by Lucy Adams
“And if you are in trouble,” she whispered, pressing herself back against the wall and looking all around the room, “then I want to help you, brother.” She swallowed hard. She and Lord Hamilton had never been bosom companions growing up. There were a good few years between them and he had always considered her to be nothing more than a silly little girl, unworthy of his attentions. Yes, once he had taken the title, he had appeared to act with wisdom and insight—for he sought to find himself a bride the year after his mourning had come to an end and had been more than willing for Carolyn herself to have as many Seasons as she wished. But there was still not that closeness between them that might now have proven useful, should she have had such a thing. Mayhap her brother might have turned to her, might have spoken to her, might have allowed himself to look to her for guidance. They would not be as they were now, with her wondering and questioning what Hamilton was involved in, fearful that he was not the man she thought him.
Had she known Lady Hamilton a little more, Carolyn might have considered writing to her sister-in-law for her advice, but there was not even a friendship between them. Sighing, Carolyn rubbed at her forehead, praying silently that Lord Caravel would not succumb to death, as Lord Franks evidently feared, and that somehow, this terrible mystery would be brought to a swift end.
Lifting her head, Carolyn was surprised to see Lord Franks only a few feet away from her. She had expected him to quit the room, but allowing herself to watch him for a moment or two, she realized that he was deep in earnest conversation with one or two other gentlemen. Gentlemen who must also be bound to The King’s League, she realized. Her eyes lingered on Lord Franks, sending her heart into a quicker rhythm as she took in his frame, recalled the touch of his fingers on her hand, how he had looked so deeply into her eyes.
Of course, she chided herself, this was certainly not the time for her to be thinking such things! And yet, there was an unsettling awareness of him surrounding her, filling her heart, soul and mind. The way his dark hair had brushed untidily to one side of his face, the way his eyes had searched hers, the sigh that had come as he had touched her hand—she could not seem to forget them easily. They aroused something new in her, something that she knew should not even be considered at the present moment, but finding that she could do nothing other but that. She had never felt an attraction to a gentleman before, had never truly enjoyed a close acquaintance with a gentleman but ever since he had come to her rescue from Lord Voxley’s foolishness, she had found herself drawing nearer and nearer to him. The fact that he had stated, outright, that he would allow himself to trust her meant a great deal. Her heart had lifted with joy, with relief, with gladness, and even now, she still felt that swell of emotion.
“You must find Hamilton,” she told herself, forcing her gaze away from Lord Franks and reminding herself of what she ought to be doing. She had wasted time already, letting herself simply stand by the side of the ballroom and letting the shock of what had just happened run over her, only to become distracted by all of her own thoughts as regarded Lord Franks. Giving herself a slight shake, she began to meander through the ballroom, a little relieved that her mother was entirely absent this evening, else she herself would have never been able to behave as she had this evening. Lady Hamilton had something of a headache, unfortunately, and so had been unable to attend. Lord Hamilton had given his solemn oath to watch his sister with a careful eye, whilst Carolyn had reminded her mother that Lady Callander would be present also, and thus Lady Hamilton had been a little more willing for Carolyn to attend.
Carolyn knew she ought not to be grateful for a headache, but there was a relief within her that her mother was not present. Wandering slowly through the ballroom, she suddenly caught sight of her brother, standing to one side of the room looking utterly dejected.
Her heart turned over in her chest as she watched him, seeing the misery in his expression and wondering at it.
A moment later, someone greeted him and the change was instantaneous. His head lifted, his lips parted in a smile and he laughed aloud at something that was said. Clearly, her brother was very good at hiding all that he truly felt.
Suddenly, another gentleman drew near to her brother, with the first acquaintance taking his leave. Carolyn pressed herself into the shadows of the ballroom, praying that neither her brother nor this gentleman would see her watching them so intently but at the same time, being quite unwilling to turn away. She watched as the second gentleman, who was a little taller than her brother, with broad shoulders and a somewhat stout frame, leaned over him. Carolyn saw her brother shrink back, feeling herself grow angry that someone was speaking to him in a way that would make him feel so intimidated.
Lord Hamilton nodded and looked away, his head bowed. A hard laugh came from the other gentleman and, at this, Carolyn found herself acting without any sort of consideration. She did not like this fellow, felt waves of darkness practically rushing out from him towards her, but did not allow him to intimidate her. Lifting her chin, she put a small smile on her face and walked over to greet her brother in a light, airy voice as though she had just had the most enjoyable time and now required her brother’s assistance in some matter or other.
“I have been looking for you, Hamilton!” she laughed cheerily, seeing the way her brother’s eyes flared, how horror caught his eyes, only for it to be quickly suppressed by a smile that did not reach his eyes.
“Carolyn,” Lord Hamilton said, somewhat tightly. “I did not think you would require me.”
She tutted and waggled one finger at him teasingly. “But you know very well you are meant to be chaperoning me this evening, and before you state that Lady Callander could do such a thing, she is presently dancing with some gentleman or other.” With an interested smile on her face, she looked towards the gentleman she did not know. “Might you not do the introductions, Hamilton? It feels very rude to be conversing when I do not know the name of your acquaintance.” She let her smile brighten, taking in the gentleman’s stature, his light brown hair, his deep set eyes and firm jaw. There was something unsettling about him in the way that he was watching her, his eyes taking in everything. It was as if he was able to see into her heart and to know the truth of her presence here.
“You ought not to interrupt me, Carolyn,” her brother replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand that told Carolyn she should move away and not expect such introductions. “If you would excuse us?”
Carolyn turned her attention back towards Lord Hamilton, looking at him with a frown flickering across her brow. “Do not be so rude, Hamilton,” she told him stoutly, well aware that she was not at all inclined to act as her brother expected but also seeing the sharp, desperate look that now flicked across her brother’s face. “You must excuse my brother, sir,” she continued, not allowing her brother to speak. “He is always particularly careful when it comes to introducing his sister to other gentlemen.” Rolling her eyes, she let out a small, dry laugh. “It is my third Season now, however, and I have told him on more than one occasion that he is not to be so protective.” This was all a lie, of course, for Lord Hamilton had never really been interested in precisely who his sister was introduced to, but it was a good excuse as to why he was not introducing her now. “It seems I shall have to do my own introduction, which is, of course, quite improper.” She sent an angry look towards Lord Hamilton, then curtsied towards the gentleman. “Miss Hemmingway, sir.”
For a moment, she thought he might not answer her. His brows were low over his eyes, his mouth in a grim line. She kept a light smile on her face, looking up at him with a quiet determination. The rest of the ballroom seemed to fade away, the music deadening, the conversations around her nothing more than a dull hum.
And then, he shifted. Bowing slowly, he lifted his head and held her gaze. “The Honorable Mr. Astor,” he said, with not even a hint of a smile on his face. “How very good to meet you, Miss Hemmingway.”
She tipped her smile in the direction of her brother who was
watching her with something like horror in his eyes. “You see, Hamilton?” she said, with a shake of her head. “There is nothing wrong with such introductions. I can be quite proper, can I not?” Laughing, she turned back towards Mr. Astor. “And how are you acquainted with my brother, Mr. Astor?”
He did not hesitate for even a moment. “We are involved in a business endeavor,” he told her, as Lord Hamilton began to nod fervently. “One that I hope will ensure we both make financial gains.”
“I must hope so also,” she answered, teasingly. “For then my brother will be able to purchase more gowns for me.” She deliberately made certain that her answers were rather vague and somewhat insipid, not wanting Mr. Astor to think that she was at all interested in what he had told her thus far. It seemed to work, for Mr. Astor shot a wry look towards Lord Hamilton, one brow lifted as if to suggest that he found Carolyn to be empty headed and bland.
“Ah, there is to be the next dance!” her brother interrupted, putting one hand on Carolyn’s arm. “Should you like to dance it, Carolyn?”
She laughed, turning back to Mr. Astor. “You can see that my brother does not wish me to keep conversing, for fear that I will say something so foolish that he will be utterly ashamed.” Seeing Mr. Astor’s lips quirk, she turned back to her brother with a feeling of satisfaction rowing in her heart. “Yes, brother, I am sure that I should like to dance and thereafter, I shall leave you quite alone to discuss business matters—although why you would discuss matters at a ball when there is so much here for you to enjoy, I cannot understand.”
Her brother looked greatly relieved and as Carolyn took her leave of Mr. Astor, kept his face turned towards the crowd, clearly almost desperate to pull her away.
Carolyn sighed heavily, blowing out a long breath and ridding herself of the tension that had filled her ever since she had marched towards her brother and Mr. Astor.
“What were you thinking, Carolyn?”
She looked up at her brother, her hand on his arm.
“You cannot interrupt me when I am in conversation with an acquaintance!”
Frowning, Carolyn shook her head. “Do not be so foolish, brother,” she told him, tartly. “I have often interrupted you before and you, in turn, have interrupted me. In fact, you have been glad of my interruptions at times, eager to introduce me to your acquaintances.” She turned her head to look into her brother’s face, wanting him to tell her precisely why he did not want her to speak to this particular gentleman. “What is it about Mr. Astor that has you so eager to protect me from him?”
Her brother sighed and turned to face her, bowing as he ought as she barely had time to drop into a curtsy. Stepping forward into his arms, they began to waltz, but there was a tension between them that Carolyn could practically feel.
It was then that she realized her brother was no longer wearing his gloves.
Her heart thumped loudly for a moment as she cast her mind back to their arrival at the ball. From what she remembered, he had been wearing gloves when he had arrived, and should have put them back on for dancing also. Where were they? It was considered poor form to be dancing without wearing gloves and whilst her brother was not always careful about his behavior, there was more to this than merely forgetting them, she was sure.
“Where are your gloves, Hamilton?”
Her question was asked innocently enough, but her brother jerked violently, stumbled and hauled her to one side before managing to regain his footing. Carolyn slipped and stumbled, holding tightly onto her brother and feeling embarrassment shooting up into her face, certain that many people had seen them make such a misstep. Most likely, they would think that her brother had drunk a little too much and had stumbled due to the sheer amount of liquor within him.
“What is wrong, Hamilton?” she asked, softly, as he began to spin around the floor again. “Where are your gloves? Why did you not wish me to speak to Mr. Astor?” Looking up into his eyes, she tried her best to keep a hold of his gaze but Lord Hamilton doggedly looked over her shoulder and did not even glance in her direction. “Is there something troubling you, Hamilton? I would like to know.”
“Why?” His voice was harsh, his eyes narrowing now as he practically glared at her. “Why should you wish to know such a thing?”
She was a little taken aback by his tone, pressing her lips together and taking a beat to let her breath settle before she answered. “Because, Hamilton, I want to be able to help you, if I can.”
“You cannot.” His tone remained angry, his upset still clear for her to see. “Leave matters well alone, Carolyn. They are nothing to do with you.”
Not certain what she ought to say, Carolyn held Hamilton’s gaze, feeling her heart ache for him, seeing the flickering fear just behind his eyes and in deep agony wondering what he was doing, wondering what he was lost in, wondering how she might help him when he clearly wanted her to stay as far away as possible.
“Now, go and find Lady Callander,” he instructed, as the dance came to an end, “and enjoy the rest of the evening. Do not come to seek me out again, Carolyn, else I will be greatly displeased.”
She shook her head, her hand tight on his still, even though the other couples were bowing and curtsying towards each other. “You are pushing me away when I might be able to help you remove yourself from whatever it is that entangles you.”
A harsh, wry laugh had her dropping her hand, suddenly sickened by the look on her brother’s face, the grin that told her he thought her quite foolish.
“What makes you think that I am in any way trapped?” he asked her, making her stomach roil. “All I want is for you to remain entirely absent from me when I am attempting to make some sort of business endeavors, Carolyn. Does that make sense to you?”
Her stomach dropped to the floor. Perhaps her brother was as Lord Franks had suggested: a willing partner in all of this. Lord Hamilton did not know that she was aware of the emblem, of the handkerchief, of the shots sent through Lord Watt’s windows. He did not know that she was attempting to aid Lord Franks in his investigation, was entirely unaware that she was struggling with the apparent connection between him and all that had happened to The King’s League.
“Do you understand me, Carolyn?”
Lord Hamilton was leaning closer to her now, his voice grating and his brows low over his eyes.
“Yes,” she murmured, feeling herself trapped. “Yes, I understand, Hamilton.”
“Good.” He grasped her arm and practically marched her from the floor, his head held high and an angry gleam in his eye. Carolyn went with him, seemingly willing to obey but, inwardly, letting her mind run through all manner of thoughts. Her brother’s attitude had frightened her, his hard words both upsetting and angering her, but she was still quite certain that his main motivation was fear. Hamilton let her go without either a word or a bow in her direction, muttering something indistinct under his breath before turning aside. Carolyn was left to wander through the crowd in an attempt to find Lady Callander, her heart still racing and her brow still furrowed.
“Ho, there!”
Catching a footman’s attention, she beckoned him towards her.
“My brother, Lord Hamilton, would like me to look at his gloves to see if they can be repaired,” she told him, seeing not even a flicker of understanding on the footman’s face. “Might you bring them to me at once? I intend to go to the powder room where i might look at them in more detail.”
The footman bowed. “But of course,” he said, leaving her with a sense of satisfaction as she watched him move away. The footman in question might know nothing of what she spoke but there was a chance that another footman might have taken her brother’s gloves and set them somewhere safe, so that Lord Hamilton would not have to be embarrassed by such a pair. Pressing her lips together, she quickened her steps in order to hurry from the room and make her way to the other rooms, waiting for the footman there.
“Carolyn! There are you. Where have you been this evening? I have been looking for yo
u, especially when your brother insisted that I come and find you!” Lady Callander laughed and came to stand beside Carolyn. “He was quite insistent!”
“I am sure he was,” Carolyn answered carefully, not wanting to tell her friend too much. “He does not want me to be anywhere near his companions or acquaintances at this present moment.” Seeing how Lady Callander shrugged, Carolyn chose not to say any more, feeling no need to divulge everything to her friend. “Have you had an enjoyable evening?”
“I have,” Lady Callander answered, with a warm smile. “There are still many things I do not understand about this ‘League’ however, and it has often been occupying my thoughts but tonight, I am glad to say that my mind has been entirely occupied in finding good company and excellent conversation.” She smiled at Carolyn, only for her smile to fade as a footman returned to her side, carrying a pair of stained white gloves in his hand.
“Lord Hamilton’s gloves, my lady,” he said, with a quick bow. “Is there anything else that you require?”
Carolyn took the gloves from him, her heart in her throat as she saw the dark stains on the fingertips, her fingers brushing over them and, as she lifted her hands, seeing the slightly oily residue resting there.
“Did Lord Hamilton instruct for these to be set aside?” she asked, trying not to let her fears take a tight hold of her. “Or where exactly did he want them to be set?”