A Lord's Kiss

by Mary Lancaster et al.

  Helena awoke the next morning with the intention of writing letters after breakfast, including perhaps a response to Lord Brandon, if she could ever figure out what to say, but was detained by her aunt who wished for her guidance on just the right sort of feathers to wear on her turban with the straw-colored satin. So, it was something past midday when Helena entered the library.

  The sight that met her eyes caused the blood in her veins to turn to ice. Books and papers lay scattered all over the floor. It was clear that someone had been looking for something and had seen no reason to search in an orderly fashion. Helena stood paralyzed for a moment or two and then heard a snuffling noise behind her. She turned with a start.

  Georgie looked up at her with his big canine eyes. “Oh Georgie.” She scooped him up in her arms and nuzzled his face. “What are we going to do?” He licked her with a large wet tongue and then surveyed the scene.

  “Georgie?” The door opened wide. “My Lord, what has happened here?” Lady Wickersham said.

  Helena turned back to the chaos. “I have no idea, Aunt, but I think someone must have entered the house. Perhaps those were the noises that kept you awake two nights ago.”

  Lady Wickersham came up beside her. “Abbott must be going blind if he missed this mess!”

  “I have to think that he must not have opened the door, this room being unused before I came.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s the case. Is anything missing? Although what a thief could possibly have wanted in the library is beyond my understanding.”

  “I have no notion myself, but as I should put the papers in order, I suppose I will find out.”

  “Call Lord Brandon. Two eyes are better than one with that sort of project.”

  “I don’t know if that would be wise. I wouldn’t want to burden him further. He has many things to occupy him at present.”

  “Well ask, and he can refuse you if he hasn’t the time.”

  Helena nodded reluctantly, her stomach twisted in a knot. How was she to face him after he had declared his love for her? What would she even say?

  * * *

  Lord Brandon woke suddenly from a fevered dream when his man pulled the bed curtains aside and sun streamed across his face. He had fallen into bed after a late night spent at the house of a friend, sulking over more brandy as he watched other men lose their fortunes at dice. He wished—no, hoped—no, expected—some sort of response to his letter from Lady Carlyle, but so far had received only silence. What could it mean? What was she thinking?

  He blinked at the light. “Ugh. What time is it, Perkins?”

  “Not more than midday, sir. You were in such a sound sleep, that I thought it best not to wake you.”

  “Thank you, Perkins. I haven’t slept well in some days.”

  Perkins nodded. “I will bring your breakfast up to you.”

  “No, no. I shall be down directly.”

  “Shall I lay out your green coat?”

  “Yes. As the hour is so advanced, I think I will look in at my club.”

  “Very good, sir. Let me bring your shaving things.”

  After he had been shaved and dressed and finished a steak that Cook had prepared for him for dinner the night before, he felt almost like himself again. He hailed a hackney cab to his club and, encountering friends and acquaintances, stayed some time over a friendly card game.

  He was just about to retrieve his hat and coat, when the new Lord Carlyle strolled into the coffee room, looking distinctly put out. He scanned the room, then approached Lord Brandon.

  “How do you do, Carlyle?” William said.

  “That bastard has stolen a march on me!”

  “Who?”

  “Northcutt, of course. I called at her house just now and was told she was indisposed.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Lady Carlyle, of course. Northcutt was making up to her the other night, and then this morning, Mr. Pennington tells me that it is all over London that Northcutt has made a match of it. Of course, I went to her house to confirm the rumor, and the old fool they have for a butler told me that she was indisposed. Indisposed, my eye!”

  William felt as if someone had suddenly punched him in the gut—repeatedly. He took a step back and then reminded himself that he didn’t have the right to care. Lady Carlyle could decide to marry Northcutt if she chose. If that sort of man could make her happy, there was nothing he could say to it. “Look, Carlyle, what do you want me to do about it?” William asked curtly.

  Reginald’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing, I suppose. I’m just so damn angry. Next time I see Northcutt, I’m going to wring his skinny little neck.”

  While William secretly felt the same, he had to remain calm. “No, you aren’t. Look, there are plenty of ladies with dowries sufficient for your needs. Pick one of them and leave Northcutt alone.”

  “It is not only the dowry and you know it. She is so damnably lovely, it hurts to look at her. Tell me you aren’t struck by her beauty, and I will call you a liar.”

  William was unwilling to bare his soul to Reginald, but he also couldn’t lie with any degree of credibility. “Lady Carlyle is extremely beautiful,” he admitted, “but extreme beauty is not required for marital happiness. You would do better with another.”

  Reginald turned angrily on his heel. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that you had some pretentions to her hand.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lord Brandon returned to his rooms in a considerably more depressed frame of mind than when he left them. She was going to end up with Northcutt and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He should go back to Edinburgh and escape the very sight of Lady Carlyle. He threw himself into a chair and put his head in his hands.

  “Sir?”

  He looked up, startled. “Perkins?”

  Perkins held out a letter on a tray. “This note came for you, sir. I believe there may be some urgency associated with the reply. Or, at least, that was what the messenger informed me.”

  William took it. “Thank you.”

  When Perkins left the room, he broke the seal.

  Dear Lord Brandon,

  I write with haste as I have discovered that someone entered my aunt’s house several nights ago. My husband’s papers have been thrown asunder and I cannot tell if any are missing. I know that I am asking too much, but would it be possible for you to come and help me? If so, please send word by the same messenger.

  Yours,

  Lady Carlyle

  His heart raced, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. She needed his help with the business of finding her husband’s killer. It was that business that impelled her to turn to him. Yet, she was betrothed to Northcutt. William had half a mind to refuse her just to save himself the anguish, but he had promised to find his friend’s killer, so he supposed he couldn’t turn back now.

  * * *

  Helena paced the room, waiting for Lord Brandon. She must remain calm. He would come to help with the papers. She couldn’t promise him more than that. Her own heart was too unsettled. Still, how could she meet him impassively?

  She heard Abbott’s slow steps down the passage and gripped the edge of the desk. The door opened slowly. “Lord Brandon to see you, milady.”

  “Show him in, please, Abbott.”

  Abbott looked around at the mess and clicked his tongue. “Let me say how sorry I am to have missed the library in my search of the house. But I never thought— In short, it shall not happen again.”

  “I am glad you did not search the library, Abbott, or else you might have caught the burglar and been injured in the struggle,” Helena said.

  “Very good, milady.” He stepped back, opened the door to admit Lord Brandon and then left, closing the door behind him.

  Lady Carlyle and Lord Brandon faced each other for a moment. She noticed that his warm eyes looked tired, like he hadn’t slept, and that his usually neat appearance was a little rumpled. His lopsided smile seemed tense.


  He was struck, as always, by the beauty of her face, although she seemed paler than usual, and the smile on her lips had a brittle quality, as if at any moment she might cry.

  Finally, William cleared his throat and said, “Well, it appears that the housebreakers did a thorough job of throwing the papers about.”

  Helena released the breath she held. “Yes, as you can see. I was afraid I might not know if some paper is missing and thought two pairs of eyes was better for the job. Come, Lord Brandon, perhaps if you start with the desk and I with the floor, we might make some headway. I have asked Abbott to bring us tea to sustain us in the task.”

  He nodded, sure that employment was just the thing to keep his mind away from her sinuous grace as she knelt to retrieve papers from the floor. Her manner remained business-like, and he began to consider the real possibility that she had accepted Northcutt’s hand in marriage. It felt like someone had stabbed his chest with a long knife, but he took a deep breath and plunged into the work.

  Helena regarded him a moment in between picking up papers and carrying them to the desk. He had a stern look, studying Charles’s papers, and an even sterner look when he caught her watching him. He certainly didn’t appear to be the same man who had declared his love to her a little over a week ago. He must have decided that as she would not have him, he would not have her either. She felt a strange sadness. Surely, she was not a woman who toyed with men’s affections and wished to keep them always upon a string, but it was a lowering thought that he could have decided to move on from her that quickly after writing his letter.

  She was so lost in reverie that she wasn’t watching the floor. She stepped on something hard and a pain shot through her foot.

  “Ah!” she jumped back.

  Lord Brandon was immediately at her side. “What is it?”

  “I trod upon something. It seems to be a piece of gold.” She picked up the small object and held it in the palm of her hand.

  “It is a watch fob, I believe,” he said.

  “A watch fob? Is it one of yours?”

  He shook his head. “No. I would assume it is one of your late uncle’s fobs unless you or your aunt have entertained other gentlemen in the library?”

  Helena gave him a hard look. “You are the only gentleman who has entered this library since I arrived, and my uncle was a very fastidious man. He never wore watch fobs. In fact, he made fun of men who did—called them popinjays. Besides, it has a C on it and that was not one of my uncle’s initials.”

  “Forgive me, but it came into this room somehow.”

  “You don’t think it was the thief, do you?”

  He took the fob from her and examined it closely. “I have seen this somewhere before, but where?”

  “Whoever dropped it must have been the man who ransacked the library. Please think, Lord Brandon.”

  He walked over and set it on the desk. “I’m sure it will come to me.” He looked down at the piles of papers. “I cannot find that anything was stolen. The papers I examined are all in order. Can you find that anything is missing?”

  “No, I can’t.” She sighed. “What do you think it all means? What could the thief have been after?”

  “Perhaps it was only to frighten you and Lady Wickersham.”

  “But why the library, of all the rooms in the house? I think that it must be connected with my husband’s death, or at least his papers.”

  “I agree, but that doesn’t bring us any closer to the truth. Who have you told about your search for your husband’s killer?”

  “You are the only person I have told about the Bow Street report. My aunt knows that I suspect something amiss with my husband’s papers. That is all.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If this intrusion was meant to frighten me, it has succeeded. I am well and duly frightened.”

  He half expected her to declare that it was for that reason that she had accepted Mr. Northcutt’s proposal, but instead she merely sighed and looked down. His heart beat faster, and he had to control the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her.

  William turned and picked up the fob once more. It was a round, gold ball with a worked design over its surface, the letter C in relief on one side. “If only I could remember when I have seen this fob.” And then in a flash it came to him—that night when Reginald had played with his watch chain to such annoying effect. The round fob had been on that chain.

  “I know the identity of our thief,” he said.

  She looked at him, her large blue eyes wide with fear and anticipation.

  “Reginald had just such a fob.”

  “Cousin Reginald?”

  William nodded solemnly. “The C is for Carlyle.”

  “But what is in these papers that he would seek to have back? Despite all of our efforts, I have been able to discern no fraud against the estate, and my widow’s portion was allotted to me in due course.”

  “There must be something here that we haven’t discovered,” William said sternly. “If you will examine these notebooks, I will review the estate accounts once more.”

  They worked for several hours in relative quiet, only stopping when Abbott brought in a tray with tea and biscuits, and then again when he appeared with the offer of claret and more substantial refreshments. It was strange, Helena thought, how even with the harsh silence between them, the mere presence of Lord Brandon made her feel infinitely better. She experienced an ease of company that was new to her. Could that be true in marriage as well? She had to admit that she had never felt perfectly at ease with her husband. Dazzled, certainly. And anxious for his good opinion, but never entirely relaxed. He was the kind of person who immediately commanded attention, not the sort of person to be comfortable with.

  Finally, the clock on the mantle struck seven and William said, “Perhaps we should suspend our efforts for today.”

  Helena looked up with a start. She had completely forgotten about a theater engagement, and would now be considerably rushed in her dress. She nodded. “We have been too long at the work, and I must dress for the theater.” She extended her hand to him. “Thank you again, Lord Brandon. Thank you for coming.”

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips and allowed his lips to linger as long as he dared over the smooth whiteness of her skin. “Of course, Lady Carlyle.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I have always wanted to see Measure for Measure,” Helena said as their carriage maneuvered between all the others lining up to deposit their occupants at the theater.

  “Such a lovely suggestion by Mr. Northcutt to offer us a place in his box,” replied Lady Wickersham.

  “Oh yes, he has been most obliging to think of us.”

  “I am sure the compliment was meant for you, my dear. Despite his unremarkable legs, he might make you a decent husband.”

  Helena chuckled self-consciously. “We shall see. Perhaps at some point in the future, when I am ready to marry again. In any case, he likes the theater. That is something.”

  “Or he likes being seen at the theater, which may be much the same.”

  Mr. Northcutt greeted them warmly and invited Helena and her aunt to sit with him at the front of the box. He sat beside Helena and leaned over conspiratorially. “How delightful to have you with us tonight. At the intermission, I have a surprise for you.”

  “For me?” Helena said with some unease. It was one thing to receive flowers but quite another to receive anything of value. She wasn’t sure she wished to be beholden to Mr. Northcutt. It would merely embolden him to press her further.

  “Why yes. But I cannot tell you now or it will not be a surprise.”

  “Of course,” Helena replied, and then to say something, she added, “Measure for Measure is such an interesting play, do you not think? There is often much duplicity in moralizing men. Shakespeare knew of what he wrote.”

  “And of the virtue of women. The virtuous Isabella gets her reward when she marries the duke in the final scene.”

  “So, you feel
that marriage is a reward for a woman?”

  He looked at her surprised. “Why, of course. All good comedies end with a wedding, don’t you know.”

  She was about to respond, but then the lights dimmed, and the curtain rose upon the streets of Vienna. Her attention was taken by the magic of the theater, and she became so engrossed in the play that she didn’t notice Mr. Northcutt had leaned quite so far in her direction that his leg practically touched hers and his hand rested on the back of her chair. She sat up straighter and shifted her legs. She felt a sudden unease. Surely, Mr. Northcutt wouldn’t renew his addresses in the middle of the theater. She turned back to the play.

  At the end of the act, Mr. Northcutt, who had a wide acquaintance, welcomed any number of people into the box. There grew such a crowd, that Helena was separated from her aunt in the confusion. Then Northcutt appeared at her side.

  “You know a great number of people, Mr. Northcutt,” Helena said.

  “Let us come away from this crush. I can show you the surprise.”

  He took her elbow very firmly and guided her out the back of the box and down the stairs to the main floor.

  She asked him several times where they were going, but he merely smiled and pulled her along until they reached the street in front of the theater. A carriage stood in the road. She jerked with all her might and yanked free of his grip “I will not go another foot until you tell me what this is all about.”

  He bowed with a flourish. “This is the surprise, my dear. We are eloping to Scotland.”

  Helena stood rigid with anger. “Eloping? Is this your idea of a joke? I will not elope with you to Scotland or anywhere else!”

  “Ah, but I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. Do not worry, I have left word with your aunt of our intentions. We may come to pay her a visit in all propriety once we are duly man and wife.”