The Rake's Redemption by Anne Millar Page A

wasn’t going to make.
    But Judith Hampton was a suitable bride, no mistaking that. If she came at the cost of her brother’s debts that would be leverage to make her all the more amenable. An amenable woman meant a pleasant life for a man. Though he hadn’t cared for her reaction to his discourse on Thomas Stainford. The Loyal Volunteers were his men, bought and paid for, and no mere major was going to interfere with that, or anything else he wanted.

Chapter 6
     
     
    In the event it wasn’t guests calling who forced Judith’s recall from her garden retreat but the youngest of the Hampton footmen running full pelt across the terrace towards her.
    “Perkinson, whatever is it?” Judith felt a cold hand on her heart; such urgency was never needed to bring good news.
    “It’s Master Hampton, Miss. He’s been attacked.” Perkinson’s shock was evident in his white face.
    “Is he badly hurt? Where is he? Where was he attacked?” As she spoke Judith was picking up her skirts to start running back to the house, Perkinson at her side. By the time she’d rounded the side of the house she’d learned all he knew, which was that John had arrived back at the house, Bridges had sent Perkinson to fetch her, and he had run as quickly as he could to do so.
    The landau on the gravel wasn’t one she recognised, though even in her confusion she could see that it was rakish, built in the latest style with long low springs to provide a ride that would yield both speed and comfort. It wasn’t till her eye took in the sword and unicorn of the Penwick arms on the door that she realised who had brought John home. If Perkinson thought it odd that his mistress hesitated for a second before she took off for the front door he didn’t show it. Pragmatic to a fault, he simply sloped off before anybody could give him further orders.
    John looked terrible. Held up between Thomas and another man in the hall he was sagging at the knees and obviously incapable of standing by himself. Blood had run down his face and soaked his clothes to leave him a terrifying sight. Bridges obviously thought so, for he was positively dancing with indecision.
    Thomas Stainford looked exasperated at the hold up, and Judith’s horror at the sight of her brother disappeared as she took in what needed to be done. “We need to lie him down, Bridges. Now.”
    There was no reaction from the butler and with no other option Judith addressed herself to Thomas Stainford. “Can you take him upstairs, Thomas?”
    A nod.
    “Then follow me. Bridges, send Mrs Rogers up with hot water and cloths. And send Perkinson for Doctor Bradley. At once tell him.” Even in the blur of her fear and panic, she could see the approval with which Thomas marked her actions. Just let him think she cared for anything at all besides her brother.
    The three men were deadly slow climbing the stairs behind her, and Judith’s racing mind had time to recall who the second man was. Wright: Thomas’ valet and groom. With the recollection came a wave of shame. Was there anyone who didn’t know of her folly? Wright was obviously taking the lion’s share of John’s weight and Judith gave a guilty start as she remembered Thomas’ wound. A look at his clenched face was enough to confirm both that he was suffering and to dissuade her from offering help to relieve him of his burden.
    By the time they reached John’s room Mrs Rogers and two of the maids had attached themselves to the little procession and John was beginning to show signs of lucidity. As the groaning heir to Oakenhill was deposited onto his bed, Judith couldn’t hold back her questions. “Thank you, Major. What on earth happened to him?” Behind her Mrs Rogers and her assistants were setting to work to cleanse and revive the battered scion of Hampton.
    “We found him being set upon by three footpads, Judith. And brought him here.” As an explanation it fell short of comprehensive, and Judith had to bite back her instinctive