Seduction Regency Style

by Louisa Cornell

  He straightened. Warm hands clasped her shoulders. “I apologize for departing so abruptly,” he said. “I’ll put Everly in his place and be back before the week is out.”

  “Will you take someone with you?” she asked, though she knew not who. William was still abed and she wasn’t familiar with those in Robert’s employ.

  He shook his head. “I’ll be in no danger. My estate is stocked with those loyal to me and I’ve assessed Everly. Even if he wrote both notes, he doesn’t have it in him to take real action. Not like I will, when I set him straight for threatening our family and interrupting our wedding day.” He looked past her to his butler. “Send up my valet.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Robert offered a tantalizing brush of his lips across hers, then turned to jog up the steps. Cecilia let out a sigh, watching him go. Whatever he did to Everly, it would be the least of what the man deserved.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Robert reined in on the boarder of his ducal holdings. His gaze swept the lane, so familiar, yet changed. The road was still well-kept, if rutted. The trees his grandfather had planted to line the lane were the same, but larger. One or two of the giant oaks had fallen and been removed. No one had planted replacements. He would have to—

  He let out a bitter bark of laughter. His horse sidestepped, startled. Robert reined him into a tight turn to contain a burst of agitated energy. How quickly he’d thought to step back into the role of lord of these lands, even after over a decade away. To be duke was in both his breeding and blood, whether he wished the responsibility or not.

  He nudged his horse up the lane, awash in a sea of juxtaposition. With startling clarity, he recalled how things were. His mind lay those memories atop the landscape that greeted him.

  Here, a cotter had added a new room to his dwelling. There, a chicken coop had been erected, or a kennel enlarged. A field expanded, and an orchard grown up, the trees now large enough to bear fruit. Solworth, it seemed, prospered. Knowing the people here had Mister Jeffries and Lanora to thank for that, not him, left a bitter taste in Robert’s mouth.

  Not so bitter a taste, though, as could keep the other memories at bay. Livonia daring him to race her down the lane, riding astride against her parents’ and society’s wishes. Her laughter that trailed back to him as she galloped past. The hilltop where they picnicked one afternoon peeked above the treetops west of the roadway. There, she’d spent hours weaving daisies into necklaces and crowns while he read to her. Robert cleared his throat, but the hard knot there remained. He would skewer Everly for making him come here.

  The memories only increased as he neared the manor. When he finally turned up the wide drive to confront his sprawling ancestral home, they hung so thick as to obscure reality. His poor horse, attuned to his master’s distress but finding no enemy, flinched at every sound.

  A groom hurried out to take the reins as Robert drew to a halt before the wide front steps. He dismounted, noting the startled comprehension on the man’s vaguely familiar face. The groom, about twenty, would have been a boy when Robert left.

  “My lord,” the young man’s tone was a mixture of surprise and relief, “welcome home.”

  Robert nodded, his jaw clenched too tight for speech.

  “There’s some people taken up residence within who say you’ve given them free reign over the place,” the young man continued in a low voice. “The lady, if she is one, said you were on your way, but we didn’t know if we should believe her. Everyone will be mighty pleased to see you, my lord.”

  Robert nodded again and jogged up the steps. The door swung open at his approach to reveal Missus Birkchester, Grace Birkchester’s mother. She was rounder than he recalled, and grayer, but her eyes snapped with the same lively intelligence.

  “Lord Robert, thank Heaven,” she exclaimed. “Did you receive my letter, then?” She held out her hand for outer garments he hadn’t had time to remove. “No, but you couldn’t have yet. No matter. You’re here. This terrible woman, Missus Everly, and her depraved excuse for a son, they’ve taken up residence, saying it’s by your order, but we, none of us, can credit that, and--”

  “For a housekeeper, you have quite the waggling tongue, Missus Birkchester.” Missus Everly’s crisp words were accompanied by her neat little person as she marched into the foyer. “Or should I say Miss Birkchester since, I’ve come to find, you never did marry, did you? You simply played the wanton and birthed a little bastard, as if there are no repercussions for that sort of repugnant behavior.”

  Missus Birkchester’s brow furrowed. She whirled to face Missus Everly, her shoulders thrown back in a way Robert recognized well. A Birkchester lady ready to fight. He touched her lightly on the arm. She turned and he pressed his hat and gloves on her.

  “Allow me to speak with her,” he said.

  Expression reluctant, Missus Birkchester nodded. She took his outerwear and bustled away, glaring daggers at Missus Everly as she passed. Missus Everly gave a masterful impression of ignoring her.

  “Welcome, Lord Robert.” Missus Everly accompanied her greeting with the barest curtsy.

  “Where is your son?” Robert demanded of the widow, in no mood for pleasantries.

  “Hunting. I’ve found it keeps him out of trouble.”

  “Hunting?” Robert bit out. “Send for him.”

  She shook her head. “You and I have much to discuss first, my lord. It’s easier to converse intelligently without Edmond underfoot.”

  Robert struggled to keep his temper in check. “We can converse when I’m done with Everly. He needs to answer for the cowardly threats he issued on my wedding day, and for daring to take up residence in my home.”

  “Your home?” Her tone was disdainful. “I’m surprised you recalled the way, you’ve been gone for so long. Now your hoyden of a daughter has also abandoned these people, preferring to focus her cares on the poor of London, as if they have aught to do with the Solworth line. Someone needed to be the responsible one and come here.”

  Robert took in her calm, round face, her nearly beatific expression. He hadn’t seen the first note, but Cecilia was correct about the second. Everly didn’t write it. “You wrote that note.”

  She nodded. “Certainly. Do you think Edmond has the ambition or sublety? He never could have gotten you here, alone and at my mercy.”

  Robert’s eyebrows shot up. “At your mercy?” He permitted a grating chuckle. The woman was mad.

  “Oh yes, at my mercy, for I think you’ll find you shall grant me all I ask, but let’s not discuss such delicate matters in the foyer, my lord. Let’s adjourn instead to Edmond’s office.”

  Those assessing cornflower-blue eyes on him, Robert choked back a rejoinder on just whose office it was. He knew when he was being baited. Missus Everly sought to rattle his wits. Why else insist he return to his one-time home?

  Her smile benign, she turned and led the way toward Robert’s office, once his father’s and grandfather’s, and so on back, as if he didn’t know the route. He tried to focus on the squat form before him. He gritted his teeth.

  Memories of Livonia’s laugh assailed him. Her voice. Glimpses of her, as if seen from the corner of his eye. Then, worse, came the sound of the echoing, wrenching cough that took her from him. How that hated sound had filled the corridors of this place. More terrible still was when, after weeks of struggling, that sound weakened, then dwindled, then disappeared, along with any other sound Livonia would ever make.

  Robert strove to keep the memories at bay, to fight them off, but they draped him, coated him like cobwebs. By the time they reached his office, he felt nearly fevered, trapped in a desperate, horrifying dream. It was as if Livonia’s whispered voice, her nearly-felt touch, followed him. Why, she asked, why have you replaced me?

  Missus Everly pulled out the key and let them inside. Without hurry or hesitation, she went around the desk and seated herself in the massive leather chair. Robert followed her, leaving the door open. She gestured him to take t
he chair opposite her, nearly as ornate as the one in which she sat. Teeth gritted, he complied.

  Several stacks of paper sat arrayed on the desk, as if the lord of the manor truly were in attendance and carrying out the daily management of the estate. One of these, she shuffled through, then handed him a page. Her sweet smile never wavered.

  Robert accepted the paper, written in the same hand as the note he’d received on his wedding day.

  Dear Lady Cecilia Greydrake, Dowager Marchioness of Westlock,

  Now that I have stood beside my late wife’s grave once more, I realize there was never a place for you in my life. I am therefore having our union annulled.

  My apologies,

  Robert Hadler, Duke of Solworth

  He opened his fingers. The page drifted to the desk. He tamped down a mingled flash of pain and guilt, then raised incredulous eyes to meet Missus Everly’s. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I believe the meaning is quite clear.” Missus Everly folded her hands on the desk. “All that’s required is your hand. I also have the annulment papers ready, and the ones proclaiming Edmond as your rightful, true and only heir.”

  “What possible reason could I have to sign such things, rather than have you and your son forcibly removed from this property, perhaps even arrested for trespassing?” Was she addlebrained?

  “You read my note?” Missus Everly asked.

  “The one that ruined my wedding day?” He leveled a glare on her. “I did, and I believe my daughter and her husband will bear up under a little defamation, especially to thwart you.”

  Missus Everly shook her head. Curls bounced about her cherubic face. “Did I say defamation?” Her smile was sweet. “What I meant was death. How silly of me to confuse the two.” Her cheerful expression didn’t waver. “You may have spoiled my first attempt to secure the Solworth lands for Edmond, but will a pretty little thing like your daughter be so lucky? She’s kept herself safely home of late, but that won’t last. Once the babe is born, she’ll venture out again.”

  Ice settled along Robert’s veins. Missus Everly’s mien was that of a woman whose threats weren’t idle. And what did she mean, first attempt? Was Cecilia right about the handwriting on the kidnapper’s note? Was the sunny-faced woman before him responsible for his abortive abduction? “You had me kidnapped?”

  She shrugged. “Yes and no. I wished for the world to believe you kidnapped. The ransom would have handily alleviated any suspicion as to my son being behind the abduction. What I actually ordered Mister Porter to do was take you somewhere your body wouldn’t be found and kill you. I’d thought, and hoped, I was looking on you for the final time that day, my lord.”

  The woman wasn’t addlebrained. She was mad. “And now you’re threatening my daughter?”

  “Oh no, my lord. Not yet. But I do feel obliged to inform you that by now, my friend Mister Porter has found himself free once more. He remembers Lady Cecilia fondly.” Missus Everly shrugged, as if Porter’s fondness was beyond her control. “So fondly that he’s following her about, watching her, studying her every move.”

  Robert tried to ease his grip on the lions’ heads that decorated the chair arms, but his fingers pressed tightly into those wooden eyes. “To what end?”

  “Why, no end. Not if I keep reminding him that he may look, but not touch.”

  “I see.” She’d deliberately used slander to lure him here, knowing death threats would have drawn too great a reaction. His mind flashed through various possibilities, from lunging across the desk and strangling the life out of her to riding headlong back to London to prevent whatever Porter had planned in the absence of Missus Everly’s so-called reminders.

  “There’s also this.” She slid open one of the top drawers. Her hand reappeared, pistol aimed at his heart. “You will find it difficult to stay Mister Porter’s enthusiasm once you’re dead, my lord.”

  Robert leaned back in the stiffly upholstered chair, affecting calm. “Why not simply shoot me, if that’s the length to which you’re willing to go?”

  In the distant kennels, the hounds began to yap. Robert wondered if the kennel master had gotten wind of his arrival. Word would have hurried through the stables and into the other outbuildings.

  Missus Everly pulled a face. “I should prefer not to. Your death would arouse considerable suspicion. More than that, I realize I have no way to know, yet, if Lady Cecilia might already carry your child. I could kill her to remove the possibility, but both of you dead would be exceedingly incriminating. It would work out better for everyone should you simply sign your title over to Edmond and annul your union so any child born is born a bastard.”

  Robert’s mind raced through more possibilities, most made moot by the pistol pointed at his chest. Missus Everly was correct. Dead, he couldn’t protect Cecilia or Lanora.

  “So, tell me, my lord, is there a chance the marchioness already carries your heir?”

  “Duchess,” he gritted out. “And no.”

  Her lids dipped, rendering her irises pale-blue slits. “Hm. I’m not sure I credit your words. I saw her enter your home on at least one occasion.” She continued to study him through narrowed eyes. “Although, I’ve seen how you look upon her. I suppose you may have held off out of some noble sentiment of love.”

  She thought he was in love with Cecilia, did she? True, the notion of Porter putting his hands on her, in any capacity, made his blood boil. However, the thought of betraying Livonia’s memory cooled that fervor. Especially here, in his home.

  Didn’t it?

  Robert shook his head, trying to rattle some plan of action into place. If he had any thought that Missus Everly wouldn’t fire, he would dive across the desk that very moment. One look into those icy blue eyes debased him of that idea, though. He glanced at the letter again. If Cecilia received that, would he later be able to reconcile with her?

  A knock sounded on the doorframe. Robert didn’t turn. Missus Everly’s eyes didn’t even flick toward the sound.

  “Is that a gun, Mother?” Everly said. He came to stand beside Robert. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

  “I daresay it’s the ideal amount of persuasion for a man like the duke,” she replied. “Is everything in order?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “I thought you said he was out hunting,” Robert drawled, though panic rose in him. He’d vastly misjudged what awaited him here. The situation was spiraling beyond his control. The distant hounds, Solworth’s hunters, shifted from yapping to warbled, keening bays.

  Missus Everly offered her usual artless smile. “Hunting, yes, but not out. He and some of our men have rounded up your staff. I’m afraid they’ll need to spend a bit of time in the cellar. It’s fortunate most of them are in London, as there isn’t so much room down there as one would expect for so large a manor.” Her smile brightened. “You can see them, if you like. I was thinking of bringing one up each morning until you sign the papers. You know, as an object lesson in what a pistol shot can do to a body.”

  “Mother, really.” From the corner of his eye, Robert saw Everly shake his head. “No one is going to believe you’d shoot anyone. We aren’t barbarians.”

  “That’s true, dear,” Missus Everly said cheerfully. “Lord Robert and I are only playing. This pistol isn’t even loaded.”

  Robert could read the truth in the gleam of her eyes. Loaded, and cocked, and aimed at his heart. He had no doubt she’d shoot.

  “I thought not.” Everly added a chuckle to his words. “You with a loaded pistol? Why, we’d all be in danger.”

  “Truly,” Missus Everly said, all amiability. “Now, give us a moment, and then send two of my personal footmen to escort Lord Robert to his chambers.”

  “Haven’t I run enough errands for you today?” Everly groused. “One or two of the serving girls we just put in the cellar are uncommonly pretty. I’m sure they’d love the chance to earn their freedom.”

  “Edmond.” Missus Everly’s voice crackled
with sudden anger. “Today of all days, do as I tell you. Now.”

  Everly let out a sigh. “Fine, fine. There’s no need to become aggravated, Mother. I’ll fetch the footmen.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  Everly left the room.

  “Edmond is such a simple boy,” Missus Everly said, “but you realize the truth.”

  “Indeed,” Robert muttered. “On both counts,” he added, nodding toward the pistol.

  She let out a sigh. “Not only is Edmond incompetent and weak-willed, he hasn’t the stomach for what must be done. For example, he still believes we hired Mister Porter to kidnap you so we could gain some of your wealth, if not your holdings. He’s such a dear, sweet boy.”

  Robert ground his teeth closed over a rejoinder. He was through entertaining her.

  “I see you’re done being cordial, Lord Robert.” Missus Everly shrugged. The hand holding the pistol never wavered. “No matter. We have plenty to occupy us beyond civility. Let’s begin with you recopying and signing that, just as I have it written.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ensconced in a plush armchair, Cecilia turned the next page of Culpeper's Complete Herbal, surprised to realize she was nearly to the end of the text. Once she was through the final few herbs, she would need to read the entirety again, to better commit the content to memory. Her perusal brought her to yarrow and she smiled, recalling the outing to the dress shop. Who would have thought her reluctance of that day would be so well rewarded as to lead her to Robert?

  Yarrow was, Culpeper said, splendid as a topical aid to stop bleeding from a wound, which she’d read before in other texts. He went on to list several other uses, both internal and external, including to reduce fever. Cecilia bit her lip, her thoughts on William. He’d developed a fever from his latest wound, much to her and Lanora’s concern, but yesterday had seen a marked improvement. Really, strong as he was and with his fever broken, there was nothing to worry about now. He would mend speedily.