Love Finds Lord Davingdale (3 page)

At that moment, a bolt of lightning flashed
overhead and an explosion of thunder filled the sky.

“I’m sure if you hurry, you might catch them.
They departed but a quarter hour hence.”

Thomas dipped his hat. “Thank you. Thank you
very much.”

He raced back to his carriage. A steady rain
now pelted his face. “To the village, Graves,” he shouted.

Sitting against the squabs, Thomas smiled. It
wouldn’t be too hard to find them. In this weather, nary a soul
would be about.

The carriage slowed not halfway to their
destination, and then it stopped. Looking out the window, Thomas
saw they had pulled alongside an overturned landaulet. Oh no! It
was hers!

He jumped out, and the old driver ran up to
him, hands flailing, mud soaked from boots to hips. “Oh, thank God.
Could you help, sir? ‘Tis Miss Ophelia. She has taken a hard
fall.”

Ophelia! Thomas raced around to the side of
the vehicle and peered in the open door. The poor girl lay on the
side of the carriage, which was now on the ground, her glasses
twisted on her nose, her face pale.

“Are you all right?” he asked, surprised she
was not hysterical.

“I am well, Mr. Merrit. Thank you for
stopping.” Ophelia maneuvered her body against the roof, which was
now the wall.

“I was headed this way,” he said as he
climbed up on the box. He slithered down into the confines of the
overturned equipage. “I must admit, I was hoping to run into you
again, but not quite like this.” He reached for her hand and helped
her to stand.

With barely enough room for the two of them
to fit in the carriage doorway, he found himself pressed close to
her body. Her face lifted to his and he saw pain in her eyes. He
wondered how badly she was hurt. An uncontrollable urge to wrap his
arms around her overtook him.

“Shall we see about getting you out?” he
asked and kneeled. “If you would place your foot upon my leg,
here.” He patted his thigh. “I believe that will give you enough
clearance to be able to sit upon the frame. Then you shall be able
to swing your legs over the side and my man will help you
down.”

She did as told, and as soon as she sat,
Thomas stood. The rain had become a torrent and Thomas held onto
her waist as she slipped over the side into Graves’ waiting arms.
Thomas climbed through the door and jumped to land beside her.

“Thank you for the rescue, Mr. Merrit,”
Ophelia said. “I am ever so obliged.” Her pale face blanched
further and she leaned into the underside of the carriage.

“Come,” Thomas said. “We must get you to
Cummings before you catch your death.” Without a thought, he swept
her up in his arms and carried her to his waiting coach. Placing
her inside, he took off his greatcoat, and wrapped her in it.

“Rest here for two minutes together while I
see about your carriage and then I shall set you home.” He smiled,
touched her face with a gentle hand, and closed the door.

Graves and the old driver had managed to get
the landaulet leveraged with two sturdy branches and the three of
them pushed it upright.

“I am going to drive Miss Cummings back to
the Hall,” Thomas said to Graves. “She is soaked through and has
had a terrible fright. Can you and the old man get this back? Is
anything broken?”

“Luckily, just the springs and the window,”
Graves said. “Nothing that will deter us.”

“Very well, I’m off.” Thomas sprinted for his
carriage, jumped on the box, and flicked the reins. The horses took
off with a leap. He prayed Ophelia was not badly hurt. The look on
her face before she nearly fainted worried him. He flicked the
reins again, urging the horses faster and the realization struck –
his left arm had moved. He flexed it. It obeyed.

He had learned through previous incidents not
to get too far ahead of himself where his damaged limb was
concerned, but he had lifted Ophelia in his arms without dropping
her. Perhaps it was healed at last. Perhaps he would no longer have
to bear the looks of censure from Society. Perhaps Ophelia was his
lucky charm.

Arriving at Cummings Hall, Thomas jumped down
before the horses had even stopped. He ran to the front door and
pulled the bell several times, then went to the carriage and lifted
Ophelia from the seat. Ready to kick open the door to the manor, it
swung wide, and the house woman stood there with her hands on her
hips and a frown on her face. Upon the sight of Ophelia in his
arms, she screamed, “Lady Josephine! Lady Josephine! Come
quickly.”

“Where is her room?” Thomas asked. “You must
get her out of these wet clothes. The carriage overturned and I
believe she has sustained an injury to her head.”

“The top of the stairs, first door on the
right.”

An elderly woman ran from the hall. “Maisie,
what is it?”

“’Tis Miss Ophelia,” the housekeeper said as
she followed Thomas up the stairs. “There has been an
accident.”

Thomas reached the room and laid Ophelia
gently on the bed. He took his wet coat off her, and then strode to
the fireplace and fanned the embers. Adding kindling and logs, he
waited until the blaze roared before he turned to the two women who
were undoing buttons and untying bootlaces.

“I shall acquire the apothecary.” Thomas
raced out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the storm
again.

Twenty minutes later, Thomas returned with
Mr. Winters. He paced while he waited downstairs. The elderly woman
soon joined him.

“Forgive me, I am Lady Cummings. You are Mr.
Merrit are you not?”

“I am. How is she?”

“Mr. Winters reassures me she is not
concussed, but she has sustained bruising along her shoulder from
the fall. Nothing time will not heal. How can I ever repay your
kindness, Mr. Merrit? What you have done for us today is beyond
words.”

“Tell me, why was she out in the storm? Is
nothing so important in the village it could not have waited?”
Angry Ophelia had taken such a foolish ride, he realized his
chastisement was unnecessary. “Forgive me, Lady Cummings. I am
overset. It is not every day one must rescue a damsel in distress.”
He smiled meekly.

“Oh, no, Mr. Merrit. I understand completely.
The poor girl only wanted to pick up her slippers for the ball
tomorrow night. While in town yesterday, the cobbler did not have
any in her size and said he would make them up ready for her today.
Ophelia wanted to try to beat the storm so poor Jackson would not
be wet.” Lady Cummings turned away from him and brought a
handkerchief to her eye. “And now the poor thing will not be able
to attend at all. Jackson said the carriage was in complete
disrepair. Oh, and she so looked forward to it. ‘Twas her first
invitation.”

“Lady Cummings, do not fret so. I will send
my own carriage and driver for her tomorrow night.”

“Oh, Mr. Merrit, that is too considerate. But
no, we mustn’t prevail upon your kindness any longer. You have done
so much for us already.”

“I insist, Lady Cummings. I have no need of
it. It would be my pleasure.”

“You are generosity itself.” Lady Cummings
brought the handkerchief to her eye once more.

The apothecary starting down the stairs
caught his attention.

“I will take my leave of you now. Have you a
notion where my man is?”

“Oh, yes, he is in the barn with Jackson
looking at the carriage. Please, Mr. Merrit, forgive my manners,
may I offer you something? A cup of tea, brandy perhaps? You are
soaked through as well.”

Thomas nodded. “Thank you, but I must
decline. I need to return Mr. Winters to the village and have
several things to attend before I head to London on business.”
Harry would be in a snit if he did not bring him to London today,
storm or no.

“Very well, I thank you again for your
service to my dear Ophelia.” She turned to Mr. Winters, and Thomas
let himself out.

Finding Graves and the old man, Jackson,
looking over the carriage, Thomas was gratified he had the
forethought to offer his own for tomorrow night. He didn’t think,
either the old groom, or the horse would have made it the fifteen
miles to Town in the weather.

They brought Winters back to the village, and
then Thomas made his way to the cobbler and pressed the man to
deliver the slippers. For a brief second, he wondered which ball
Ophelia was to attend. There were several, he had invitations for
three, but he would only be at the most important. Lady Pen would
never forgive him if didn’t show.

True to form, Harry was in a state when
Thomas arrived back at Merrit Manor.

“Where have you been?” his uncle demanded. “I
have been waiting nearly two hours.”

“I came upon a carriage accident, Uncle. As a
matter of fact, it involved the woman I went to meet.” Thomas flung
his greatcoat over the back of the chair by the fireplace and
headed toward the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a sizeable
glass of brandy and took a large pull. The fiery amber burned away
the chill from his insides. He set down his glass and shook off his
sopping jacket.

“Is she unharmed?” Harry asked.

“Took a nasty tumble, poor girl. I came upon
them just as it happened. I drove her back to Cummings and then
fetched the apothecary. I could not very well leave Winters with no
ride, so I had to bring him back. I came home straight away.” He
sat in the chair in front of the fire and pulled off his wet
boots.

Harry took the chair opposite him. “So, did
you find out who she is?”

Thomas smiled. “Her name is Ophelia. I’m
afraid she fainted before I could speak to her. The only thing I do
know for sure is she is invited to a ball tomorrow night.” Thomas
unloosed the buttons from his waistcoat and slipped it off. “I did,
however, have the pleasure of conversing with her cousin, the Lady
Josephine.” He smiled at his uncle. “Now there’s a bird for you,
Harry. Not a day under five-and-sixty, and pleasingly proportioned
in all the right places.”

Harry feigned a punch. “When speaking with
the cousin, did you think to ask
pertinent
questions about
your Ophelia?”

Thomas shook his head no.

“Gads, boy, what is wrong with you?”

Thomas peeled off his shirt and stood. “The
conversation did not warrant such as Lady Josephine was in a state.
What would you have me do, blatantly ask if she was unmarried?”

“Why not? It would have gotten you the answer
you sought.”

“Harry, please. Have you been so long out of
genteel parlours you do not remember how to make the proper
pretty?” He retrieved his glass of brandy. “I’m going to find some
warm clothing and then I will see you to London.”

“Never mind London. At least not today. I
believe you have had enough adventure. Get yourself warm and dried.
Tomorrow though, first thing in the morning.”

Thomas sighed. If he had known Harry would
release him from the trip, he would have stayed at Cummings Hall
for a chance to speak with Ophelia, or at least ask pertinent
questions.

“Very well, Harry. First thing in the
morning.”

By nine o’clock the next morning, Harry sat
in the back of the coach, bundled in four carriage blankets with
ten hot bricks under his feet. Bright but cold, the day would be a
long one for Thomas. Harry would not only want to purchase his
book. No, Harry would want lunch at his club, coffee and a round of
cards at another, and then dessert at a third. He may not frequent
Society, but when he did, he enjoyed as much of it as he could.

Pulling up in front of the bookseller, Thomas
helped his uncle from the carriage. “I have several errands to run.
I will return for you in an hour.”

“Make it two,” Harry said. “Crowling and I
have much to discuss.”

“Very well. Should I warn White’s you will be
dining today?”

“Yes.” Harry jabbed at the air with his cane.
“Tell that man I want the table by the window, not the one in the
left dining room either. I cannot abide the fireplace in that room.
I want to eat near the columns, by the window. Can you remember
that?”

“Yes, Uncle, by your leave.” Thomas would
definitely warn Jacobs, the maitre d’ hotel at the club, his surly
uncle would be dining. He was sure Jacobs would be thrilled to hear
it.

Driving through the streets of Piccadilly,
Thomas spotted a flower shop. He stopped the team and tied them
off, went into the shop and presented his card. The clerk showed
him several bouquets, but nothing seemed quite right to Thomas.
Looking around, he spied beautiful pink flowers in the corner.

“Those, what are those?” he asked
pointing.

“Peonies, my lord. The symbol of happy
marriage.” The clerk hovered.

Happy marriage. Well, a little forward
thinking on his part, but Thomas liked the flowers just the same.
“Yes, I shall take those.”

“Excellent choice.” The clerk began pulling
the stems out of the bucket of water. “Twelve, my lord?”

“Yes, and could you have them delivered to
St. John’s Wood? I’ll pay extra.”

“Of course, my lord. Shall you write the
card?” He pushed a small piece of vellum and an inkpot forward.

What to say….
I hope you are feeling
better. Have fun at your ball tonight. My carriage will arrive at
half-eight. T. Merrit

Not the greatest poetry, but he presumed the
flowers would speak for themselves.

“Will there be anything else, my lord?”

“No, thank you.” Thomas smiled as he
sauntered out of the shop. He wondered what Ophelia would say about
the flowers.

Jacobs, stoic that he was, barely batted an
eyelash when Thomas requested his uncle’s favorite table at
White’s. He looked around while he was there, but seeing none of
his acquaintance, headed for Caymore House. Perhaps William would
have an hour to waste.