The Complete Regency Surrender Collection. Louise Allen
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of ‘Stop, thief!’ rang out.
Eleanor landed with a painful bump on her bottom, her heart seized with fright. For one awful moment...she struggled to catch her breath, eyes screwed shut in an attempt to pretend it had not happened, knowing it was only by the merest good fortune she had not landed in the road itself, under the iron-clad, dinner-plate-sized hooves of the straining workhorses hauling a coal wagon past at that very moment.
An accident. That’s all. Nothing to worry about, just a gang of pickpockets. She forced her lids open, looked in vain for her servants and Aunt Lucy. Nowhere to be seen. Strangers crowded her vision—all craning their necks to see what had happened.
‘Allow me.’
Breathless, shaking, Eleanor turned her head to stare up into dark eyes lit with a sardonic gleam.
‘Why,’ the speaker proclaimed, ‘if it ain’t my little coz, Eleanor. Well met, my dear.’ He smiled, his handsome face lighting up.
She stared at him. Recognition dawned. ‘Hugo! It’s you.’ Her relief was indescribable. At that moment, she could have kissed him.
‘It is indeed. And why, may I ask, are you sitting on the pavement in Bond Street? You could have afforded a hackney coach if you were that tired.’
‘Do try not to be so ridiculous,’ Eleanor retorted. ‘That’s just like you—always funning. Help me up, Hugo, please; we are providing everyone with quite a spectacle here.’
‘You are, you mean,’ he said. ‘I was simply passing by, mindin’ my own business.’
‘Are you all right, milady?’ She looked up to the welcome sight of William, Peter and John as they shouldered through the onlookers. ‘The crowd...it was impossible...’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Where is her ladyship?’
Peter plunged back into the surrounding throng, presumably to look for Aunt Lucy. Hugo helped Eleanor to her feet and helped her to brush the dust and debris from her clothes.
‘Three footmen, my dear? I had not realised you were of such consequence.’
Eleanor bit her lip against a bubble of laughter. ‘I will explain later,’ she said as Aunt Lucy was shepherded through the gathered spectators by Peter.
‘Ellie! What happened?’ Her frantic gaze was glued to Eleanor’s face.
Eleanor looked up. ‘I was knocked over,’ she said.
‘Attacked?’ Aunt Lucy shrieked. ‘By him?’
‘Not attacked, no.’ Eleanor told her aunt what had happened.
‘Good morning, Mama.’
Aunt Lucy shrieked again, this time a happy sound. ‘Hugo. It’s you.’
‘It is, isn’t it,’ he agreed, ‘as I have already confirmed to Eleanor. I was not aware you were coming to town, Mama.’
‘I wrote and told you, Hugo.’
‘Ah, did you indeed? That might explain it.’
‘Explain what?’
‘Why I didn’t know, of course, m’dear. Been out of town. Rusticating. Only got back last night.’ There was a pause. ‘Now I come to think of it, there was a pile of letters and suchlike on my desk.’
‘And you didn’t think it important to look through them this morning?’
A pained expression appeared on Hugo’s face. ‘I thought they must be bills, m’dear. Far too unpleasant this early in the day. I was just heading to my club. To fortify m’self, you understand. But you still haven’t told me what you are doing in town?’
‘I came with Eleanor, to lend her countenance, you know, whilst the repairs were carried out.’
‘Repairs? And, please do forgive my curiosity, but why would you think Eleanor had been attacked?’
‘It’s a long story.’ Eleanor shivered, her legs suddenly like jelly.
Hugo put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. ‘C’mon, Coz, let’s get you home.’ He flagged down a passing hackney. ‘Your men can walk back.’
Once inside the coach, Hugo eyed Eleanor with concern.
‘I am unharmed, Hugo, truly I am.’
‘If you say so, m’dear. I shall, however, expect a full account of what has been going on once you’re safely home. Lucas’d have my guts for garters if anything happened to you—or to Mama—on my watch. Besides which, as you may have noticed, she’s the only the mother I have.’
He winked at Aunt Lucy, whose cheeks glowed as she beamed. ‘You are such a good, kind son.’
Hugo grimaced. ‘Hush now, Mama; I do have a reputation to uphold, you know.’
Eleanor let their words wash over her and she breathed a sigh of relief as the carriage drew up in Upper Brook Street.
* * *
Matthew paced the drawing-room carpet in Eleanor’s house. The news with which Pacey had greeted him when he arrived in Upper Brook Street five minutes before had shaken him to the core and driven his doubts over the wisdom of that bank loan clean from his head.
‘Wise move, getting this for her ladyship,’ said Sir Horace, turning the dainty muff pistol over in his hands in the light from the window. He had arrived not two minutes before Matthew and was equally as troubled by Pacey’s account of the happenings during the early hours of that morning. ‘Fine workmanship.
‘Pleased to admit I was wrong last night, m’boy. The ladies are more vulnerable than I realised.’
‘More than I realised as well,’ Matthew admitted, coming to a halt near the older man. ‘I thought we had covered all the angles and they were safe in their own home. It seems I was mistaken.’
‘But the scoundrel did fail to get anywhere near Lady Ashby,’ Sir Horace said. ‘No need to blame yourself. The measures you took were effective—it was just a shame it was Pacey who discovered where he was hiding. Had one of those strapping footmen winkled him out, I doubt he would have broken free so easily.’
Matthew resumed his pacing. ‘Where are they?’ He headed for the door. ‘The blazes with what Pacey says, I’m going...’
Voices in the hall alerted him to Eleanor’s return. Pacey had sworn they would be home any minute and it seemed he was right. Matthew flung the door wide just as Pacey was about to open it for his mistress. Two quick strides and he was in front of her, searching her dear face, taking her hands, raising them to press relieved lips against sweet-scented skin.
‘Well, well. Matthew Damerel, if my eyes do not deceive me.’
Matthew froze. That voice... Eleanor tugged her hands free of his.
‘I did not know you two were acquainted,’ she said. ‘Come, let us go into the drawing room. Pacey, some refreshments, if you please.’
Matthew, speechless, brain scrambling to order his thoughts, stood aside to allow Eleanor past. She was followed by Lord Hugo Alastair and Lady Rothley.
This was his chance. Alastair had been at that game.
‘How do you two know each other?’ Eleanor asked, after introductions had been made.
She sank into a chair by the fire with a relieved sigh. Lady Rothley settled on to the sofa, with Sir Horace on one side of her and Hugo on the other. Matthew took the other chair. Hugo’s dark gaze switched from contemplation of Sir Horace to Matthew.
‘You’re back,’ he said, ignoring Eleanor’s question. ‘How long has it been?’
‘Eight years, give or take.’
‘Never mind that,’ Lady Rothley said.