Page 76 of Lady Graceless
Grace did not know how painful an operation it had been, as Lord Dashlend did not utter a sound. His complexion in the moonlight was a deal more pale than she’d ever seen it, so she suspected he’d worked hard not to shout out.
He was gently slid into the cart and Wellburn gave the driver firm instructions to go slow and steady. He and his men would follow on horseback, as when they arrived to the house, the litter would need to be carried up the stairs.
Grace climbed into the back of the cart, alongside the litter. She was certain it was not the thing, but she would not be turned from it. Her father had only raised a brow, but did not cross her on it.
She was determined to stay by Lord Dashlend’s side for as long as was necessary.
*
MONTCLAVE STAYED HIDDENin the dark garden, listening closely to what was said. A burly coachman was directing everybody on what they were to do to extract Dashlend from the rose bushes.
He needed to know if any mention of him was made. Had Lady Grace seen him clearly? Did she know he’d locked her in a burning room?
He hardly knew why he did it. Some kind of desperation had come over him and it had seemed the only answer.
His mother had often said that life was not like chess, one could not anticipate what the next moves might be after making a move of one’s own. People were wildly unpredictable, while chess was not.
Montclave had never entirely understood her meaning until this night. He could never have foreseen that Lady Grace and Dashlend would end up falling from a window.
Dashlend seemed to get the worst of it. It was not at all clear how damaged he’d been from the fall, only clear that he could not rise and walk.
Perhaps he would not regain the use of his legs? If that were the case, he might die at any time. He might just waste away. He would not have children.
If he were to die, Montclave would become the heir. If he did not die, but remained childless, then someday one of his own sons would inherit.
As long as nobody discovered he’d had anything to do with it.
How long would he have to wait to be certain he was in the clear? Would Lady Grace tell her father that she’d seen him at the door? Would some servant step forward and claim he’d been seen throwing the key down the corridor or rushing away from the scene? Had someone noted him hurrying back into the ballroom as a footman yelled fire?
If he even got a whiff of something brewing, of some suspicion falling on him, he would pack his things and go… somewhere. He would not be locked up or swing for it.
And yet, he must hope nobody would suspect him. After all, he’d not set the room on fire. Lady Grace had done that herself.
He’d only locked the door. Which he might claim was an accident?
Perhaps he might claim he locked it to contain the fire, unaware there was anybody inside?
Though, he would then have to account for why he did not tell anybody there was a fire. Or why he threw the key down the corridor.
He must pray he would not come to anybody’s notice.
Dashlend was just now loaded into the back of a farmer’s cart and Lady Grace had climbed in too. He was being taken to the duke’s house. That was not ideal. On the off chance that he was not paralyzed, the close proximity of the couple would likely end in an engagement.
Especially since it appeared Dashlend had broken the lady’s fall. How heroic he would appear in the eyes of a young lady.
But then, might not Dashlend lose consciousness at some point? If that were to happen, he could step in as a member of the family and have him removed. If he could get Lady Margaret out of the way, then whatever care or lack of care given to the patient would be up to him.
It was something to hope for, anyway.
For now, he would return home and drink a vast amount of brandy to settle his nerves. He hoped Mrs. Featherby was not haunting Doanellen’s drawing room, as he fully intended to locate the brandy decanter and take it to his bedchamber.
*
MRS.RIGHT HADspent an enjoyable evening in with her girls. She’d told them all the story of driving Lord Dashlend’s valet mad and they speculated he must have quit on the spot and now the lord was left to tie his own knot.
Valor recited the letter she’d sent to Lord Dashlend and everyone was satisfied that she’d wished he would come to a bad end.
Nelson, who was turning out to be a very good sort of dog despite missing a leg and being blind in one eye, had curled up next to Valor on the sofa. He cleverly angled himself to view the door, as he was always on the watch for food coming through it.
