“I have it.” Relief ran in rivulets over his skin and despite everything that had taken place, he smiled briefly. “I have no intention of permitting this to be taken from my sight or my person again.”
“What will you do with it?”
Henry turned the ring over in his hand and then placed it on his finger.
“I will find a chain and place it around my neck,” he said, decisively. “If this is truly what was being sought then I will not take that risk again.”
Lord Falconer nodded and then looked around the room.
“You think that whoever did this would try again?”
“I do not know if they would dare, especially not now that the butler knows who it is… though he cannot tell us as yet.” Henry scowled and looked back at his friend. “I think that I must go to see how he fares.”
“I will come with you.” Lord Falconer’s frown was heavy, his eyes dark with concern. “This is not good, Yarmouth. This is not good at all.”
Henry sighed and lifted his shoulders.
“I am well aware of that, Falconer. But what can I do?”
His friend said nothing, his gaze drifting around the room as Henry took it in for the second time, feeling still rather stunned about what had happened to his house. A shudder ran down his spine and he shivered visibly, his eyes closing as he considered all that had happened in his absence. This had taken a great deal of boldness on someone’s part and showed almost a desperation in their actions. They had waited until he had gone from the house and, thereafter, sought to find the one thing which Henry possessed that they wanted.
And if it was the ring, then what reason would there be for them to do such a thing as this? What was it that possession of the ring held for them, promised to them, that they would be willing to go to such an extreme course of action to get it?
Looking down at it, Henry waited for the answer to come, but nothing was there, except more questions.
I will need to tell Miss Bosworth.
A little surprised at how much his heart yearned for her, how much he wished that she was standing here with him, Henry closed his eyes and drew in a breath to steady himself before opening his eyes again and going to the door. While his staff could tidy up the room for him, he had a responsibility to them, which meant going to see his butler and making certain that the very best care was given to the man.
The rest of it could come after that.
“He has regained consciousness.”
Henry blew out a breath of relief.
“That is good.”
“But he can remember nothing,” the physician continued, as Henry frowned. “He does not know who was at the door, what happened to him, or even what day of the week it is! These things are common when there has been an accident involving the head.”
All hope of finding out who it was that had come into his house and injured his butler ran from Henry’s mind and he lowered his head, running one hand through his hair.
“I see.”
“It may return,” the physician finished, putting one hand on Henry’s arm for a moment. “But it may not. It is hard to tell in such situations as these.”
“And what needs to happen?” Henry looked at him carefully. “He must rest for some days, I imagine?”
The physician nodded.
“The cut has been stitched and bandaged, and I will come back to check on it in three days. Yes, he must rest and recover from the shock, and from his injuries, and if were you, I would offer him a little brandy in the evenings especially. I have left some laudanum for his pain and to help with sleep, but he has refused to take it, thus far.”
“I will speak with him,” Henry said, quickly. “Thank you for attending him. Send me the account at once and I shall have it paid directly.”
After promising that he would do so, the physician hurried away, and Henry turned back to the butler’s bedchamber, seeing the man lying so very still on the bed, his eyes closed, and the blankets pulled up over his shoulders. A maid was sitting with him, and Henry had already obtained the housekeeper’s promise that the butler would never be left alone until he was fully recovered. The urge to go to his bedside, to have him answer as many questions as he possibly could was strong, but Henry dampened it easily enough and turned around to walk back out of the room.
“I am sorry, my Lord.”
The hoarse whisper had Henry turning around sharply, seeing one of the butler’s hands lift limply.
