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Excerpt from
With A Little Help From My Lord
Alex had been
discussing the Irish bill with Lord Holland when he looked up and
saw Bitsy. What the devil? His gut plunged. Something terrible had
happened to her. It wasn’t just the misery he saw on her face. Her
straw hat was askance, her dress torn, and her arms bruised and
bloodied. He dropped the papers he’d been holding and rushed to her.
As he came
close, those luminous blue eyes filled with tears. He fought his
first reaction to demand to know what had happened to her. A surge
of protectiveness made him want to shield her from the prying eyes
of other members of the House of Lords. He put his hand on her
shoulder and led her to the small adjacent chamber. No one else was
there.
Once he closed
the door to allow them privacy, their somber gazes met. Without
being conscious of what he was doing, he held out his arms, and she
flowed into his embrace, sobbing into his chest as he patted her
back.
“What’s
happened?” he asked in a tender voice.
“I was abducted
by the murderers.”
He did not know
what he’d expected to hear, but it did not encompass a murderous
abduction. Unlike earlier in the day, though, this time he believed
her. “What do you mean by murderers?” He could not believe he was
having a conversation about murderers.
“Those men who
abducted me.”
How in the
blazes could she have been snatched in broad daylight? He was seized
with anger. Why hadn’t she listened to him? If anything happened to
Bitsy, Devere would never forgive him. He would never forgive
himself. “Did I not tell you not to leave Asquith House alone?”
Her head shook.
“But I . . .” Sniff. Sniff. “Didn’t. I was snatched from Great-aunt
Margaret’s back garden as I read in the sun.”
He held her
tightly, as if he alone could protect her from ever again having to
endure such a threat. “Dear saints in heaven! How did you end up
here?”
“First, I was
bludgeoned senseless, then thrown into a coach. When I regained
consciousness, I leapt from the moving carriage.” Sniff. Sniff.
“That’s how my dress got torn and bloody. I looked up and saw the
Palace of Westminster and knew I had to come to you.”
Being her
protector now seemed his foremost duty. He did not want to let go of
her. What a terrifying ordeal she’d been through. “Poor Bitsy,” he
murmured. “Are you hurt?”
“What do you
think?”
He pulled back
and looked into her face. A red, swollen bump the size of a woman’s
fist protruded from her forehead. How could any man do that to a
young lady? Alex would like to get his hands on the brute.
Without
thinking of what he was doing, he bent and pressed soft lips to her
bruise. It’s what his mother had always done to him. But this was
not an adult with a child. This was a grown man with a lovely young
woman. He had no business kissing Lady Harriett’s forehead. Even if
he had known her all her life. Especially since he’d known her all
her life.
“Are you saying
the savages actually bashed in your head?”
She nodded.
“Good Lord,
it’s a wonder they didn’t kill you.”
“Exactly what I
thought. I believe they wanted to kill me and carry me away like
they did the man on the doorstep.”
Why in the
devil hadn’t he taken her earlier story more seriously? “I’m much
concerned about that blasted blow to your head.” He moved closer and
stared into her eyes. It seemed as if he’d heard that serious head
injuries could dilate the pupils. Thankfully, hers looked normal.
“What are you
doing?” she demanded.
“I’m trying to
see if the pupils of your eyes are enlarged.”
“Whatever for?”
“I’m not
precisely sure, but I think it could be a sign of something serious.
You can’t be too careful about head injuries, you know.”
“Except for a
headache, I’m fine. I am still in possession of my faculties.”
“Allow me to be
the judge of that,” he said with a grin. A little levity was called
for after all this poor girl had been through.
She cast a mock
glare at him, and their eyes locked. It troubled him to see hers
reddened and moist.
“Oh, Alex, I’m
so frightened. Those men meant to kill me just like they did my book
thief.”
“But I thought
you said you didn’t see the book thief’s killer.”
“I didn’t, but
it has to be the same men.”
She must be
right. His brows lowered. “We need to discuss this.” He went and
pulled out a chair. “Come. Sit here.”
She limped to
where he stood.
Dear lord,
she’d sustained more injuries than the knot on her head. “You
injured your foot, too?”
She stopped,
eyed him, and shook her head. “It’s my knee. I hurt it when I leapt
from the coach. At first, I feared I’d shattered my kneecap.”
“You need
medical attention.”
“I think I’ll
be all right.”
“Would you
permit me to . . .” He felt deuced awkward mentioning something so
intimate. Lady Harriett was no longer the little girl with plaited
hair he’d once tugged.
She had become
a lovely young woman. He swallowed. “I think I should . . . examine
your knee to make sure it’s not broken.”
Deep pink rose
in her cheeks. “How would you know about such things?”
“I am the
eldest of eight siblings—most of whom have broken bones over the
course of their lives. I’ve become most adept at diagnosing breaks.”
“I . . . would
not object to you examining my knee, then.”
He pulled up
another chair for her to rest her foot upon. Then she tugged at her
bloodied dress, lifting it past her exposed knee.
“It’s difficult
to tell anything for all the blood,” he said. “I’ll fetch some water
and cloths to clean the wound first.”
He dashed off
and located the middle-aged woman who cleaned the main floor of the
palace and managed to procure some clean cloths and a tall glass of
water. He was able to wash away the dried blood. The knee was badly
swollen and marred by scrapes of open flesh. He eased her lower leg
up and down without causing her any significant pain. “I think you
may have escaped broken bones.”
“But it’s my
belfry that really concerns you,” she challenged.
“I was only
teasing.”
When he
finished, he tied fresh clothes over the oozing wound as a bandage.
“I’m happy to pronounce you free of broken bones but must advise you
to stay off that leg for a few days while it heals.”
She gave a
half-hearted little laugh. “Now Great-aunt Margaret and I will both
be infirm.”
“I would have
thought you’d be safe at Lady Asquith’s. I was wrong. You need
additional protection.”
“If I stay
inside resting my leg, I should be fine. My great-aunt employs
several strapping footmen as well as a butler—all of whom are there
all the time.” She frowned. “Except when they dine.”
“They weren’t
handy when your book thief was shot by the arrow.” He couldn’t
believe he was talking about a man being felled by an arrow in
modern-day London. He was shocked that he’d come to believe her
preposterous story, but he no longer had any doubts. Lady Harriett
Beresford’s life was in danger. And he was not about to allow anyone
to harm a hair on her pretty little head.
The murder and
abduction had to be related. Why else would she be targeted? Even
though she had not seen the archer who slayed her book thief, the
killer must have thought Harriett could identify him.
“You’re not
going back to you aunt’s.
Her eyes widened as she regarded him, a querying
expression on her face. “Wherever will I go?”
“You’ll be
staying with me.”
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