Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  Hunt looked to his father for a response. He could not recall any of his dear family ever mentioning why the duke settled upon Lady Mathild as his future mate.

  “As our daughter knew great discomfort with the delivery of her boys, the duchess became concerned when she learned of Lady Stoke’s upcoming lying in. My wife insisted we travel to London so we might be close to Henrietta, as Lord Stoke remains from the country. It was the second week of February. I recall because we had three consecutive days without rain, and the duchess insisted we take advantage of the roads.” The duke made the effort to smile at Lovelace.

  “Shortly after Angelica and I arrived at Mannington House,” Lovelace said in distraction.

  “Surely you do not think your coming to England had anything to do with this strange series of events?” Hunt insisted.

  Remmington overrode Lovelace’s response. “Do you think Lord Sandahl heard of Miss Lovelace’s amiability and feared your daughter would outshine his? Although she is Miss Lovelace’s junior, this is Lady Mathild’s second Season. Would it be lowing for Lord Sandahl to have Miss Lovelace take better than had Lady Mathild?”

  Hunt did not like the earl’s tone when he spoke of Angelica Lovelace’s finer qualities. Remmington sounded more infatuated with each passing day. A gulf of desperation filled Hunt’s chest. Although she was not his, Hunt knew the real possibility of losing the only woman who held his interest for more than a few minutes.

  It was not Lovelace’s response, which set off an alarm in Hunt’s head, but rather the underlying quiet of the man’s tone.

  “I never inquired of my family after the day I was driven from my ancestral home, but I cannot believe Carpenter would act in a similar manner. At a minimum, it is likely Sandahl could learn of my and Angelica’s presence at Mannington House through the newsprints or through the ton’s gossips. My brother professed a great fondness for my late wife, and my Angelica is molded in Lady Victoria’s image. I would think Sandahl had heard of Angelica’s likeness to her mother.

  “That being said, I was not thinking of my daughter’s fine countenance, but rather of the fact my presence in England reminds my brother he has no heir. If I outlive Carpenter, I could claim the earldom, and what is more, I possess a son, who could succeed me. My branch of the family tree would have more reach than would his.”

  “Is it possible Sandahl means to establish a connection to the dukedom for political purposes?” Remmington mused. “If Lady Mathild became Malvern’s marchioness, Devilfoard would be hard pressed to speak against Sandahl in the House of Lords.”

  Devilfoard suggested what none of them wished to consider. “If Lady Sandahl passes, I could be asked to corroborate the poor state of the countess’s health while she was in residence at the Keep. Then, Sandahl could remarry and produce an heir.”

  “Effectively eliminating my opportunity for a succession,” Lovelace whispered into the quiet room.

  Hunt stared hard at his companions in an attempt to see all that was not yet evident. “All we deduced makes sense, but we must be missing some of the facts—most obviously, how Lord Newsome’s absence relates to Lady Sandahl’s illness. If there is no connection, we have two separate mysteries. On the other hand, if Newsome and Lady Marianne Lovelace hold a relationship, then supposing Sandahl means to rid himself of his wife so he might produce an heir for the earldom is only the tip of a much larger deceit. Such is an evil born from jealousy.”

  * * *

  “Would you honor me with the next dance, Miss Lovelace?”

  The evening’s entertainment included the party retiring to the library, where the carpets and much of the furniture had been removed for dancing. His mother had hired the local music teacher to provide the music for the entertainment. Unlike a London ballroom, there were no claiming of sets prior to the evening’s entertainment to restrict the participants’ pleasure. The duchess and Lady Gunnimore danced as often as had the young ladies within the group. Hunt partnered his mother, Lady Cuthbert, and even walked about the room with Lady Arcane, who had improved enough to socialize with the duchess’s guests once again, although the girl’s mother refused Lady Arcane permission to extend her energies.

  Angel glanced at her father, who nodded his permission. Earlier, she had danced with Lord Remmington, Mr. Connell, Lord Cuthbert, and even with Lord Harry. Hunt knew all this because he had watched her throughout the evening.

  “I would be pleased, my lord,” she said sweetly. She placed the fingers of her gloved hand into his open palm. Rich, warm eyes, the color of the sky on a sunny day, met his, and he felt the heat spread through him.

  He watched her profile as she smiled at the other dancers. There was such an ethereal quality to her that Hunt could not help but feel the soul-filling comfort of being close to the woman. If the likeness to her mother was as uncanny as others claimed, he totally understood how Horace Lovelace fell in love with Lady Victoria Copley. When he and Angel assumed their position in the set, her gaze again met Hunt’s, and he discovered the steadfast resilience he had expected to find there.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked as he set her from him.

  Desire whispered her name when his hand skimmed her waist, and for a brief moment, Hunt permitted the passion to claim him. His chest swelled with pride with Angelica Lovelace as his partner.

  “I am, my lord. The duchess’s guests are quite amiable.”

  “Yet, your curiosity is eager for answers,” he taunted as the initial bars of the tune had many upon the floor bobbing their heads while they counted the opening measure before stepping forward to pass their partners.

  “You knew it would,” she said without artifice. Hunt admired the girl’s loyalty. Her father spoke the truth of her nature. If permitted, Angelica would rush to Lady Sandahl’s room and damn what others may think of her impetuosity.

  They caught hands to turn a full revolution.

  “This will not satisfy you, but the duke wishes us to know caution.”

  She willfully met his gaze, searching his eyes for the truth, and Hunt smiled at her boldness. The woman was one of a kind.

  “My father said as much.” Her contempt for their inaction was evident in her tone. “What if you wait too long?” Angelica’s bottom lip trembled in indignation.

  When they caught hands to dance down the line, Hunt whispered, “I am not without empathy. Yet, I was thinking on the situation. Lord Sandahl would be a fool—” They parted to circle others within their set. When they came together again, he finished, “—a fool to harm his lady. We both witnessed her condition.” Again, they separated to bow to the opposing corners. “The countess—” He rushed his explanation. “—will know health for several days.”

  She nodded her understanding before completing the next movement in the form. Mr. Connell turned her in a tight circle while Hunt did the same for Miss Silverton. When Angel returned to him, she did not speak of the earl and countess. Instead, with a raised eyebrow, she asked, “Will you dance with my cousin this evening, Lord Malvern?” It did Hunt’s heart well to have her tease him. Would he ever find another woman with so many delightful facets?

  Hunt watched her as she laughed at something Lord Cuthbert shared before dancing her way back to him. She was a temptation, one he was not certain he wished to avoid.

  “I will count myself fortunate to know Mrs. Elizabeth Copley’s company instead,” he whispered seductively. Her blush told him she knew exactly where his thoughts rested, but she pressed his hand when they turned to end the song. The woman approved of his response.

  * * *

  If it were up to her, Angel would have returned to her quarters after her dance with Lord Malvern, but her father meant to enjoy the duchess’s entertainments. In actuality, it did Angelica’s heart well to view the lines fade from her father’s countenance. Despite her fierce loyalty to her late mother, Angel gave the credit for the new life in Horace Lovelace’s step to Lady Gunnimore. The woman knew how to permit Angel’s father his reme
mbrances while assisting him to continue living without guilt. It was as if her father had shed the cloak of grief, which had followed him for more than two years. Not certain how to handle this new situation, Angel had prayed upon the relationship and decided Lady Victoria would wish both her husband and her long-time friend to claim a bit of happiness in their remaining years. Therefore, Angel lodged no objections, although it was quite discomforting to observe the two of them together in quiet whispers and intriguing glances. She did not think Carson would be as accepting of the countess. Although Lady Gunnimore bore Simon Connell, the Earl of Gunnimore, three sons and one daughter, the countess was not as involved in her children’s daily lives as had been Lady Victoria Lovelace. Carson missed their mother, as much, if not more, than Angelica.

  The thoughts of home brought Angel’s eyes again to Lord Malvern. This time, he and Lord Harrison teased their sister in well-timed swats of Lady Stoke’s fan. It pleased Angel to observe Lord Malvern creating new memories with his family. She found it difficult to keep the smile from her lips.

  “You are fond of Lady Stoke?” Lord Remmington’s deep voice came from beside her. His remark did not fool Angel. She knew the earl felt a bit of jealousy.

  She kept her gaze upon the trio. “I was considering how my brother Carson shall not approve of Papa’s relationship with Lady Gunnimore. Perhaps it might be easier upon my brother if we were closer in age—if we shared confidences. I doubt Carson will seek my advice on the matter, especially if I am successful during my Season. It would be so much easier if my brother could share moments such as the one between the McLaughlins.”

  To her relief, Angel had distracted him.

  “Family is important to you,” Lord Remmington said with confidence.

  “Very much so, my lord.” She accepted the arm he offered, and they strolled toward the refreshments displayed upon a sturdy table in the corner. “I never asked of your family, Lord Remmington, and I am grieved at my poor manners.”

  He selected lemonade for her and a glass of champagne for him. His lordship waited while she sipped on the fruit mixture before he downed the champagne with one gulp. A grimace crossed his lips.

  “My widowed mother resides at one of my minor estates near Durham, and my sister Gwendolyn is a viscountess with four children.” He reached for a second glass of champagne, but he did not drink this one. “In truth, I am a second son. My brother, the true heir to the earldom, passed in an unusual accident less than a year after my father’s passing. Mother summoned me home from the Spanish battlefields to claim a title to which I never aspired.”

  “Of what future did you dream, my lord?” Angel inquired.

  With an ironic chuckle, he tilted his head to the side as if judging her trustworthiness. “Anything but the earldom. Physician. Barrister. Archaeologist. Composer.”

  A wrinkle of confusion claimed Angel’s thoughts. “Why can you not be both an earl and your chosen profession? Although I recognize the duty to your title, I do not believe pursuing other interests is forbidden. Other aristocrats are botanists and painters and own shipping companies. A man of your intelligence could easily name your passion.”

  “What if you are my passion, Miss Lovelace?” the earl asked seductively.

  Angelica blushed. “I was not speaking of such passions, my lord, and I must chastise you for conversing so freely. We possess no understanding.”

  “Would you consider such an understanding, Miss Lovelace, if I would speak to your father? Would being my countess please you?”

  Angel nodded to a private corner, and the earl led her to the spot before releasing her again. She swallowed hard. She had no idea how to respond. “I am not one, my lord, to aspire to any man’s title,” she said in hopes of inspiration. “I could not give my assent unless I held great respect for the gentleman. His character must be pristine, not without faults per se, but his heart must lead as often as his head.”

  Lord Remmington’s lips twitched with amusement. “And do you imagine I am without these qualities?”

  A flush of color returned to Angelica’s cheeks.

  “I realize you wish to bam me, my lord, but I shall not permit you to distract me from your original question. My American roots say I wish to marry, as did my parents. I wish to know the man I love.”

  Lord Remmington’s eyes narrowed, but not in disapproval. “It is not an exclusively American trait of which you speak, Miss Lovelace. The one to marry for affection.” His easy teasing returned. “After all, your parents were British.”

  “But a British society drove them from England’s shores,” she countered. “If my parents accepted the strictures placed upon their love, my most cherished mother would be Lord Sandahl’s countess, and Lady Victoria would know the evil of Lord Sandahl’s plan. My father would long since have known his brother’s retribution.”

  Before his lordship could oppose her remarks, Angel’s eyes followed a harried servant as the man rushed to the duke’s side. “Something is amiss,” she whispered anxiously.

  The earl turned to follow her gaze. As they studied the poorly played drama Devilfoard uttered private instructions to his duchess before catching Lord Malvern’s elbow to lead his son from the room.

  “Pardon me, Miss Lovelace. I should follow the marquess.”

  Angelica caught his arm. “You will send word as to what has occurred?”

  “If you insist, my dear.” He spoke the correct words, but the earl appeared put out by her interest.

  “Do you suppose the change has something to do with Lady Sandahl?”

  Lord Remmington patted the back of her hand. “I will not fail you. Now you must pardon my haste.”

  Angelica watched him leave. Lord Remmington was a powerful man, one she would be proud to claim, but could she give her body to one man while another owned her heart? And worse, should not Lord Remmington have the opportunity to know love?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Angel did not return to the dance floor. Instead, she spent time with Lady Arcane, assisting the girl and her mother in fending off curious guests desiring information on the girl’s sudden illness. Angel answered more than one of those daring to ask if Lady Arcane and Lord Newsome suffered from the same “ailment.”

  Catching Lady Arcane’s hand in a gesture of protection, Angel turned away the Countess of McIntyre’s inquires. “I have witnessed such conditions previously. Lady Arcane likely had a reaction to an ingredient in one of the sauces. An associate of my father’s passed when he consumed a nut-filled cake. The surgeon said the man’s throat closed up, and he could not breathe. We are most thankful Lady Arcane knew nothing so severe.”

  “I never heard of such a thing,” the countess declared in her superiority.

  Lady Falonwick was quick to come to her daughter’s aid. “Certainly you have, Countess. Do you not recall Captain Eldridge’s tale of several of his men during the Battle of the Nile?”

  Enjoying the Banbury tale they had created, Angel whispered conspiratorially, “Are there not tales of King George’s diet affecting the Crown’s health?”

  “And is not gout a result of a person’s eating habits?” Lady Falonwick added. “If a man in his prime can know such pain because of what he eats, why cannot a girl as delicate as is my Arcane claim distress?”

  When the viscountess and her daughter retired, Angel joined the duchess as she stood alone facing the dance floor. “I do not know what drew the duke and Lord Malvern from the festivities, but I am certain all will prove well,” she said quietly.

  “Do you suppose anyone noticed?” the duchess asked in concern.

  Angel gave her head a slight shake. “Men regularly escape entertainments for cards or for business. I imagine the duke is often absent from the evening’s merriments.”

  The duchess smiled in appreciation. “You are quite perceptive, Miss Lovelace.”

  Angel returned the smile. “Is that a kind way of saying I am too curious, Duchess?”

  The duchess laughed. “You
are delightful, Miss Lovelace. I understand why women of the ton find you a threat.”

  “Should I change my behavior, Your Grace? Have I offered an offense?”

  “On the contrary, Miss Lovelace. I find you refreshing. In many ways, you remind me of myself at your age. I was often from step with those about me. I recall it being quite disconcerting. It was only after coming to an agreement with Devilfoard that I discovered I was not behind those who criticized me, but rather steps ahead. I believe you will learn the same, given the time.”

  “Thank you, Duchess. Yours is the kindest advice I have received since arriving in London.” Angel paused before adding, “If you require anything of me, please know I willingly would serve your family.” With that, she made a curtsey and left the duchess to her personal thoughts.

  Later, Angel accompanied Lady Stoke to the viscountess’s quarters. Afterward, she escaped to her own suite. There she found upon her pillow a short note from Lord Remmington.

  “At least his lordship kept me from fretting all evening without news of the occurrences below.” As she lit a candle to read the missive, Angel considered the earl’s continued kindness. “Lord Remmington does not attempt to censure my curiosity,” she whispered to the empty room. “Not many men—American or British— would act with such acceptance. I could certainly do worse, but before I agree to his lordship’s offer, we must have an honest conversation regarding an arrangement.”

  Leaving those thoughts behind until she could place them in action, Angel flicked away the drops of wax sealing the folded over page to read ...

  Bear with me, my dear. This situation is more twisted than this simple note will clarify, and I wish I could deliver this news in person so I might offer you my protection. That being said, the gist of the matter is the local magistrate questions Malvern regarding the death of Lord Newsome. The viscount’s body was found floating in one of the estate’s distant ponds. A sash from Malvern’s banyan was tied about Newsome’s neck. Although a maid reported observing Malvern in the servant passages well after midnight, the marquess refuses to share his whereabouts. Sir Alexander and the duke have spoken to the magistrate, but this is likely to be a long night. I will send word when something of import occurs. LD