Chapter Fifteen
The innkeeper and one of his burly sons had run upstairs right after Hawk and were now tying up the attacker with a sturdy piece of rope.
“Throw him in the cellar. I will question him when he awakens.”
Hawk had just dispatched two letters, one to his estate and the other to the Home Office, when Lizzie’s scream had him bolting from the chair and racing upstairs. She was being attacked; however, with the man bent in an awkward position, it was immediately obvious that Lizzie had provided a well-aimed kick.
He continued to stare at her, waiting for her answer.
“What?”
“I asked what the hell do you know that has put you into such danger?”
“I’m still not sure what you mean.”
“My dear Lady Elizabeth, your saddle was purposely tinkered with to make you take a potentially fatal fall, and now you have been attacked in your room. Did you say he tried to smother you?”
Lizzie nodded. It was then he noticed the difficulty she was having drawing a breath, the fine sheen of sweat covering her body, and her milk-white pale face. He tilted his head to look at her. “You are suffering from shock.”
“What?”
He stood with her in his arms and laid her back on the bed, pulling the counterpane over her. He grabbed the second pillow on the bed and put it under her feet to lift her legs.
She began to shiver. He needed to warm and comfort her, so he removed his cravat, jacket, waistcoat, and shoes. Her eyes grew wide as he undressed. “Y-y-you shouldn’t d-d-do that. It’s n-n-not proper.”
He piled on extra blankets he found in a chest against the wall, then climbed into bed and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against his body. “Hush, sweeting. Your body has gone into shock, and I need to warm you up.” He ran his hands up and down her back, congratulating himself on avoiding the lovely swell of her bottom.
It wasn’t long before he realized that perhaps Lizzie had been correct, and this had not been a good idea. His lower body parts, however, thought it was a splendid notion and cheered him on. He shifted a bit, lest the announcement of his cock’s anticipation poke Lizzie in the belly.
“I’m s-s-sorry, am I t-t-taking up t-t-too much r-r-room?” Lizzie tried to move back, but almost tumbled to the floor before Hawk hauled her back.
“No, not taking up too much room, but this is not going to work. I will go downstairs and have the innkeeper’s wife send up a pot of hot tea.”
Before she could respond, he jumped from the bed, re-dressed, and bolted from the room. This entire venture was becoming torturous. He’d been attracted to Lizzie ever since he first laid eyes on her, and that attraction had grown to encompass everything about her.
Once he’d left instructions with the innkeeper’s wife for hot tea to be sent up, and to have someone sit with her until he could return, he headed to the cellar to see if their uninvited guest had awoken. Hawk carried a candle as he made his way down the dark, damp steps.
He raised the candle to see into the room. The man had been dumped on the floor, his arms and legs tied in such a way that he was curled onto one side. Hawk used his toe to roll him over and squatted alongside him. “Who are you?”
The man spit on him.
Hawk took out his handkerchief, wiped his face, and leaned in closer. “If you do anything like that again, you will leave this room feet first and not breathing. Am I making myself clear, or do I need to repeat it?”
A curt nod was his only response.
“Who hired you?”
When he didn’t answer, Hawk shoved his knee into the man’s belly.
He grunted. “Some nob.”
“Which nob? England is full of them.”
“Don’t know ’is name. Don’t care what ’is name is since ’e paid me in advance.”
“Where? Where did he meet you to hire you?”
“London.”
They were quite a distance from London, so the man must have been following them. “Did you cut the girth on the lady’s saddle?”
He nodded, his mouth stretched in a semblance of a smile, revealing several rotted teeth.
Hawk drew his fist back and planted him a facer. Blood trickled down the cretin’s chin as Hawk leaned back on his haunches. “So, you’ve been following us since we left Wycliff Manor?”
When the man didn’t answer, Hawk stood. The only way he would get any more information out of him was to resort to the sort of tactics they’d used during the war, and he had no intention of getting involved in that again. Also, there was a good chance that whoever hired the attacker was not the actual person who wanted Lizzie dead.
Hawk stood and brushed his hands together. “I’m turning you over to the local magistrate.” He grabbed the candle and, leaving the man in the cold, dark room, took the steps up to the common room two at a time. Well past luncheon, but too early for the dinner crowd, the room was empty except for two men ignoring each other as they nursed glasses of ale at the corner table. Hawk waved at the innkeeper to bring him a bottle of brandy and a glass.
He sipped his drink and considered their situation. The man hired to kill Lizzie was hog-tied and headed to the magistrate. But whoever hired him would simply find someone else to do the deed. He needed to get Lizzie to his estate as quickly as possible, so he could protect her while he made inquiries that might reveal who wanted Loverly’s daughter dead—and why.
Once again, he went over the facts thus far. The note from the Home Office had arrived after Lizzie had been thrown from her horse. That told him whoever was planning to kill her had learned where she was hiding and dispatched the man cooling his heels in the cellar to Wycliff Manor. That had happened while the note from the Secretary was making its way from Hawk’s townhouse to the Manor.
The only people who would have known Lizzie’s whereabouts at that time were in the Home Office. It followed that someone in the Home Office had been working with Loverly, and he thought Lizzie either knew who he was, or possessed information that would incriminate him.
…
Lizzie would have preferred Hawk to stay in the room with her after the scare she’d had, instead of the innkeeper’s daughter. But after a warm cup of tea, instead of feeling sleepy this time, she felt invigorated. Perhaps it was the tussle with the attacker, but her headache had subsided a bit and she wanted to get out of bed.
She dismissed the young girl, pulled out a gown that wasn’t too wrinkled, and got dressed. She was able to dress quickly. One thing she’d realized as a governess for the Wycliff family was how frivolous and useless her life had been as a lady of the ton.
Hours had been spent selecting ribbons, slippers, and shawls. More hours at the modiste for gown fittings. Her lady’s maid had spent a great deal of time tending to all those lovely clothes as well as designing various coiffures.
Afternoon visits, soirees, balls, rides in the park, musicales, the theater, all these things had taken up her time. And to what end? To have her father betray his country to pay for it all. Every time she thought of how he’d looked the last time she’d seen him, she became sick to her stomach.
Oh, Papa, why didn’t you tell me we couldn’t afford all of that? We could have figured something out together.
She twisted her hair into a neat chignon, pinned it at her nape, and bit her lips. Then chastised herself for doing so. The last thing she needed right now was to look attractive to Lord Hawkins, despite the fact she thought him the most handsome man she’d ever met. In fact, she’d thought so when they’d danced their one dance in a London ballroom, so many years ago.
A faint blush tainted her cheeks. He’d been aroused when he’d climbed into bed with her. At the boarding school she’d attended, one of the girls had confiscated a book from her grandfather’s library. For hours, the girls had giggled, wide-eyed, over the pictures.
What was indeed more frightening was how her body had reacted to him, even though she’d been shivering and having difficulty breathing. She didn’t want to be aware of him, but her body refused to listen to her mind. As he’d rubbed her back, her nipples had tingled, and she’d had the urge to push the area between her legs against his muscular thigh.
It was obvious why gently reared young ladies were always supposed to have a chaperone. If Hawk hadn’t jumped from the bed, Lord knows what might have happened. Something that she would surely have allowed.
She found him sitting in the common room, studying an empty glass sitting on the table in front of him. An almost-full bottle of brandy sat alongside the glass. He looked up as she approached him, his smile genuine. Again, her heart did a tap dance, and a contingent of butterflies took up residence in her stomach.
Hawk stood and pulled out a chair. “Are you well? Should you be resting?”
“I have done enough resting, my lord. I prefer to discuss what just happened upstairs.”
The startled look on Hawk’s face told her he thought she was referring to their time in bed. “No, no.” Heat climbed to her face. “I mean the man who attacked me. Did you speak with him?”
“I did. He was hired by someone in London. He was the person who cut the girth on the saddle, also.”
Lizzie drew in a deep breath. “Why? There is no doubt in my mind that he wanted to kill me. If I hadn’t kicked him, I would be dead now.”
Hawk ran his fingers through his hair. “I know. Don’t think I haven’t been terrified at what might have happened.”
“Why is he trying to kill me?”
“That is precisely what I want to know.” He took her hands in his. “I have reason to believe the person who hired your attacker works for the Home Office.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“Look at it this way. I received a letter from the Home Secretary telling me you were working at my cousin’s estate, and to find you and bring you in for questioning.” He began to draw circles on her hand, which would have distracted her had the subject they were discussing not been so riveting.
“The only people who would have known you were at Wycliff Manor were members of the Home Office.”
She frowned, trying to piece together the timeline. “But the saddle was tampered with before you received the letter.”
“Yes. But remember it had been sent to my London home first and then forwarded from there. If someone had been dispatched as soon as your whereabouts had been discovered, they would have arrived before the letter.”
She tightened her grip on his hand. “Why?”
“That is precisely what I want to know. Either you know something that will incriminate the person involved in your father’s betrayal, or you are in possession of something that will incriminate him.”
“I own no possessions except my two satchels. When I fled London, that was all I took.”
“Tomorrow we will leave for Hawkins Manor. It will take some time for whoever dispatched your attacker to learn he failed. He will then send someone else after you.”
Lizzie pulled her hand away and ran her palms up and down her arms, suddenly taken with a chill. “That is a frightening thought.”
“I swear to you that I will protect you, Lizzie. We will be at my estate in two days. That is not enough time for the man responsible for hiring your attacker to send someone else.”
“But since you are supposed to bring me to the Home Office, won’t he assume we went to your estate? And come after me there?”
He shook his head. “No, I am hoping he believes I will obey my orders and return to London. At Hawkins Manor I can protect you. I have staff that will be charged with guarding you.”
“For how long? I mean, how will this end?”
Hawk brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen from her chignon. “We must discover what our man wants from you.”
“You mean besides my dead body?”