Lord Montague (Sons of the Marquess Book 4)

by Mary Kingswood

  “I suppose they will,” Carrbridge said gloomily. “For Lady Monty’s sake, we do not want to announce to the world that she spent the night at a coaching inn with a fellow like Pomegranate or Pomfret or whatever his name was.”

  “Pontefract, like the town,” Melissa said.

  “Did he… injure you?” Carrbridge said gravely.

  “He did not. I told him that he would be hanged if he touched me, and he was in sufficient doubt not to risk it. When he fell asleep I was able to escape.”

  “How clever you are!” Monty said, reaching out his hand. She took it, and knelt beside him.

  “Oh, Monty, but is it really true? We are properly married even though I am not of age?”

  “As a man of God, I never lie,” he said solemnly. “Yes, we are properly married. I took care we married by the banns, and not by licence to be sure of it.”

  “But you lied about the other thing — you said I was his sister, and that cannot be true.”

  “And yet it is. Here, I have — ow! You will have to fish in this pocket for me, my love. You will find a letter in there from Gus. It was appallingly delayed by the weather, but it reached me yesterday. Read it out, for I have not yet told the others about it.”

  She unfolded the paper, which was filled with a strongly masculine hand. ‘My dear brother, Dunmorton remembers the whole business of the wager of the daughter, but it was not anyone called Frost, for he knows no one of that name. It was the Earl of Bentley who wagered his daughter. She was his eldest daughter, and the only child of his second wife, a Miss Emilia Davenport, who was half French. When the child was six months old, the mother ran away with a French tutor, and took the child with her. Bentley thought they were both dead, and refused to have them mentioned in his hearing. After some years, the mother died and Bentley discovered the child was living only ten miles away with her nurse’s family. He greatly disliked her, for she reminded him too much of his late wife, and Dunmorton thinks he would have been glad to be rid of her. Hence the wager. Monty, is it possible this Melissa Frost is in fact this daughter?’

  “No,” she said softly. “It cannot be… The late Lord Bentley was my father?”

  “It must be so,” Monty said. “Merton, pray explain it. My brain is a trifle muddled just now.”

  “Of course, my lord. Lady Montague, the late Lord Bentley wagered his daughter, the late Lord Carrbridge confirmed it in writing and that confirmation contains your name and came to you. The inescapable conclusion is that you are Lord Bentley’s daughter. Since you have the same birth date as that recorded in Debrett’s for the Lady Emily Brockenhurst, clearly Melissa Frost and Lady Emily are one and the same person. Why you have been called Melissa Frost all these years is unknown, but you are indeed the earl’s legitimate daughter.”

  Her expression was suddenly fearful. “If I married in the wrong name… does that invalidate the marriage?”

  Monty gave a little smile. “No, because it is the name you were commonly known by. We are legally married in every way, Melissa. You cannot escape me now.”

  “Thank heavens!”

  The surgeon came in just then to announce that the coach was in readiness, and willing hands supported Monty into it. Melissa took her place beside him, but her face was ashen. It was a shock, of course. She had been brought up thinking herself nobody at all, an unwelcome charge on her guardian, and Monty knew it would be hard for her to get used to the idea of being the daughter of an earl, and sister to the present earl.

  As the coach lurched into motion, Merton coughed delicately. “My lord, it would be helpful to have this new information confirmed as soon as possible. One would not want there to be any doubt about the matter.”

  “What do you propose, Merton?” Carrbridge said.

  “We could talk to Lord Bentley now, discreetly. With his brother liable to be hauled away by the constables, he might be amenable to being open with your lordship, if Monty agrees not to pursue any charges against Mr Cornelius Brockenhurst. And we could find out about this fortune that was mentioned.”

  “Yes, I did not understand that at all,” Carrbridge said in aggrieved tones. “Lady Monty came to us in rags, almost, and now there is talk of a fortune.”

  “There had to be some reason why Lord Bentley would go to such lengths to recover his ward,” Merton said. “And Lady Montague will be of age in just a few days and would probably have control of her own money. Unless she should happen to be married.”

  “Well, let us go back to the inn, then, and see if these people are still there,” Carrbridge said.

  “I do not want to see them again,” Melissa said distressfully. “I never want to see them again.”

  “And you need not,” Carrbridge said soothingly. “You may stay here in the carriage with Humphrey and Reggie to protect you, and John Coachman and the grooms. Mr Merton and Monty and I will see Lord Bentley, if he is even there. It may be that he has left already and the point is moot.”

  Monty had no great desire to delay their departure from Tadcaster, but he supposed it made sense. Bentley would be in a position to confirm that Melissa was indeed his sister, something which might otherwise be very difficult to prove. So they returned to the yard of the White Hart Inn, which was now engaged in its regular occupation, and one would be hard-pressed to recognise it as the scene of such drama not two hours earlier.

  The innkeeper was very pleased to see them. “For the constables is here, your lordship, and very wishful to talk to the young gentleman that was shot and not taking kindly to you whisking him away, like.”

  “They had sooner he expired on the cobbles, I daresay,” Carrbridge said. “Good heavens, when a man is shot and wounded, one can hardly deny him the attentions of a surgeon in case the constables might wish to talk to him.”

  “Exactly what I said myself, your lordship,” the innkeeper said. “This way if you please.”

  “The constables may have five minutes to talk to Lord Montague,” Carrbridge said. “He is still fragile, indeed, we are extremely lucky he is alive.”

  The constables were engaged in a futile attempt to interview Cornelius Brockenhurst, who, owing to the circumstance of being locked into the inn’s wine cellar, was availing himself rather freely of the refreshments therein. He was reclining on the floor, a bottle in each hand, singing a bawdy song at the top of his lungs, while his brother remonstrated with him.

  The constables retreated thankfully to the more civilised surroundings of a private parlour, and Monty was glad to sit down, for he was feeling rather wobbly. His tale was soon told, and the innkeeper pushed a brandy into his hand and told him to “Drink up, my lord, and you’ll be right as a trivet in no time.”

  Monty doubted it, but the idea of drinking up seemed a good one to him. He drank and let the others tell their versions of events, interrupted no more than twenty times by Lord Bentley, who had followed them with a glowering expression.

  “There, now you have got all the information we have to give you, so you may take yourselves away, my good fellows,” Carrbridge said to the constables. “We wish to talk privily with Lord Bentley.”

  “But—”

  “Out.”

  And they went tamely, perhaps not liking to argue with a marquess. Monty was glad of it, and hoped there would be some refreshing silence for a while, for his head was beginning to hurt. But silence was not to be had.

  “Now, Bentley, do sit down and let us talk,” Carrbridge said. “Merton, explain to Lord Bentley.”

  Merton coughed slightly. “My lord, it would be helpful to everyone if this matter could be resolved as expeditiously and quietly as possible. You undoubtedly hope that your brother may be spared any… unpleasant consequences, and Lord Montague wishes to spare his wife any social awkwardness that may arise from this night’s work. I am sure all those concerned will readily agree to remain silent on the details of what has occurred, knowing that any attempt to discredit Lady Montague would inevitably lead to ruin for Mr Cornelius Brockenhur
st. You understand, my lord, I am sure.” Bentley nodded curtly. “To that end, Lord Montague is prepared to withdraw any complaint against your brother, if you would be willing to provide the evidence for Lady Montague’s birth rank, and supply details of her fortune.”

  Bentley’s eyes grew speculative, but Carrbridge said firmly, “Bentley, we are both peers, so let us recall both the privileges and the obligations of our rank, and try to merit the nobility that God has seen fit to bestow upon us. Really, you had much better earn my gratitude than my enmity. All I ask for is a little sensible cooperation.”

  “Very well, very well, although I do not know what evidence I can give you.”

  “A signed statement that Melissa Frost is also Lady Emily Brockenhurst would be sufficient,” Merton said.

  “I suppose I might do that.”

  “Why is she called Frost, by the way?”

  “I have not the least idea. As to the fortune, the size of it, or the identity of the trustees, or any other matter, I know nothing, except that a man met me every year in London asking me to confirm that Melissa was still living in my care, and thereafter five hundred pounds was transferred to my bank. If she married, that sum would go to her husband, and the whole amount when she reached the age of one and twenty. Everything else about it is a mystery to me, except that it kept us afloat for years. Not sure how we will go on now.”

  “Your brother is a personable young man, I imagine, when he is not shooting people,” Carrbridge said. “Have him look about for an heiress. Lady Carrbridge has some skill in that line, and if we can settle matters satisfactorily between us, I am sure she can help.”

  Bentley nodded slowly. “That is… generous, Carrbridge. I say, your brother is a very queer colour.”

  Monty was hot, and his head was spinning. No, the whole room was spinning, which was very odd. He could hear voices talking, but it was a distant rumble, like a waterfall. Or was that his own blood rushing in his ears? He wished they would… he wished… Why was his face resting against the carpet? He could not make it out at all, so he closed his eyes and let sleep overwhelm him.

  22: Letters

  When Monty woke, he was lying full length in the carriage, covered with a rug. It had been Great-aunt Zinnia’s carriage, of course, he had forgotten that. The old lady had abhorred inns, and had arranged her travelling coach so that she need never stay in one, instead sleeping in her coach and driving through the night. It was very convenient now to have a travelling carriage whose interior converted so readily to a bed. The blinds were drawn up, although a little daylight crept around the edges. The steady motion and lack of bumps suggested they were on the main road. His arm throbbed a little and he was weak and dizzy, but the carriage was warm and comfortable.

  He wondered where the others were, but it was not a particularly pressing problem, for if he turned his head by the tiniest amount he could see Melissa curled up beside him, fast asleep. If Melissa were with him, then there could not be anything amiss. He shifted slightly so that he could gaze at her whole face, calm in repose. If there were more light, he suspected he would see the evidence of her tears on that calm face. What a dreadful night she had endured! Had she had any sleep at all? Probably not. Nor had he, come to that, and then he had been shot and lost a great deal of blood and given laudanum and brandy… no wonder he had fallen asleep.

  After a while, the carriage jolted more than usual, and Melissa’s eyes fluttered half open, and then, abruptly, fully open.

  “Monty? How do you feel? Oh, what a stupid question! I mean, are you in pain? Or dizzy? Or… or anything untoward?”

  He smiled at her. “Apart from a bullet hole in my arm, nothing in the least untoward. Oh, Melissa!” He ran a finger down her cheek — so soft, so deliciously soft! “I thought you were lost to me, that I would never see you again, my dear one.”

  “That was my fear also,” she said. “To have so much happiness in my life, and then to have it snatched away! If Mr Pontefract had— But let us not speak of that, for nothing happened and you came to rescue me, dear, sweet Monty. I know not how you managed to arrive at just that inn at just that moment, but I thank God for it.”

  “You had rather thank Mr Haddington,” he said. “He was outraged to be used in such a manner, and for a lady to be abducted from under his very nose. By the time Lady Reggie had driven back to Great Mellingham with the dreadful news, and Humphrey and I had been fetched, and we all returned to Sagborough to pick up the trail, Mr Haddington had done all our work for us. He was able to furnish us with an excellent description of your abductors and their vehicle, and to inform us that it was last seen heading south on the London road. After that, it was a matter of enquiring at every inn along the way. We were fortunate that they never turned off the main road, and that the earl gave his own name everywhere. How foolish of him. If ever I have occasion to abduct a lady, I shall be sure to manage the affair more deviously.”

  She smiled, and stroked his face. “Clearly you are feeling better if you can manage to joke about it.”

  “How could I not be better when my Melissa is with me?” he said simply.

  “Oh, Monty!”

  She moved closer and then, to his infinite joy, brought her lips to his. Such sweetness in her kiss! If only he could stay like this for ever, warm, comfortable, one lock of her hair tickling his neck, the carriage rocking them gently as happiness fizzed inside him like champagne. A sudden jolt threw her sideways, and then they were both laughing, and kissing again, and laughing even more. But then she became serious.

  “Monty, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for making your life so miserable. I was so terrified that Mr Pontefract would find me, or that you would send me back to him, that I think I was half mad with fear. I should have told you everything at once.”

  “That is all in the past,” he said. “You need never fear that dreadful man again, or your brothers. You are mine to protect now, and to love, and to cherish always.”

  “As you are mine,” she whispered. “I am going to make you so happy, my darling. I do love you so, Monty! I never imagined it was possible to love someone so much. When I thought I would never see you again… I have no words for what I felt. Such utter despair! I was afraid that nothing would ever be right again. My life has not had many happy times, my love, but these few short weeks with you have been so blissful, I cannot tell you—”

  And then the tears came, and he wrapped his good arm around her, and pulled her close, kissing her forehead and then, when she lifted her face, her lips again. And despite the aching in his arm and the jolting of the carriage, he felt life could furnish no greater felicity. He was the luckiest man alive.

  ~~~~~

  The carriage took them directly to Drummoor, and Lord Carrbridge refused to countenance any alternative.

  “Lady Carrbridge will be beside herself with anxiety, and will never forgive me if I do not take you to her at once,” he said firmly, and not all Melissa’s protests could shift him on the matter.

  In truth, she was not sorry for it. Her home at Kirby Grosswick was still full of displaced labourers, not to mention innumerable men with saws and hammers and paintbrushes and buckets of plaster. It was not a comfortable place. And when she saw Lady Carrbridge’s white face waiting to greet them, and found herself led to the rooms she had shared with Monty before, fires burning merrily and servants busily arranging everything in the most comfortable manner, she was glad of it. Besides, Dr Hay was still in the house, and so Monty would have the best care as he recovered.

  It was rather strange, Melissa found, to sit down to dinner in the green dining room, just as if nothing had happened at all. Only Monty’s sling suggested the momentous events of the last two days. The conversation was mostly about the forthcoming wedding between Lady Hardy and Mr Merton, and the progress of little Lady Mary, and all the other domestic trivia of the house. But when the second course had been removed and they had arrived at the dessert, Lord Carrbridge rose to make the announcement that the
former Miss Melissa Frost had been discovered, in fact, to be the Lady Emily Brockenhurst, eldest daughter of the fifth Earl of Bentley, and that a fresh notice of her marriage would be sent to the Gazette so that the whole world would know the truth of the matter.

  “Is that really necessary?” she whispered to Monty when Lord Carrbridge sat down. “Must the whole world know of it?”

  “It is best,” he said. “The original notice was incorrect, you see. Besides, it is shameful that your father denied you the position due to your rank for all those years. The world is entitled to know of it and judge him accordingly. And also, one does not want there to be any doubt in the matter. Carrbridge has a signed statement from your brother attesting to the truth, and that will ensure that the entries in Debrett’s may be made correctly. Everything must be done in proper form.”

  “My brother…” she said wonderingly. “I have three brothers and three sisters, and never realised it before. How odd!”

  “I do not think your two eldest brothers are a particular asset to you,” Monty said, with a wry smile. “One tried to force you into marriage, and the other tried to shoot you. I hope your younger brother and sisters are more civilised.”

  “They are lovely!” she cried. “I helped to raise them, and became their unofficial governess and loved them dearly. I wish I might see them again.”

  “And so you shall,” he said, smiling.

  “But I do not even know where they are.”

  “That can be discovered. We shall find them, have no fear. Another helping of syllabub?”

  When the ladies withdrew, they all gathered around Melissa and she was left in no doubt of their sympathy.

  “I am very sorry to say it of Lord Bentley and Mr Brockenhurst, for they are your brothers, after all,” Lady Carrbridge said, “but I cannot like them. They have behaved abominably towards you, and kept you as an unpaid servant, and withheld your fortune from you, and I do not intend to acknowledge any acquaintance with them if they are in town. I shall never forget your appearance when you arrived here.”