Your Darkest Dream (Blackwood & Friends #2)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When Lord Oliver Hollingsworth entered the Blackwood's receiving room the following afternoon, there was a pregnant tension over the other occupants which wasn't abated one bit by Blanche's agitated pacing from one end to the other.

As soon as she saw him, she pummelled into him with an urgency that was driving her to unreasonable heights of anxiety. Her fingers curled into the lapels of the gentleman's coat, a mixture of undiluted impatience and torment openly conveyed upon her countenance. "Where is he? Did you see him?" she demanded furiously, desperately.

Initially surprised, Oliver relaxed and a soft expression came over his face. He placed his hands over Blanche's and carefully extracted her grasp. There was other movement in the chamber that she became aware of- Jason stood and came to be directly behind her, her mother and Nicola were also eager to hear what Oliver would say from where they reposed on their respective armchairs, taking their tea while they had congregated and waited together for Lord Hollingsworth's anticipated return.

"Blanche, allow Lord Hollingsworth a moment to settle," Kathleen admonished, but her voice was timid as it had been since learning of her youngest's ordeal the evening prior. "We should at least offer him some tea first."

"That's quite alright, Lady Blackwood," Oliver said and led Blanche into towards a seat amiably. She didn't take it, merely stared up at him with an intensity she hoped would propel him to divulge of information quicker than he was. Lord Hollingsworth, having studied civil law and thus vastly more knowledgeable on matters pertaining to the situation, had been summoned by Jason last night.

Blanche had not been in her best frame of mind when she had been deposited by a constable at the Blackwood's townhouse in London. Having frequented other assignations that evening, a missive had to be sent by the awkward runner to inform her brother and her mother that an incident had occurred and they should report to their residence to oversee Blanche. The man had been forced to linger with Blanche for twenty minutes until the first Blackwood arrived and the surly constable had been decidedly uncomfortable, especially since Blanche was utilizing every ounce of her being to thrust past him, talking incessantly the entire time about what a heinous mistake they had all made, how they would pay dearly for their impertinence. She endeavoured to escape the room and run headlong into the street towards Bow Street. Just what she had intended to do if she had been allowed to get there though, she wasn't entirely certain. No doubt she would have howled and shouted at every man who crossed her path until she too would face arrest. The man had been steadfastly silent until the last attempt from Blanche to barrel past him and out the parlour room door at which point, clearly fed up with her antics, the constable restrained her arms firmly yet not painfully, leaned down close to her face, and grit out with implacably controlled impatience: "For God's sake, your intended has done something inconceivably honourable to protect your sensibility and reputation. The very least you could do is remain sane enough not to jeopardise everything he has risked by throwing it all away due to an act of impetuousness." It had willed her into quiet submission- for the time being at least.

Jason and Nicola had been first to arrive and the constable had been dismissed, his face clearly portraying his relief once he had briefed the Marquis of Blackwood with a succinct summary of the events that had transpired to provoke his appearance at Rothford House that evening. Kathleen had entered once the runner had departed and immediately encased her youngest daughter into a hard embrace- and then Blanche broke and sobbed for all she was worth. Great, big, heaving gasps that were wrought from a heart that physically ached for an innocent man she had inadvertently ruined filled the room while the others consoled and watched on with a foreboding silence.