by Kate Archer
“It is nothing at all like that,” Sybil said before her father could conjecture about who else must be thrown into a grave. “He cares nothing for me, I was only some little amusement during the season. No, I believe he told the story of your condemnation to his friends and they had a good laugh about it, and then they bet him he could not overcome your objections. He would have accepted the challenge and then, thinking how he might accomplish the task, he realized he could kill two birds with one stone. He could make the acquaintance of Miss Mapleton, the beauty of the north, and then brag about it of course, if he came here. That is why he did not wait until next season—he could come here and win you over, and Miss Mapleton too. His ridiculous friends would be very impressed by his enterprise in the matter.”
There, Sybil had said it all. And, as she’d said it, it was as if various puzzle pieces all fell into place and locked together. Giving it voice had made her certain that she was right.
“That villain,” Lord Blanding said in a low tone. “I’ll run him out of this house before the sun has set. Hugh will back me on it.”
“I rather thought,” Sybil said, “that we might keep him here and teach him a lesson. Surely, if we put our heads together, we might show Lord Lockwood that the Hayworths are not to be trifled with.”
“Quite right, Sybil,” Lady Blanding said. “Throwing him out would be a sting that would leave no mark and end up only an amusing story to tell his friends. We must make certain that whatever story Lord Lockwood leaves here with, he finds no amusement in it.”
“Yes, something worse than a public eviction. Naturally I would like the sting to be that of a viper—not easily recovered from,” Lord Blanding mused.
He suddenly turned. “What should we do?” Lord Blanding asked his wife.
Sybil was not surprised that her father would turn to her mother for guidance, as he so often did. Lady Blanding was at once as supremely resolute as her husband, but also able to see any far-reaching consequences that might remain hidden from her lord’s view. Only last year, she had successfully dissuaded him from proposing a duel to Mr. Hurst to settle the fence question once and for all after she pointed out that Mr. Hurst was known to be an excellent shot.
“We will bide our time and look for opportunities,” Lady Blanding said. “In the meantime, we must not give the game away. Sybil, reveal no hint of our real attitude to the gentleman, be all politeness. My darling husband, do your very best to resist those noble feelings that beat ever staunchly in your breast.”
Lord Blanding nodded gravely and laid his hand lightly over his heart, as if to stay those righteous sentiments from overcoming him.
*
Bellamy had experienced an uncomfortable time of it after Lord Lockwood’s escape. There was even the unhappy consequence that Lord Dalton had forbidden him and his footmen from drinking his wine. The old butler had wondered if it was not time to retire and suspected his master wondered the same. After all, had he grown so feeble that he could not keep one gentleman under lock and key?
Fortunately, Lord Lockwood, the escaped prisoner himself, had provided a mounting distraction. The lord had made some sort of desperate run to the north to see a lady and Lord Dalton was irate over it. Some of the other gentlemen had set off after Lord Lockwood but could find no evidence of him stopping at any inn. Then, Lord Dalton’s best horse that had been absconded with was mysteriously returned—the stable boy only said that a hooded man had arrived after midnight, handed him over, and hurried away.
Now, the last of the gentlemen having returned from the search, they gathered in Lord Dalton’s library in the late afternoon. Bellamy hurried round with brandy and served it to his master, Lord Cabot, Lord Ashbridge, and Lord Grayson.
“I suspect he’s made it to Yorkshire,” Lord Dalton said, drinking his brandy in one gulp.
“But how?” Lord Cabot asked. “He must have had help. He must have traveled in somebody else’s carriage and stayed hidden when they changed horses at the inns. Could Hampton be back in town? That deserter might well see his way clear to helping a friend make the same matrimonial leap he just did.”
“Hampton is strolling around Italy with his new wife, it having not yet dawned on him that he’s tied himself down forever,” Dalton said. “I had a letter not a week ago so dripping with marital felicity that I am surprised it did not produce its own honey.”
“I’ll wager Lockwood took the mail coach,” Lord Ashworth said. “He rode Khan out of the city and stabled him somewhere with instructions on how he was to be returned. Anybody could be paid to do it. After being apprised that the awful Lord Dalton owned the beast, nobody would dare attempt to steal him.”
“If anybody was paid to return Khan, it was with my own money,” Lord Dalton said, “Lockwood cleared out at least forty pounds from my desk.”
“You cannot blame him for that,” Lord Grayson said. “I might well rob my captor, too.”
“The question is,” Dalton said, holding his glass toward Bellamy to be refilled, “what do we do now? I am certain he’s made it to Yorkshire. Do we allow him to remain there until he gets himself engaged?”
“Absolutely not,” Lord Ashworth said.
“God, no,” Lord Cabot said.
“We cannot,” Lord Grayson said. “Lockwood falling prey to marriage so quickly on the heels of Hampton would be just the sort of encouragement that would buoy our fathers’ hopes.”
“Further,” Lord Ashworth said, “though he may not perceive it at this moment, we do our friend a service. I should not like him to awake in six months and wonder why his friends did not stop him from a hasty and ill-favored decision.”
“No true friend would do anything less,” Lord Cabot said.
“Then what is our next move?” Lord Dalton asked.
The men pondered the question for some minutes. Finally, Lord Ashworth said, “The difficulty is, we cannot just go charging into Lord Hugh’s house and wrestle Lockwood into a carriage.”
“No,” Lord Grayson said. “Aside from the offense to Lord Hugh, I believe such an action would hurt our cause, rather than help it. We will have unwittingly created a Romeo and Juliet sort of situation. If Lockwood is at all on the fence, it would only make him more determined. If Lady Sybil debates with herself, seeing her lothario carted away would settle it. Romance is perverse like that, you know.”
“I do not know,” Lord Dalton said. “But, as you have made a career out of capturing and breaking women’s hearts with your glib phrasings, I defer to your expertise. What else can we do?”
“Somehow, we need to play the game so that our opponents do not perceive that they are on the verge of losing,” Lord Ashworth said. “We must compose a hand with special finesse.”
“Whatever the plan is,” Lord Cabot said, “we cannot do anything from here. We must go north.”
“There is the total of our various problems,” Lord Dalton said. “We have no invitation from Lord Hugh and we have no idea what to do when we get there, other than a plan with finesse that does not push the two people closer than they may already be.”
Bellamy cleared his throat. “My lord, may I suggest Lady Montague may be of some help?”
Chapter Nine
“Lady Montague?” Lord Dalton said, staring at his butler.
Bellamy nodded. “She is located in Lord Hugh’s neighborhood, will dislike Lady Sybil on account of her close relationship with Miss Knightsbridge, and most likely will wish to get back into society’s good graces which could be most easily done with your backing. It seems to me that she would be only too eager to render assistance. Further, she is rather known for her deviousness.”
The gentlemen around the table stared dumbstruck at Bellamy. Lord Dalton roared with laughter. “I was certain there must be a reason I did not dismiss you. Well done, Bellamy.”
Bellamy nodded gravely, suppressing the smile that must come from the knowledge that his lord’s wine cellar was once again open for business.
Lord Dalto
n turned to his friends and said, “I will write Lady Montague this instant and send the letter by fast horse. I do not think we even need to wait for her reply. Bellamy is right, Lady Montague is friendless, conveniently placed, and known for her cunning plots. Pack your panniers, gentlemen—our valets can follow behind with our trunks. We head north on the morrow.”
*
Sybil and her parents had descended to tea with backs straight and resolve in their hearts. They were to wait for an opportunity to teach Lord Lockwood a lesson. They could not know when such an opportunity might arise, but they were to lull him into thinking all was well in the meantime. It was to be a deadly offensive of Cornwallian proportions.
Lady Hugh watched over her guests with the eyes of a hawk, having been put on the alert on the bowling green. Sybil thought she need not have been so alarmed, as Lord Lockwood appeared as cheerful as ever and her father would make every effort to conceal any hint of the roiling feelings in his breast.
Poppy said, “Lady Hugh, I’ve had a letter from my father. My grandmother has very suddenly indicated that she wishes to have a birthday celebration and he bids me come to him for three days beginning Tuesday next.”
Sybil glanced at Lord Lockwood to see how he would take what must be to him exceedingly distressing news. The lady he admired was about to decamp.
Lord Lockwood only heaped his plate with almond biscuits, declining to show his real feelings on the matter. Sir John was not so guarded and appeared rather crestfallen.
“Of course you must go, my dear,” Lady Hugh said kindly. “You will go in my carriage. Your maid Martha will travel with you and I’ll send Johnny to sit up with the coachman as an extra precaution.”
“Oh my,” Poppy said, “I should not like to inconvenience your staff to such a degree. To take a footman away from his duties when there is so much to do just now…”
Sybil noticed one of those very footmen suppress a smile as he stood at the door. It was true that it would be an inconvenience, but it was also true, Sybil was certain, that Poppy’s consideration for their feelings would be much talked of below stairs.
“Nonsense,” Lady Hugh said. “They must only get you there and then they can return here and fetch you when you are ready to come back to us. It will all be easily arranged.”
“Lady Hugh,” Sir John said, “might I have the honor of riding beside the carriage? I have been putting off some business in York and Mr. Mapleton’s house is not an hour further. I might deliver Miss Mapleton there, execute my business, and then escort her back again.”
Poppy blushed at the idea and Sybil did not know why she should. After all, Sir John would not be inside the carriage. He would be riding alongside on his adored Cleveland Bay. Though, she supposed if he were determined to talk about the plans for his house, or all the wonders of Caesar, he might well maneuver his horse next to her window to natter on about it.
Sybil stole a glance at Lord Lockwood to see if he were struck by the idea of another gentleman putting himself forward to escort the lady.
As Lord Lockwood seemed more interested in his biscuits than anything else, she could only conclude that he was well-versed in masking his real feelings.
“Excellent notion, Sir John,” Lady Hugh said. “Poppy, do write your father that you will come.”
Poppy nodded gratefully and made her way to the desk at the far end of the room to compose her letter. Sybil watched to see if Lord Lockwood would follow her there with some excuse of looking for a book, but he remained where he was.
He was quite unaccountable.
*
Lady Montague read the letter, then dropped it, picked it up, and read it again. It was the most unexpected news possible. It was the most exquisite news possible.
Lord Montague was engrossed in some book or other and had not the first inkling that their fortunes were about to undergo a very welcome change.
“Montague,” she said to her lord, “we are saved.”
Lord Montague laid his book in his lap and looked at his wife quizzically. “Saved from what?”
“From this!” Lady Montague said, waving her arm at the expansive drawing room they now occupied.
Lord Montague glanced around the room. “Gad,” he said, “must you change the wallpaper again?”
“Not the decoration of the room,” Lady Montague said. “The room itself. We have been virtual prisoners in this backwater ever since, well, ever since we left London so precipitously.”
Lord Montague tapped his fingers on the cover of his book. “I did warn you against meddling with Miss Knightsbridge, though now I find I do not mind our excommunication from London. I like the country. I like the quiet of it.”
“Do not be ridiculous,” Lady Montague said. “London is the center of the world and to be prevented from taking my proper place in it is the most vexing thing on earth. My difficulties there have even crept into this neighborhood, we do not get half the invitations we should. I suspect we were only invited to Lord Hugh’s house because I saw Lady Hugh on the street in York and so she could not claim she did not know we were at home.”
“I do not understand why you should vex yourself over lost invitations,” Lord Montague said. “You do not even like most of the people who would send them.”
“The point is, they should be sent, whether I choose to accept them or not. I cannot go on like this. I shall not go on like this. I did make it clear that I would not rest until I had regained my standing.”
“Many times,” Lord Montague said.
“I ruled in London, a virtual queen at my court, and it was quite right I did so. Very few had the daring to cross me and I was the happy arbiter of who was acceptable and who was decidedly not.”
“You ruled yourself right out of town,” Lord Montague said.
“And yet,” Lady Montague said with a wistful look, not particularly caring for her lord’s opinions on the matter, “I thought I must drag myself up that steep hill back to my throne with no help from anybody. As it turns out, I was quite mistaken. The Lords Dalton, Grayson, Ashworth and Cabot are coming to stay. They are quite determined that I should be restored to my rightful place.”
Lord Montague’s book slipped from his lap and clattered to the floor. “Why should they come, of all people? Why should four young bucks wish to spend any time at all in this backwater, as you call it?”
“I expect they have decided their friend Lord Hampton was very mistaken in forcing me to leave town,” Lady Montague said. “In any case, they come. Perhaps as soon as the morrow.”
Lord Montague picked his book up from the floor with a heavy sigh. “I suppose there is no way to stop them,” he said resignedly. “Therefore, I will go for a walk and enjoy the peace while I can.”
The lord left his lady alone in the drawing room. She unfolded the letter from Lord Dalton and read its delightful contents once more.
Lady Montague—
My friends Lord Ashworth, Lord Cabot, Lord Grayson and I have decided to visit you in Yorkshire. I count upon your hospitality to presume we are welcome and will not wait for your reply before we set off. As you are familiar with my particular temperament, I will not blather on about the beauties of your neighborhood, but rather will come straight to the point of our visit. We are determined to separate our friend Lord Lockwood from Lady Sybil Hayworth, both just now residing at Lord Hugh’s estate. As you are on the scene, I suspect you may have some interesting ideas on how it should be done with the least trouble to all involved. In return, you will have our backing to return to London next season.
Charles Battersea
It was a short letter, and yet in it was contained everything Lady Montague could wish to hear at this moment in her life. It was her road back to London and what a charming road it would be! Her last visit to the Hughs had been appalling. Lady Blanding did make such a point of humiliating her by referencing her misstep regarding Lady Marksworth’s ball and her subsequent early decampment from town. But now, she was to be the arch
itect of the daughter’s unhappiness and be paid for her troubles with a triumphant return to London.
Lady Montague smiled as she thought of all those who had become so emboldened as to ignore her letters. Oh, they had thought they might, as Lord Hampton had chased her away. Now, she would come back and they would tremble to see her.
First, though, she must devise a plan to separate that pert young lady from Lord Lockwood. Poor Lady Blanding—she must entertain high hopes for her daughter just now. Harriet Montague would see to it that Lady Blanding’s hopes crumbled to dust at her feet.
*
When Richard was handed his letters, he was surprised that he did not receive at least one from his friends. They would know where he was by now and he’d thought that he would at least be in receipt of a curse-filled note from Dalton. He felt the slightest flutter in his belly, just as he had experienced in the war. It was his instincts telling him that there was something wrong. That things were not as they should be.
He pushed the idea aside in favor of reading another letter that he had anxiously waited for—it was from Jack Quinn, his old school friend and captain in the Navy. He dearly hoped Quinn had sent him some excellent advice on sailing, otherwise he would make a fool of himself at the regatta and lose another hundred pounds to Lord Blanding. At the rate he was going, Blanding would own his inheritance by the end of it.
Lockwood—
My officers and I have spent the last half hour roaring with laughter over the idea that a landlubber like yourself is to set sail. Good Lord, man, get out of it any way you can. Put your arm in a sling and claim it’s broken, knock yourself on the head and pretend amnesia. Just do not go ahead with this ridiculous scheme.
On the chance that you will go ahead with it anyway, as you are the most willfully stupid man of my acquaintance, below are some hints that may save you from an inglorious death, otherwise known as drowning.