by Alec, Joyce
“Oh, no, nor do I!” Lord Borden replied hurriedly. “But nor would I suggest that she will be sought out by a good many gentlemen, for there are few who would wish to tie themselves to such a family.” He gave a small shudder, although his lips were quirked into a grin. “But for some of us, we cannot choose whom we court, for a dowry is a dowry regardless of whom it is from.”
Thomas felt as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown over his head, his heart slowing as he heard Lord Borden laugh. This was not what he had expected to hear from Lord Borden, whom he had presumed to be a good sort of gentleman with a quiet nature and amiable character. “Are you trying to suggest that you would seek to marry Miss Newton simply because of her dowry, Lord Borden?” he asked quietly, praying that Miss Newton could not hear their conversation from within the drawing room.
Lord Borden nodded enthusiastically, his eyes gleaming as though he were entirely unaware of Thomas’s lack of agreement on such a matter. “But of course! I confess that I have been somewhat foolish in my lack of desire to marry these last few years, but I always thought that my estate would be profitable and that there was no urgency to do so. However, I have been proven sadly wrong, I fear, for my estate has not done as well as I had hoped. Therefore, I must find a lady with a sizeable dowry, whose wealth will keep me from danger for the foreseeable future.”
Thomas’s mouth had filled with sand, his throat going dry. This gentleman, the one he had thought might make a suitable husband for Miss Newton, had turned out to be nothing more than a fool, pursuing Miss Newton simply for her money. “You can find no other lady to court?” he asked, his voice rasping. “There must be a good many—”
“Sadly, news of my lack of fortune has made its way through the ton,” Lord Borden said with a heavy sigh, as though he were greatly troubled. “Miss Newton has not appeared to hear of it, however, or if she has, she does not seem to care.” His eyes lit with hope. “Mayhap since we are both in particularly difficult circumstances, it is easier to understand such necessities as marrying for requirement and duty rather than any sort of affectionate feelings.”
“I see.” Thomas did not really understand Lord Borden’s reasons, finding that he had slowly begun to dislike the gentleman as he had spoken. This was not the sort of gentleman he had hoped would court and hopefully marry Miss Newton, and certainly would not be the fulfillment of his promise to Francis.
“Well, I must bid you good day,” Lord Borden said, in a much too cheerful voice for Thomas’s liking. “I am to call upon Miss Newton tomorrow for a short carriage ride during the fashionable hour.” He grinned and winked at Thomas, as though this was some sort of game they were both playing. “May she choose the most worthy gentleman. Good day.”
“Good day,” Thomas mumbled, watching Lord Borden walk away with an increasingly heavy heart. He felt his heart squeeze painfully as he turned back towards the drawing room, not knowing what he should say to Miss Newton.
“Ah, Lord Sharpe.” Miss Newton was sitting by the fire, smiling at him. She looked a good deal more at ease this afternoon, which came, most likely, from the fact that her brother had left the house. “Did you see Lord Borden as you arrived? He has only just left his minute.”
Thomas bowed so that he might take a second or two to consider his answer. “Yes,” he said slowly, taking her in. “I spoke to him for a few moments.” She was looking remarkably beautiful today, he had to admit, with her fair hair spiraling down her back in ringlets, having been pulled to the back of her head. There were a few errant curls around her forehead and temples, but it only added to her beauty. Her eyes were warm as he made his way towards her, ready to sit down opposite, but she gestured for him to sit nearer to her, her ready smile sending his heart into a flurry.
“I am to go out for a carriage ride with Lord Borden tomorrow,” she said, getting up to ring the bell. “What do you think of him, Lord Sharpe?”
Thomas cleared his throat, aware of her sharp gaze as she watched for his reaction. “I do not know the gentleman particularly well,” he said truthfully. “He has never wed or looked interested in pursuing a wife.” He gestured towards her, as she sat down. “Apparently, that has changed when it comes to you.”
She laughed softly, her curls bouncing as she tossed her head. “You are very kind to say so, Lord Sharpe, but I fear that it is because he knows I have very little option other than to accept his court, whether he is true in his supposed affections towards me or not.” Her eyes were on his again. “Do you not think that I might be in danger of such intentions?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that, yes, she was correct and that Lord Borden was only interested in the wealth she could bring him instead of any real affection, but instead he kept his mouth shut and simply shrugged. An immediate disappointment crept into her expression, as if she had been waiting for him to agree with her and was now saddened that he had not done so.
Thomas, thankfully, was saved from saying anything further by the arrival of the tea tray. His mind was filled with swirling thoughts, aware that if he were to tell Miss Newton the truth, then the only possible option for her at this moment was for him to court her. It might not be for long for there could be other gentlemen who wished to make her acquaintance, but Thomas realized he could never really know the truth of their intentions, just as he had not known the truth about Lord Borden’s intentions towards Miss Newton. Whilst that troubled him, Thomas could not bring himself to say anything to her, for what would follow thereafter frightened him more than he could say. He had never wanted to have his heart involved with Miss Newton, and he had never wanted to feel such protectiveness towards her. These strong emotions were rendering him almost terrified.
Miss Newton seemed to sense that their conversation was at an end, for as she began to serve the tea, she asked him about the note. Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, Thomas managed a quick smile in her direction, before clearing his throat and beginning.
“I have had time to think about and consider the note,” he said slowly, “but I have not had any particular thoughts about what I ought to do.”
“What we ought to do,” she said quickly.
He could not help but smile. “Yes, of course. What we ought to do, Miss Newton.” He shrugged before accepting the cup and saucer from her. “I confess that I am quite at a loss. The matter is dealt with, is it not? What can finding the culprit do now?”
Miss Newton frowned, set her cup down, and pulled the note from her pocket. “Because it says that there is ‘more at stake’—which may mean any number of things. Perhaps in finding the true culprit, we will remove the shame from this family and prevent anything so terrible from ever happening again.”
A frown mottled her brow as she read the note again before handing it to him. Their fingers brushed, and Thomas immediately felt his heart jolt violently in his chest, clearing his throat loudly to cover his own reaction. Miss Newton did not appear to notice, for she lifted her cup to her lips and took a small sip.
“It would be wonderful indeed if the disgrace of your brother was removed from your family for good,” he agreed quietly. “But where should we start?”
Miss Newton set her cup down again, her voice a good deal quieter than before. “I think, Lord Sharpe, it would be best if you were able to tell me precisely what occurred.”
His eyebrows rose. “You do not know?”
“No,” she said. “I do not understand the intricacies of the accusations against him. I know that he was found to be holding a knife over a gentleman that he was acquainted with, but that is the full extent of my knowledge.”
Thomas let out a long, slow breath, already beginning to feel uncomfortable with the idea of telling Miss Newton everything. She obviously did not know that it had been he that had discovered Francis in such a position, nor that it had been he who had had to speak openly and truthfully with the Bow Street Runners about what he had seen.
“You are correct in saying that,” he said quietl
y. “It was a Mr. Carmichael who was found dead, with Francis holding the bloody knife in his hand. I…I was with him.”
Miss Newton’s eyes widened.
“He and I were on our way to White’s,” Thomas explained before she could begin to ask any questions. “I had stopped to speak to an acquaintance, and we ended up discussing his recent purchase of two new greys for his carriage.” He shrugged, knowing that such a thing was not important. “I heard shouting and excused myself hastily. It was rather dark, with only the light of the lanterns to guide me. I rounded a corner and went down a small alleyway, calling for Newton – only to see him standing over a body with a knife in his hand.” He closed his eyes, recalling just what he had seen. “Francis told me he had not killed the man, that he had seen the knife and had stupidly picked it up, and I urged him to throw it aside. Francis did so at once, looking more horrified than I had ever seen before.” Opening his eyes, he saw that Miss Newton had gone very pale. “Unfortunately, we were found by the fellow whom I had been talking to, and within a few minutes, someone had sent for the Bow Street Runners. The dead man was identified as Mr. Carmichael, who had been stabbed once through the heart.” He shook his head before burying his face in his hands, hating that he would have to tell her the truth. “I had to tell them what I had seen.”
Miss Newton’s quiet gasp tore at him.
“There then came a few other stories about Francis and what he had been doing,” Thomas continued, his words now coming out in a flood. “He admitted to some, but not to others.”
“What do you mean?” Miss Newton asked, her voice breathless and wispy. “What was he accused of?”
Thomas looked away, unable to bear the sight of her tear-filled eyes. “Theft, although he refuted that entirely.” He did not want to say more but knew that Miss Newton would not allow him to keep some things back. “He was accused of cheating and, on occasion, willfully harming another. He did not disagree with those accusations.”
Miss Newton nodded slowly, dabbing at her eyes with her lace handkerchief.
“Francis was a good man, in many ways, if not a little foolish at times,” Thomas continued, finally able to let his gaze return to the lady again. “He said to me, on the day of his trial, that he found himself easily manipulated by another with some of these…failings, although I have never worked out what he meant by that. The other charges of theft and robbery he claimed to be entirely false, even though the men who brought the charges identified him as the man responsible.”
Miss Newton took in a shaking breath, her eyes still rather watery. “But what can that mean?” she asked hoarsely. “How can he say that he is not guilty when there is such evidence?”
Thomas considered her question for a moment, already knowing what his response would be but finding that he wanted to take considerable care in how he answered.
“You can speak freely, Lord Sharpe,” Miss Newton murmured, perhaps seeing the hesitation in his expression. “I shall not think badly of you, whatever it is you wish to say.”
He nodded and sent a small, wry smile in her direction, his eyes glinting with both frustration and anger. “I think, Miss Newton, that it has taken me too long to believe what Francis said to me that day of the trial. I deeply regret my lack of belief in your brother’s good character, but now that I have considered the matter and see that there is something amiss, I find that I do not quite know what it is I am to do from this moment onwards.”
She looked at him askance.
“I have considered how such false charges could be brought against your brother and consider that such a thing might occur if these men were paid to do so.”
Miss Newton stared at him, her tears abating for the moment. “You mean to say that you believe some gentlemen might, in fact, lie before God and man simply for money?”
“It is hard to accept, I know,” he replied steadily, “and I would not wish to upset you in this for it is a matter of great severity.”
“I would find that very difficult to believe,” Miss Newton stated, her hands twisting her handkerchief over and over again. “For to lie before God is—”
“It is not something that either of us would consider, yes,” Thomas interrupted, when it became obvious that she could not find the words to say. “But for a poor man, or a man easily led by the sound of jingling coins, it may come easier than you might think. That would suggest, then, that someone ensured that these men told lies about your brother so that he would be condemned over and over again. Even if he was not found guilty of the murder of Mr. Carmichael, he would have to answer for the theft and robbery that he had supposedly been seen to undertake.”
Miss Newton considered this for a long moment, her eyes no longer spilling with tears. In fact, she looked pale and calm, as though he had brought some wonderful sort of revelation by this news.
“Then, Lord Sharpe, we have our first plan of action,” she said after a few moments. “We do not know who this bearded gentleman was, nor why he put the note in your pocket. Although, I must assume it is because you were Francis’s dear friend and were considered to be someone who might believe in Francis’s innocence even though he is gone from this world.” A rueful smile touched her lips. “My eldest brother is not in London at this time, and Henry will…” She closed her eyes for a moment, her lips trembling. “Henry will not consider anything that is not solely about him.”
Thomas wanted to comfort her but did not know what to say, seeing the lingering pain in her expression as she opened her eyes to look at him.
“I think we must find the men who testified at Francis’s hearing,” she finished. “We must find those who claimed that they saw him stealing or robbing and ensure that they truly were telling the truth. If we can convince them to tell us the truth, then we might be able to discover—”
“Who paid them in the first place,” Thomas finished slowly, seeing the small smile that appeared on Miss Newton’s expression. “That is a well-thought-out plan, Miss Newton, and I am certain that if I try hard enough, I will be able to recall at least one or two names. But, what if they refuse to say a single word to us?”
Miss Newton’s expression grew somewhat calculating, her eyes dark. “If what you believe is true, then they have been easily manipulated by money before,” she said quietly. “Therefore, there is every hope that they will do so again.” She arched an eyebrow, as he began to see what she meant. “And I will pay anything I can to ensure that I begin to find out the truth about Francis.”
“Very well,” Thomas replied quietly, a little perturbed by the cold, angry, and yet determined expression on Miss Newton’s face. “I hope it will not all be for naught, Miss Newton. For your sake.”
5
It had been a week since Lord Sharpe had agreed to help Julianna discover the men who had, from what they believed, lied about Francis’s supposed thieving. It was taking a good deal of time for Lord Sharpe to recall these men’s names and thereafter to find out where they currently resided—although he had said that this was due to the fact that they were neither wealthy nor titled but had simply been men who worked and lived within London. This, as far as Julianna was concerned, made all the more sense—for surely men without a good deal of funds would be much more easily convinced to lie in exchange for a decent sum of money?
“Oh, look, Miss Newton! There is Lady Cynthia!”
Julianna dragged her mind back towards Lord Borden and his attempts at what was meant to be a jolly carriage ride through Hyde Park at the height of the fashionable hour.
It was, she had come to realize, one of Lord Borden’s greatest delights. He enjoyed nothing more than being seen, for he spent most of his time waving and conversing with a good number of ladies and gentlemen as they made their way slowly through the park. He had very little time for conversation with her, other than to draw her attention to someone he deemed to be of particular importance.
It was all rather dull, Julianna thought to herself, knowing that she was not in any way exc
ited by any potential future with Lord Borden. The only reason she continued to accept his court was simply due to the fact that she had no other gentlemen coming to call upon her. She was, it seemed, quite unwelcome by all other members of the ton, although none of them rejected her outright. That had more to do with her sponsor, but Julianna was grateful for it nonetheless. Lady Thurston had been by her side whenever Julianna required her this last week, smiling and nodding to various acquaintances whilst she kept Julianna beside her as though she were more than proud of having her as her friend.
A small smile tugged at Julianna’s lips as she considered the lady. Both the Marquess and the Marchioness of Thurston had been more than kind to Julianna, although she still could not discover why they had chosen to take her on in such a way. When she had asked Lord Sharpe the reason for it, he had simply said that they had good, kind hearts that seemed to overflow with generosity. That was, she considered, as good a reason as any. It also interested her to see just how much the marchioness pushed Julianna towards Lord Sharpe—although she claimed it was always so that Julianna could have the opportunity to acquaint herself with new ladies and gentlemen. That was quite true, of course, for Lord Sharpe had done very well in his attempts to ensure she was not without company, but the more time Julianna spent with him, the more time she realized that she wanted no one’s company but his.
Unfortunately, Lord Sharpe did not appear to be so inclined towards her. Her mouth turned down as she let her gaze linger on Lord Borden, recalling the conversation she had overheard between him and Lord Sharpe. She had hoped that Lord Sharpe would, thereafter, discourage her from continuing her acquaintance with Lord Borden, but he had not done so. That had torn at her heart, even though she had told herself in no uncertain terms that she was being more than foolish. Lord Sharpe was already giving more than she had ever dreamed of, and to pray that he might consider her as a potential bride was quite ridiculous. Therefore, despite the murmurings of her heart, she had forced herself to continue to think of Lord Borden, even though she now knew that he cared nothing for her and only pursued her dowry.