by Alyssa Drake
“What can I do for you, Mr. Lockhearst?” Benjamin barely concealed the disgust he felt bubbling inside.
Mr. Lockhearst either ignored Benjamin’s displeasure or was too ignorant to notice it. “Lord Westwood, I would like you to reconsider your previous opinion on my marriage offer to Miss Hastings.”
“Mr. Lockhearst, my decision remains the same.”
“Perhaps I did not make my position clear enough.”
“Your position was quite clear,” growled Benjamin, his hand clenched unconsciously. Across the room, Thomas raised his eyebrows at Benjamin, taking a step toward the two men. Benjamin, shook his head, subtly warning off Thomas and forced himself to relax his fingers.
Unaware of the silent exchange between the brothers, Mr. Lockhearst glowered at Benjamin, leaning forward until his face was inches from Benjamin. Benjamin did not step back.
“I am warning you, Westwood, stay out of my way,” snarled Mr. Lockhearst, his eyes bulging with anger.
“Mr. Lockhearst,” Benjamin replied in a cool tone, his voice barely audible over the din of the room. “As long as I am responsible for Miss Hastings’ wellbeing, you will never have the opportunity to court her.”
“Interesting terms,” snarled Mr. Lockhearst, his voice filled with malice.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hastings,” the butler’s voice announced suddenly, interrupting their conversation. Unaware of the effect of his words, the butler disappeared to receive the next coach.
Both Mr. Lockhearst and Benjamin turned at the same time, Mr. Lockhearst’s face draining of all color. Standing in the doorway, a giant smile pasted on his face, stood Edward, his arm casually looped through Wilhelmina’s arm.
The room went silent.
Behind Benjamin, a shriek echoed across the floor. Several ladies fainted, falling onto chairs placed at the perimeter of the room. Their escorts bent over them, waving fans to revive them. The silence stretched on as everyone stared at the couple still standing in the entrance to the ballroom.
A clap resonated from the far side of the room. Benjamin spied Aunt Abigail as she stepped forward into the center of the dance floor, still clapping loudly. Soon, the entire room burst into applause, and there was a stampede toward Edward to welcome him home.
The crowd pushed Benjamin and Mr. Lockhearst out of the way as more people strived to move closer to confirm Mr. Hastings was indeed alive. Benjamin’s eyes scanned the room quickly. Thomas mirrored Benjamin’s movements, searching the faces of the guests for an inappropriate reaction. Edward, never releasing his wife’s arm, was passed from friend to friend. They received joyful accolades and well-wishes from the surrounding crowd.
“Benjamin, I am extremely disappointed in you,” a voice trilled over the swarm.
Benjamin turned briefly toward Mr. Lockhearst who still stood silently gaping at Edward. “Mr. Lockhearst, our discussion is finished.”
“Quite so,” Mr. Lockhearst replied. With a curt nod, he moved in the opposite direction of Edward, Wilhelmina, and the throng of people surrounding them.
“Aunt Abigail,” Benjamin smiled at the woman as she shoved her way through the mass, knocking several gentlemen out of her way with her cane.
“You have been keeping secrets from me,” she accused, elbowing a man in his back before taking up residence next to Benjamin.
“I am not quite sure to what you are referring,” hedged Benjamin, wondering which secret she had discovered.
Abigail studied him shrewdly over the rims of her glasses for a moment. “Perhaps it is best to converse away from meddlesome ears.”
Abigail clamped a wizened claw on Benjamin’s sleeve and began moving toward the music room, which was presently bereft of guests. Benjamin allowed Abigail to drag him through the ballroom with an amused expression. Abigail gestured to a settee, and Benjamin sat, folding his hands patiently.
“I have just been speaking with Katherine,” began Abigail.
Benjamin smiled; of course, his mother would tell Abigail of the engagement. However, he held his tongue, allowing Abigail to finish her sentence.
“It is my understanding there is to be a wedding in the near future.”
“There is,” affirmed Benjamin.
“Would you be so kind as to tell me the name of the young lady?” Abigail’s mouth pulled into a frown.
“Mother did not tell you?” teased Benjamin.
“She did not,” Abigail sniffed, clearly upset by the lack of information.
“I wonder why,” pondered Benjamin, a playful smile still on his lips.
“She stated that the engagement had not been officially announced and refused to give me the name.”
“Would it be sufficient to say that you would approve of the woman I have chosen?”
“It would not,” huffed Abigail, thumping her cane on the floor.
“Miss Samantha Hastings,” Benjamin acquiesced.
“Excellent,” answered Abigail with a grand smile. “I had hoped you were not as dense as you pretended.”
Benjamin bristled at the comment. However, Abigail laughed heartily.
“My dear boy, do not be so easily offended. I am merely remarking upon your good taste. There was some trepidation you may still be considering Miss Shirely,” she explained with a small shudder.
Benjamin shook his head adamantly. “There is no comparison between the two.”
“I quite agree. Now, let us discuss the other matter.” Abigail sat down next to him with a groan.
“The other matter?” Benjamin looked at her quizzically.
Abigail glared at him, her eyes narrowing. “I am alluding to Mr. Hastings’ sudden reappearance.”
“Such a pleasant surprise,” stated Benjamin, glancing over his shoulder; the throng still surrounded Edward.
“Your best friend resurfaces after a two-year absence during which everyone thought he was deceased, and you did not shove everyone else out of the way to greet him…” Abigail paused for a moment as she pondered her words. Her eyes lighted suddenly. “Unless you already knew he was alive.”
His silence confirmed her suspicions.
“I see,” she stated stoically.
“Aunt Abigail…”
Abigail held up her hand. “Now Benjamin, I do not presume to understand the younger generation, however, a bit of a warning next time, please. Seeing a dead man is very unnerving, especially to a woman of my age.”
Benjamin sighed heavily. “My heartfelt apologies, Aunt Abigail, however, it was important not to share that particular secret with anyone prior to Edward’s announcement.”
Abigail tilted her head. “Why?”
Benjamin pursed his lips, refusing to answer her question. A sudden thought struck him as he looked at his aunt’s displeased visage. “Do you remember when Edward’s father died?”
Abigail studied him for a moment as if wondering about the strange direction of the conversation. “I do.”
“What do you remember?” Benjamin pressed.
“It was such a tragedy—to die so young and be followed so shortly by his pretty wife. My heart ached for his poor children.”
“What if I were to tell you that he was murdered?”
Abigail raised her eyebrows. “I would believe that theory much more than the explanation that quack doctor gave to the newspaper. What was his name? Dr. Barnes, I think.”
Benjamin nodded. “Several years ago, Dr. Barnes wrote a letter to Edward explaining his diagnosis was a falsehood.”
“Ha. I suspected as much,” snorted Abigail, her cane thumping the floor. “What was the truth?”
“Poison,” replied Benjamin in a hushed tone.
Voices began drifting into the music room as guests dispersed from the crowd surrounding Edward. Benjamin glanced up. They had run out of time, yet he still had several more questions for Abigail regarding her memory of Mr. Hastings’ death. However, this sensitive matter needed to be discussed furtively, especially since Edward had just revealed himself.
&n
bsp; “Aunt Abigail, I would like to visit you tomorrow to talk about this further.”
“I would be delighted to have your company, Benjamin.”
“I must entreat you not to mention our conversation to anyone else.” Benjamin stared at her earnestly.
“Certainly, Benjamin, you have my word.”
Benjamin rose, leaving Abigail seated on the settee, and walked back into the ballroom. He noticed Edward and Wilhelmina were still surrounded by well-wishers although there were considerably fewer people pressed up against them. His eyes searched the room for Thomas and found him conversing with Mr. Mason. Benjamin signaled for Thomas to join him in the study. He glanced once more over the room and noted Samantha and her red dress were not visible. This perturbed him.
“Benjamin,” Thomas greeted him from behind and closed the study door.
“Did you notice anyone in particular?” asked Benjamin.
“No one stood out to me, except for Mr. Lockhearst. What were the two of you discussing? He looked enraged when he walked away.” Thomas tilted his head, a small grin on his lips.
“We were discussing Miss Hastings.”
The grin widened. “Intriguing. Why is he interested in Miss Hastings?”
“He would like to court her.”
Thomas choked. “He asked you for permission?”
“Twice now,” confirmed Benjamin with a scowl.
“I am disappointed I missed that conversation.”
“I am concerned we did not see any significant reaction from anyone this evening.” Benjamin ignored Thomas’ glee.
“Not everyone is in attendance tonight. It will take a day or two before the whole of society knows of Edward’s return,” Thomas mused, his tone losing all trace of amusement.
“I think it would be best if we stayed several nights at Edward’s residence to ensure our trap has not placed their family in immediate danger.”
“I agree,” Thomas looked up as Mr. Charles Leveret entered his study.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted them jovially. “I was just saying to my wife I was in need of something stronger to drink than what is offered in the ballroom. Would you care to join me?”
“Certainly,” agreed Thomas.
“I must politely decline,” answered Benjamin. “I have an important matter to discuss with Miss Hastings.”
“Miss Hastings is not in the ballroom,” Mr. Leveret stated absently, pouring some amber colored liquid from a crystal decanter. He barely glanced up at Benjamin.
“Actually,” Thomas replied, “I have not seen her all evening.”
“She should have arrived with her sister-in-law,” Benjamin stated in a worried tone.
“I am sure she is somewhere in the house,” said Mr. Leveret, handing a glass to Thomas. “Let us toast the return of old friends.”
“Please excuse me,” Benjamin mumbled, already halfway out the study door.
He traversed the length of the ballroom in a minute flat, not finding Miss Hastings anywhere among the guests. His panic rising, he poked his head into the music room and nodded briefly toward Abigail who was currently in conversation with one of the boot-stomping Leveret girls. His gaze rapidly scanned the room.
Benjamin’s heart hammered with dread. Could she have disappeared so easily? Would the murderer boldly strike in a house filled with people? His throat constricted. In his haste, he crashed into Edward who was on his way toward the study, finally free of the throng.
“Where is your sister?” demanded Benjamin, his tone frantic.
“She is in the library with Franklin,” replied Edward, gesturing toward the room at the end of the hallway.
Benjamin exhaled loudly, the color returning to his face. “I thought something terrible had happened to her.”
“Franklin had a poor reaction to my sudden appearance. Sammie escorted him to the library to recover.”
“Oh,” Benjamin stated, his eyes skipping impatiently toward the open library door. He wanted to ensure Miss Hastings’ safety for his own peace of mind.
Edward cocked his head and smiled. “Benjamin, you will make an excellent husband.”
The comment caught Benjamin off guard. He raised his eyebrows in confusion at Edward’s statement. Waiting for Edward to further expound his thought, Benjamin found himself unable to afford Edward the attention he deserved. Benjamin’s eyes kept darting down the hallway.
“Go,” urged Edward, clapping Benjamin on the back. “I am certain they are still in there, probably talking about Franklin’s latest voyage.”
Benjamin burst through the library doorway, his face a mixture of apprehension and relief. Miss Hastings glanced up at him with a radiant smile, but Mr. Morris looked perturbed by the interruption. Benjamin was halfway across the floor, longing to crush her to him before he remembered they were not alone. His conflicted desire left him standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“Miss Hastings, your brother was concerned for your whereabouts.”
“Lord Westwood,” smiled Miss Hastings, “please put my brother’s mind at ease. I have been sitting here the entire evening with Mr. Morris.”
“Lord Westwood, do forgive me for monopolizing this lovely young woman,” added Franklin hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “I had rather an interesting fit this evening. Miss Hastings was kind enough to stay with me while my strength returned.”
Benjamin took a chair across from Miss Hastings, concern flickering across his face. “How dreadful, Mr. Morris. I hope you are feeling better now.”
“I am.” Mr. Morris forced a smile and patted Miss Hastings’ hand; Benjamin’s eyes narrowed at the intimate contact. “Seeing a ghost tends to disarm a man, especially when one has attended that person’s funeral.”
Chapter Twenty
Thirty minutes prior…
Wilhelmina and Edward sat in contented silence in the carriage, their fingers intertwined as they bounced along the road toward the Leveret’s house. The adoration ebbing from Edward and Wilhelmina overpowered Sam. Her eyes roved over their hands before turning to stare out the window, uneasy about intruding on their intimate moment.
Sam’s thoughts flickered to Lord Westwood, traveling with Thomas in the coach behind them. Since he was no longer her guardian, it would be inappropriate for her to ride in his carriage; images of their last carriage ride tumbled through her mind, his inappropriate proximity, his hands warming her feet. She shivered. Suddenly, their carriage took a sharp left, flinging Sam across the cushion. She whipped around to stare at Edward with wide eyes.
“We are just taking a little detour,” explained Edward without taking his eyes from Wilhelmina. “Benjamin and Thomas wanted to arrive at the Leveret’s home before us to ensure our safety. This is my first social event in two years,” he added, squeezing Wilhelmina’s hand.
Sam shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her shoes pinched her toes. She wished she could remove them and ride in her stockings. She shifted again, sliding one foot behind the other, in the hopes she could slip off her shoes secretly.
“Leave them on,” Wilhelmina’s command echoed from the other side of the coach.
“They hurt,” griped Sam. How could Wilhelmina possibly see Sam trying to remove her shoes in the dark?
“What are the two of you discussing?” inquired Edward with a hint of amusement.
“Nothing,” mumbled Sam, scowling at the floor.
They remained silent for the rest of the journey, arriving at the Leveret’s house a few minutes later. As planned, Sam stepped from the carriage first, her red gown brushing against the stone steps as she entered the foyer. Wilhelmina and Edward remained behind, enjoying a few moments of solitude before the impending madness began. Sam continued into the house without a backward glance.
“Miss Hastings,” a jovial voice called from the library.
“Mr. Morris,” Sam greeted him with a radiant smile. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to be overseas until next month.”
Franklin m
oved into the hallway, embracing Sam, before placing a light kiss upon her cheek. “I returned early. Mrs. Clark sent me a letter regarding your illness. However, you look simply beautiful, hardly like any unwell person I have ever seen.
Sam glowed as he raised her hand to his lips. “I am pleased to see you also, dear cousin. However, I am curious to learn how Mrs. Clark knew of my ailment.”
“One of the doctors who visited you at Lady Westwood’s house also visited Mrs. Clark on the same day. She, too, fell ill from fever.”
“I hope she is feeling better,” Sam stated.
“She is,” answered Franklin. “However, she was extremely concerned for your wellbeing.”
“That was very nice of her.”
“Therefore, I decided to cut my trip short; the two most important women in my life were suffering.” He stood back a moment admiring Sam. “I am delighted to see you are fully recovered.”
“When did you arrive?” asked Sam. She always missed Franklin when he traveled for extended trips; he had such fantastic adventures.
“Just this morning. As soon as I arrived, I headed directly to the Westwood estate. Lady Westwood informed me you were no longer her guest and... Oh… dear Lord!” exclaimed Franklin. He turned white, the colored draining from his face, and collapsed on the floor without uttering another sound.
“Franklin!” Sam cried, staring at his crumbled form.
Edward and Wilhelmina rushed to Franklin’s side. “Franklin, please wake up,” Edward pleaded, waving Wilhelmina’s fan under Franklin’s nose.
“Edward,” Wilhelmina glared at him over Franklin’s unconscious form. “Mr. Morris is not the only person who will react poorly to your sudden reappearance. Perhaps this is not the best idea.”
“It is too late for me to change the plan now,” Edward replied, his mouth pulled into a grim line.
Franklin’s eyes fluttered open. He focused on Edward and reached his hand up to touch Edward’s face. “Edward, is that really you?”