“Worried?” Jared looked even more confounded. “Lindsay, what the devil…?”
She couldn’t answer as Marguerite crushed her in an effusive embrace, Walker standing silently just behind her.
In truth, Lindsay felt as relieved to see them, too, though from the tightness in Jared’s jaw as he looked from Walker to Marguerite, she feared a storm was brewing. She had no idea why they would have been worried about her, and she started to feel perplexed, too.
“I’m fine, Marguerite, truly!” Lindsay insisted as Marguerite released her. “And you see that Jared is fine. He returned home early—no more than a half hour ago. I told him you were abed, but you must have hurried out while I was playing with Justin. How lovely of you to fetch her for a carriage ride, Walker. How was Hyde Park today?”
As everyone stared at her now, Lindsay winced that she’d concocted such rubbish—more lies to regret!—yet why weren’t Walker and Marguerite coming to her aid and confirming her story?
“You took Marguerite for a carriage ride unchaperoned?” Jared asked tightly, staring at Walker who’d stepped forward to place his hand at Marguerite’s waist. Now Lindsay felt she might swoon, she was growing so bewildered.
What of keeping their marriage a secret? Why was Walker so blatantly claiming Marguerite right before Jared’s eyes?
“Uh…why don’t we go into the dining room and I’ll ring for some tea?” she suggested lamely while Walker drew Marguerite closer against him. Oh, Lord…
“Marguerite and I were married Saturday in Gretna Green,” Walker announced in a voice so firm and steady while Lindsay was certain her knees would buckle beneath her. “She’s my wife, Lady Summerlin, now—”
“Jared!” Too late Lindsay saw him charge past her and swing his fist, which caught Walker squarely upon the jaw.
She screamed. Marguerite screamed. And then Lindsay did the only thing she could do as Jared and Walker, chest-to-chest and glaring ominously at each other, looked ready to come to more blows.
She fainted.
***
Jared drew his chair closer to the bed and clasped Lindsay’s hands tightly, never having felt more wretched. “God help me, Lindsay, you gave me a fright.”
She squeezed his hands, thankfully her color improved though she still looked pale to him, but gazed at him with reproach.
“Yougave me a fright, Jared Giles, attacking your closest friend like you did. Both of you ready to beat upon each other—and for what reason? Because Walker and Marguerite were wed in Gretna Green? Theirs was happy news and not deserving of a brawl. Happy news!”
Thoroughly chastised, Jared could only sigh heavily that his behavior had caused his beloved wife to faint. Such dread had overcome him as he’d carried her first to the settee in the drawing room…and then such immense relief swamping him when she’d opened her eyes a few moments later.
Then everyone had begun to talk at once, Lindsay begging his forgiveness for telling him falsehoods about Marguerite being abed and the carriage ride in Hyde Park.
Walker grimly recounting what had happened on the road to Gretna Green and then the next morning when he and Marguerite had both been attacked.
Marguerite kneeling beside the settee to be close to Lindsay as she’d explained why they had been sick with worry about her, Jared’s gut twisting at the thought of anyone daring to come to his house and threaten his wife.
Thank God that hadn’t happened.
Thank God the physician who lived down the street and who’d come running at the footman’s news of Lindsay’s collapse had pronounced her healthy, just in need of bed rest until morning.
Thank God, too, that Marguerite and Walker had safely returned to London, though Walker’s intent to challenge his cousin to a duel first thing in the morning filled Jared with unease.
Walker was an expert shot, but duels were unpredictable at best. Marguerite barely a bride and now she faced the terrifying possibility of becoming a young widow?
Such remorse filled Jared that he thought he might choke upon it, his only relief found in Lindsay reaching out to touch his cheek.
“Jared…you and Walker have been as close as brothers for years. He’ll accept your apology, I know it. Find him. Talk to him.”
He nodded, already planning to do just that although he was reluctant to leave Lindsay’s side. Her other hand rested upon her rounded stomach, their second child not due yet for another three months. And here she’d collapsed upon the floor right in front of him because of what he’d done—God help him, he couldn’t bear to think of it!
“Sweetheart, I’m well, truly.”
