Page 43 of Lord Lonbourn's Daughter
“I am coming,” he promised.
“This is insane, Darcy!” The colonel did not mince his words, but it was a futile endeavour to try to discourage him.
“Make yourself useful and have my horse saddled, Richard.”
“If you get through this unscathed, Darcy, I am convinced your wife will finish the job when you get home, and I shall definitely help her.”
“Ah, Elizabeth is not at home. She is at Bennet House, helping her sister assemble her wedding clothes.”
“Do not remind me…” the colonel growled.
“Where is Bingley?” Darcy suddenly remembered to enquire about his loose-tongued friend.
“I have no idea. He is a slippery son of a bitch and disappeared into the throng while you fought.”
“My horse, Richard. It had better be ready when I get out of here.”
His knee hurt like hell. He must have wrenched it when he blacked out. Mounting his horse would be difficult, and he was loath to do so with a hundred witnesses, but it could not be helped.
In the end, Richard gave his bottom a push, and he managed to haul himself up by his sore arms.
“For the last time, Darcy, go home!” his cousin implored.
He did not answer but spurred his horse forwards. Swiftsilver obeyed but tossed his head nervously. The stallion must have sensed his rider’s inattention due to a splitting headache accompanied by a bout of dizziness. The animal pranced and skittered. Hazard noticed and smirked from his magnificent beast—a grey that he had reared himself. Swiftsilver was by no means inferior, and he was in better condition than his owner. By the time they reached Queen Elizabeth Gate, Darcy was barely conscious.
“You may pull out and pay me the thousand guineas,” Hazard offered graciously. Not even he found sport in beating a man who was already down, but Darcy could not allow it. He could not risk it.
A couple of Hazard’s friends seemed to have grasped the seriousness of his injuries and tried futilely to convince him to call off the bet. Others were less honourable and continued to taunt him. He needed neither because his mind was set. Swiftsilver would do his job by a light touch to his flanks. All he had to do was to hold on with all his might and try not to throw up. Bile was rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down.
“No, we shall race, and I shall beat you,” he managed to croak out, straightening himself with the last ounce of strength he had left.
Richard was beside him, looking grim and worried. Darcy smiled at him, aware it resembled more of a grimace.
They lined up next to each other, and the sea of people parted to clear the way ahead. Hazard looked devilishly fit on top of his horse, as though the fight had not done him any harm. Darcy knew that the outcome of the race did not matter; the extortion letter said nothing about him winning, only that he must race on Rotten Row as soon as the fight had ended. Darcy was thankful that Lord Hazard had accepted, or he would have been unable to accomplish the last demand to free his sister.
A respectful bow passed between them before both horses were spurred into action. For the first few yards, they were side by side. The horses were equally matched it seemed. Darcy held on to the saddle and the mane of his horse. He had not enough strength left in his thighs to trust them.
He was doing well; Hazard had gained a head but nothing more. He was riding so hard the scenery became indistinct before it all went black. He had not fainted; he could still hear the thunder of hoofs, smell Swiftsilver’s coat, and feel the sweaton his neck. Then the world tilted, and he could feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing, think nothing.
Chapter 14 Discovered
Colonel Fitzwilliam pounded on Darcy House’s knocker. The butler opened the door, and his usually stoic expression faltered for a second before he regained his composure.
“Bring him in, Colonel.”
“Where is Lady Elizabeth?”
“At home. I mean, Bennet House, sir.”
#
“What is that noise? It sounds like a riot,” her father groused.
“A riot on Grosvenor Square? I highly doubt it.” Elizabeth removed to the window overlooking the street. “There is a crowd gathered outside Darcy House, but I doubt it is a riot because the gentlemen are too finely dressed for marauders and riffraff.”
Elizabeth pressed her face closer to the window. It was difficult to see what was going on next door from the sharp angle. It was then that she noticed the horse with a man draped over it with his clothes in tatters. Colonel Fitzwilliam came and lifted the man off the beast with the help of a couple of footmen. Even though his countenance was battered, bruised, and covered in blood, she knew that face, that posture, and thatframe. She inhaled sharply, turned on her heel, and ran as fast as she could, not bothering with shoes, bonnet, or shawl. She raced down the stairs and out of the door.
The street was packed with gentlemen, at least a hundred, but Elizabeth noticed none of them. She ploughed her way through, caring nothing for whom she might bump into or push aside until she reached the steps, bolting up them and into the entrance hall. She came to a sudden halt when her eyes landed on her husband, who was being carried carefully up the stairs by his cousin and his servants. A tall gentleman she did not know followed her inside and called out, “I hope he remembers that he owes me two thousand guineas when he wakes up!”
