Page 13 of Her Daring Earl
“I suppose he has always preferred that things come to light,” Eliza couldn’t help but note.
“He wouldn’t be killed for it, in any case. It’s not as though he is irreplaceable on this,” Baxter said, sitting back in his chair.
“Well,” Eliza’s mother said, placing her fork down and clasping her hands together as she looked around at the rest of them. "There is only one thing to do about it."
They all waited expectantly, knowing she would finish her idea shortly.
“We visit his townhouse and find out.”
CHAPTER 5
Fitz awoke that morning with aches in muscles he hadn’t even known existed. He felt like a man twice his age as he walked down the stairs, only to be met by the entirety of his family, all with many questions and no offer of reprieve.
“Are you going to tell us what happened, Fitz, or not?” asked Georgina with a frown as she crossed her arms over her chest. They had all gathered in the drawing room, awaiting him until he finally descended. He had taken his time, both because his entire body was in pain and also because he had hoped that if he waited long enough, they all would have gone off in their own pursuits.
He had been wrong.
“Nothing happened. There was an incident on my way home,” he explained as patiently as he could. “A man tried to rob me and then there was a carriage accident. I came away unscathed but for a few bruises. I lost nothing and every part is intact.”
Except, perhaps, his honor.
“I sense there is more to this,” Dot said, but before she could continue, a knock sounded on the door.
“Yes?” Fitz’s mother called out and the butler stepped into the room.
“Lady Willoughby and Lady Eliza have come to call.”
“Oh,” his mother said, her lips pursing together as she tried to decide what to do. “As it happens, we are in the middle of something.”
“Best show them in,” Fitz said with a sigh. “They are part of this and will likely have the same questions.”
He could also keep his story straight if he only had to tell it once.
“What do they have to do with it?” Henrietta asked, and he had just enough time to explain their presence in the carriage – for he knew Eliza would tell his sisters anyway – when the women in question walked in.
“Oh, Lady Willoughby, thank you so much,” his mother said, walking toward her friend and wrapping her in a very rare embrace. “You saved my son.”
Lady Willoughby fanned her reddening cheeks. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she said, although she clearly meant otherwise. “Our timing was fortunate, is all.”
Fitz’s mother led the new arrivals to the corner of the sofa where Fitz had previously been sitting, leaving him to stand in front of the lot of them as though he was on stage, there to entertain them.
Not that he would have been able to sit still while telling this story. He tried to stand in one position, rocking from his heels to his toes and back again as he cleared his throat, but soon enough he found himself bouncing and he found the best way to contain all of the energy that was trying to convince him to run out of here and away from all of these questioning eyes was to pace back and forth.
“So, as you were saying, a thief accosted you in the middle of the street – just outside of Hanover Square – with no oneelse about, and then Lady Willoughby and Lady Eliza happened to come along, knock over the man, and save your life?” Sloane asked, setting her chin on her fist, her elbow resting on the arm of the sofa.
Fitz began to chew nervously on his thumbnail.
“Yes, I suppose that’s the way of it.”
“But that’s not all,” Eliza said nearly triumphantly, and a chill ran down Fitz’s spine. Did she know the rest of it? No. She couldn’t. There was no possible way that her life could intersect with Madeline’s, and even if it had, how could the activities of last night ever have returned to her?
“Lady Eliza,” he said through gritted teeth, fixing an expression toward her that he hoped was telling her not to speak another word, and yet every pair of eyes in the room likely saw his face and knew there was more to this story. “I do not believe there is any more to share.”
“No?” she said, lifting a brow, openly defying him. “You were not nearly poisoned?”
“Poisoned!” Fitz couldn’t be sure who said it. It seemed to be a melody of his mother and sisters all voicing their concerns together.
He sighed, resigned to his fate.
