A Viscount's Proposal (The Regency Spies of London #2)

“Do not concern yourself. I have every intention of keeping you here as long as you will stay. No need to think of leaving until your physician says you are well enough.”

“I am obliged to you, but it is most inconvenient.” Edward glanced contemptuously at his splinted leg.

“My lord.” Langdon gave him such an earnest expression that it made Edward realize he’d been thinking only of himself, even when he was speaking of trespassing on Langdon’s hospitality. He now turned his attention on Nicholas Langdon, wondering what made him look so serious. “I believe your carriage may have been tampered with.”

Somehow he did not feel surprised, but if there were any lingering effects of the laudanum the doctor had given him the night before, they disappeared instantly. “Go on.”

“My groom and coachman tell me that the splinter bar appeared as though someone had sawed it nearly in two, causing it to break, which separated the horses from the carriage. And what’s more, your fifth wheel, which should have helped prevent it from tipping, was missing.”

Someone had sabotaged his carriage. “I shall find out who did this, and they shall be duly punished.”

“With your permission,” Langdon said, “my father shall notify the justice of the peace and the sheriff, as he is the Lord Lieutenant here, and we shall discover the miscreant responsible.”

“No.” Edward took a deep breath and let it out, forcing away the heat that was rising into his head. “I shall send word to my sheriff in the north county. He is very discreet and is not known here. I shall have him search this matter out. Perhaps we can keep our suspicions a secret for now. Let the villain think he has perpetrated his evil deed without discovery while my man quietly investigates.”

Langdon sighed, then nodded. “If you wish it. Do you have such evil enemies? Have you created such a stir in Parliament that someone wants you dead?”

“So it would seem.”

“I should like to help look into the matter—”

“No offense to you, Langdon, although I trust you implicitly, but I’m afraid you will attract more attention than my sheriff would if you begin asking questions. He is more experienced in these matters. You understand.”

“Of course. It shall be as you wish.” Nicholas Langdon gave him a respectful nod. “I shall send for a lap desk so that you may write your summons to your sheriff.”

“Thank you.” Edward chafed at his broken leg now more than ever. His blood boiled at the thought that he couldn’t go and help see to the matter himself. Though his enemy had intended, no doubt, to murder Edward, they had instead murdered an innocent man—his coachman, Pugh. God, help me to root out the culprit and bring him to justice.





CHAPTER NINE


That afternoon, Edward again tried to read, but he found himself staring at the wall instead. He imagined himself going back to the places where they had stopped to let his horses rest on their journey from London. There had been only three stops where the culprit might have tampered with his carriage. Surely someone would have seen something suspicious at one of those places. Or perhaps the person had inflicted the damage while his carriage had been waiting in the mews behind his town house. There was always a watchman or groom on duty, but perhaps they had fallen asleep on their watch, or been bribed. What he would not give to be able to go out and demand the answers to his questions.

A knock came at the door. “Enter.”

Nicholas Langdon stepped inside.

“Anything new?”

“Not since this morning. How are you doing? Is there anything you need?”

“Only to get out of this bed. But it is good you are here. Come, sit, and take my mind off how much I wish to find out what happened to my carriage and who murdered my coachman.”

“I can see why you’d be anxious to get information. But your letter to your sheriff went out by messenger, so I hope you shall see him by morning, if not tonight.”

Yarbrough was a capable, wily, but loyal sort of man. Just thinking of him made Edward feel somewhat calmer.

“I was hoping to distract you with conversation, if you wish.”

“Very good of you.”

“And I also wanted to say that my sister, Leorah, tells me I have you to thank for the fact that she came home safely last night.”

Edward cleared his throat. Thinking and talking of Langdon’s sister wasn’t the kind of distraction he would have hoped for. The way Edward had placed his body protectively between her and the careening, flipping carriage had possibly caused him to sacrifice his leg in the process. But he was too much of a gentleman to mention that.

“Even Mr. Quimby said the splint you put on her arm protected her from a worse injury, possibly a very serious one. I must say, I’m impressed with your medical skills. Is there no end to your talents?”

“Yes, well.” He thought about telling Langdon that his sister was the last person he’d expected, or wanted, to practice medicine on, but he restrained himself.

“Any other gentleman would have done the same.” But before he finished speaking, he realized that was not true. “Any gentleman who had an inkling of how to fashion a splint, that is.”

“Perhaps.” Langdon raised his brows doubtfully. “But I shall compliment you no further, as you are too modest to accept. Please allow me to thank you, nevertheless.”

“Of course.”

“Bad luck about the leg, though.”

“Indeed. I can be thankful, at least, that it occurred in the off season and not while Parliament was in session.”

“Yes, that is a mercy, at least. What are the latest goings on in the political realm?”

“Oh, the usual. The Whigs are pretending to defend the cause of Princess Caroline while ripping her reputation to shreds in all the newspapers. But perhaps that ridiculous muddle will distract them while I push through our petition to open a second school for the poor.”

“I pray it is so. You must come and hear all the great stories Wilson has to tell about the good the boys’ school has done for the families of the neighborhood.”

“I would love to hear them.” Ah yes. This was cheerful conversation, just the thing he needed to stop him from thinking of his own irritations. “If he is able, perhaps he could make the trip to Lincolnshire this winter, if the roads aren’t impassible. I shall give him a sufficient donation to make it worth his while, of course.”

“I shall write to him directly, inviting him to come, as I am sure his wife and my wife would enjoy some time together.”

“Very good, although I hope you forgive me if I implied inviting him to your home. Of course I meant after I am able to return to my own home—”

“Nonsense. My home is your home.”

“Thank you.” It was humbling to be so helpless. Helplessness was rather an old feeling for Edward than a new one, but it had been some years since he’d felt it as keenly as he did now. He didn’t like it, but he could at least be grateful that Langdon was an old enough, and good enough, friend that he believed himself welcome.

“Not at all. Are you in any pain?”

“The pain is minimal, and I would rather feel it than fill myself full of laudanum.”