Page 90 of How to Start a Scandal

Seth relished the contented hum in his chest. ‘Thank you, Bennet.’

The valet straightened with the clothing gathered in his arms and set it on the bed to tend to later. ‘Shall we prepare you for the day with haste or with care, my lord?’

With haste or with care. Seth’s way or Bennet’s way. There was a difference of at least two hours between the two, but Seth had nothing else planned for the afternoon.

‘Bennet’s way,’ Seth replied, and the valet’s eyes lit with delight.

A fraction of a lifetime later, somewhere between the twentieth swipe of the razor and the thousandth, a rapid knock came from the door. ‘Forgive me, my lord,’ Gibbons said from the other side. ‘This is most urgent.’

Bennet backed away and Seth sat upright, wiping the remainder of the shaving soap from his face. ‘Come in.’

Gibbons rushed in immediately. The older man was in such a state, he didn’t even close the door behind him. ‘A Mr Nash is here to see you. My lord, he—’

‘Finally.’ Seth got his feet. Seth had been sending messages to the former Runner for the past week for news on Mr Pattinson’s whereabouts with no response.

A dot of red on Gibbons’ collar caught Seth’s attention. ‘Is that blood?’

‘Mr Nash is quite unwell, my lord,’ Gibbons said weakly.

It was then Seth noticed the butler’s face had gone a peaked shade of grey. Alarm spiked through him.

‘Where is he?’ Seth demanded.

Gibbons wavered on his feet. ‘The study.’

‘Bennet, see to Gibbons.’ Seth strode quickly to the open doorway.

Gibbons shook his head. ‘I’d prefer you find a physician immediately, Bennet. Mr Nash has sustained grave injuries.’

Grave injuries? Seth’s stride lengthened into a run as he raced down to the study. He shoved through the door and almost didn’t see Nash where he lay slumped in a leather stuffed chair. A slash of bright blood showed on the yellowed shirt he wore under an old jacket.

‘Nash,’ Seth called.

The man’s eyes flew open. ‘Mr Pattinson,’ the former Runner groaned. ‘Back in London.’ He winced through a pained breath. ‘Means to stop you.’

Seth sank to his knees by the chair. ‘Save your breath, man. Let me see the extent of your wounds.’ He lifted Nash’s shirt and grimaced at the deep wound in the man’s side.

Seth was no surgeon, of course, but he’d seen enough injured men and had even done his part to aid when he could. If the blade went between Nash’s ribs, there could be irreparable damage to the lungs, or other soft organs. An injury that could prove fatal.

Seth tugged off his cravat and pressed it to the wound to staunch the bleeding. Nash hissed at the pressure against his injury.

‘We’ve summoned a physician,’ Seth said.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Nash gritted out. ‘Protect your bloody family.’

Violet stepped out into the sunshine with Susan at her side. She was tempted to walk in the golden glow of warmth and breathe in the scent of fully bloomed flowers as she did so. That is, until she caught sight of Seth’s carriage waiting for her.

It would be her first time taking the Dalton carriage, her first outing as the Countess of Dalton. Surely it wouldn’t do to walk. A footman limped around the carriage and opened the door for her with a flourish.

She thanked Burton, who beamed at her in response, and stepped on to the small stair to climb into the small cabin.

A posy of violets waited on the cushioned seat and scented the air with their delicate perfume. No doubt a gift from Seth. She smiled and touched a dark purple petal as the carriage pulled away.

‘It was kind of him to think of you so, my lady,’ Susan said.

‘Indeed it was.’ Violet leaned back on the padded seat back and smiled.

Seth.