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Lady Margaret’s Mystery Gentleman
by Christine Merrill
Chapter One
‘You are being unfair.’ Lady Margaret Bethune leaned forward, her knuckles on her brother’s desk, wishing she could bully him into cooperation. When one was but five foot two and only nineteen, intimidation was a vain hope. It was even more unlikely when speaking to one of the most powerful men in the country. But she had already tried sweetness and tears and they’d got her nowhere. She was running out of ideas.
The Duke of Scofield did not even look up from his newspaper to acknowledge her display of temper. ‘You might find me unfair, but it is entirely within my right to do as I think fit. I am guardian to you and your sister and make the rules for the household.’
‘But your rules are unreasonable,’ she replied, exasperated. ‘Every other girl my age has already come out. Why are you refusing a Season to me?’
‘Because it is too soon,’ he said, still not looking up.
‘Too soon after what?’ she demanded. ‘If you are referring to Father’s death, that was almost two years ago. We have been fully out of mourning for some time.’
‘Maybe next year,’ he said with a sigh, as if the conversation fatigued him. It probably did. Peg doubted it was easy for him to see Olivia and herself as women almost grown instead of the little girls he had played with in the nursery.
‘Next year, I will be almost one and twenty,’ she said. ‘When I come of age, I will be able to make the decision on my own.’ But even then, her brother would hold the purse strings and could make her do as he pleased.
He looked up to fix her with a stern expression. ‘Then I hope you will remember that you are still my youngest sister. It would be unseemly for you to be looking for marriage when Olivia is not yet matched.’
‘Do not pretend that Liv wants to be a spinster,’ she replied. ‘She has been ready to marry for some time. Her wedding will occur the minute you are willing to accept the suit of any of the men who have offered for her.’
‘When a satisfactory candidate for marriage presents himself, I will allow the fellow access,’ Hugh said, giving his paper a dismissive rattle.
This was an outright lie. Olivia had had a string of suitors eager for her hand since long before Father had died and their brother had refused them all without explanation. But it would do her no good to challenge him on it. If he became angry, he would send Peg from the study and refuse to listen to her at all.
Instead, she tried to be the naive and accommodating sister that he must wish he had. ‘It is good to know you are open to her marriage. But how will she meet such a man if you do not allow either of us out of the house?’
‘That is an exaggeration,’ he replied. ‘You both went to Bond Street just yesterday.’
‘Bond Street.’ She sniffed, unable to contain her disdain. ‘A little shopping hardly signifies when we have nowhere to wear the things we buy. You refuse the majority of the invitations that are offered to us and turned down the vouchers when the patronesses of Almack’s sent them. I do not understand why you brought us to London with you if you will not allow us to socialise.’
‘I brought you here so I could keep a watchful eye over you. It is my duty to do so.’ At this, he looked up at her with a worried frown, as if he were sincerely concerned for her welfare. His reaction made no sense. Since nothing ever happened at Scofield Manor, they would have been safer in the country than they were when exposed to the temptations of the city.
It was clear that her argument was getting nowhere, so Peg walked to the door of the study and stuck her head into the hall, seeking reinforcements. ‘Liv! Come in here and help me reason with Hugh. He thinks he must watch us every minute to keep us out of trouble. You must tell him we are better than that.’
Her sister Olivia, who had been coming down the stairs at the end of the hall, froze like a rabbit in front of a fox.
Peg gestured furiously to show her that it was too late to retreat. Then she gestured back towards the office and their brother.
Liv gave a violent shake of her head and waved her arms in silent refusal as Peg ran out to take her by the elbow and drag her into the argument.
When they arrived in front of his desk, Hugh glanced up long enough to note the other girl’s presence, then went back to his paper. ‘And I suppose you want another Season, as well?’
‘That is not necessary, I enjoyed my first one very much,’ Liv said, hurriedly, glaring at Peg for involving her in the conversation. Then, she added, ‘But if you would accept the latest offer that has been made for me, it would not be an issue. I would be married already and would save you the expense of my wardrobe.’
She was referring to Alister Clement, a gentleman whom she had been sweet on for quite some time and whom their brother had taken an instant dislike to. Since Mr Clement was as unobjectionable as it was possible to be, it was more proof of how unreasonable Hugh had become.
‘When an acceptable offer is made, I will agree to it,’ he said, to remind her that Clement had already been rejected. ‘Until then, you must trust me to know what is best for you.’ He gave her a long, cold look to tell her that the matter was not open for discussion.
Liv’s mouth opened and closed again, containing her argument in subservient silence.
Since she would not fight for her own future, Peg would have to do it for her. ‘Without another Season, there will be no more offers for Liv,’ Peg reminded him. ‘And if you will not allow me to marry until she does, you must mean to keep us both spinsters for ever.’
There was a pause before he answered, as if he did not want to admit that that had been exactly what he had been intending. Then, he smiled and replied, ‘Do not be melodramatic. I am sure you will both be married in good time. Just not this year. Until then, you must find other ways to fill your days that do not involve husband hunting.’
‘And what are they, precisely?’ Peg asked, tapping her foot in irritation.
‘Until today, you never seemed to tire of shopping,’ he reminded her. ‘But if that has paled, you could visit London’s many museums or lending libraries and make an effort to better yourselves.’
‘Libraries and museums,’ Liv said, nodding obediently and backing slowly towards the door. Since either of those might give her an opportunity to meet her beau in secret, she probably wanted to claim the trips before Peg angered the Duke to the point where he might forbid going out at all.
Before she could escape, Peg clutched her arm and pulled her back to the desk. ‘Frankly, we cannot imagine anything more dull.’
‘We?’ said Liv in a weak voice, shaking her head to distance herself from the statement.
The Duke’s face darkened. ‘Then perhaps a return to finishing school is in order, for one of you, at least.’
At this, Peg laughed. ‘I am old enough to be fully finished by now. I doubt more education will help me.’
Her brother gave an exasperated huff. ‘Then perhaps you could practise the skills you already have. The pianoforte, watercolour...’
‘We have done both of those until our fingers ache,’ Peg said in disgust. Next, he would be suggesting good works and fervent prayer, neither of which would get her any closer to the Season she longed for.
Other girls her age were dancing and flirting, having the sort of tame romantic adventures they could exaggerate when writing in their diaries and g
ossiping with their friends. Not only had Peg not been kissed, she had only her sister to complain about it to.
What could she say to sway Hugh to leniency?
She bit her lip to prevent another outburst and considered her next move. She must give him a suggestion that made accepting the next invitation to a rout or a ball seem like the safer option. She smiled as she thought of something so outrageous that she was sure he would rather see them at Almack’s than to accept. ‘We are quite proficient in all the ladylike arts you have suggested. But there is one area of education that we have sorely neglected.’
‘And what is that?’ he said, throwing his hands in the air. ‘If it will get you to stop pestering me for vouchers, I will consider it.’
‘You could hire us a dancing master,’ she said. ‘Since we have not been going about to balls, we do not know the latest steps and have fallen out of practice with the old ones. If you could hire a gentleman to come here and teach us in private, we will be able to dance without leaving the house. With a little instruction we will be ready to return to society when you are ready to allow it.’
‘Dancing lessons,’ he said, his mouth tightening in disapproval at the suggestion.
Good, she thought. Perhaps now he would see that it was better to leave the house than to allow risks over the threshold.
If he was serious about protecting them, he would never agree to leave his two sisters home alone in the company of a strange man while he was in his seat in the House of Lords. Since they went out so rarely, he had not bothered to engage a chaperon to watch over them. Two bored girls and private lessons involving physical contact with the opposite gender was a situation ripe with temptation.
Even she found the idea rather shocking. But if she wanted him to take her seriously, Peg must pretend that the risks had not occurred to her. She gave him her most vacuous smile and added, ‘It will be almost as good as going to an actual ball. And I am sure we will learn so many things we did not know before. You do not want us to be socially stunted, do you?’ She waited for his explosion.
‘Socially stunted?’ Instead of anger, she thought she saw his mouth quirk towards a sceptical smile, before returning to its usual, impassive position.
She responded with wide-eyed sincerity, ‘We are the sisters of the Duke of Scofield. We must prepare to be at ease in any situation. But now we are woefully out of touch.’
In the silence that followed, she imagined she could hear the mechanical clicking as the cogs in his brain turned, weighed the possible risks of her suggestion and tried to find a better alternative. Then he sighed, his face relaxing in a satisfied smile. ‘Very well. I will advertise for a dancing master. And if you are having any girlish fantasies of me allowing some handsome rogue into the house, you had best quash them now. I mean to hire the oldest and ugliest one I can find. I will expect a demonstration of the skills you have learned in one month’s time. If you are not proficient by then, I will call an end to the whole fiasco and we will go back to things as they were.’
Perhaps she should have left it to Liv to find a way around their brother for this was not the response she had expected at all. Dancing around the drawing room with a stranger would not get her a single step closer to Almack’s. Even more infuriating, Hugh was now staring at her as if he expected thanks.
She gave him a gritted smile in return and replied, ‘We will not disappoint you. I promise.’
He sighed as if they already had. ‘I am glad we have come to an understanding. Do not worry your pretty heads about the matter. Go back to your day and I will see to everything.’ He made a vague shooing motion with his hands to send them from his office.
* * *
‘He cannot be allowed to get away with his crimes.’ In the office of the Daily Standard, David Castell paced the floor in front of his editor’s desk, his fists balled as if ready to settle the matter in the way he truly wished to, mano a mano.
‘But he has and he will,’ Mr Jakes replied with none of the pent-up emotion being displayed before him. ‘Nothing is ever done when members of the peerage overstep the bounds of legality since they are left to police their own indiscretions. Scofield is a duke. That is as close to being above the law as one can be.’
‘But this is not a matter of a few bad debts or illegal duels. This is murder.’
‘Two murders,’ Jakes said in the same dry tone. ‘Neither of them proven.’
‘Trust me, I have not forgotten about the old Duke of Scofield,’ David said with a bitter laugh. ‘It is common knowledge that his son did away with him.’
‘Common knowledge,’ Jakes said with a disapproving sniff. ‘If I publish that without proof, he will bring suit against me for libel. And even though his fellows in the House of Lords are sure he committed murder, they did not hang him for it two years ago when it happened. What makes you think that this time will be different?’
Because it had to be. Dick Sterling had been David’s friend. No man deserved to die with a knife in his back, his body dumped into the Thames like garbage. Since it was clear that the law had no interest in investigating, it was up to David to see that the killer did not walk free. ‘This time it will be different because the evidence against Scofield will be presented in my article on the front page of your newspaper. No one will be able to look away or make excuses, as they have done before.’
‘And just where do you mean to find this evidence?’ Jakes said, leaning forward in his chair. ‘Let us assume for a moment that you are right. If anyone knows the truth, they have been afraid to come forward with it. Why will they talk to you?’
David reached for the copy of the paper that was sitting on the corner of the desk, turning pages and folding them back to reveal the classified advertisements. He pointed to the one that had caught his eye. ‘Scofield is searching for a dancing master, probably for his two sisters. I mean to present myself as said employee. Once I have gained entrance to the house, I will search the place and question the staff. Perhaps I can get one of the girls to reveal a detail they do not know is important. I am sure that there is someone in that house who has seen something or knows something.’ It was the best place he could think to look, since the people he had interviewed outside the house had been less than forthcoming.
Jakes laughed. ‘And why do you think that they will hire you?’
‘To begin with, I expect there will be few candidates for the job, since you will accidentally stop running the ad after today,’ David said with a smug grin. ‘Then, there are the excellent references I have already procured from my own half-sisters.’
Jakes raised an eyebrow. ‘You are fortunate that your family accepts a bastard son at all, much less is willing to lie for him.’
‘I doubt my father would approve of their lying for me,’ David said with a shrug. ‘But what he does not know will not hurt him. I appealed to his daughters, who were thrilled at the chance to involve themselves in my investigation. They find it a novelty to read my articles in the paper. They also told me that there is no chance Scofield will ask my father directly about the matter, since the two do not speak. In Father’s opinion, Scofield is a scoundrel who deserves whatever justice might come to him.’
Jakes eyed him thoughtfully. ‘And I suppose it would be to your advantage if your father learned that you had delivered said justice.’
David shrugged. ‘The thought had occurred to me.’ He did not precisely want to curry favour with a man who’d had little use for him since his conception. But neither was he so foolish as to refuse the man’s approval, should he finally manage to get it.
Jakes continued. ‘If I agree to this, it is on the understanding that, if it fails, as it is likely to do, I never gave you permission or encouragement. I will not let your vendetta tarnish the reputation of this newspaper.’
‘If it fails, which it will not, I doubt you will have to worry about your reputation,’ David said with
another grin. ‘You are imagining he will take you to court. I think it is far more likely that if Scofield realises I am investigating him, I will be found in the same condition as my friend, floating dead in a river somewhere.’
‘Then I promise your obituary will be a whole column long,’ Jakes said with a smile.
‘I couldn’t ask for anything more than that,’ David replied.
Copyright © 2020 by Christine Merrill
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ISBN-13: 9781488071669
A Family for the Titanic Survivor
Copyright © 2020 by Lauri Robinson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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A Family for the Titanic Survivor Page 24