Into Chaos Hurled (Book 2)

Nine - Sneaking Around

Peter

The Duke was in and out of consciousness for the better part of two days. Lottie barely left his bedside, coming down for meals and nothing else. Mother soon seemed to realise the futility of it, and tried to persuade her to switch with Sophie or one of the maids so she could rest for a while. But she refused, saying that he might wake up for good while she was gone, and not recognise where he was. A familiar face would certainly help.

On the evening of the second day, I went up soon after Lottie did, to check on her. She'd barely said a word, and only picked at her meal. That was unlike her.

"All right, Lottie?" I asked as I looked in.

She turned in her chair, one eyebrow arcing up. "Petey? What are you doing here?"

"I feel that I haven't seen you at all in the past couple days." I lowered myself to one knee next to her chair, noticing that she was holding tightly to his hand, her fingers laced between his. "Are you absolutely sure you don't need some rest?"

"Petey," she sighed, and she sounded much too tired for someone her age. "We've been over this."

"I know, I just..." I saw the strain in her eyes, and I knew all she wanted was to know something. I did too. I just wasn't sure how ready I was to handle that news.

"He will wake up, won't he?" she asked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

And then, ever so slightly, I saw him squeeze back.

Lottie sat forward, more alert than I'd seen her in days. "Go get Mama and Papa, Petey. Quickly."

I pushed myself to my feet so quickly I became lightheaded. I had to wait a few seconds before turning on my heel and hurrying down the hall to the stairs, nearly tripping as I thundered down them. Mother and Father started when I burst through the doors of the sitting room, panting.

"The Duke," I got out. "He's awake."

Immediately they set down their cups and followed me back upstairs. The Duke was more awake now, Lottie helping him sit up in bed. His eyes flicked up to us as we crowded inside, more than a little surprised.

"Apologies, Your Grace," Father said, tugging at his bow tie as he supported himself on the bedpost. "We did not mean to startle you. How are you feeling?"

"Better, milord, much better." He looked round at us. "It seems I was under the very diligent eye of Lady Charlotte this whole time."

Lottie blushed, and I caught a small smile from Mother.

"I must thank you for your hospitality," he said. "And I apologise for imposing...this was the first place I thought of to seek refuge."

"You're not imposing, Your Grace," Mother said. "What exactly were you running away from?"

"There were these men..." said the Duke, picking at his blankets. "They ambushed me on the road. Dragged me from the car and beat me."

"What did the men look like?" Father asked after a second. The tension in the room seemed to have risen when he spoke those words.

"Didn't get a good look at their faces," he said, shaking his head. "They were wearing caps that shaded their eyes. And the night was dark...about to rain."

"Do you have an idea of who sent them?" Mother was gripping the back of Lottie's chair, her knuckles white.

The Duke didn't answer right away. His golden eyes took on a shuttered look, as though he might have been hiding something.

"Yes," he said after a moment.

"The night you came, Your Grace," said Lottie, and I'd nearly forgotten she was there. "You grabbed Dr Nash's wrist and you said 'It was Heacham.'"