The Rogue's Surrender (The Nelson's Tea Series Book 3) (26 page)

Constance stroked Percy’s sweaty brow, smoothing hair away from his face.

“Please,” she said, biting her lip as Percy moaned. “Tell us more about the secret work you and your mother did for your people, else I shall go mad.”

“Very well.” Mercy pulled the needle through Percy’s skin, breaking into a casual banter. “So many wayward souls passed through our cellars that I lost count.” She knotted a stitch, cut it, and then repeated the process. “Dockworkers handling contraband, dissenting soldiers, pirates, widows of men lost at Trafalgar and Cadiz, children… spies. Who they were or where they’d come from wasn’t our concern. We offered relief and frequently learned secrets some were willing to tell.”

Snip.
Another stitch.

She stole a glance at Jeffers. “I commend your steady hand,
señor
.”

Jeffers absorbed the compliment. “Thank you,
señorita
. I consider it my duty.”

“My valet’s skill…” Percy said, rousing from his pained stupor, “with a needle… is renowned.”

Jeffers bowed his head. “Thank you, Your Grace. And may I say it’s been a pleasure to serve you.”

Simon laughed. “Only you two could make jokes now.” He trained his gaze on Mercy. “Might this be where you picked up information about Lord Melville?”

“My father dealt with many men, my lord. One of the many conveniences of being a smuggler’s daughter.”

Gillian smiled and crossed her arms. “As we all know, experience comes with a price. Thank goodness you were there… in the thick of things… willing to take on such a heavy burden.”

“There were so many injured…” Blood splattered on Mercy’s stained hands. Color drained from her face.

Garrick wondered what she must be thinking, reliving.
Hounds’ blood, I had no idea how much she’d been forced to bear.

She blinked back a tear. Was she reliving the horror?

“What you’ve seen…” Constance spoke softly, stroking Percy’s face. “What you’ve been forced to do, cousin, makes me weep. But I know if you hadn’t been through those experiences you wouldn’t be in a position to help Percy now.”

Constance was right. Every moment, every hour led them to another moment more important than the last. The trick was to learn, to grow, to master events beyond their control.

Garrick looked down at his feet. The poker lay on the floor, black, harmless, nothing more than a tool now. He rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension he felt rifling through his body. Surprisingly, the old heavy yoke tying him to the past for so long was gone. He felt oddly… revived.

Was Delgado’s nightmarish hold finally over?

Constance lifted Percy’s hand. “If I’ve learned anything in five years of marriage, it’s that we are all more than a cog in a wheel. My mother lost her life because of one man’s greed. That greed brought Percy and I together.” She looked up at Mercy, her green eyes filled with emotion. “Destiny brought you home to us for a time such as this.” She smiled sadly. “I am sure of it.”

Simon cleared his throat. “Percy will pull through, Constance. He might desire everyone else to think he’s vulnerable, but we know better, don’t we?”

Garrick’s laughter caught Mercy off-guard. “Aye. That we do.”

Mercy blinked blankly. Didn’t she realize Constance was letting her know that no one blamed her for Percy’s injuries?

She knotted the last stitch in Percy’s leg then stood wiping her bloody hands on her nightrail. “He’ll need more herbal liniment before we apply bandages to his legs.”

Jeffers stood, having finished Percy’s right leg. “I’ll take care of it,
señorita
.”

Garrick stepped forward. “Let me help.”

Mercy wiped the back of her hand over her forehead, leaving a streak of Percy’s blood there. “Thank you, but I’ll need you and Simon to lift the duke.” Exhaustion softened her voice. She stepped back and moved to Percy’s side. “Let us examine those ribs.”

Garrick and Simon moved forward to raise Percy onto his side.

Mercy cut Percy’s waistcoat and linen shirt away from his torso. She and Constance pulled the fabric across his back.

“
Dios mio!
Who did this?”

Crisscrossed scars branded the duke’s back.

Garrick wasted no time to provide an answer. “The devil’s work.”

Mercy didn’t know about
Capitán
Barnabas Frink or the man’s intent to kill Percy on board the
Striker
.

Mercy looked at Garrick. “What—”

“We all bear scars. Some are more visible than others.” Now he could see that Mercy hid hers better than he ever could.

Confusion marred her face. “Yes, but…”

“Pirates.” Constance provided the explanation. “If not for
this
,” she said, pointing to Percy’s scars, “Percy would have never been in the right place to save my life.”

“Pirates? Are you saying Admiral Nelson ordered Percy to infiltrate a pirate ship?”

Percy moaned, shifting on his hip.

“He acted alone, to find his sister’s killer. Lady Celeste’s picture is the one you saw on the side table in Percy’s study.” Garrick frowned. “Some prices are worth paying, no matter the cost.”

Mercy inspected Percy’s back. What was she thinking? Did it bother her that a man born to a dukedom had risked everything for vengeance?

“The least…” Percy inhaled then winced. “I could do.”

“It was more than enough.” Fire burned in Constance’s eyes. “Don’t you think it’s time you told us what happened to Percy, Uncle?” she asked, changing the subject.

Mercy proceeded to remove the bandages off Percy’s ribs.

Simon and Garrick locked eyes. “I’d like to know the answer to that question too.”

“Our carriage was attacked.”

“Attacked?” Garrick turned his questioning gaze on Gillian, who’d finally offered the information. He swallowed hard, fearing he’d experience another emotional outburst at this news. But the furious surge never came.

Percy’s sudden movement took Garrick by surprise. He caught Percy’s wrist.

“Hold him still.” Mercy drew the edges of Percy’s skin across his ribs and began to stitch them together. “I don’t want this to be more difficult or excruciating than it has to be.”

Garrick stiffened, knowing all too well the unbearable pain Percy endured. “Who did this?”

“I cannot say.” Gillian’s voice carried a plethora of emotion. “There was a… commotion. Our driver, Ormund, warned us, but neither Simon nor Percy had enough time to react before the carriage stopped. Percy shoved me into Simon’s arms. He made us swear not to leave the coach. He said my life was worth more than his, as if that could possibly be true.”

“More,” Percy whispered.

Constance put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Percy. How wrong you are.”

“Not… wrong.” Percy glanced over his left shoulder. “Child.”

Constance removed his disheveled wig and ran her fingers through his hair. “Oliver is safe, my love. You have nothing to fear for our child.”

Hair rose on Garrick’s neck. Percy wasn’t that debilitated. He knew Oliver was safe. And he had to have known that Garrick would never have allowed anything to happen to his family while under his charge. That begged him to wonder. Why would the duke question the presence of a baby while assassins attacked Simon’s coach?

Unless… He glanced at Gillian.

Percy raised a bloody, shaking hand and pointed at Gillian.

Tension thickened in the room.

Simon wore an emotionless mask.

A slow rising blush crept up the baroness’s neck.

“Impossible!” Garrick shouted, giving Mercy a start.

“Is,” Percy replied.

Gillian’s eyes illuminated with a strange inner light. She smiled. “It appears the doctor was wrong.”

“Doctor?” Mercy appeared horribly confused.

Garrick didn’t blame her. He was having a terrible time following what was happening too. “A baby? How is that possible? I thought—”

“Protect. Had to protect,” Percy murmured, struggling to rise.

Mercy sucked in a breath and placed a shaking hand on her brow. “Hold him down before he breaks his stitches loose. He cannot afford to lose any more blood.”

“Hold still, Your Grace.” Simon’s order calmed Percy. The duke relaxed and slowly began to breath evenly again. “You have done your duty. We are safe.”

“We.” Gillian
paced
across the stone floor, her shoes clip-clopping on the floor’s tiled surface. “I. You… already know why Percy forced us to remain inside the carriage.”

“Perhaps it would be better,” Simon said, “if I explain how Percy saved our lives.”

Mercy let out an exasperated sigh. “Please, go on.”

“Percy made us swear not to leave the coach. Even though Gillian protested. After Percy left the carriage, I attempted to follow him but the door handle wouldn’t budge.”

“Percy’s doing.” Gillian’s eyes misted. “The damned fool.”

Simon looked exhausted and despondent. Garrick understood the depth of Simon’s misery, the overwhelming sense of helplessness he must have felt protecting a woman in his care. He’d experienced the very same urgency and contempt clean through to his bones. He’d failed Esmeralda. He’d almost failed Mercy.

Percy had risked his life to save Gillian, Simon, and their unborn child, the child Russell had told them they would never have. If Percy had failed and died, Constance would have hated Simon forever. If Gillian had lost her baby, she and Simon would have been despondent.

“Perhaps I should start much earlier.” Simon regarded Garrick. “Whitbread had just finished a long diatribe meant to tire the court when Percy asked for an audience. I was actually quite pleased an excuse had arrived to pull me away from Melville. Our genius Whitbread had everything under control, you see. But I digress… When I met with Percy, he explained that Garrick had arrived in London with Lydia’s daughter and she would only speak with me. I agreed to meet with her and as we traveled to Hereford Street, I insisted Gillian be allowed to accompany us.”

Simon wiped sweat off his brow. “We made a detour to Bolton Street. Only a few blocks out of the mews, my driver, Ormund, signaled we were in trouble. Percy left the conveyance to help Ormund repel our attackers, insisting that I was more important than he was, and that I needed to protect Gillian should anyone attempt to enter the carriage.” He locked eyes with his wife. “Protecting Gillian and my child was the easiest decision I’ve ever made, but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. No man wants someone else to fight his battles.”

“My fight too,” Percy said, releasing a hiss of air.

“You made that abundantly clear when you pounded on the carriage door and told us Ormund was dead.” Gillian wrapped her arms around her waist to ward off a chill.

Constance released a squeak. “Percy drove you to the townhouse? But how could you allow it, Uncle? Look at him!”

Gillian put her hand over her heart. “We had no idea he was wounded until we arrived.”

A whimper escaped Constance as she dabbed a droplet of blood from Percy’s powder-smeared face. “Oh, Percy! Ever the chivalrous and gallant fool.”

“Never a fool, Constance.” Percy carefully inclined his head to look at him. “Henry and I know that better… than most.”

“Speaking of Henry, he and Adele should be arriving soon. They’ll have received word that you arrived.” Gillian moved to Constance’s side. “Please, Constance. We’ve done all we can do. Let me assist you to your bedchamber. You must rest before Oliver wakes. I’ll take your place.”

“No.” Constance jerked back her arm. She shook her head as she stared at everyone in the room. “I will not leave him.”

Gillian reached out, a pained expression contorting her beautiful face. “I cannot argue with those familiar words, can I, Simon?”

“No, my love,” Simon answered. “You cannot.”

“Expendable,” Percy muttered, stirred once more back to life by his wife’s tears. His eyes flickered open. He inhaled sharply.

Constance draped herself over Percy’s face. “No, darling. You are
not
expendable. Not to me.
Never!
” Tears flowed down the duchess’s cheeks and she placed gentle kisses on the duke’s forehead.

Percy raised his right hand, ever so slowly, and grabbed Constance’s arm. “Tears… don’t become you, my gel.”

Mercy applied the final bandage around Percy’s ribs. “Even the strong experience momentary weakness, cousin.”

“Where I am weak… she is strong,” Percy said, responding to her jab. “If anything happens to me…”

“Nothing is going to happen to you.” Constance insisted as the door opened and a draft of air filtered towards them. James Russell, Jacko Clemmons, and Oliver Stanley rushed in. “Russell. Thank God!” Constance nodded to Mercy then turned her attention back on her husband. “You are going to be fine, my love.”

“Is that an order?” Percy mumbled.

“It’s our
final
word on the subject, isn’t it, Ollie?” Jacko hit Ollie on the arm. “A ship isn’t a ship without a cap’n.”