Why Lords Lose Their Hearts (16 page)

“Take me home,” Perdita said tightly. “Please, Archer.” The look of desperation in her eyes sent his protective instincts, already in a high state thanks to the attack upon her, into orbit.

“One minute,” he promised her. “I need to ensure that this fellow is taken care of properly.”

It was perhaps a measure of Perdita’s shock that she didn’t argue, but nodded and wrapped her own arms around herself, like a child seeking warmth.

“What’s the to-do?” Con along with Ormond hurried forward. “We heard shouting and saw the crowd gathering. If Georgina hadn’t recognized Perdita in the middle of it all we should have left before things got out of control.”

Archer was grateful to see that Georgina and Isabella were comforting Perdita. “It would appear that the stalker has struck again,” he said, his jaw tight. “This fellow stumbled over muttering something about knowing what she did last season and tossed a flask full of what I very much hope was animal rather than human blood on her.”

Both men cursed and Archer heard Isabella gasp behind him. “You poor dear,” Georgie said to Perdita. “Con, we should take her away from here.”

Before they could discuss the matter further, however, Blakemore turned to them. “I escorted the duchess this evening and would be happy to see that she returns safely home.”

Which would happen, Archer thought, over his dead body. He would accompany Perdita home whether Blakemore liked it or not.

Aloud he said, “What about the fellow who did this?” Looking behind the other man, he saw that the crowd had thinned and the young man who had attacked Perdita was nowhere to be seen.

“I had the watch take him away,” Blakemore said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It was clear the fellow was drunk out of his wits. Clearly he must have been to do something as absurd as pour wine all down the front of Her Grace’s gown.”

“It was blood,” Archer corrected. “And I wished to question the man further.”

Blakemore winced. “My apologies, old chap. I didn’t realize he was anything more than a common ruffian. I’m sure you’ll be able to find him at the nearest magistrate’s office tomorrow. It’s not as if he will be walking the streets free for the next couple of days. One does not accost a duchess without feeling the full weight of the law, after all.”

Conceding the man had a point, Archer turned to check on Perdita, who was still shivering. “Blakemore, I think the duchess would prefer to have her sister and Lady Coniston accompany her home,” Archer said with more diplomacy than he felt. “Her gown is, after all, not quite decent what with being covered in blood and whatnot.”

“And what of me?” Mrs. Fitzroy, who’d been pouting off to the side while the others hovered over Perdita, demanded. “I was almost splattered with blood, as well!”

Mentally rolling his eyes, Archer said, “Of course, Mrs. Fitzroy, you are clearly overset by this business, as well. Perhaps Blakemore will see to it that you are returned home safely.”

Archer expected the other man to protest, but the baronet must have read more into Archer’s relationship with Perdita than they’d intended, for after a thoughtful look from one to the other he said, “Of course, delighted, I’m sure.” Turning to the widow he said, “Mrs. Fitzroy, will you allow me to see you home?”

The widow frowned, but allowed Blakemore to take her arm. “Thank you, my lord,” she said haughtily, “for being such a gentleman.” The implication being that her original escort was not. Though Archer could not possibly have cared less.

When they were gone, Archer and the others led Perdita to the gates of the pleasure gardens where Ormond’s carriage, which was quite large, awaited them.

Once they were on their way, Archer turned to Perdita, who had finally stopped shivering though she clung to Isabella’s arm for support. “Tell me exactly what happened,” he said quietly.

Looking up, he could just see Perdita’s frown in the dim carriage light. “What do you mean?” she asked. “You were there. You saw everything I did.”

“But you might have seen something that I missed,” he said patiently. “So tell me from the beginning.”

So, with a sigh, Perdita related step by step exactly what had taken place just before and when the young man had come upon them and accosted her. “And then he threw the flask of blood on me and laughed in that maniacal way.” She shivered as she said the words. “It was as if he were in some sort of trance,” she said with a shudder.

“I thought the notes were awful,” Georgina said, rubbing Perdita’s arm. “But I think receiving the message in person is much worse.”

“It’s certainly a more personal approach than our friend has tried in the past,” Archer said grimly. “I don’t like it. It seems to indicate that this person has decided to stop playing nice.”

“If you call trying to make Georgina think her dead husband was alive, then making an attempt on her life, ‘playing nice,’” Con said bitterly. “As far as I’m concerned this bastard has been playing dirty from the beginning, he’s just started out with more force when it comes to Perdita.”

“I suppose it’s because he thinks I deserve it,” Perdita said quietly. “Perhaps I do. I am, after all, the reason that Gervase is dead. And that’s what this person is so angry about.”

“The only reason the late duke is dead,” Archer bit out, “is his own miserable hide. If he hadn’t threatened your life, then you wouldn’t have been forced to defend yourself.”

“Amen,” Trevor said fiercely. “I have a hard time believing anyone mourns the fellow. Though I suppose the dowager must.”

“Which is why I believe she’s the one behind all of these attacks,” Archer said carefully.

“I don’t know if I can agree,” said Perdita with a shake of her head. “She is ruthless, but I don’t see her setting someone upon me to do something like this. I know her, and she is too fond of seeing her own handiwork to ever rely on someone to follow her orders out in the world. And that includes what happened to Isabella and Georgina, as well. I think it must be someone else. Someone who is comfortable giving orders and relying on his surrogates to follow them.”

“Like a general, you mean?” Georgina asked, brow furrowed. “I must admit that it makes some sense. Not having spent much time with the duchess myself, I cannot speak to a great deal of knowledge of her character. But she does strike me as a hands-on sort of person, if that is what you mean.”

“Exactly,” Perdita agreed. “She adored Gervase, and I cannot imagine that she would seek revenge against anyone who might have hurt him without seeing it with her own eyes.”

“Whoever it is that has you in their sights,” Archer said with a shrug, “it is clear that he means to go all out, so to speak.” Turning to Perdita, he frowned. “How many threatening letters have you received thus far?”

Her mouth dropped open. “How did you…?”

“You told us in Bath that you’d already received several of them. It stands to reason that you’ve gotten more since then.”

Her mouth tight, she said, “Five. I have received five threatening letters and one was included with a bouquet of roses.”

“What?” Georgina demanded. “You didn’t tell me that! Why roses?”

“They were what Gervase always sent the day after…” Perdita paused, her eyes revealing her discomfort.

“You don’t need to finish,” Archer said quietly. He was as aware as anyone of just how Gervase had stripped her of her dignity time and time again. “What did the note say? Was it the same as the others?”

“It was a bit different,” Perdita said, twisting her hands before her. “It was a reminder, more than anything else. Of the anniversary.”

“Of your wedding?” Archer asked.

“Of his death,” Georgina guessed. “Oh, dearest, what a horrible thing to remind you of.”

“When is it?” Archer asked, his every sinew on alert. What if this person were merely teasing Perdita as he led up to some spectacle of revenge to occur on the actual anniversary of Ormond’s death? It made a sick sort of sense.

“In five days, on April 25,” she said. “On April 25 it will have been two years since I killed my husband.”

“Do not say it like that,” Isabella protested. “You make it sound as if you set out to do it. And I will remind you that both Georgina and myself were there and might have killed him just as well.”

“You’re a dear, Isabella,” Perdita said, squeezing her sister’s hand. “But even if you were both there it doesn’t mean that I didn’t have a hand in his death. Whoever it is that seeks to punish me is right.”

“By that rationale then he was also right to punish Georgina and Isabella,” Trevor argued. “This is the work of a madman and nothing more. None of you is to blame for his insanity.”

“What’s to be done?” Archer said, cutting to the chase. “We are clearly seeing some sort of intensifying of this person’s agenda as the anniversary approaches. I think it means that we need to take drastic measures.”

Perdita’s fine auburn eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean, ‘drastic measures’? I warn you now that I refuse to live shut up in Ormond House like some sort of prisoner.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Archer said firmly. “Not least because it would be too difficult to maintain security in the middle of London. We have no notion of whether any of your servants are in this person’s employ, and I refuse to take chances with your life like that.”

“Then where?” Con asked. “You are more than welcome to come to us in Kent,” he said to Perdita. “I’m sure Georgina would be pleased as punch to have you.”

“I shouldn’t like to put you in danger, as well,” Perdita said with a shake of her head. “It’s why I haven’t gone to Isabella and Trevor. Especially with Isabella’s condition. I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I somehow endangered the child.”

“I was thinking of someplace altogether different,” Archer said firmly. “A place where you are a complete unknown. A place where you can come and go as you please without feeling as if you are in the sights of some madman constantly.”

“Well?” Perdita asked, her attention trained upon him. “Where is this magical place?”

“I cannot tell you,” he said with an apologetic tone. “It must remain a secret to all but a very few until we get there.”

“But what am I to tell my maid?” Perdita asked, frowning. “She will need to know what to pack.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be bringing your maid,” he said. “And I will forgo my valet.”

“This sounds like a scandal waiting to happen,” Georgina said with a grin. “I like it.”

“Well, I do not!” Perdita said, glaring. “It’s completely improper. And impractical besides. How are you supposed to perform your duties as the secretary to Ormond? It’s not as if you can simply take off for a few weeks and expect Ormond House to simply go on without you.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what I mean to do,” Archer said with a grin. “Or I shall tell Trevor that he is welcome to dismiss me.”

“I can do without you for a few weeks,” Trevor said with a shrug. “It’s not as if I cannot write my own correspondence in the name of protecting my sister-in-law.”

“But … but…” Perdita looked around and found them all smiling like little children at a traveling fair. “You’re all mad!” she said, throwing up her hands. “Utterly mad.”

“Not mad, dearest,” Georgina said, patting her friend’s hand. “I think it might be quite sane, in fact. You certainly don’t wish to sit about here in town waiting for some calamity to befall you. This way, you can wait in safety and seclusion for the anniversary date to pass, then return to town with no one the wiser.”

“But what are we to tell people?” Perdita demanded. “It’s not as if I can simply disappear and expect no one in the ton to notice that I have not been seen in days. I have responsibilities. And social obligations.”

“You let me take care of those,” Georgina said with a reassuring smile. “I will see to it that a story is passed around the ton that you’ve been taken with the measles. Dreadful, but it does happen. And you are quite likely to contract them what with all your charity work in foundling hospitals.”

“An excellent idea,” Archer commended her. “I must admit that’s much better than my plan for her to simply go away to the country for a bit. This way no one will be able to find her out with a well-placed letter to a country neighbor.”

The carriage having slowed to a stop, Archer turned to Perdita. “What say you, Your Grace? Will you trust me to keep you safe?”

In the dim light of the carriage lamps, he was unable to read her expression, but the shake of her head was obvious enough. “I cannot do it,” she said sadly. “I cannot go someplace else and put those people in danger, as well. And if I were to leave, this person—whoever he is—would think he’d won. And I will not let him think it.”

Archer bit back a curse of frustration. If she was still unwilling to concede that she should leave London for her own safety at this point, with her sister and Georgie adding their voices to his own, then it was unlikely that she could ever be convinced.

Knowing he could do little to add to his previous arguments, he left off trying to convince her the whole way back to Ormond House.

He was still fuming, hours later, as he tried and failed to fall asleep. He’d asked her quietly once they were inside whether she’d like company, but she’d rebuffed him, saying she needed to be alone. He wasn’t sure if it was because she thought he’d try again to convince her, or because she was angry about Mrs. Fitzroy, but whatever the reason, he went to bed alone, in his own bedchamber.

“If this keeps up I’m going to have to kidnap her and take her to safety myself,” he muttered, punching his pillow into a more comfortable position. Then as he laid his head down, he thought about what he’d just said. Kidnap her. Kidnap her?

He sat up, the sheets falling down to his waist. “Of course!”

To the room at large he said, “I will simply have to kidnap her.”

Thirteen

After a long night, Perdita arose the next morning not long after dawn. Again and again, she’d fallen into a fitful sleep only to be jolted awake again by the memory of the young man from last night dousing her gown with blood. Exhaustion had overtaken her sometime after three, but the noise of the street vendors had penetrated her light sleep as they began their day, and so she rose and dressed.