A Ring
of
Midnight Orchids
Flowers of the Aristocracy
Copyright © Jackie Williams 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used/copied/lent in any form whatsoever without the written consent of the author.
All character, names and events are from the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to persons alive or deceased is entirely coincidental.
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Prologue
A not so Noble Nose
Oomph! The world quaked beneath Lucas Caruthers’ feet. A shudder reverberated up through his legs, carrying on into his stomach and eventually reaching his brain, whereupon his world began to spin rather more violently than he was used to. He shook the un-nerving feeling away and straightened up, only to feel the wind knocked from him again as another bone jarring punch jolted him to his core.
Well, this was new. What the hell was the matter with him? He felt as though he was moving through Mrs. Graves homemade toffee sauce, though why he thought of his cook at this particular moment, he couldn’t fathom. Must be because her enormous and delicious dinners made him feel exactly the same. Every movement was sluggish, even keeping his eyes open was an effort.
Fortunately, though feeling as though he were half asleep, his vision remained clear, but the wild gestures coming from Ivan, his manager, who normally sat quite stoically upon his corner stool, were not reassuring. Something white fluttered slowly about the man’s head. It took a moment for the implications to sink in. Good God! Ivan was waving a towel.
WAVING A TOWEL! Fury burst forth. The man had best not let it fall to the ground or there would be a reckoning to be had. Lucas hadn’t lost a fight yet, and he wasn’t about to change that tally any time soon. What the hell was Ivan playing at?
Lucas soon found out as a set of bulging knuckles landed square on his jaw. His teeth rattled in his head and he suddenly tasted blood. He spat into his hand, astonishment registering as his mouth filled with a copper tang almost instantly again. Hell! Had his teeth been knocked out? He pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth feeling some relief that there were no gaps, but there was definite movement. His own hand moved as if in slow motion. He wiped his unexpectedly rubbery lips and glanced down, surprised to see a red smear across his forearm.
The shouts from the crowd echoed in his ears, but he had no time to wonder what was going on. His feet disappeared from beneath him and he fell on his arse with a bump, causing him to wince as his already loose teeth jarred together again. His feet scrabbled for purchase on the floor beneath him, but he lifted his head at the sound of a great bellow.
‘STAY DOWN YOU FOOL! THE BASTARD IS GOING TO KILL YOU!’
At least his ears still functioned properly, but that didn’t mean he was going to obey orders. He wasn’t going to sit there and be counted out. He staggered to his feet and swung towards the incoming body. He connected hard, but was off balance. A great shout went up as he threw out his other fist. It glanced off his opponents chin as he stumbled again.
It seemed as if the whole world stood still. A bell sounded. Lucas let out a long, relieved breath as he straightened. Loose teeth or not, his mouth and tongue felt as though he had licked his own front door mat, and a raging thirst suddenly hit him. He needed water. Fast. He turned to stagger towards Ivan.
And met a fist of iron.
He heard the crack more than felt it and knew instantly that his mother was going to have hysterics...And Sophia Barclay, the woman he adored most in the whole world, might never look at him again. His heart staggered in his chest at the thought and the room began to swirl wildly. It was only a few seconds later that the pain in his head registered at last, and so did his predicament.
Oh dear Lord! Was Dr. Jacobs close by? He damn well hoped so. This was an emergency of epic proportions. His mother wasn’t going to merely have hysterics. She might even persuade his father to disown him! Blackness swallowed him as the cry went up around the room, confirming all his fears.
The Caruthers’ noble nose had been broken!
Chapter One
A Wedding Breakfast
Lucas should have known it would never happen, but that didn’t stop the pain that lanced his heart endlessly. Bloody Brendon Spencer had made his move and won. Not that there had ever been a contest, or that he was surprised at the outcome at all. Sophia Barclay had never looked at another man. Especially not himself. Not even when Lucas had his arms wrapped around her while she danced at his mother’s soirees, or when she took her shots at the gun club. Not even when he had been wearing little more than his dressing gown when she visited him for breakfast in his apartments.
No, her eyes had always glanced towards Brendon Spencer, the gentle blush on her cheek confirming what Lucas already knew. She loved the man with a passion that could be matched by few. And now she had exactly what she had always wanted. She had married the man she adored. Had seen it with his own eyes. Had heard the vows spoken only a few days previously. And now it was confirmed in the newspaper. His heart thumped hard as he cast his eyes over the words.
Lord Algernon Barclay is delighted to announce
the marriage of his sister, Lady Sophia to Lord Brendon Spencer...
Lucas couldn’t be bothered to read any further. Damn him for a fool! It was his own fault she had escaped him. He hadn’t made his move early enough. Thought he had time to win a fortune and steal her heart by offering more than a remote pile of an estate in the middle of nowhere. But he should have known better. Sophia wasn’t the sort to fall for wealth over love, and she loved her new husband. There was no doubt of that. Sophia loved Brendon. Always had. And Lucas had known it for years.
The morning sunshine lightened his cosy breakfast room. And his mood. His butler arrived with his breakfast, gave a quick bow, and retreated once again leaving Lucas to peruse the rest of the newspaper.
Lucas turned the page as he picked up a slice of bread and, avoiding the crust, bit down carefully. The fight with the Peckham Pulveriser might have become a bad memory, and his teeth had re-firmed in his gums, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.
He scanned down the remainder of the column of announcements and almost dropped his bread as a second notable declaration caught his eye.
Lord and Lady Trenchard are delighted to announce
The forthcoming marriage of their only son,
Lord Pierce Trenchard
to
Miss Angelique Lancer.
St. Georges, James Street.
September 1st.
Catch his eye? Understatement of the year! The words leapt off the page almost as shocking as if someone had punched him hard on his newly broken nose.
Good God! Pierce Trenchard, his long time friend, was going to marry the lovely, but frivolous, Angelique Lancer! Lucas almost snorted crumbs up his nose. Idiot! What was the man thinking? Miss Lancer’s reputation preceded her. The woman might be a beautiful, but she was a recluse and rarely seen in public. Everyone knew she had nothing but a ball of fluff between her ears. Apparently read penny dreadfuls all day long.
This announcement had to be wrong. Pierce had been seeing the woman for less than a month. Only since she was passed over by Brendon Spencer, after the man had at last
seen sense and pursued the woman he really loved.
Another thought rushed into Lucas’ mind. Lord! Had Pierce put a child in her belly? Not that offspring with one’s mistress would mean inevitable marriage, to most titled men. A discreet cottage in the country and the promise of a regular income was normally enough. Or so Lucas had been led to believe, not having ever experienced fatherhood for himself. Well, whether Pierce had or hadn’t done the deed, it was not Lucas’ concern. The man was old enough and could see to himself.
Casting the paper away, he scanned the breakfast table in front of him. The boiled eggs would be just the thing. A kipper, a sausage, and some fried bacon perhaps afterwards. But thoughts of his meal were rudely interrupted by a loud banging on his front door, shortly followed by some anguished shouting in his hallway.
Lucas smiled grimly as he recognized the voice. Ah! The happy soon to be husband had called, though the man’s frantic words didn’t sound as happy as they should. Lucas waited with anticipation of all the news, and wasn’t disappointed when a pale and clearly pained Pierce fell through the doorway and immediately noticed the paper. He pointed at the rag with a shaking finger while he gasped out his words.
“You have to save me!” The man’s agitated tone and dishevelled appearance left Lucas in no doubt that something was clearly amiss.
Lucas stood up slowly and held out the paper.
“Ah! I assume this is why you have come to call.” The sight of the announcement seemed to have a profound effect on the pleading man.
With his cravat awry and the sleeve of his jacket torn from the shoulder, Pierce snatched it up and shook it wildly.
“It’s a mistake. I didn’t propose to her voluntarily, and I certainly don’t want to marry her! I hadn’t seen her for days, but when I went to call, I find her brother demanding satisfaction, for what I have no idea. It isn’t as if I have compromised her or anything. Bloody woman only likes to sit and read!”
Lucas sat down again. He picked up the teapot and poured two fresh cups of tea.
“I see. So the announcement is a little premature? Come and sit down. Have some breakfast and a brew before you tell me exactly what happened. Then perhaps we can discuss a way out of this calamity.”
Ignoring his friend’s offer of food, Pierce threw himself into a chair, his head held in his hands.
“Calamity! You call becoming leg-shackled a CALAMITY! It’s the parson’s noose for me unless I can think of some way out of it, but Lord only knows how I am going to do that. Look at what he has done already, and this is only because I didn’t join him for supper last night to finalise arrangements.” He pointed at a blackened, swollen eye. “I’m likely to lose my head if I cry off! Wish I had never set eyes on the damned woman. This is Brendon Spencer’s fault! Bloody man! He just upped and made his play for Sophia. Left Angelique with barely a second glance, but her brother wants her off his hands and had lined Brendon up as the fall guy. Now Bren and Sophia have tied the knot, responsibility for the lovely but frivolous Angelique has been shoved upon the next sap in line. Namely me.” He pointed at his own chest.
Lucas picked up his bread again.
“I am sure if you explain to her brother that there has been some mistake...”
Pierce gulped.
“I don’t think he listens to explanations.” He paused and stared at the soft bread in Lucas’ hand. He gulped again as he gaped at his friend incredulously. “You do know who her brother is, don’t you?”
The question was clearly rhetorical, but Lucas shook his head anyway.
“Not a clue. Anyone important? Anyone I know?”
Pierce looked as though he might be sick on the floor. He nodded and drew a deep breath before he spoke.
“Yes, you met him less than a month ago. Big fellow. Bald head, bad teeth, and bad breath. Fists the size of Christmas hams. Harold Lancer. Commonly known as the Peckham Pulveriser! He put you in bed for a week!”
“Ah!” Lucas dropped his bread and winced as the gravity of the situation became apparent. No wonder Pierce appeared to be panic-stricken. He didn’t blame the man. Lucas fingertips touched the bridge of his now semi straight, but still sore nose as Pierce gaped again.
“Ah? Ah! Is that all you can say? We have to think of something fast if I am to get out of this with my balls intact.” Pierce picked up his cup and drank his tea, quickly pouring another immediately after.
Lucas raised an eyebrow, the one without the Pulveriser caused split running through it. He held up his hands.
“I am not sure about this ‘we’ you mention. The man is a thug, a cheat, and a demon in the ring. Probably would have knocked me out even without a spoonful of laudanum in my ale.”
Pierce groaned miserably.
“But I was relying on you. Still am. For God’s sake man, take pity on a helpless friend and do something.” The second cup of tea disappeared, the china shaking in the saucer as the man placed the crockery back on the table.
Lucas shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t ready to be relied on for such a venture. His body was regaining its strength, but his heart was still sore. He had been thinking of taking a few weeks holiday. A trip to Bath perhaps, even though it wasn’t the season.
“What do your parents say? You have surely told them of the situation and the circumstances.”
Pierce’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink.
“Er, well, no. Actually I haven’t explained the whole truth to them. Bit of a mess really, but my mother adores Angelique.”
Lucas almost spat the tea he had just sipped across the table.
“You have introduced your mistress to your mother! Good God, man! What were you thinking?” He didn’t pretend to hide his horror as he thought of what his own mother might think if he had the effrontery to introduce his mistress to her...not that he had a mistress, nor ever wanted one. Far too much trouble, as Pierce was now discovering.
His friend rolled his still open eye.
“It wasn’t like that, you idiot. What do you think I am? Daft?”
Lucas’ eyebrow rose higher.
“You are the one in this predicament. You tell me.”
Pierce shook his head.
“Well, I am certainly not daft, as you well know. But it was a little unfortunate, and the situation left me with little choice as to what I could do.” He sighed before carrying on his tale. “I had been at a small party. You know the Eliots? Rufus and Sabrina had invited a select few for an evening of cards, and being good sports they said I could bring Angelique too. It’s not as if we went to a public event. Angelique would not do that anyway. She is far too reclusive and her brother is impossibly protective, but of course, the evening went on far later than originally planned. Until the morning, in fact.” He paused and shook his head, as if ridding himself of the memory, but then continued on. “Long story short... Mother was out for her morning constitutional with Caroline Maybrick, and you know what a gossip she can be. They caught me bringing Angelique home. We were in my barouche, and mother was in her open carriage sitting alongside her friend.” He spread his hands helplessly. “What could I do? Ignore them as they waved me down? I wouldn’t dare. I’d be cut off without a penny. I introduced Angelique as the reclusive Russian princess everyone has been gossiping about. Don’t know why. Just fell out of my mouth before I could think clearly...” The man appeared to wilt at the recollection.
Lucas let out a bellow of laughter, but stopped short as his jaw gave an ominous click. He tested it gently before commenting on his friend’s outrageous escapade.
“I suppose it is a good an excuse as any, but you have told your mother the truth now, I suppose. Considering that you are marrying the woman in question, I mean.” He waited until the silence became too heavy to bear. “I see. So you haven’t told her. And what about Angelique’s name? Lancer isn’t common, I’ll admit, but it is hardly Russian. Do you think your mother will not notice that there is an inconsistency?”
Pierce gave another deep sigh.
“I told mother that Angelique had to remain incognito. To avoid any gossip, you understand.”
Lucas tapped the announcement in the paper with his butter knife.
“So she puts it in the newspaper anyway! Lord save us from interfering mothers.” He rolled his eyes.
“Amen!” Pierce concurred.
“But I still don’t see what I can do to help, save put you on a ship to the Americas. You’ll have to let me know if I can help with the cost of your passage. Crossing takes about three weeks, I believe. Stay there for a while. Explore the country. And by the time you take the three week crossing home, your Russian princess is bound to have taken up with someone else and your worries are over.”
Pierce leapt up from his seat.
“What! America! Are you mad? Full of barbarians and drunks. And you know how sick I am on the water. Can’t even go on a punt without turning green. Months on a ship would kill me, and as much as I don’t want to put my head in a parson’s noose, I’d rather be married and alive than single and dead. Besides, I am not quite that cowardly.”
Lucas shrugged.
“Well, there’s your answer then. Get married to the woman and keep yourself from the embarrassment of being called out as a coward, and from an early grave. Problem solved.”
Pierce folded his arms across his not inconsiderable chest.
“You are not being as helpful as I might have expected. I thought you were my friend, and friends don’t abandon one another. This is a serious situation that calls for immediate action.”
Lucas’ dark eyebrows came together.
“Of course I am your friend, but what did you think I was about to say and do? It’s not as if I am going to offer to take her off your hands.” He held up his hands at Pierce’s sudden grin. “Oh no! You can put that thought out of your head immediately. I am not getting involved. I don’t want to become leg-shackled either.”
A Ring of Midnight Orchids: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 3) Page 1