“I know, My Lord,” Mr. Carter said, his green eyes level on Freddie’s. “But should you go down there without rifles and an army at your back, he will kill you and be gone.”
“But he is going to escape!”
“He might, he might not. It is far better to let him escape now than risk your life.”
Freddie slammed his fist into the wall, then winced at the jolting pain. Shaking the discomfort from his wrist and hand, he caught a glimpse of Thea, shadowed by Lord and Lady Bradford, hurrying down the hallway toward him. “I expect they saw everything?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Freddie sighed, frustrated and angry, and even more so because the footman was right. “We will get a hunting party together,” he muttered, walking back to meet them, “I want that bastard’s head on a pike.”
“I will be sure to search for one,” Mr. Carter replied, his green eyes glinting. “Perhaps the Duke of Bradford has a pike in his castle.”
Freddie paused a moment, staring at him. “Was that humor I just heard?”
“A trifling, My Lord.”
Shaking his head, Freddie continued down to greet his sister and his guests. Picking up the assassin’s dropped sword by its hilt, he studied it as he met up with Thea and the Bradfords. He bowed. “My Lord, My Lady, I am so sorry you had to witness such a –”
Lord Bradford lifted an eyebrow. “Such a what, Lord Willowdale? An attempt to kill you?”
Freddie chuckled. “Well, yes. With the party all but over, I was headed to my chambers when that scoundrel from the walls attacked me.”
“Freddie,” Thea said, her tone cool and unruffled. “You are bleeding.”
“What? I am?”
Touching his face with his fingers, he found them covered in his blood. “Oh, right. Would you, er, care for a nip of brandy in my chambers? I can, er, get myself cleaned up.”
Lord Bradford smiled a fraction. “I would like that very much.”
Entering his chambers, he found Michael waiting up for him, ready to help him prepare for bed. He set the sword aside in a corner to await further examination later. “Michael, pour brandy for my guests in the sitting room, then help me to change and wash up.”
Entering his bedchamber, he shut the door and saw the bottle of brandy, still in its tissue paper and ribbon that Robert had brought him. He picked it up, thinking to have Michael serve it, then thought better of it. He preferred serving liquor from decanters rather than straight from the bottle whenever possible.
Besides, Robert gave that to me.
Pouring water into a basin, he inspected his bloody face in the looking glass, and discovered the cut to be long, but not deep. It would not require stitches, he did not think. Washing it, he cleaned his face and combed his hair, and removed his bloody shirt when Michael entered. With his help, Freddie quickly changed into a fresh white shirt, waistcoat and cravat, and returned to his guests.
Naturally, Thea and the Bradfords were in his sitting room, snifters of brandy in their hands, discussing the whys and hows of someone trying to kill him. Mr. Carter also stood with his back to the door, his pistol no longer in his hand. At first, Freddie thought to order him to leave but then realized that, once again, he owed the footman his life.
“Now back to civilized matters,” Freddie said, his tone light as he bowed to Lord and Lady Bradford. “So here we are, at the party after the party.”
“Your cut gives you an air of danger, my dear brother,” Thea said, her tone teasing.
Freddie accepted his glass from Mr. Carter and offered her a grave nod even as he grinned, sitting down. “The ladies do like a few scars here and there.”
Lord Bradford leaned forward. “I believe you were right to not pursue that villain into the dark, Lord Willowdale. With what Miss Miller here told me about what happened to your footman, he could easily have turned on you. You had no light, no means of knowing where he was leading you.”
“He could have led you into a trap, Freddie,” Thea added.
“Yes,” Freddie admitted, thinking back to the moment when Mr. Carter stopped him. “The heat of the moment, really. I was determined to catch him at all costs.”
“Do you think perhaps this will frighten him off?” Lord Bradford asked.
“Actually, I hope not,” Freddie replied. “As he listens in the walls – ”
He broke off, suddenly remembering where he was. The villain inside could easily be listening to him even now. Lord Bradford met his gaze and nodded, understanding. Thea suddenly clamped her lips shut, her eyes wide as she, too, gazed around at the tapestries and paintings hanging all around them.
