he helped her sit down. “He–”

“I shall drive it,” Lord Westbrook interrupted calmly, catching her hands and holding them firmly. “Have no fear, Lady Esther. I shall take you home. Just tell me where I must go, and you can be assured that I will have you there just as soon as I can.”

Esther let out a long breath, feeling her shaking subside a little. Lord Westbrook was going to be her rescuer yet again, it seemed.

“Thank you,” she murmured, as he began to withdraw to the driver’s seat. “I do not know what would have happened to me this night if you had not been here, Lord Westbrook.”

“Think nothing of it,” he told her, before closing the door and leaving her alone in the darkness of the hackney.

Chapter Five

“Good gracious, Lord Westbrook, you look as though you have been in the sparring ring!”

Charles grimaced, aware that he was now sporting a black eye as well as a good few other bruises across his face and neck.

“Whatever happened, old boy?” asked Lord Watt, coming closer towards him and looking him up and down. “Was it a fight?”

Charles looked about Whites, seeing each and every gentleman and taking them in. He noted their names and titles, aware that there were two he did not know and certainly could not trust.

“A thief,” he answered in a low voice. “That is all.”

“Is that so?” Lord Watt said, with a small smile, although his eyes remained serious. “Well, I presume that you managed to prevent him from taking whatever it was he wanted?”

A slight shrug lifted one of Charles’s shoulders. “I could not quite say,” he replied honestly. “I am not certain what it was that he sought.” He watched the expression on Lord Watt’s face change, clearly now fully aware that Charles had something of importance to share.

“Then shall we sit?” Lord Watt asked, a little too casually. “And I shall fetch you something to drink. Brandy?”

Charles considered. “Port,” he said, seeing Lord Watt nod before he made his way through Whites and into one of the quieter corners of the establishment. Sitting down, he let out a long breath of relief as his body collapsed into the chair, still aching from the attack some two days ago now. His jaw tensed as he recalled what had occurred, thinking just how foolish Lady Esther had been to come out into London alone at night. She was risking not just her reputation but her life also, and he had been forced to defend her, not once, but twice. The assailant, whomever he had been, had attacked Charles fiercely, clearly utterly determined to get to Lady Esther – although for what purpose, Charles did not yet know.

And from what Lady Esther had said at the time, she did not know either.

Shaking his head, Charles leaned back and closed his eyes. He had sent a note to Lady Esther only yesterday, making certain that she was not unwell or badly injured from what had occurred. She had responded very quickly, informing him that she still had a few bruises but that she was healing quickly. More important, she stated that her questions were many and that she was now deeply concerned. However, she had informed him that she would need three days of rest in order to recover from her ordeal and had begged him to give her a short respite before they next met in order to discuss matters. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he remembered how she had written that she had been required to take to her bed under the guise of a heavy cold so that her aunt would not question the redness of her cheeks or the darkness of her eyes. But then the smile faded just as quickly as it had come, as he realized that the only reason Lady Esther was required to hide her face from her aunt was because of the injuries she had suffered.

The gentleman in question was no gentleman at all. He had been attempting to take Lady Esther from the hackney, although neither he nor Lady Esther had any understanding as to why such a thing had occurred. The man had asked about her father, Lord Leighton, but Lady Esther had promised that she had given him no answer. Had the man been so desperate to discover the truth about Lord Leighton that he had been willing to take Lady Esther away until she spoke to him? A slight tremor of horror ran through him at the thought.

“Is that you, Lord Westbrook?”

He opened his eyes at once to see a young gentleman standing directly in front of him, a slight smile on his face and a gleam in his eye.

“Lord McBride,” he said, knowing the Scottish baron at once. “Yes, for my sins, it is I who sit here.”