Candice Hern (81 page)

That afternoon she had been strolling in the herb garden with her grandmother, and, as usual, Gram had turned the conversation to Lord Sedgewick.

"I still cannot understand that young man," she had said, plucking off a leaf of Spanish lavender and rubbing it between her fingers. "The least he could have done was to make some kind of plans to see you again. I was so certain he was taken with you." She had brought the leaf, now fragrant with released oils, to her nose and sniffed. Smiling, she held it out for Meg. "Did he say nothing about seeing you again?"

Meg held the lavender under her nose and nodded her appreciation. "Well, he did ask if I was coming to London for the Season," she said.

Gram's eyes had lit up like candles. "He did? Well, then, we must go!"

"I think not, Gram. You know how I feel about London. Besides, I told Lord Sedgewick that I would not be going."

"Oh, my dear girl, are you so sure?"

"Yes, Gram. You know I much prefer it here in the country."

"I know, dear," Gram had said. "But Lord Sedgewick—"

"You must get over this obsession with Lord Sedgewick, Gram. He is gone and will not be returning."

Gram had looked at Meg with an expression of resigned sadness in her eyes that had almost broken Meg's heart. "I am sorry, my dear," Gram had said. "You are right, of course. He was a charming gentlemen, but there will be others." She had reached up and gently cupped Meg's cheek. "Someone else will come along."

Gram's words rang in Meg's head as she burrowed herself more deeply into the stack of pillows.

Someone else will come along.

But Meg knew in her heart that no one else would come along. In twenty-four years no one else had come along. And even if they did, Meg knew that there was only one man she would ever want. Had wanted for over six years. One tall, lanky, blond-haired gentleman with a smile to turn a person's knees to jelly.

And she could have had him. Perhaps she could still have him. If she accepted his terms. But how could she possibly do such a thing? She snuggled close against her pillow, imagining Sedge's arms around her, and wondered how she could not?

She was six feet tall and firmly on the shelf. It was next to impossible to expect that she would ever receive an honorable offer of marriage at this stage of her life. Unless it was from some older, widowed gentleman who needed a nursemaid, or a mother for his children. How was that to be preferred to a less honorable but more passionate arrangement with a man who set her blood on fire and made her heart soar? How could a convenient match offering little more than occasional nights of decorous coupling compare to an arrangement with a man she loved, who wanted to hold her naked in his arms? To make love to her night and day? To reveal to her all the secrets she longed to know?

Was it so horrible to want all these things? Was it better to live out her life alone, never knowing the fulfillment hinted at by Sedge's kisses? Even if that fulfillment came through an arrangement outside of marriage?

Somehow, it was no longer a matter of whether she could live with herself if she accepted such an arrangement, but whether she could live with herself if she did not.

When sleep finally overtook her, Meg had determined what she must do.

The next morning at breakfast, she announced to Gram and Terrence that she had decided to go to London for the Season.

Chapter 17

Lord Pemerton opened the door of his town carriage and stepped out. He spoke briefly to his coachman, instructing him to return the carriage home to Hanover Square rather than wait for him. These long nights with Sedge were unpredictable. He never knew how long he would need to stay. Anyway, he could take a hackney later. Or perhaps he would walk home. It was an unusually warm night for late April, and Jack enjoyed a brisk walk.

As the carriage pulled away, Jack turned and strode up the steps of Lord Sedgewick's town house. His lips pursed into a scowl as he noted the knocker was still removed. It could only mean that Sedge still sought peace at the bottom of a bottle. And, as Jack knew from personal experience, drinking alone was the worst sort of relief. No relief at all, in fact. Whatever miseries of the soul caused one to drink to excess in the first place were only amplified with each swallow.

Jack hated to see Sedge in such a state. Of the three friends who had caroused together for years, Sedge was the least likely to have taken such a turn. Jack himself had been the most likely, and had in fact hit the rock bottom of despair and debauchery not all that many months ago. The contrast of that dreadful time and the joys of today was nothing short of incredible. Seven months of marriage to his Mary had brought him a contentment he had never thought possible.

His own state of happiness made Jack ever more aware of Sedge's misery. Ever since his first visit, when Sedge had finally told him about Meg Ashburton, Jack had made a point of checking in with Sedge at least every other evening, trying desperately to lead him away from total dissipation, struggling for the right words to bring him out of his despair. So far, he had failed. Nothing he said seemed to make a difference. Jack had been able to do little more than offer Sedge a drinking companion, for it was clear he had no intention of giving up the bottle, or of venturing out into Society. So the best Jack could do was to keep him talking, for it meant he drank less.

Night after night of talking and drinking had brought Jack no closer to wrenching Sedge out of the black despair into which he had sunk. Jack had alternately suggested that Sedge either try to forget Meg Ashburton or go back to her. But his friend did not seem capable of doing either. Jack knew all too well that the more one drank the harder it became to make any sort of decision, other than to pour one more drink. But Jack had continued to stop by Mount Street regularly, hoping that at some point his friend would reach the end of his tether and begin to climb his way back out of the bottle.

Tonight he was especially optimistic, for he had some news that he thought might jolt Sedge back to reality.

Wigan answered Jack's knock with a look of relief in his eyes.

"Good evening, my lord. Please come in."

"How is he tonight, Wigan?"

The butler hunched a shoulder in resignation. "A little worse, I am afraid. He has not come downstairs since yesterday."

"Good Lord. You mean he hasn't left his bedchamber?"

"No, my lord," Wigan replied. "Pargeter has been able to get him out of bed once or twice, but only to sit in a chair by the fire."

"Has he eaten?"

"Very little."

"Well, perhaps I can coax him into sharing a tray with me," Jack said as the butler took his hat and gloves. "I will just go on up, if that is all right. Perhaps you can have a tray sent up? With a pot of hot coffee?"

"Of course, my lord. Thank you, my lord."

Jack charged up the stairs, more concerned than ever. It sounded as though Sedge's state of mind was deteriorating rapidly. If he didn't get out of that bed and out of that room soon, he might sink into a decline from which he would never recover.

As Jack reached the landing on the second floor, he stopped in his tracks. What was that smell? He lifted his nose and drew a deep breath. Good God, he thought, choking back a cough. Smoke! What the devil?

A terrible foreboding twisted Jack's stomach into a knot as he rushed toward Sedge's suite of rooms just on the left. He flung open the bedchamber door and was met by a wall of smoke and searing heat.

Oh, my God, Sedge!

Jack waved his arms about wildly to clear the smoke. "Sedge? Sedge?" he called out, unable to see much beyond the reach of his hand. When he received no response to his shout, he backed quickly out the doorway and poked his head into the corridor.

"Wigan! Pargeter!" he shouted at the top of his voice, then broke into a spasm of coughing. "Come quickly!" he added when he was able to find his voice again. "Fire! Fire!"

Turning back into the room, Jack ripped at his cravat until he was able to jerk it loose. He quickly wrapped it around his mouth and tied it behind his neck. All the while he was searching through the blinding smoke for the bed. When the cloth was in place and both hands were free, he held them out in front of him like a blind man as he moved cautiously toward the side of the room where he knew the bed to be. His eyes smarted and teared. Squinting, he was soon able to make out the shape of the bed. Good God, the bed curtains were engulfed in flames that shot up to the ceiling.

"Sedge!" he cried, the sound muffled against the cloth.

Smoke and flames were thick around the bed and Jack could see almost nothing. He reached out his arms in search for his friend. "Sedge!" Finally, his hand came into contact with a booted foot Without further thought, he tugged on the foot, found the other and began yanking hard on both of them. When he had pulled enough to reach Sedge's waist, Jack lifted his friend's inert body with a strength he had no idea he possessed. Dodging to avoid a burning length of fringe that fell from the canopy above, sending a shower of sparks raining down upon them, he hoisted Sedge over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Jack kept his breathing shallow and rushed through the smoke in what he hoped was the direction of the door.

After only a few labored steps, Jack collided with something soft. The sound of choked coughing was followed by the touch of a hand on his arm.

"My lord!"

The voice was Pargeter's. He was followed closely by Wigan. Jack pushed by both of them. "I have him," he rasped. "I have him."

Wigan shouted orders to footmen, who brought buckets of water. Jack did not stay to see how or even if they fought the fire. His only thought was to get his friend to safety. As he hurried, he became aware of a hacking, sputtering presence at his side. Pargeter.

"This way, my lord," the valet wheezed.

Jack followed Pargeter to a small chamber at the end of the hall. "We should be safe here," the valet said, "if they are able to contain the fire." The shouting and continuous thunder of rushing footsteps in the adjacent bedchamber indicated that a valiant attempt was being made to do so.

Jack dropped his burden onto the bed. He flexed his shoulders briefly in an attempt to return some kind of feeling to them. He had no idea how he had been able to lift his large friend so easily. He bent over Sedge's unconscious form on the bed. "Sedge?" he shouted as he roughly slapped his friend's cheek. This was no time to be gentle. Sedge must be roused. At the sound of a muffled groan, Jack dropped to the edge of the bed and gave a raspy sigh. "He's alive," he murmured. "He's alive."

"Thank God," Pargeter said.

Jack glanced up at the valet to find a stricken look on the man's face as he stared at his unconscious employer.

"I don't mind telling you, my lord," he said, turning to Jack, "I was that scared. When I saw that room of smoke, I thought he'd really done it this time." He ran a shaky hand through his hair, then moved toward the foot of the bed and began to remove Sedge's boots. "Lord Sedgewick is one of the kindest, most considerate employers I have had the pleasure of serving," he continued as he worked one boot heel gently back and forth. Finally, after one good yank, the boot came sliding off, sending Pargeter flying backward. Recovering, he began to work on the second boot. "But, if you don't mind my saying so, my lord," he said, "these accidents of his are giving me a weak heart."

"Accidents?"

"Yes," Pargeter said while tugging on the second boot. "I've never known anyone so unlucky. He—"

His words were interrupted by a low groan followed by a hacking cough as Sedge appeared to revive. Completely at a loss to understand Pargeter's strange words, Jack would have to leave the explanation for another time. The valet dropped the boot and seemed almost magically to produce a glass of water—Jack marveled momentarily at the resourcefulness of the fellow—which he held against Sedge's lips.

After a few sips, Sedge opened his eyes and looked about the room with a dazed expression. "Wha—" he began before succumbing to another fit of coughing.

Jack took the glass of water from Pargeter and placed an arm around his friend's shoulder as he helped him sit up. He whispered a few words to the valet, who nodded and left the room. After helping Sedge to another sip of water. Jack allowed him to sink back against the bed pillows and catch his breath.

"Jack?" he whispered.

"I'm right here, Sedge."

"Wh-what happened?"

"I'm not sure," Jack said. "I can only tell you that when I came to your room your bed curtains had caught fire and you were passed out on the bed."

"Oh, God." Sedge's eyes widened with a look of alarm. "You mean . . . you mean I could have . . . that I almost ... Oh, God, Jack. What have I done?"

Before Jack could answer, a knock sounded on the door followed by the appearance of a bedraggled-looking Wigan.

"Oh, thank goodness, my lord," he said as he entered. "You were not harmed, I trust?"

"No," Sedge said, shaking his head. He seemed to experience a moment of dizziness, and reached a hand up to his head. "No," he repeated in a soft voice. "I am not harmed. Is everything under control, Wigan?"

"Yes, my lord," the butler replied, masterfully maintaining an air of dignity despite his soot-smeared face and damp clothing. "The fire has been put out."

"Could you tell how it might have started, Wigan?" Jack asked.

Wigan looked at Jack with furrowed brows, then turned to Sedge with an expression of incredible sadness. "I cannot be sure, my lord," he said, "but it appears most likely that a... a candle on the bedside table was ... was overturned somehow... setting the bed curtains on fire."

Jack felt the same sadness he read in Wigan's eyes and heard in the butler's halting voice. That Sedge—carefree, easy-going, ever-smiling Sedge—should have come to this. It was an unthinkable outrage. It should never have happened. Jack felt helpless and angry that he had not somehow been a better friend to Sedge, been able to talk him out of his despair, to help him stop drinking.

Jack turned his gaze to Sedge, only to find him staring back with an equal amount of shame and misery. Jack knew in that moment, as their eyes locked, that Sedge felt the same outrage that he felt. An understanding passed between them with that look. An understanding that Sedge had sunk as far as he could go, and must now begin the climb back to reason and sanity.