Weddings and Scandals: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

“We would be glad to,” Emily said, giving Charlotte a quick smile. “But only for a short time as we are due to return to the house soon.”

  “Do you have an engagement this evening, Miss James?” Lord Brentwood asked amicably as they fell into step together, leaving Emily talking to Lord Davenport.

  “I—I think there is a small social gathering this evening that my brother and I will attend,” Charlotte said, frowning in an attempt to remember. “I have not been particularly busy these last few days and I think it will be most enjoyable.”

  “That would be Lord and Lady Wells, then,” Lord Brentwood said, smiling at her. “I am to be in attendance also. I believe it was meant to be a quiet affair, but that Lady Wells simply could not stop inviting people to attend.” He laughed but the sound sparked no answering smile for Charlotte. “There is to be music, I hear, and the usual wonderful refreshments. Perhaps if there is dancing later in the evening, we might stand up together.”

  Charlotte swallowed hard, finding that she was recoiling from this gentleman without any explanation as to why that was. “Of course.”

  “Capital!” Lord Brentwood boomed, startling her. “Now, tell me, are there any other gentlemen of your acquaintance that you have danced with and then forgotten?” He chuckled and Charlotte stiffened. “I have heard that you have been seen conversing with one Lord Glenister, who is a dear friend of mine. I do hope you have not forgotten his face also.”

  Taken aback at this question, Charlotte considered her answer for some moments before replying. “I am quite certain that I will have forgotten a few gentlemen, Lord Brentwood, for which I must unequivocally apologize.”

  Chuckling again, Lord Brentwood shook his head. “A beautiful lady is easily forgiven, Miss James,” he said, the compliment coming easily to his lips. “But Lord Glenister now, he is acquainted with your brother also, I think.”

  “He is,” Charlotte agreed, still not understanding why the gentleman wished to speak of Lord Glenister in any way. Her frustration grew steadily within her. Had she not been trying to leave all thoughts of that particular gentleman behind? Why now did Lord Brentwood appear so insistent in his intentions to speak of him?

  “We are not very well acquainted,” she continued hastily. “My brother has known him far longer than I.”

  “He has been absent from town for a little short of a month,” Lord Brentwood said, watching her keenly. “Was he unwell, do you know?”

  Charlotte allowed her frustration to boil over and she stopped dead in order to turn and look Lord Brentwood full in the face. “I do not know anything about Lord Glenister,” she said hotly. “My brother introduced me to him only a few days ago. Whether he has been absent from town or not, I could not tell you.”

  Lord Brentwood spread his hands and appeared to be apologetic, which gave Charlotte a few minutes to look for her friend and Lord Davenport, only just realizing that they were quite far behind in their walk and would not reach them for another few minutes.

  “You must forgive me, Miss James.” Lord Brentwood sighed and shook his head. “I have been hoping that Lord Glenister might come to care for someone enough to settle down and marry, and someone mentioned that both you and he had a rather heated discussion at a musicale evening some days before.”

  “You are very well informed, Lord Brentwood,” Charlotte replied icily. “But these matters are private and I am not inclined to speak of them to anyone. Particularly to someone that I have only just become acquainted with.”

  Lord Brentwood nodded, still appearing quite forlorn and regretful. “I understand, Miss James. I apologize if I have upset you. I am simply dear friends with Lord Glenister and, of late, I have become concerned for him.”

  “You are speaking of Lord Glenister?”

  Emily’s voice caught Charlotte’s attention. Her heart dropped to her toes as she turned her head to see Emily’s open expression, the dusty pink in her cheeks. Apparently, Emily had become a little overwhelmed by Lord Davenport’s attentions.

  “I shall never forget seeing him in the park in such a dreadful way,” Emily continued, looking up at Lord Davenport. “Two gentlemen were beating the life out of him—although why they were doing so, we still do not know—and then Miss James here settled herself between them and ensured that they left Lord Glenister alone.”

  Charlotte glared at her friend, and just as Emily finished speaking, she caught sight of Charlotte’s face. Her smile faded, her face paled and she began to stammer.

  “Not that we knew it was Lord Glenister at the time,” she finished, looking helplessly in Charlotte’s direction as she realized just how freely she had spoken. “I mean, his face was terribly battered and—”

  “As I have said, Lord Brentwood,” Charlotte interrupted swiftly, before Emily could say anything further, “Lord Glenister and I have only been introduced some days prior to this.”

  Lord Brentwood was looking at her with a deeply unsettling air. There was a gleam in his eyes that Charlotte did not like in the least, as though he had discovered something of vital importance and was not about to let it go.

  “You can understand why I was having a heated discourse with the fellow when my brother left us for a few minutes,” Charlotte continued, not allowing Lord Brentwood’s sharp gaze to unsettle her further. “For I did not know the name of the man we had rescued and yet, here he was, appearing at a musicale evening without so much as an explanation as to what had occurred.”

  “And you still do not know?” Lord Davenport sounded intrigued and his expression did not hold the same urgent interest that was written all over Lord Brentwood’s.

  Emily shook her head, her face still pale. “No, we do not,” she replied, looking up at Lord Davenport and not at Charlotte. “And we have decided that we do not care in the least.”

  Lord Brentwood chuckled. “I hardly think that can be true.”

  “I assure you that it is,” Charlotte replied starkly, forcing her gaze to remain steady as she looked into his face and saw his twisted smile. “I have many other things to occupy my time, Lord Brentwood. I do not have as great an interest in Lord Glenister as you, it seems.”

  The expression on Lord Brentwood’s face turned ugly. “He is my friend and I have been concerned for his welfare,” he stated harshly, waving one finger in Charlotte’s direction. “I hardly think—”

  “Then I suggest that you speak to Lord Glenister himself, instead of attempting to ferret out information about his present state of mind from those he has barely met,” Charlotte interrupted, taking a step towards Emily. “Do excuse us, will you? It is getting late in the afternoon and we must both return home.”

  “Until this evening, Miss James,” Lord Brentwood replied as she bobbed a curtsy. “I look forward to conversing with you again.”

  Charlotte said nothing, allowing Emily to take her leave and watching Lord Davenport closely as he made his farewells. There was a genuine interest in Emily, it seemed, although Charlotte wanted to ensure that her friend took the greatest of care. After all, any gentleman acquainted with Lord Brentwood could not truly be a good man, could he? The impression she had of Lord Brentwood told her that he was a hard man, willing to get whatever he wanted in whatever way he wished. He was dogged and determined, hiding the truth about his real reasons for speaking of Lord Glenister.

  “Good afternoon,” she murmured as Emily turned around and looped her arm through Charlotte’s again. Then, together, they turned and began to walk away from both gentlemen, although Emily’s urgent whispers came almost at once.

  “I am truly sorry, Charlotte,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fright. “I thought that you were getting on wonderfully with Lord Brentwood and since I was deep in conversation with Lord Davenport, I did not think to prevent myself from speaking the truth about where we had first met Lord Glenister.”

  “Hush,” Charlotte whispered back, still feeling Lord Brentwood’s eyes fixed on her. “It was a simple mistake, that is all.”

  “But
there is something wrong, is there not?” Emily hissed urgently. “You felt it, did you not?”

  Charlotte hesitated, then nodded. “Lord Brentwood is not a friend of Lord Glenister,” she said slowly. “I do not know his intentions, but I fear that he may seek to harm the gentleman in some way.”

  Emily swallowed hard. “Then what are you going to do?”

  Letting out a long breath, Charlotte settled her shoulders. “I am going to speak to him,” she replied, not letting her twisting nervousness force her to stay away from the gentleman. “I must tell him of what Lord Brentwood said to me and thereafter, I shall leave the matter with him.”

  Emily nodded and bit her lip.

  “I may not wish to speak to Lord Glenister again, but what else is there to do?” Charlotte asked softly, daring to throw a glance over her shoulder and shivering as she caught sight of Lord Brentwood still staring after them. “He must be told. I have no other choice.”

  10

  “Are you certain that I should be here?”

  Lord Stevenson chuckled as Michael frowned. “Why should you not be?”

  “Because it is a societal gathering and I am still doing my very best to remain as unobtrusive as possible,” Michael replied firmly.

  Lord Stevenson tutted. “No, that is not it at all. You are here as a guest of Lord Wells and you are proving to Lord Brentwood—whether he is present or not—that you shall not be cowed by fear. You are trying to unnerve him, and you are trying to think of what to do with that journal so that you will not come to an untimely end.”

  Michael grunted. “You do not have to sound so jovial about it,” he muttered, shoving one hand through his hair. “It is ridiculous that, even now, I have very little idea as to what to do. I have not seen Lord Brentwood these last two weeks and yet still, I feel as though I must be on my guard at every moment.”

  Lord Stevenson nodded, the smile gone from his face. “I understand,” he said solemnly. “Lord Brentwood is a powerful man who I am quite sure has a good many acquaintances that would do whatever he asked of them. However, that does not mean that you cannot have the upper hand in this situation. If he comes to speak to you, remind him that you have the journal and that you are not about to give it back to him simply because he asks.”

  Michael shook his head, frustration at his own lack of intelligence biting at him. “Then what do I say I shall do with the journal?”

  Hesitating for a moment, Lord Stevenson’s face brightened. “You need not say anything specific. Just state that, so long as he leaves you alone and so long as you are kept safe, the journal shall remain hidden. However, if you are beaten again, then the journal will be made known to all of society.” He chuckled, taking in Michael’s disbelieving expression. “Of course, that will not be the truth of the matter. You will continue as you are now, doing all you can to find a way to reveal the journal to society regardless.”

  “Without ensuring that my life is forfeit in doing so,” Michael muttered, his heart sinking to the floor as he was faced with the very same dilemma as before. He could easily take the journal and share it with his friends and acquaintances in the hope that rumor would spread across London and that the earl would be chased from the city—but the chances of that happening were slim. The earl was much wealthier than he and certainly had a good deal more influence. Most likely, if Michael were to do such a thing, the earl would be able to brush off the rumors as nothing more than malicious gossip and all would be at an end.

  “I am sure there is a simple answer waiting for you somewhere,” Lord Stevenson replied in an apparent attempt to be encouraging. “At least for the moment, you are not hiding away in your townhouse, praying that you will be given a way out of this.”

  Michael sighed inwardly and lifted his glass of champagne to his mouth. He had not particularly wanted to be here, but since he had kept himself in his townhouse for the last four days, Lord Stevenson had easily managed to convince him to attend this evening’s gathering. He knew a few of the other guests already and the evening was going pleasantly thus far. There had been a few enjoyable conversations, he had been asked if he might wish to play cards a little later and he had heard that there would be dancing some time after the refreshments had been served. All in all, it seemed it would be a most enjoyable evening, just so long as he could forget about the burden of responsibility that sat heavier on his shoulders with every passing day.

  “Good gracious.”

  Turning around, Michael looked in the same direction as Lord Stevenson, although he did not immediately see what it was that his friend was staring at.

  “I—I think you should prepare yourself to have that particular conversation a little sooner than planned, Glenister,” Lord Stevenson said, the color draining from his face. “Lord Brentwood has just entered the room.”

  Michael swallowed, refusing to acknowledge the twist of fear in his gut. He let his eyes rove carefully over each face in the room until, finally, he saw Lord Brentwood.

  His breath was chased from his lungs immediately.

  “I have not seen him in some weeks,” Lord Stevenson murmured as they continued to stare avidly in the direction of Lord Brentwood. “He appears to be in fine fettle.”

  Michael, who had not seen the earl since the day he had stolen the man’s journal, struggled to draw in air. “He would appear to be at his ease,” he said, a touch hoarsely. “Although that is to be expected, given that he uses others to do whatever it is he wishes.” His lips grew thin as a spiral of anger made its way up his spine. “Those two gentlemen who attempted to beat me senseless were, of course, sent by him and working to his directives.”

  “Of course they were,” Lord Stevenson agreed, having previously listened to Michael’s detailed explanation of what had occurred when Miss James had found him. “But that does not mean that he will reach out and attempt to harm you this evening, Glenister. More than likely, he will be just as amiable as ever and attempt to ingratiate himself with everyone he meets.”

  Michael swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists as he saw the way that Lord Brentwood moved from one guest to the next with the greatest of ease. A smile was plastered on his lips, his eyes appearing bright with interest—and yet Michael knew it was all a sham. A gentleman who had written such dark intentions in his journal, and who had already carried out some of the most dastardly actions imaginable, was neither amiable nor jolly. This was just a façade, a mere mask that Lord Brentwood wore, in order to garner favor with his peers and those of a slightly lower standing.

  He, for one, was not fooled.

  “Lord Stevenson!” Lord Brentwood’s eyes flickered towards Michael as he drew closer to Lord Stevenson. “And Lord Glenister. How good to see you both.”

  Michael’s jaw clenched and he remained entirely silent.

  “I have heard, Glenister, that you still have something that belongs to me in your possession,” Lord Brentwood continued, throwing a quick glance towards Lord Stevenson. “Oh, yes, Lord Stevenson. You may not be aware of it but Lord Glenister is nothing more than a thief and a charlatan.”

  Lord Stevenson’s face remained impassive.

  “He has taken something of great value from my house and will not return it,” Lord Brentwood persisted, sounding deeply sorrowful. “Is that not so, Lord Glenister?”

  Michael’s back stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “I do not know what you are talking about, Lord Brentwood, and I should prefer it if you did not accuse me in front of my friends.”

  Lord Brentwood laughed, low and dark. “I hardly think that it is an accusation if it is the truth, Lord Glenister,” he replied, reaching out to pat Michael on the shoulder as though he were a small boy and he the parent. “I must have it back.”

  Michael watched as Lord Brentwood’s eyes traveled from him to Lord Stevenson and back again, perhaps hoping that Lord Stevenson, being so shocked by the presented allegations, would demand to know what Michael had been doing. However, given that Stevenson already knew
the truth, there was no immediate response, which left Lord Brentwood standing alone with an arrogant grin on his face.

  “I can see that your friend already knows of what you have done,” he said, as Michael folded his arms in front of him in a defensive gesture. “No matter. I know a few acquaintances who do not know the truth, although they have a great many questions over your behavior of late, Lord Glenister.”

  His eyes still narrowed, Michael let a soft growl come from his throat. “Leave us, Lord Brentwood,” he said firmly, not wanting to listen to another word. “It does not matter what you say—neither I nor Lord Stevenson will be moved.”

  “So, you are saying you cannot be convinced?” Lord Brentwood replied, his eyes turning to someone—or something—behind Michael’s back. “Is that what you are telling me, Lord Glenister? I would hear it from your lips.”

  Michael’s anger flared bright and he took a small step forward, so that there was barely any distance between himself and Lord Brentwood. “Hear this, Brentwood. I will not be intimidated. I will not be used. I will do all I can to ensure that the truth about your character is made known.”

  Lord Brentwood’s eyes glittered darkly. “You are certain of that, are you?”

  “I am very well aware that should I attempt to reveal it myself, then you and your friends would do all you could to quash the rumors that would immediately follow,” Michael responded. “But have no expectation that it shall be returned to you, Brentwood. No expectation at all.”

  “That is something you may live to regret,” Lord Brentwood replied softly. “Did you know that my circle of acquaintances has grown of late?”

  Deeply confused at the sudden change in conversation, Michael frowned and stepped back, aware of Lord Stevenson’s restraining hand settling on his arm. “What are you talking about, Brentwood?”

  Lord Brentwood grinned and Michael felt his stomach turn over.

  “It is only that I happened to meet one Miss James and her companion, Miss Smythe,” he said grandly, as though telling Michael some wonderful news. “They were out walking in the park, and my friend and I happened upon them. Lord Davenport had, of course, danced with the young lady at the ball Lord Wickton threw some weeks ago and it was easy enough to suggest a prior acquaintance based on that.” He chuckled as Michael’s face slowly began to drain of color, aware of what Lord Brentwood was attempting to suggest. “It was a blessing that Lord Davenport was able to strike up such an easy acquaintance with Miss Smythe, for it was she that told me of how Miss James happened upon you at the park some weeks ago, when you were a little worse for wear.”