A Gentleman’s Promise: A Regency Romance (Gentlemen Book 1)

by Penny Hampson

  Richard frowned. What did that have to do with anything? And how did Wheatley know?

  ‘I see you’re puzzled, Mr Lacey,’ said Wheatley with a chuckle. ‘I have fingers in many pies, and one of them is the War Office. It is through that work that I learned about Frederick Smythe’s treachery.’

  There was a gasp from Emma. Wheatley’s eyes flickered, but he continued speaking.

  ‘Yes, Frederick was discovered to be intimately connected with a certain establishment we’ve been keeping under observation. You may know it; it’s run by a woman called Ruth Newbody.’

  It was Richard’s turn to gasp.

  Wheatley smiled. ‘Yes, we know about your visit there.’ He waved a hand. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, Frederick had to be disposed of. He was about to pass on a list of government agents to a French spy. If he hadn’t been killed and the list retrieved, the war against Napoleon would go badly for us.’

  Richard found his voice. ‘But I still don’t understand. Why the attacks on me? Why was Charles Smythe cut off from his family?’

  ‘Ah yes. I must admit to having additional motives for ordering Frederick’s “accident”.’ Wheatley sighed. ‘It’s something I’m not very proud of, but at least this meeting gives me the opportunity to clear my conscience.’ He smirked. ‘Despite rumours to the contrary, I do have one.’ Wheatley took a deep, rasping breath. ‘That cheat-gallows Frederick all but ruined Francis’ life; in fact, the only good thing he did was to sire Francis. For that alone, I concede I owe him thanks.’

  Wheatley was suddenly caught up in a fit of coughing. He pointed with a shaking hand to a half-filled glass on the side table. Richard moved quickly to place the pungent-smelling medication to Wheatley’s mouth and helped him take a draught. The coughing subsided and Wheatley drew a deep breath ‘Laudanum. My current doctor thinks it might help, but I’m not sure. It just makes me feel even more damned sleepy.’ The words wheezed out of his chest, and it was plain that it was an effort for him to speak.

  Richard glanced at Emma before speaking.

  ‘I’ll come back when you’ve rested, Wheatley.’

  ‘I’ve told you. I want to say this now. There may not be time later.’ Wheatley’s eyes were closing as he spoke, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair. Richard resumed his seat and waited.

  ‘Francis means a lot to me,’ said Wheatley in a weaker tone. ‘He’s been a good friend. We met some years ago and I employed him as my secretary. He proved his worth over and over and I was impressed by his diligence, his attention to detail, and above all his integrity.’

  After a few more laboured breaths, Wheatley continued. ‘It’s not often one meets with integrity. Not when you’re a duke. But Francis wasn’t afraid to let me know when he thought something wasn’t right. I respected him for it, and we became friends. He confided in me, told me about his childhood, and how his mother struggled to bring him up without the support of a husband. Needless to say, I eventually prised out of him the name of his father.’

  Wheatley took another sip of his tincture, and Richard’s insides clenched with fear. Would the drug render Wheatley senseless before he finished his story?

  ‘Where was I?’ Wheatley said at last. ‘Ah yes. I knew Frederick at Eton.’ Wheatley snorted. ‘He was some years older than me, but his reputation as a degenerate with pockets constantly to let was well known even then. Pestering the maidservants for favours, taking favours whether they were granted or not. Borrowing and never paying back. Apart from a few cronies, he was disliked and avoided by everyone. So yes, when Francis told me his father’s name, I wasn’t surprised. I knew Frederick was entirely capable of getting a gently born woman with child, denying it all, and leaving her to bear the consequences.’ Wheatley cleared his throat. ‘By this time, Francis and I were… how shall I put it? Somewhat closer than friends. I wanted to do something for him, do you understand? To make amends for the failings of his father. I know that when I die, I can’t leave him much from my estate or there will be talk.’ He shook his head. ‘There will be talk.’

  Richard flinched as Wheatley stretched out a claw-like hand and grasped his arm to emphasise his point. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Lacey?’

  Richard nodded. He understood all right. Francis would be prey to accusations of unnatural practices once Wheatley died and he was left unprotected. If Wheatley made the mistake of leaving him a substantial bequest from his unentailed estates, society would take it as proof that they had enjoyed an “unnatural” relationship. Francis’ life in society would be untenable. The poor chap would be a pariah.

  Wheatley continued, his voice getting weaker. ‘As for the other brother, we had word at the War Office that he, too, might be involved in passing information to the French.’

  There was an infuriated hiss from Emma, which Wheatley appeared not to hear, for he kept on speaking. ‘Lord, what a fool that man was. Who in his right mind would take his family down to the wild Ottoman lands? All that was needed was to intercept his letters. Bedworth at the consulate in Patras was well paid for his services. It was from him that I heard they were killed by bandits. But that was a lie, I discovered. So too was the information about Charles Smythe being a traitor. Bedworth was a troublemaker who had an eye to some money that Smythe had left in his care. He expected Smythe and his family to perish on their expedition, and so it proved, but in the end, Charles Smythe was the author of his own misfortune.’ Wheatley gave a humourless chuckle. ‘Bedworth, however, will pay for his lies.’

  Wheatley’s head lolled back for a moment, and Richard thought it was all over, but the man was stronger than he thought.

  ‘It was decided that exposing the scandal of Frederick’s treachery would not work in our favour. It would alert the French to our knowledge of their spy ring. Besides, there was only the dowager viscountess left, and she was above suspicion. It only took a few words in the right ears to persuade the courts to declare them all dead before the seven years were up. I planned to buy the estate and gift it to Francis. It should have belonged to him in any case if Frederick had been an honourable man.’

  Wheatley’s words were becoming more slurred. It was difficult to stand by and listen to a dying man’s last confession, but Richard desperately wanted Wheatley to complete it. Would a man lie if he thought he might soon meet his Maker? Richard didn’t think so. He glanced at Emma. Her face had drained of colour. He didn’t wonder at it. Here was Wheatley telling of treachery and scandal, and it was all about her family. Richard’s stomach lurched. It was his family too.

  Wheatley’s fingers clutched Richard’s arm. ‘I must also confess to arranging the attempts on your life, I’m afraid, Lacey.’ Wheatley gave a lopsided grin. ‘You rather upset my plans for Francis when you emerged as the heir. There were signs that my illness was returning, returning more rapidly than I’d anticipated, and I was getting desperate to sort matters out for him. I apologise most sincerely, although I don’t presume your forgiveness.’ Wheatley smiled wryly. ‘I’m sure I would not be very forgiving if someone admitted to trying to do away with me. Although at this moment it might be a blessing.’ He sighed deeply. ‘You’re a very patient man, Lacey. You’ve listened to my ramblings without interruption.’

  ‘Wheatley, I wanted to understand, and now I do. For what it’s worth, I’ll forgive you for the attacks on myself, provided they cease.’

  Wheatley nodded. ‘Thank you. You have my word.’ Wheatley closed his eyes for a moment, and Richard thought he’d fallen asleep, but then Wheatley stirred and spoke again.

  ‘Let me tell you something, Lacey. Something astonishing. Francis told me that, against all odds, Charles Smythe’s children survived and have returned home. Is that correct? What’s more, he says they wish to make amends for Frederick’s misdeeds and will acknowledge him as a member of the family. I fear that Francis might be spinning me a line so that my remaining days of suffering aren’t plagu
ed with worry for him.’

  Richard smiled. ‘It’s true, Wheatley. Emma Smythe and her brother are safely returned. James is the viscount now. They were delighted to acknowledge Francis as a cousin. As am I. The dowager viscountess is keen to introduce Francis to society as her grandson. You can be assured that Francis has a family now, one that will love and support him.’

  Wheatley closed his eyes and smiled. ‘That is indeed good news.’ There was silence for a moment, and Richard was on the point of leaving when Wheatley spoke. ‘Miss Smythe, you may come out of the shadows now. You’ve heard my confession. I’m sorry I was unable to spare you the details of your uncle’s treachery, but they will go no further. You have my word. There will be no taint of scandal for you or your brother. But I beg you, please don’t allow your opinion of me to affect the way you treat Francis. There is nothing I want more than for Francis to be happy.’

  Emma stood up and stepped nearer. ‘You knew it was I? Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘No matter, Miss Smythe. Your presence here shall be kept secret. But tell me, please, I implore you. Will you be kind to Francis?’ Wheatley’s ducal arrogance had disappeared. He was just another human being, pleading for his friend… his lover.

  Richard knew what her answer would be before she spoke.

  ‘I promise, Your Grace,’ she said, taking Wheatley’s hand. ‘Francis will never lack for family again. Thank you for your discretion; I can assure you that I, too, will be discreet.’

  ‘You both must understand’ – Wheatley’s rapidly unfocussing eyes flicked wildly between Richard and Emma – ‘Francis means the world to me. I wanted to make things right for him. God help me, I do love him. It was done for love of him.’ Wheatley’s eyes closed.

  The sound of a sob broke the stunned silence, and Richard and Emma turned to see Francis silhouetted in the doorway where he’d been listening. Striding over to where Wheatley lay slumped, Francis knelt down and took the unconscious duke in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

  ‘My darling Henry. Why? Why? Don’t leave me now. Not yet. I can’t live without you.’

  Emma swiped at her eyes while Richard stood motionless, awkward and embarrassed at this display of raw emotion. It reminded him all too much of his own helplessness when faced with the death of loved ones. Taking refuge in practicalities, he felt for a pulse in Wheatley’s wrist. There was a faint beat.

  ‘Francis, he’s still breathing. He hasn’t gone. I think it’s just the effect of the laudanum.’

  Francis looked up. ‘What? He’s breathing? He’s still alive? Oh God, please let him live.’

  ‘Let me help you get him into bed,’ said Richard, tugging Francis to his feet. ‘He’ll be more comfortable there. Do you want me to call for his doctor?’

  Francis wiped his tear-stained face with his sleeve. ‘Yes, help me to move him, please. The bedchamber is through there.’ He pointed to the door through which he’d entered. ‘He won’t want the doctor again. I’ll see to him, don’t worry.’

  The two men easily lifted Wheatley between them and carried him through to the bedchamber, with Emma following closely behind.

  Once they’d placed Wheatley on the bed, Francis said, ‘I’ll manage now, Richard. Thank you too, Emma. I’ll get him into his night things and see him settled.’

  ‘Only if you’re sure you’ll be all right on your own. We can stay, and I’ll tell Crawford and George to go home, if you prefer.’ Richard felt uncomfortable making the offer, but compassion ensured he made it anyway.

  Emma echoed his words. ‘Richard and I are happy to stay with you for as long as you need us.’

  Richard smiled at her. Trust his kind-hearted, generous Emma. How he loved her.

  Francis glanced at the figure on the bed. Wheatley was now breathing faintly but steadily. ‘No, you go home. I’ll manage. Thank you for your help.’ His red-rimmed eyes searched both their faces. ‘Will you still really want to know me after all this? Will anyone? What will you tell everyone?’ His mouth twisted, and he turned his head away.

  Emma put her arms round Francis as Richard spoke for the two of them.

  ‘We won’t disclose anything about tonight, you can be sure about that. And of course we’ll still want to see you; you’re part of our family. Isn’t that right, Emma?’

  ‘Yes, you must believe that, Francis,’ she said. ‘Wheatley was just a little too zealous in his wish to look after you, but love can drive one to mad actions. I, of all people, understand that. It got me back home to England, after all.’ She smiled and gave Francis a final squeeze before moving back to stand next to Richard.

  Richard coughed. ‘Francis, I just wanted to say also, about your relationship with Wheatley…’

  Francis tensed as if expecting a blow.

  ‘Y-yes?’ he faltered.

  ‘It’s of no matter to us. We’ll disclose nothing. Neither of us believes that your relationship with Wheatley should be a matter for the courts, despite what the law says. Look after your friend and come and see us when you’re ready. And if you need any help in the meantime, let me know.’ Richard gripped Francis’ hand. ‘Do you understand that, Francis? We’ll always be here for you.’

  A tear ran down Francis’ cheek.

  ‘Thank you, my friends.’

  Chapter 23

  Recalling that they were supposed to be passing for brothers, Richard relinquished Emma’s hand as they retraced their steps back through the library, down the corridor, and across the landing. Richard tried several doors before he found the drawing room where his friends were ensconced.

  Crawford was lounging in an armchair, his leg propped up on a footstool, while George, with head bent and hands clasped behind his back, paced up and down. George’s head spun round at the sound of the door.

  ‘How did it go? Don’t say he’s issued a challenge? I’ll be your second, of course.’

  Emma giggled as Richard shook his head and grinned.

  ‘Calm down, George. No challenge has been issued. If you’re up to moving, Crawford, we’ll be on our way. I’ll tell you everything once we’re in the coach.’

  Crawford nodded and eased himself out of his seat. A look of relief spread over George’s face.

  ‘Thank God. Julia would’ve had my guts for garters if we’d got involved in a duel.’

  ‘She wouldn’t be very happy with me either,’ quipped Richard, thanking the heavens that it had not come to that. The four of them returned downstairs, Emma, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, trailing behind. Richard decided that the true import of Wheatley’s words were only just beginning to register with her, and of course, there had been the high emotion of her cousin’s despair.

  Once they were all back in the coach, Emma remained silent, leaving it to Richard to explain to the two men what had transpired. He omitted the details of the relationship between Wheatley and Francis and skirted around the subject of Frederick’s treachery. That was for him and Emma alone. All the same, he suspected that Crawford understood how things stood between Wheatley and Francis. Richard explained to George that Wheatley had acted purely out of compassion at the injustice done to Francis and his mother.

  ‘Damned rum do though, ain’t it? What are you going to do now, Richard?’ asked George.

  George’s question at last roused Emma from her introspection.

  ‘Apart from telling my grandmother that there is no longer a threat, we shall do absolutely nothing.’

  ‘Oh!’ George shrugged, then smiled, evidently relieved at the prospect of returning to a quiet life.

  Richard agreed with Emma. It was pointless to take matters further; all sorts of unsavoury secrets concerning Frederick and his dealings with French spies might come out. Wheatley had confessed and begged forgiveness, and he was possibly near death. By pure good fortune, neither he nor Jamie had been seriously harmed, and Emma’s parents’ deaths had been
a tragic accident, nothing more. Richard didn’t want to think about the punishment Wheatley had planned for Bedworth. Doing and saying nothing was the wisest course. Richard hoped the dowager would agree.

  After first taking Crawford back to the Albany, the coach arrived in front of the Bedford Square townhouse. They were greeted by Grimes, who cast only a cursory glance at Emma’s appearance before informing them that Mrs Morton had retired to bed.

  George turned to Richard and Emma.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it. I must go and see Julia. I’ll wager she is tired out. All the excitement of shopping can’t be good for her in her condition.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m considering taking her back to Cornwall if she’s up to the journey.’ George waved to them as he sprinted up the stairs. ‘See you in the morning.’

  Richard chuckled. ‘Well, good luck with that, George.’ He couldn’t see his sister submitting to being cloistered in the country, not when the Season was on. He’d wager that George’s plans to remove to Cornwall would soon be abandoned.

  Richard led Emma into the small drawing room. He’d decided they both needed a drink before retiring. If Emma’s nerves weren’t stretched, his certainly were.

  Emma flopped down on the sofa in front of the fire while Richard made for the decanter. He poured two drinks and came back to sit beside her. She was gazing into the flames as they licked and curled around the coals.

  Leaning back, he stretched his legs out in front of him, feeling the tension of the previous hours leave his body. Had he really been that person who’d confronted a duke with an accusation of murder? It seemed he was turning into a different person.

  Emma shifted slightly. Her legs, encased in breeches, brushed against his thigh, causing his pulse to quicken. It was all due to her, he thought. He’d led an uneventful, steady life until she’d arrived. Now he could do anything – travel, have adventures. If only he could be sure she would remain in his life. He’d climb mountains, tackle dukes, fight Napoleon himself if it meant Emma stayed with him.