“I haven’t had any mail in over three weeks,” Alyssa greeted the lone rider as soon as Keswick opened the front door. “I’ve been worried sick.”
“Lady Alyssa…”
Alyssa’s knees buckled when she recognized Lord Grantham standing on the stoop. He wore a formal tailcoat and trousers instead of his usual riding clothes and there was a black mourning band pinned to his right arm.
“Catch her!” Colin ordered, stepping forward as Keswick hurried to keep Alyssa from hitting the hard marble floor of the vestibule.
She opened her eyes a few moments later to find herself sitting on a low chaise in the conservatory and clutching fistfuls of Viscount Grantham’s shirtfront. “I was expecting the dispatch rider from Lord Weymouth’s office.” Her voice quavered as she sat up and automatically smoothed her hair and straightened her clothing. “He sent me instead.”
Alyssa paled once again and began to shake. “Please, tell me he isn’t.”
“Oh no,” Grantham rushed to reassure her. “He’s coming home.”
“He’s coming home,” she parroted, staring at Colin’s armband, barely able to comprehend Grantham’s words.
Grantham nodded. “Tomorrow’s Morning Post is printing the casualty lists from Spain. Lord Weymouth asked me to come break the news to you before you had the misfortune to read it in the papers.”
Colin followed her gaze and quickly snatched off the armband and stuffed it in his pocket. Of all the fool things to have done! He’d frightened Alyssa into a faint and all because he’d forgotten to take off the armband he’d worn to Lord Corwin’s funeral. Colin hastened to apologize. “Cripes, Alyssa, but I’m sorry. The band isn’t for Griff. It was for Lord Corwin—the undersecretary of the army. His funeral was this morning and everyone in the War Office turned out to pay respects. That’s where I saw Lord Weymouth. He knew I was coming this way, so he asked me to bring you the news.”
“Then, Griffin—”
“His name appears on the casualty lists. But he’s fine.” Colin rushed to reassure her. “He was wounded but—”
“Wounded?” Alyssa’s voice rose in alarm.
Colin held up his hand. “He was wounded in the battle of Fuentes de Oñoro, but he survived and is making a satisfactory recovery. Shepherdston has gone to Spain to help Eastman bring Griff home.”
“Has he been invalided?” Alyssa was almost afraid to ask. To be invalided out of the army meant that his wounds were serious enough that he could not return to active duty. And while she prayed Griffin wouldn’t have to return to the front, Alyssa also prayed that he could.
“No, not invalided, Lady Alyssa.” Colin grinned at her. “After your husband reached the safety of the village wall, he turned and charged back onto the battlefield. His heroic charge back rallied the troops and turned the tide of battle. When it was over, Lord Wellington retook the village and won the day. My dear Lady Abernathy, your husband has become England’s greatest hero since Lord Nelson.”
Alyssa didn’t care that Griffin had become England’s greatest hero since Admiral Lord Nelson. All she cared about was Griffin. “How badly is he hurt?” she demanded, already preparing to make a mental list of the herbal potions she would need.
“He suffered a series of wounds, but none of them are disfiguring.” So far, he added silently. There was no need to alarm her by mentioning that first reports had stated that the saber cut to the thigh might cost Griff his leg.
“What kind of wounds? How many?” Alyssa stared at Colin, daring him to prevaricate. “I need to know what remedies to prepare.”
“That won’t be necessary, Lady Alyssa. He’s receiving the best of care.”
Alyssa didn’t honor that platitude with a reply. The streets of London were full of maimed beggars who had fought against the French and suffered not only their wounds, but also the care of the best military surgeons. “What sort of wounds?” she repeated. “And where?”
Colin heaved a sigh. “I’m not certain where all of his wounds are located. When I left London Lord Weymouth hadn’t received all of the injury reports. I do know that Griff was shot several times during his charge across the field. He suffered a saber wound to the thigh and was bayoneted after the battle,” Colin said.
“Bayoneted? After the battle?”
Colin could have bitten out his tongue for letting that bit of information slip. He looked at Alyssa and started to lie, then thought better of it and decided to tell her the truth. “The French aren’t taking any prisoners at present. Wounded enemy soldiers are bayoneted after a battle to put them out of their misery.”
“Oh, dear God!” Alyssa gasped at the horror, then covered her mouth with her hand as her stomach threatened to revolt.
“Griff survived the bayonet wounds. He’s being attended by Lord Wellington’s personal surgeon and is recovering.”
“I want to see him,” Alyssa said.
“That’s why I’m here,” Colin told her. “Lord Weymouth also asked that I escort you to London.”
“London?” She didn’t want Griffin recuperating in the dirt and noise that was London. She wanted him home at Abernathy Manor where she could take care of him. “Isn’t he coming here? To Abernathy Manor?”
“That was the plan, but His Royal Highness has requested Griffin’s presence in London. Griff is to receive The Order of the Garter. Jarrod is going to bring him home to London first,” Colin explained. “And if Griff wants to journey to the manor after the honors are awarded, we’ll see that he gets here safe and sound.” He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “My duty is to take you to London.” He looked at Alyssa. “I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering your coach brought around. How long will it take you to pack?”
“I can be ready within the hour.” Alyssa turned to Keswick. “Please find Durham and ask her to pack only the essentials. I can purchase whatever else I need once I get to town.”
She took a deep breath to calm herself and breathed in the strong clean scent of the lemon blossoms permeating the air of the conservatory. Alyssa glanced at the potted lemon tree that had arrived from Spain a fortnight earlier, accompanied by an exquisite white lace mantilla and notes from Eastman and Lieutenant Hughes wishing her a very happy first wedding anniversary. The two gifts and the notes from Eastman and Hughes had been the last thing the dispatch rider had delivered to the manor. There had been no word from Griffin in all that time and now she knew why.
Alyssa looked at Colin and noticed, for the first time since his arrival, that he was dusty and travel-stained. “Keswick.” She stopped the butler with a word.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Please see to Lord Grantham’s comfort while I assemble my remedies.”
“Right away, ma’am.” The butler bowed to Alyssa before turning to Colin.
“If you will follow me to Lord Abernathy’s study, my lord, I am certain we can provide you with gentlemanly refreshments.”
Grateful for the offer of refreshments more potent than tea or coffee, Colin rose from the sofa and started to follow Keswick out of the room.
Alyssa’s softly spoken inquiry caught Colin off guard. “How is Eastman? And Lieutenant Hughes?”
Colin cleared his throat. He turned toward her, but his gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “Eastman is well.”