Ridge froze and slowly turned around. “Is there something you want, Lord Clarence?”
“Come have a drink with me,” he said, raising his glass in a toast.
Ridge shook his head, casting a dubious look at the snake. He turned to go, but Lord Clarence yelled out again.
“Be a sport, Ridgewood. Are you too good to drink with the gentlemen at White’s?” Lord Clarence clamored up and stuttered across the floor to stand in front of Ridge.
He swayed slightly, and his breath reeked of spirits as he puffed in Ridge’s face. “Time to let bygones be bygones, old chap.”
“I have a pressing appointment,” Ridge said tightly, backing away from the drunken man.
Panic flared in Lord Clarence’s eyes. “No, you mustn’t leave yet. We haven’t had our drink.” He reached out and grasped Ridge’s arm.
Ridge yanked his arm away. “I think it best if I take my leave before I do something we both regret.”
Before Lord Clarence could protest further, Ridge stalked away. The man was reprehensible. A complete disgrace to his father.
He sobered as he stepped into his carriage. His own father considered him a disgrace. That made him little better than Lord Clarence. How mortifying to be cut from the same cloth as a man like the duke’s whelp.
He curled his lips in disgust. His departure from England couldn’t come too soon. Finally he would take a step to fulfilling his dreams. He bitterly envied India and her lifestyle. No one to please but herself, going where the wind took her. No roots. No obligations except to herself.
He closed his eyes imagining himself in such a position. The image gave him innumerable pleasure. Sailing with the tides. Caravanning through the desert. Hiking up the mountains. He wanted it so much it hurt. And now he’d finally have it.
The ride home seemed interminable. He was anxious to see if India was finished with the journal. He could scarcely wait to make their travel arrangements. Where would they journey to? Africa? India? China?
Finally the carriage pulled to a stop in front of his home, and he quickly descended the steps. When he entered the house, he was greeted by silence. He looked around for Moreland, but the butler never appeared.
Ridge frowned and headed for the study. To his shock, he nearly stumbled across the prostrate form of Moreland just outside the foyer.
He knelt beside the elderly man, fearing the worst. Blood oozed from his temple, but upon examination, Ridge found him to be breathing. Then he stood upright. India!
He rushed to the study, throwing open the door. The room was empty and nothing seemed out of order. As he approached the desk, he found the journal gone and no paper where he’d left some for India.
An odd sound reverberated through the room. He stopped and stood still then slowly turned around, seeking the source of the noise. It sounded weak. Had he really heard it? He strained to hear it again. His eyes zeroed in on the armoire by the door.
He crossed the room in seconds, twisting the key in the lock and yanking open the heavy door. To his shock, India sat curled into a tight ball, her body shaking like a leaf. He swore violently and reached in to pick her up.
She never acknowledged him as he bore her across the room, her body pressed tightly to his chest. Her skin was hot, clammy to the touch, and her eyes were vacant, dull.
He placed her in the large armchair and cursed again. Moreland lay unconscious in the hall and who the hell knew where India’s companions were. After a moment of indecision, he made sure she was settled then he hurried out of the room and back to Moreland.
“Gretchen!” he bellowed for the cook. “Anyone!” Damn, what were India’s friends’ names? Kavi? U-something. “Kavi!” Where was the damn man when you needed him? His chest filled with dread. Could he have been hurt as well?
The stairs thumped and soon Kavi barreled around the corner. “What is it,Sahib?”
“Moreland’s been hurt, and Miss Ashton I’m not sure about,” he said.
“What is it? What is all the shouting about?” Udaya rounded the corner in a flurry of material, her hand going to her mouth when she caught sight of Moreland.
Moreland moaned softly and stirred on the floor. His eyes fluttered open and he winced. “My lord, what happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Ridge said grimly. “Can you sit up?”
Though pale, Moreland shakily righted himself and attempted to stand. Kavi linked his arm underneath Moreland’s and helped him to rise.
“Someone hit me from behind, my lord.” He rubbed his head and swayed precariously.
“Take him into the drawing room, find a footman and send him for the doctor,” Ridge directed. “I must see to Miss Ashton.”
