Page 60 of Vying for a Viscount
“Thank you, I think.”
“Don’t thank me until we know if your leg can be saved.”
Once again, those words. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he couldn’t move his arms or anything as he drifted into an unnatural slumber in which he dreamed of being bitten in the leg by a huge, vicious dog.
Chapter Twenty-One
For the pastthree days, Letitia had spent more time than usual in the nursery with Simon, trying to take her mind off Greyson, whom she hadn’t heard from. The last time she saw him was the day in front of the clock shop, when he asked her to go for ice at Gunter’s. Oh, how she wished she’d gone.
Sitting in the family drawing room, taking tea alone, she wished now that he’d call upon her. Resting on the settee, sipping her warm tea, did nothing to ease her worry over him. After making love several times, she loved him more than ever. She believed those nights were a pivotal turning point in their relationship. She wiped away her tears, angry at herself for shedding them, and wondered if she knew him as well as she thought.
“My lady,” Mr. Henry entered the room. “This just arrived for you.”
She held out her hand, and Mr. Henry handed her the note. “Thank you. That will be all.”
He bowed. “Yes, my lady.” He then left.
Letitia quickly unfolded the paper and read it.
Dear Lady Rutherford,
We want to let you know that our brother has been gone for three days. It dawned on us this morning that you may be wondering why you haven’t heard from him. No doubt he is away on some secretviscount business and will call on you upon his return.
Your friends,
Ladies Anastasia and Aurora
Letitia reread the letter, thinking it odd that they had sent it. Oh, she was very glad they had, as it explained where Greyson was—or wasn’t. At least his absence didn’t seem to have anything to do with her. He wasn’t staying away because he didn’t want to see her. He was away because he just was. He had mentioned his little disappearances, and she had thought nothing of them. But for some reason, she had a niggling feeling that something was wrong.
There could be many reasons her intuition was worrisome. However, there was nothing she could do about it. The good thing was that if his sisters hadn’t heard from him, then all was well. Or was it?
For the next thirty minutes, she alternated between pacing the room and staring out the window, debating with herself about Greyson. She still hadn’t found any answers or solutions to their courtship, such as it was, when Mr. Henry returned. “Another note for you, my lady.”
“Please put it on the table.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She took one last look out the window at the late-afternoon sun, turned and walked to the table beside the settee, picked up the note, and frowned. The wax seal was that of the Duke of Tremont. She cracked the seal, unfolded the paper, and read:
Lady Rutherford,
I’m writing to you because Viscount Greyson was injured and is asking for you. He is staying with me at Tremont Manor. I have also sent a note to his family. Please come as soon as you can.
Tremont
Injured? What did he mean by that? And why was he at TremontManor instead of his own home?Please come as soon as you can.Her stomach coiled into a painful knot. His last sentence sounded ominous. As if time were short.
She left the family drawing room, hurried to her own chambers, and when she burst through the door, she called out, “Jane. I need my cream pelisse. And can you put my hair up?”
She hadn’t bothered with her hair today, except to brush it, since she hadn’t planned to leave the house. Anxious to get to Tremont Manor, she wished she’d had Jane style her hair earlier in the day. She sat at her dressing table. “A simple knot will suffice. And please make it quick. Oh, dear, I forgot to have the carriage brought around.”
“I’ll return in a moment,” Jane said, setting the hairbrush down on the dressing table and hurrying out the door. She returned a minute later. “The carriage is on its way.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
Jane’s nimble fingers worked magic on her long, thick tresses, and she was presentable in no time. With her pelisse on, a matching hat and gloves, and her reticule gripped for dear life in her hands, she hurried down the stairs and into the entry hall. “I will be at Tremont Manor if you need me. I don’t know when I’ll return,” she said to Mr. Henry.
“Yes, my lady,” Mr. Henry said as he opened the door. “Should Burke wait for you?”
