Weddings and Scandals: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  “Lord Glenister,” Miss James said, with not so much as a glimpse of a smile. “I took this from your house. I have come to return it.”

  Michael found himself nodding, which appeared to be the only thing he could do in the current circumstances.

  “You need not look so terrified, however,” Miss James continued, her voice becoming a little softer as she took a few steps closer to him. “This journal does not belong to you. It belongs to Lord Brentwood, does it not?” Her hand reached out and settled on his, holding his tightly and, much to his relief, a gentle smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You have been at odds with him for so long, and now it has all become clear.”

  Michael was so relieved that he felt momentarily weak. His breath rushed out of him like a great wind, the tension that had bound him tightly releasing almost at once. He took a staggered step forward, his fingers linking with Miss James’ as he tried to steady himself.

  “It is quite all right,” Miss James said softly, her gentleness coming towards him in waves. “You must have thought that I would believe the journal was yours.”

  “I should have known that your intelligence would have worked out the truth,” he replied, his voice thin and hoarse. “But even now, it seems, I am failing you in my lack of belief.”

  Miss James shook her head. “No, indeed not. I am not at all offended. In fact…” She trailed off and looked up into his face, her eyes seeming to glow with happiness. “I am truly grateful for your willingness to protect me, even though I do not understand all that has occurred between yourself and Lord Brentwood.”

  “I would be glad to tell you everything,” Michael breathed, finding her even more beautiful than he had ever done before. “You cannot know just how much relief—and joy—this brings me.”

  They remained standing together for a minute longer, their hands still joined and their eyes fixed on each other. Nothing was said. Michael could not take his gaze from her, feeling as though he had been given a second opportunity to do what he could to ensure that not only was Miss James safe from Lord Brentwood’s clutches, but that she knew precisely how he himself felt about her. He tried to think about what he might say in order to convey the depth of his feelings, to express just how much his heart had been unable to let her go ever since they had first met, but no words came to his lips. It felt as if it were something he was unable to express with words.

  “I think we should sit, Lord Glenister.”

  Miss James gently tugged her hand out of his, her color rising steadily.

  “I—” He had been about to say that he did not wish her to go from his side but from the blush to her cheeks, he realized that she was attempting to behave properly despite the fact that she might not wish to. “Yes, of course.”

  “I do want to know everything that has occurred,” she continued, walking towards one of the chairs by the fireplace. “If I am to help, then I will need to understand.”

  He stopped, one hand frozen on the bell pull as he stared after her. “Help?” he repeated, immediately beginning to shake his head. “No, Miss James, you cannot. I have been doing my very best to protect you and—”

  “And that has been most kind of you, Lord Glenister,” she said earnestly, “but after reading some of what was contained within that journal, I must be allowed to assist you in this. That gentleman—and I fear that he cannot truly claim such a compliment—must not be allowed to continue in society as he has done thus far.” Her eyes filled with anger. “What he has written within is both disturbing and frightful. We must do all we can to protect the beau monde from such a man. Therefore, you may wish to try and prevent me from doing so, but I will not have it, I tell you.” Her chin lifted just a little and she looked at him sternly. “If you know anything about me at all, Lord Glenister, you will know that I am determined.”

  Michael let out a long breath and nodded. “That, I well understand.”

  “Then allow me to help you.” Her voice grew soft again, her eyes pleading. “I would not have you struggling with this alone. I would not have you desperate to find a solution but knowing that there is nothing and no one you can turn to for aid.”

  Despite himself, Michael found himself nodding. “Very well, Miss James,” he said, seeing her countenance suddenly brighten, her shoulders slumping in relief. “I would be glad of your assistance, but you must give me your word that you will never attempt to confront Lord Brentwood directly.” He settled his gaze on her, aware that his tone had become more severe but thinking quietly to himself that Miss James was not the only one who could be determined. “I must know that you will never do such a thing.”

  “I give you my word.” Her voice was gentle, her expression honest, and Michael found himself breathing a small sigh of relief. “Then, once the tea tray comes, I will be glad to tell you everything.”

  Not only did the tea tray arrive within the next few minutes—although Michael reached for a glass of brandy instead of asking Miss James to make him a cup of refreshing tea—but Lord Stevenson appeared also. Michael had to make hasty explanations to both Lord Stevenson and to Miss James, and before long, the three of them were seated by the fireplace, ready to begin the conversation.

  “I found the journal by accident,” Michael began, seeing the way that Miss James was watching him closely so as not to miss a single word. “I did not know what to do with it, for I did not want to put it back where I had found it, given the dreadful things I read within.” He shook his head, remembering the shock that had washed over him as he had read Lord Brentwood’s dark deeds and his sinister intentions towards certain members of the ton. “Instead of taking it home, for I was aware that some of the staff would have seen my presence within the earl’s rooms, where I was not meant to be, I gave it to Lord Stevenson with the express instructions of bringing it back to me a good few days after the earl’s ball.”

  “Which proved to be rather wise, given that you were then followed, threatened, beaten and your house ransacked,” Lord Stevenson added mildly. “Your staff have been on their guard ever since.”

  Grimacing, Michael nodded. “You found me, Miss James, when I was being attacked in the park by two supposed ‘gentlemen’ who I am certain either worked for the earl or were forced, in some way, to do whatever he asked.”

  Miss James stifled a gasp, her eyes rounding. “They wanted you to reveal to them where you had put the journal.”

  “Precisely.” He gestured towards Lord Stevenson. “However, it was returned to me and since then, I have been doing all I can to find a way to reveal the Lord Brentwood’s true character without putting myself in mortal danger. If I were to reveal it to the gentlemen I know, perhaps take it to White’s, then I fear that it would not be taken with the seriousness that is required. In addition, I do not know which of the gentlemen the earl has under his thumb, as it were. Some are very easily manipulated and it may be that the earl is using them to garner whatever information he requires.”

  “And should you do such a thing, then your life might be forfeit,” Miss James added, her brow knotting. “For as we have read in the journal, Lord Brentwood has done such a thing before.”

  Lord Stevenson nodded, his face grave. “Indeed. By simply hiding the journal, Glenister is ensuring that his life is quite safe, for Lord Brentwood will not have him done in for fear that the journal would then come to light and he would appear to have a large heaping of guilt upon his shoulders.”

  Sighing heavily, Michael closed his eyes and ran one hand through his hair, feeling the usual sense of frustration burning through him. “I wanted to keep you safe from him, Miss James. I thought that even the hint of a friendship or the like between us would give the earl an opportunity to use you for his own advantage.”

  She nodded. “I well understand your reasons, Lord Glenister,” she said with a small smile. “I did not help you in that matter, I fear, however. I was difficult, was I not?”

  He chuckled, despite the tension in the room. “You were,” he agr
eed. “But then again, your courage and your determination behoove you, Miss James.” Their eyes met and Michael felt his heart drop to the floor before ricocheting back up to his chest. It was as if he had walked into some solid that had knocked his breath from him. His reaction to her engulfed every single one of his senses.

  “This is where we now remain.” Lord Stevenson’s voice broke through to Michael and he cleared his throat, trying to remain focused on the task at hand. “Except now I fear that the earl may try and use you in some way, Miss James, given that he now believes there to be something of consequence between both yourself and Lord Glenister.”

  Miss James nodded slowly, her cheeks coloring just a little. “I see. So we must find a way to reveal the truth about Lord Brentwood to the ton but do so in such a way to ensure that not only is it believed, but that you, Lord Glenister, are saved from the earl’s anger thereafter. The only way to remove Lord Brentwood from society is to have it turn upon him, as one man. Therefore, we must find a way to ensure that everyone not only hears the truth but accepts it without question.”

  It seemed, to Michael, to be an insurmountable problem. “I have not yet been able to think of a way to do what you describe, Miss James,” he told her heavily. “I may be a little dull-minded, or perhaps the anxiety of my present circumstances has taken any ideas from my mind but, as yet, I cannot see a way through.”

  “Nor I,” Lord Stevenson added, looking crestfallen. “We must be hopeful, therefore, that you can do something more, Miss James.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes, her expression almost pained as she shook her head. “It seems more than difficult and yet there must be a way.”

  Michael bit his lip, his frustration growing. “Perhaps I should never have touched that journal,” he bit out, feeling his own anger rising. “If I had simply left it alone, then none of this would have occurred.”

  “You could not remain silent,” Lord Stevenson said, throwing him an understanding look. “Your actions were honorable, Glenister. They are honorable now.”

  Michael shook his head, leaning forward to bury his head in his hands as his elbows came to rest on his knees. If he had not picked up the journal in the first place, if he had not read it and felt his heart twist painfully at the words contained within, then mayhap now he might be courting Miss James, without having any fears or constraints upon his shoulders.

  “Silence might prove itself to be my only recourse,” he muttered, not looking up at either Miss James or Lord Stevenson. “I can see no other way than to speak to Lord Brentwood and insist that I will remain quiet, just so long as he does not continue on as he has been thus far.”

  A sudden, sharp gasp from Miss James had his head shooting up, his eyes wide as he looked at her bright, wide-eyed face.

  “What is it?” he asked quickly as she clapped her hands together in obvious delight. “Do you have something?”

  “I do,” Miss James breathed, her face now alight with hope. “Silence shall prove to be your answer, Lord Glenister, after all. I cannot believe I have not thought of such a thing before.”

  His heart leapt wildly, seeing the optimism in her eyes and finding that it lit a small fire of excited anticipation within his chest.

  “Then speak, Miss James,” he said, urging her on. “Tell us what you have thought of, so that I might be freed from these chains that continue to hold me back.”

  “You shall be freed of them very soon,” she replied, her hands clasping tightly together as she beamed at him. “Now, let me explain.”

  13

  “Are you sure you can distract my brother?”

  Emily nodded, looking up into Charlotte’s face with a great deal of concern written into every line of her face. “I am not quite certain that I understand fully what is about to occur, Charlotte, but are you sure that you know what you are doing?”

  Charlotte nodded, filled with a confidence she had not felt in some time. “More than certain,” she stated as the crowd seemed to swell all the more around her. “Good gracious, this ball is more than a little busy!”

  Emily nodded but did not smile. “It is,” she agreed. “Are you certain that Lord Brentwood is here?”

  Charlotte nodded. “He is here. Lord Stevenson made certain to invite him.”

  It had been five days since she had last laid eyes on Lord Glenister. She had not wanted to part from him, but it was absolutely necessary for her to remove herself from his company for these last few days, so that Lord Brentwood would not think that there was any sort of closeness growing between them. Lord Glenister had told her clearly that Lord Brentwood might seek her out and attempt to use her in some way to get to him, but thus far, Lord Brentwood had not done so.

  “And the other?”

  Charlotte looked back at her friend, her eyes aglow. “Can you not hear her?” she asked with a quick smile that made Emily laugh. “Yes, she is present as well. I am very glad that Lord Stevenson was already acquainted with her, else we might have found great difficulty in arranging this.”

  “He is an earl, I suppose,” Emily commented softly. “Perhaps that is why he can boast an acquaintance when we cannot.”

  “Mayhap,” Charlotte agreed. “Soon, he shall ask her for a short audience in another room and I have no doubt that she will go with him at once. There will be someone else with her, for propriety’s sake, but it is at that point that I must go in search of Lord Brentwood.”

  Emily’s hand rested gently on Charlotte’s arm, her eyes rounding with fright. “I am concerned for you.”

  “Do not be,” Charlotte told her firmly. “I shall be all right. Lord Brentwood will not attack me—or Lord Glenister—in front of a crowd, and once he is within that room, he will know that his time here in London is at an end.” She smiled to herself, ignoring the twist of anxiety in her stomach. “It will take a little convincing, mayhap, but I am certain I shall be able to do so.”

  “You must return to me at once thereafter,” Emily insisted, letting her hand drop. “I shall be frantic for you.”

  “You must not show such an emotion to my brother, however,” Charlotte reminded her urgently. “He must remain entirely unaware.”

  Sighing, Emily turned her head away to look for Charlotte’s brother. “I will do as you ask,” she promised, her voice a little faint as she turned around in order to move towards Lord Wickton. “Be careful, Charlotte.”

  Linking her fingers together, Charlotte drew in a long breath and closed her eyes for a moment, knowing that very soon, she would have to seek out Lord Brentwood. Her heart quickened in her chest as she opened her eyes, seeing Lord Stevenson and the lady in question beginning to walk towards the door of the ballroom, as though to leave. Another young lady followed after them both, although Charlotte did not recognize her. Most likely, she would attend with the lady so that propriety could be maintained and there could be nothing in the way of rumor.

  It was time for her to find Lord Brentwood.

  * * *

  “Ah, Miss James.”

  Charlotte felt herself recoiling from Lord Brentwood the minute she greeted him. The way his eyes narrowed as he grinned at her made her skin prickle uncomfortably, her heart slamming painfully into her chest.

  “I have something of yours, Lord Brentwood,” she said in a voice that only he could hear. “I have taken it from Lord Glenister’s townhouse and I wish to ensure that it is returned to the rightful owner.”

  The smile slid from Lord Brentwood’s face and his eyes narrowed even further, so that they became nothing more than small slits. “What are you talking about, Miss James?”

  She looked at him steadily. “Your journal,” she said plainly, seeing the color drain from his face. “Yes, Lord Glenister has spoken to me of it. However, I have become tired of his inability to court me since he is much too overwhelmed with this ridiculous thing.” She sighed and looked away. “I do not know what is within nor why it is of so much importance, but I have therefore decided that you are to claim it
back, Lord Brentwood, so that Lord Glenister and I might have the opportunity for a happy future.”

  Lord Brentwood tilted his head. “Is that so?” he murmured, his uncertainty obvious. “You are known to be a determined young lady, Miss James.”

  “I know what I want, if that is what you mean,” she agreed. “You have been correct in your assumption that there is something of note between myself and Lord Glenister, even though Lord Glenister has been doing all he can to push me away.” She sighed heavily, as though pained. “That is why there has been so much difficulty between us. He will not even allow himself to consider matrimony until this journal is ‘dealt with’, as he has said.” Shrugging again, she turned her head to look over her shoulder towards the door that led out of the ballroom. “I have taken it from Lord Glenister and placed it in Lord Stevenson’s library,” she finished. “If you wish, I will take you there at this very moment and return it to you.”

  Lord Brentwood shook his head. “I will make my own way there,” he stated, his expression becoming almost malevolent as he looked at her. “I will not have you accuse me of impropriety or the like, which you can then use against me in order to allow Lord Glenister to reveal the journal to the ton.” He chuckled horribly. “But, then again, you claim that you do not know anything about what is contained within.”

  Charlotte attempted to keep her expression nonchalant. “Then I shall leave it on the table by the fireplace,” she said, not reacting to anything else that Lord Brentwood had said. “But do be hasty, Lord Brentwood. I should not like someone else to wander into the room and see it lying there. This is a busy evening.” Leaving those words with him, Charlotte hurried away from Lord Brentwood and made her way out of the ballroom just as quickly as she could. Her heart was beating painfully and her breathing was ragged, fearful that Lord Brentwood would not follow her, nor even believe her about the journal. If he did not, then everything they had planned would fall flat, leaving them back where they had started.