Page 8 of Too Wylde To Tame
“Yes, Fincastle? What is it?”
“There’s been a fire at Hamden Court, my lord,” the little man said, all but ringing his hands.
Fredericks’s blood ran cold at the thought. “How bad?”
“Minimal, sir, to everything but the summer kitchen. Two of the maids were injured. One severely.”
“Have the servants see to my horse. I’ll leave within the hour.”
Fincastle nodded. “Certainly, my lord.”
“Oh, and Fincastle?”
“Yes, my lord?”
Frederick considered his options. “Please have a dozen red roses—no! Have three dozen rose; one red, one pink and one white— delivered to Miss Charity Wylde on Brooke Street. And the note should offer only my apologies for having to depart on short notice and an assurance that I will make every effort to return soon.”
If the secretary thought it an unusual request, he wisely kept his own counsel on the subject. Instead, he simply offered a curt nod and then went off to see to the tasks he’d been assigned.
Another soft curse, this one entirely of disappointment. He would not see her that day. Or likely the next. And in that length of time, he feared what she might think.
Moving to the wash stand, he washed the best he could given the need for haste, and then shaved the morning’s beard. With his grooming complete, he dressed in fresh clothes intended for riding and left his chambers. His housekeeper was waiting at the foot of the stairs with some bread, cheese and a bottle of her famed lemonade.
“I know you’ll want to hurry along, so I put together some provisions that should see you to Hamden Court, my lord,” she offered.
“Thank you, Mrs. Collins. I cannot imagine what I would do without you,” he said, accepting the bundle from her.
“Do let the poor dears know they’ll be in all our prayers, sir.”
Frederick nodded. “I will. If Jameson should come around—”
“I know, my lord. He’ll not be left unattended in the house.”
Considering that the last time Jameson had darkened his door a good portion of the family’s silver had vanished, that was a very good thing. “Bless you, Mrs. Collins. Thank you for all that you do—running this house and me.”
She blushed like a school girl despite the fact that she’d been tending him since he was in leading strings. “Off with you now. Tis a long day’s ride and heaven knows what is awaiting you at the end of it.”
With a grimace, Frederick nodded and then quickly exited the house. A groom was there, holding the reins to his mount. Passing the bundle of food to the boy, Frederick hoisted himself into the saddle and then secured his thoughtfully prepared provisions into a small leather pouch. Within minutes, he was off, making for Essex and whatever catastrophe awaited him there.
* * *
When he sawthe delivery of roses, the vast quantity of them was a testament to the degree of his brother’s infatuation. Jameson smiled with calculating satisfaction. Standing upright from where he had leaned nonchalantly against the wrought iron railing of the kitchen entrance, he stepped forward. The delivery boy drew up short.
“Beg pardon, sir.”
“No, I must beg your pardon, young man,” Jameson said. “Is that the delivery from Viscount Welbey?” he asked.
The boy’s shock at having someone know the identity of the sender without even seeing the card was visible on his face. “It is, sir.”
“I’m his brother. He asked me to intercept it and deliver them to the lady in person with his most heartfelt apologies.”
The boy’s head dropped and he shook it. “I couldn’t do that, sir. My employer would box my ears and send me off without pay.”
Jameson retrieved one of his few precious coins from his pocket and passed it to the boy. “There, you’ve been paid. The lady will get her roses and your employer need never know.”
The boy reached out, accepting the coin in his grubby hand and reluctantly relinquished the bouquet. “You promise she’ll get them?”
Jameson smiled with wicked glee. “Oh, I can assure you that she will get them. Immediately. You may even watch from across the street to ensure it.”
