Tenacious Trents 02 - A Perfect Gentleman (25 page)

As much as Matthew tried to work further on
his sermon and prepare for Sunday, he barely managed to write a
dozen more words. Too often he found himself leaving the desk in
Mr. Cooper’s library and making his way to the man’s bedchamber to
check on his progress as well as to see how Grace was holding up.
She hardly left her father’s side and she tried several times to
get broth and tea past the man’s lips, succeeding more often than
not in spilling it on Mr. Cooper’s bedclothes, which had now been
changed three times. Though her hair was now brushed and neatly
tied behind her head and out of the way, and she wore a fresh
dress, one without wrinkles, Grace was pale and her face drawn from
the worry. Every time Matthew tried to work all he could do was
think of her and the terrible strain she was under and was once
again drawn to her. He longed to give her comfort, ease her burden
but was at a loss at how to proceed.

Night was near and Matthew gave up trying to
write the perfect sermon and pushed away from the desk to stand at
the window overlooking the back gardens, now shadowed with the
setting sun. The patterns and formed mounds of different varieties
of plants led Matthew to believe these had once been elegant but
were now wild with late blooming flowers and weeds. Grace certainly
didn’t have time to see to the chore, not with the many duties that
settled upon her shoulders since her father’s injury. It was really
too much for one so young to bear, but what choices were there? The
Coopers didn’t have the funds for household help. Even though he
shouldn’t have pried Matthew had reviewed the family finances this
afternoon. Had Miss Cooper not shown he and Jordan the ledger
earlier he might not have invaded her privacy. Or, perhaps he would
have. Matthew would never know. But, the crux of the matter was the
family was barely surviving financially. Perkins was paid a
pittance to what valet’s usually earned, yet the man remained by
Mr. Cooper’s side. Even now, he was in a chair within the man’s
room, waiting to be needed.

Her earnings from the milk, eggs and Sunday
school teaching didn’t meet the family needs. Soon she would have
no choice but to fall into debt. Until her father’s injuries two
years earlier, the family had been wealthy. Such was not the case
now.

Perhaps a guardian was the best choice for
Miss Cooper and her father, or even marriage. His stomach tightened
at the thought of her married to anyone yet he forced himself to
consider the possibilities despite his discomfort. If Draker, Thorn
or Richards had an affection for Miss Cooper perhaps he would feel
differently, but most likely not. She was nothing more than a means
to an end. A woman to marry, no different and with less emotion
than those in society approached marriage. She would be miserable
in such a union, especially if they allowed Stillwaite to send her
father to Bedlam. Matthew knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t allow her
to marry Draker, Thorn or Richards, but what could he do to prevent
a match?

Matthew could marry her himself, but was that
right, or any different than what the other gentlemen proposed? He
would save her from them, and insist that Mr. Cooper remain home
where he could get the best of care. But he was just as certain
Stillwaite would not allow such a match because Matthew had no
intention of allowing the man to profit from circumstances. Then
again, he could pay almost any price the man demanded, but was he
willing to? In normal circumstances, yes, but it galled him that
the man wished to profit from the misfortune of his brother.

Matthew shook his head and turned away from
the window. There was no point in worrying about who Grace would or
would not marry. Brachton was not about to give Stillwaite that
power until they had gotten to the bottom of who tried to kill Mr.
Cooper. He had hoped someone would say something today that would
cast suspicion on themselves but nobody indicated they were
involved, not even Stillwaite. But, there was nobody else who could
have possibly been responsible unless there was some madman roaming
the country, locking cooks in cellars and tossing old men
downstairs for no apparent reason.

He glanced over at the settee. That is where
he would spend the night. He was tired enough to sleep for a week,
but not on something so narrow and short but he didn’t dare make
use of an empty bedchamber above stairs. Mrs. Montgomery had caused
enough damage after this morning and Matthew really should not
spend another night in the house. But, he couldn’t leave Grace and
her father unprotected either. Tomorrow he would need to make
arrangements for staff to work in the house. He would pay for it
himself and not only would Grace not be alone, but she would have a
chaperone to sit with her if the gentlemen called again, someone to
cook meals and a few large footmen to protect the family. It was
too late to make such arrangements now and Matthew wished he would
have thought of it sooner. Hopefully nobody would know that he
spent the night, again.

Grace’s head dropped to her chest and she
jerked her head back up. Every muscle in her body ached from
sitting in this chair, but she loathed to leave her father’s side.
Three times he had awakened and looked at her. There was a sadness
in his eyes and she wished he could tell her what he was feeling or
thinking. Better yet, who had pushed him down the stairs? In time
he would.

“You should go to bed, Miss,” Perkins
suggested from his chair across the room. “I will awaken you if you
are needed.”

“What of you? You haven’t left Father’s
side.”

He offered a weak smile. “My bed is not far,
as you know.” He gestured to the small room off of her father’s
that Perkins had made into a sleeping chamber for himself after
father was injured. “If I get too tired I will lie down but leave
the door open.”

That was clear across the room. Would Perkins
hear her father if he needed anything?

“I am a very light sleeper,” he assured her
as if reading her thoughts.

She did need to sleep. Perhaps a night in her
bed, in a nightgown, would leave her refreshed in the morning. With
a last squeeze of her father’s hand, Grace bent and kissed his
forehead. “Sleep well, Papa.”

With heavy steps she left the room and made
her way down the hall and paused at the library. Vicar Trent was
asleep, a blanket across his body. One leg fell to the side of the
settee and another off of the end. He could not be comfortable, but
he seemed to sleep deep enough. She turned the light down on the
lamp and made her way upstairs to her own room. There she shrugged
out of her dress and into a nightgown before slipping between the
cool sheets. Grace hadn’t bothered to light a lamp because there
was enough brightness from the full moon that shone into her room.
With a sigh she closed her eyes and tied to fall asleep.

The minutes ticked and she heard the clock
chime down the hall. It was too quiet. The house was never noisy,
especially at night but now the silence was even louder than
usual.

She rolled on her side to find a more
comfortable position and blew out a breath. Once again she tried to
find her slumber, but each creak and squeak was so loud in the
silence. She listened for a few moments but none of the sounds were
out of the ordinary.

Why wasn’t she falling asleep? Her eyes ached
and burned so much she didn’t want them open, but her mind would
not calm. Grace would never get to sleep this way. Each time she
came close to drifting away, the slightest noise awakened her. She
was simply on edge from the events of the past two days and needed
to block out all noise.

Grace reached across the bed and grabbed a
second pillow and placed it on the side of her head and bent her
arm to press the pillow against her ear to drown out the night
sounds. Finally, blessed silence.

The squeak of the hinges on her door was
muffled by the pillow but Grace heard them just the same and her
eyes flew open. Who was in her room? The only people in the house,
besides her father were Vicar Trent and Perkins and why would they
close the door.

She rolled over and began to push the pillow
from her head when it clamped down over her face.

Grace opened her mouth to scream but could
not get a breath to do so. She pushed at the pillow to get it off
of her face but whoever was holding it was much stronger than she.
Her heart raced and panic engulfed her. She kicked and flung her
arms, fighting the darkness that threatened to invade. Her hand
connected with the lamp on the table and she used a fist to knock
it over. Thank goodness she had not left it lit. With any luck
Vicar Trent or Perkins heard the crash and would come to help.
Whoever was holding the pillow let up for a second and then pushed
it even harder against her face. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs
burned with the need for air.

She couldn’t fight the darkness any
longer.

Something woke Matthew and he bolted from his
sleep. It took him a moment to focus and listen. Sounds came from
above, as if there was a struggle. They were coming from Grace’s
room. Without thought he thrust himself from the settee and raced
up the stairs and into her room. Someone was bent over her, but
Grace was not moving. Matthew threw himself at the dark cloaked man
but he turned at the last second, catching Matthew across the chest
with his arm. He was propelled back against the armoire and the man
ran out of the room. Matthew pushed himself up and took off after
the assailant. It was hard to see in the darkness but there was
only one set of steps and he raced down the hall. The man had
reached the bottom of the steps and was pulling on the front
door.

“What is going on here?” Perkins cried as he
ran down the hall.

The man at the door turned and fired. Both he
and Perkins ducked. It gave the man just enough time to escape into
the darkness.

“Go check on Grace,” Matthew ordered and
raced out the door.

He stopped at the front of the house. A lone
man rode off on a dark horse, the cloak flying in the air after
him. Blast, he hadn’t even gotten a good look at him and there was
nothing about his stature or coloring that was easily identifiable.
If only he would have thought to knock the hat off the man’s head
then at least he would have had a color of hair to go off of.

Matthew leaned over, hands on his knees and
tried to catch his breath. What would have happened if he had not
been here?

“Grace!” She could be lying dead upstairs
now. He hadn’t checked on her but ran blindly after the man who
tried to kill her. He raced back to the house, taking the stairs
two at a time and bolted down the hall and into her room.

Perkins sat with her and Grace looked in his
direction. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Who would try to kill
me?”

“Hush, don’t think of that now.”

She sat up suddenly. “Father,” she cried.

Before Matthew could stop her she flew out of
her bed and down the hall. Matthew and Perkins raced after her. She
stopped at the entry to his room. “What are you doing here?”

Grace moved slowly into the room and Perkins
gently pushed past her to stand by Mr. Cooper. On the other side of
the bed sat Mrs. Thomas. Mr. Thomas stood behind her, a hand on her
shoulder.

“I’ve worried so much about your father and
the way I left,” Mrs. Thomas said.

“I brought her here so she could see for
herself he was getting better and maybe then she would sleep.”

Matthew knew he shouldn’t judge them but the
situation was a bit suspicious. It was the middle of the night. He
glanced at the clock. It was midnight at least. People normally
didn’t call at this time of night, unless they were in London
arriving at a ball. These circumstances were completely
different.

“What were those noises?” Mr. Thomas
asked.

“The man who tried to kill Mr. Cooper came
back and tried to smother Grace.”