Eighteen
March 1802
‘Damn it, Paget.’ James, Lord Cambourne, stared down at the battered, unconscious face of his young cousin, Nick Remington. ‘What the hell happened? Has the doctor been?’
Nick’s manservant, Paget, nodded. ‘Yes, m’lord. I sent for the doctor immediately. He’s just left.’
‘And?’
Paget tucked the blankets more securely around his young master. ‘Just bruising, a cracked rib and a knock to the head.’
‘Just?’ James took exception to the servant’s soothing tone. ‘For God’s sake, Paget! You’re taking it mighty calmly! Does the boy make a habit of this?’
‘No!’ Paget glanced at Nick, who shifted restlessly, and lowered his voice. ‘My lord, if we might go into the sitting room? Doctor Greaves said he ought to sleep—’
‘James?’ The voice was barely a whisper. ‘That you?’
The blue eyes, one distinguished by a black eye of impressive proportions, were open, if bleary. Under the scrapes and bruises, his face was nearly as white as his pillow.
‘Yes,’ James said. ‘What the devil have you been about, you idiot?’ Relief roughened his voice.
‘Being an idiot,’ Nick got out through a split lip. ‘Did Paget send for you?’
‘Well, of course I did, Master Nick,’ Paget said. ‘You were attacked!’
‘What?’ James had been assuming a falling out of friends that had got out of hand. ‘Attacked?’
Nick’s gaze fastened on Paget. ‘Tell me you didn’t send for the mater and pater. Please.’
‘No, sir.’ Paget’s tone was soothing. ‘Just his lordship.’
‘Thank God.’ Nick attempted to sit up and the bedclothes fell back, revealing his naked torso, even as he sank down cursing.
James’s eyes widened and he swore savagely. Nick’s body was livid with bruises.
‘Looks as bad as it feels, does it?’ Nick managed a weak grin.
‘Stay on the damn pillow.’ James enforced the command with a gentle hand on his cousin’s shoulder. ‘I can’t blame you for not wanting to see your parents, but unless you wish me to send for them, you will do as you are told.’
‘Bully,’ Nick said with a half smile.
‘Believe it,’ James said. ‘Who beat you?’ Because that was what it looked like—a deliberate and brutal beating.
Nick grimaced. ‘Did I mention that I was an idiot?’
‘You did,’ James said. ‘Unnecessary, but you did mention it. Go on.’
‘Well, I lost a bit of money.’
‘How much is a bit?’ James asked.
‘Er...quite a bit. A couple of monkeys.’
James bit back several choice remarks. No doubt Nick was already thinking them anyway. ‘A couple of monkeys.’ His voice expressed polite interest. ‘You lost a thousand at— What? Cards? Dice? A horse?’
‘Cards,’ Nick said. ‘The thing is—’
‘You couldn’t pay.’ James failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. A thousand was more than Nick’s entire annual allowance.
‘No.’ Nick’s voice was weary, his eyes closed. James glanced at Paget, who gestured to the door. On the whole James agreed. Nick was safe and the story could wait. But Nick’s eyes opened again.
‘I couldn’t pay and he sold my vowels.’
‘Who?’
‘Chap called Hensleigh. Captain Hensleigh,’ Nick said.
‘Never heard of him,’ James said. But Captain Hensleigh was going to hear from him. ‘Navy or army?’
‘What?’
‘What sort of captain?’ James asked.
Nick grimaced. ‘Oh. Sharp, I should think.’
A Captain Sharp. Wonderful. Nick had come up to town for the first time, lost more money than he could pay to a professional card cheat and been beaten up.
James glanced at Paget. ‘Is there any coffee?’
‘I roasted and ground beans earlier,’ Paget said. ‘But Mr Nick fell asleep. It won’t take long.’
‘Thank you,’ James said.
‘Sorry,’ Nick mumbled. ‘Should have offered.’
James snorted. ‘We’ll just assume your manners have gone begging in the same place as your wits.’
‘Get the coffee, Paget,’ Nick said. ‘There’s a good chap.’
‘Yes, sir.’
James turned back to Nick. ‘Any chance those bruisers are coming back? Where did this happen?’
‘Off Fleet Street, near the Strand.’
‘What in God’s name took you down there?’ James demanded.
‘Looking for Hensleigh,’ Nick said. ‘He gave me a week and it wasn’t quite up.’ He met James’s gaze. ‘I couldn’t pay. I knew that and I was going to ask for more time.’
‘What? And stop in at St Clement Danes on your way back up the Strand to pray for a miracle?’ James asked.
Nick flushed. ‘No. I was going to come to you and...and ask for advice. But I didn’t find Hensleigh and I ran into my attackers on the way back.’
‘My advice would have been to stay out of gaming hells in the first place,’ James said. ‘However, that’s done. Why the hell didn’t you stop when the play got too deep?’ A question for the ages, that one.
He watched as Nick swallowed. ‘I... I thought I could win it all back. You...you see, I did win at first. Quite a lot. And then—’
‘And
