Page 2 of Dared By a Lyon
“Quite all right, Higgins,” Gabriel said, reaching for the missive. He recognized his sister’s elegant handwriting. “When was this delivered?”
“Two hours ago. I was away from my post, and the footman who’d received it said it was from Lady Olivia… She asked that you not be disturbed until after you’d finished writing the speech.”
“She must have penned it somewhere on the highway,” Gabriel murmured, as he tried to push back the sudden feeling of foreboding. Olivia was probably apologizing for trying to convince him to accompany them to the family estate, he thought. His sister had been a bit disappointed that their mother had decided to stay in town as well to hear his speech. Once she thought better of things, she usually apologized. Had it not been for the speech he would be giving in the House of Lords, he and their mother would have departed with them. Delaying his trip afew days was minor in the grand scheme of things. And his sister could be overly dramatic at times, but it was only because she was happiest when they were all together. Gabriel felt the same way, but there were times in life when you had to take a stand, and that was what he intended to do.
His thoughts fell away as he opened the missive.
My dearest brother,
I am writing to apologize and to hopefully assuage the guilt I know you are feeling for not traveling with us.
I should not have put such pressure on you this morning to accompany us. You are, after all, doing what Mama instilled in us—one becomes noble from doing noble deeds, not by wearing the clothes of a nobleman. Working to stop the horrific abuses in the madhouses is truly a noble deed.
Besides, Juliet will be a great help to Max and me, who will be quite busy entertaining (distracting) our darling daughter, who, I am certain, will not be able to sit still all the way there. Caro is anxious to ride Lance again. She so adores that little pony you gifted her.
Nevertheless, we shall miss you and Mama. And, of course, Juliet will miss you most of all. She may be my best friend and the sister of my heart, but she cannot wait to be your wife. Don’t tell her I said that, or I’ll never hear the end of it.
I shan’t wish you luck in the House of Lords, for I know you won’t need it, my brilliant brother. But please be careful when you and Mama set out tomorrow. The sun was warming our faces as we boarded the carriage this morning, as you recall, but now a few rain clouds are gathering as I post this missive at the inn where we have stopped for a brief respite. I sent Mama a note as well.
And do ride in the carriage with Mama, in case it rains! Do not play the warrior and ride Demon all the way to the manor. There isone indisputable fact about England—our weather is always predictably unpredictable.
We cannot wait to hear all about your speech. (Which I’m certain will be a success!)
Affectionately,
Your sister,
Olivia
His mouth curved in a fond smile as he refolded the letter and tucked it into a drawer in his desk. Olivia never wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings, even when she felt strongly about something—or had a valid point. Perhaps he should have suggested they delay their trip until after his speech. But Caro was so excited about seeing Lance again that Olivia hadn’t had the heart to delay another few days.
Looking out the window at the rain, he wished he had insisted. But it was too late to lament that now. He would follow them as planned.
He blew out a breath as he picked up his quill and dipped it into the inkwell to resume writing. He felt strongly about the state of the convalescent homes, which were commonly known as madhouses or asylums. They were abhorrent places and offered little in the way of healing or comfort to the poor souls who ended up there, including his own aunt. His mother’s youngest sister, Aunt Marigold, had been cruelly victimized by her husband, Viscount Franklin Hedison, after giving birth to their son. She’d miscarried three times before she had finally carried a child to full term.
Gabriel’s mother was convinced that Aunt Marigold had developed a melancholia after the birth of Nathaniel. She’d witnessed it before among a few of her friends and a cousin, but Hedison had been impatient. Gabriel’s mother suspectedit was more than impatience, and that Hedison’s treatment of Marigold may have contributed to or caused her condition. Hedison had had a doctor examine Aunt Marigold—someone he’d chosen, not Gabriel’s family’s trusted physician. The doctor had declared Aunt Marigold unfit and a danger to both her and the child. He’d recommended that the only course of action was a convalescent home.
Gabriel’s mother had been livid but could do nothing to stop Hedison from committing Aunt Marigold. He’d gotten his heir and then promptly sentenced his wife to a life of misery. He hired a wet nurse to feed the infant, along with two other nurses to care for the babe. Taking gross advantage of the circumstances, Hedison also took up his bachelor lifestyle once more and indulged in various lascivious pursuits.
What was worse, he’d refused to even tell Gabriel’s family which facility he’d taken Marigold to. Gabriel’s late father, Lord Douglas Dawson, the previous Earl of Ravensthorpe, had hired a private security firm to locate Aunt Marigold. But by the time they’d found her, it was too late. In less than three weeks, Gabriel’s aunt had succumbed to typhoid before the earl could secure her release. Gabriel’s mother had never gotten over her sister’s death. Gabriel, who had been eighteen at the time, had always been convinced that Hedison had married his aunt to replenish his coffers, drained because of his profligate ways, including excessive losses at the gaming tables, habits the man still favored.
A few hours later, Gabriel signed and sanded his name to the speech and carefully folded the parchment, sliding it into his leather folio. He was satisfied with what he’d written. He’d already spent months compiling evidence regarding the horrors of the madhouses throughout England. He hoped his speech would have the desired effect of rousing the necessary support for substantial reforms.
He got up and stretched his stiff muscles. The grandfather clock chimed two in the morning. Gabriel covered his mouth as he yawned, and was about to retire to his bedchamber for the night when a sharp rap at the door to his study drew his attention. “Enter.”
“My lord…sir…there is someone in the entry hall who urgently needs to speak with you,” a distraught Higgins said in a ragged, strained voice.
“Who is it?” Gabriel said. That earlier feeling of foreboding now rose in his throat like bile. A sudden tightness invaded his chest, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he rushed ahead of the butler, flying down the stairs from the first floor, where his study was located. Something had happened. He felt it in his bones.
As he approached the front hall, a tall man dressed in red livery that was muddied and damp turned, and an icy chill gripped Gabriel as he recognized him. It was Randall, Olivia’s loyal footman, who’d always accompanied the family on long journeys.
“My lord, there’s been an accident,” Randall said in a stoic voice.
“My God! Where?” Gabriel turned to his butler. “Higgins, my hat and coat, and have Demon saddled—”
“My lord…” Randall interrupted in a rasp, wiping sudden tears from his eyes. “The carriage overturned as we crossed a bridge leading out of London. It seems that several planks on the bridge were missing, and a wheel got caught in a gap. With the storm… The horses bolted, and the carriage went into the river and ended up on its side.” The man looked down and squeezed his hat. “The other footmen and I were in the second carriage. We managed to halt in time before reaching the broken planks. We got out and dove into the river… But with the storm, the current was moving so fast, and the water had become so high…The door to the carriage that was facing up wouldn’t budge, my lord. We were trying to smash it with our axes. Lord Max managed to smash the small window of the carriage. And Lady Olivia pushed Lady Caro out into my arms…”
The footman’s voice broke, and, taking a shuddering breath, he continued. “As soon as I had Lady Caro, I swam to shore and handed her to a physician who’d happened to arrive at the scene, but on my way back to the carriage…the storm surged once more, and the current took the carriage and sank it before we could get to the others…”
