Oh My Laird!: A Risqué Regency Romance

by Sahara Kelly

  “So who’s going to tell him when he comes down, then?” Charles went back to his original question, reaching over Lucius’s head for a piece of toast.

  Lucius ducked, avoiding the arm and the toast in the same smooth maneuver. “For God’s sake, sit down, Charles. You’ll drive us all to bedlam if you don’t settle. There, look. Next to Hannah.”

  Charles pouted, but did as he was bid, smiling at his wife and pointing at the teapot. “More please?”

  She filled his cup and passed the milk jug. “I suppose it ought to be you who imparts the news. After all, your chums in the Horse Guards are the ones who really filled in the details.”

  “Well, not to disagree, but the Earl of March was also quite forthcoming.” Dev added his mite.

  “And the club was a mine of information as well. Especially Samuel the doorman.”

  “Finally forgiven you for that rather distressing moment that ruined his shoes, has he?” Charles chuckled.

  It earned him a glare from Lucius. “I’ll ignore that comment as unworthy of a response. But with all our newfound facts at hand, I think Ian will be quite pleased with our day’s work.”

  “I’m sure I will be. Once I know it, that is.”

  Ian walked into the room, smiling at the sight of his friends tucking in to breakfast and chatting with all the good nature and enthusiasm of a room full of schoolchildren who all like each other.

  It was a rare and beautiful thing, and he said so. “This is a rare and beautiful thing before my eyes.”

  Silence fell. Then Dev broke it. “Oh God. He’s caught the ague now.”

  “Hush.” Ian grinned. “I’m fine, ma wife’s doin’ well an’ I’ve an appetite that a whole cow wouldn’t satisfy. But some eggs will do fer a start…”

  “Better feed him. He’s coming over all Scottish…” Hannah winked at him and passed him a plate so that he could help himself from the serving dishes on the sideboard.

  “So there’s news, now, then?” He settled himself and began his meal.

  “There is indeed,” answered Charles. “Do you want it now, or when you’re done?”

  “Now, lad. Definitely now.” Ian munched bacon and buttered toast. He discovered he truly was incredibly hungry. “Go ahead and fill my mind while I fill the rest of me.”

  “Very well.” Charles squared his shoulders. “We’ve all pursued the Springer family history, in different ways. And what we’ve discovered might well prove to be sufficient for the Magistrate to dismiss the case against Amelia.”

  Ian blinked. “Is that so?”

  Lucius nodded. “Yes, we think so. But I’ll let Charles start.”

  “Thanks.” Charles nodded at Lucius, then turned to Ian. “I have a few old friends in the Horse Guards, and I had a vague recollection that one of them knew a Springer in some capacity. It was very vague, but I thought it was worth exploring in this context. So I went over there and discovered I was right. Lucy Springer, Lionel and Mabel’s daughter, was married to the Right Honourable Harry Francis. Harry served in the same regiment as my friend, but was killed at Salamanca.”

  “Aha.” Ian poured himself some tea. “So we have a name. Lucy Springer.”

  Lucius took over the story. “Indeed we do. My conversation with friends at my club was a little different, but it confirmed that the Springer family was known to be unstable. Several people had blackballed Lionel Springer’s membership club applications after word got out about an incident with a whip and a stable boy. All hushed up of course. Money can silence the most hideous of crimes. But there are more than a few rumors about the family and none of them good.”

  “Any of this Lucy? She interests me.” Ian tipped his head and looked at Lucius.

  “Actually I got that part,” said Dev, managing to appear quietly modest and yet gloat at the same time.

  “Don’t do that, darling. You’ll annoy everyone and it’s too early.” Léonie rebuked her husband gently.

  He sighed. “Well then. Lucy Francis, neé Springer, did not respond well to the loss of her husband. She grieved in a most dramatic and terrible way, finally ending up in a private sanitarium for several months.” He looked around. “The Springer instability showing up in the next generation, I’d guess.”

  “You got this from the Earl of March?”

  “I did,” nodded Lucius. “He was quite troubled, since Lucy’s father was close to having the poor girl committed to Bedlam, and had consulted with the Earl on the proper procedures.”

  “Good God.” Julia put down her toast and stared. “That’s…that’s awful.”

  “Indeed it is.” Lucius reached out and touched his wife’s arm. “Can’t imagine it, myself, but Springer was quite set on it. Not sure what changed his mind, but eventually she was returned to her family and the next Season she made an appearance in Society once more.”

  Ian narrowed his eyes. “And this would be about the time Amelia was the reigning Incomparable, I’m guessing?”

  “You’d be guessing correctly,” approved Lucius. “Now I cannot say who it was that Lucy fixed upon as her next husband. The Earl had no idea. But he did say that the poor girl ended her own life, after being disappointed in love. And that was it. All the information he had.”

  There was silence in the room as everyone digested the information along with breakfast.

  Ian was especially thoughtful, turning the information over in his mind, this way and that, putting the puzzle pieces together.

  Finally, he touched his napkin to his lips and stood. “I must see Lionel Springer. This cannot be allowed to continue.”

  The three men rose as one. “I agree,” nodded Dev. “I’ll come with you.

  “As will I.”

  “And I.”

  Ian hesitated. “I canna say what your support means to me, my friends. But are you sure you want to be a part of what might turn ugly?”

  “If we’re there, it won’t.” Dev’s simple statement closed the argument.

  “Very well then. Springer’s, it is.”

  “But what about us?” Julia grabbed her husband’s arm. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Well now that Amelia’s on the mend, you could keep her company for a bit,” said Charles.

  “Actually, there is something you ladies can do.” Ian spoke quietly.

  “I’d appreciate it, Léonie, if you would invite someone for tea. I’m not sure of the pretext, but I think between you, you can come up with a way to get him here.”

  “Of course,” Léonie nodded. “Who should we ask?”

  Ian sighed. “Rigsby DeVere.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As soon as Lionel Springer walked into his study to greet the four gentlemen who had called, Ian knew he’d found the man who had given Amelia the brooch. In other words, the man who had started this journey and caused so much trouble for his wife.

  His fists clenched, but he managed to keep his temper in check.

  “Mr. Springer. Thank you for seeing us. My name is Ian McPherson, and this is Sir Lucius Gordon, Mr. Delaney Deverell and the Earl of Penvale.”

  “Gentlemen. Please take a seat and tell me how I may be of assistance.”

  Ian remained standing, as did the others. “Well, sir, you may begin by enlightening us as to why you gave a young lady a very valuable piece of jewelry that more correctly belonged with the Springer estate.”

  Springer paled, but kept his countenance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do, sir. I will caution you at this moment—I am a representative of Bow Street.” He opened his jacket to reveal the Runner’s baton and the distinguishing crown which topped it. “As such, I am making these inquiries in relation to the charge of theft currently open against that same young lady.”

  The three men remained silent, but Ian felt their presence behind him and was glad of it. Springer’s expression was changing, his face reddening and his demeanor becoming more threatening.

  “How dare you w
alk in here and try to intimidate me with your Bow Street hokum.” Springer’s words were harsh and ugly. “Get the hell out of my house. All of you.”

  “I think not, sir. Not until you’ve answered my question. We know it was you from the description given us by a witness. The description we have of you matches perfectly. Right down to the design on your cravat.”

  “That’s impossible,” blustered Springer. “There was nobody there…”

  His voice tapered away as he realized his mistake.

  Ian stared at him and could almost feel similar gazes coming from Charles, Lucius and Dev.

  It was sufficient to drain the last of the fury away from the old man and he slumped into the chair behind his desk.

  “Tell us, sir. Let us have it all if you please. This is a bad business. The sooner you make a clean breast of it, the easier it will be to rectify.” Ian spoke calmly and clearly, hoping his words would get through.

  Finally, Springer raised his head, his face looking as if he had aged ten years in five minutes. “Very well. But there’s something you must see.” He rose and slowly made his way to a glass enclosed cabinet, where he opened a drawer and removed a small book.

  “This. It was this, you see. Her own words. What else could I do? She was my youngest, and my dearest…” Tears were beginning to trickle over the wrinkled cheeks.

  Ian took the book from him and turned it over. It was a notebook, and there were many handwritten pages within. It was, he realized, a diary.

  And then he saw the name—Lucy Springer Harris—and understood the old man’s grief.

  “Your late daughter’s diary.” Ian confirmed the nature of what he held, his Bow Street training rising to the fore.

  Springer nodded. “She had fought so hard to get over her husband’s death. I thought all was well and she re-entered Society. But then I started seeing the change in her. She was so vibrant of an evening, picking her events carefully, and because I loved her, I pried. I started reading her diary and learned of her love for a certain gentleman. It had brought her so much joy and I was happy for her. It would have been a good match too.” His face fell. “But she couldn’t compete with Amelia DeVere. That woman ate men up and spat them out as quickly.”

  “Easy.” Dev had moved up to Ian’s side.

  “I’m all right.” Ian knew he had to be all right. He needed every scrap of information if he was to clear his wife’s name.

  “So you assumed then that Miss DeVere had stolen your daughter’s gentleman?”

  “Stolen? No. Seduced, yes. Lucy said so. Right in there.” He pointed to the diary. “You can read it for yourself.”

  “And if this proves to be incorrect? If your daughter was in error in any way…?”

  “I would be very surprised to learn that, sir. My daughter was a young woman of integrity and great intelligence. She was sensitive and aware of so many things that today’s young people can ignore completely.”

  “She was your youngest, I believe, sir?” Dev inquired politely.

  “Indeed. She was our surprise, if you will. Neither Mabel nor I expected another blessing. She was all that and so much more.” He took out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. “And now she rests beside her Mama. Such a tragedy, gentlemen. Such a terrible loss.”

  “You have our sympathies, sir. But you must understand that the charges of theft are invalid. Miss DeVere may have stolen your daughter’s intended, but she did not steal your late wife’s brooch.”

  Springer looked down at the floor. “I didn’t know what else to do. Once I learned what had driven Lucy to take her own life, I was filled with such anger…such fury…”

  Ian watched as the color rose in Springer’s face and this time it was the old man’s fists clenching around the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. “I could have killed her. Ripped her limb from limb and thrown everything into the Thames. And I would have done if it would have brought Lucy back.”

  Ian took a step back and Dev followed suit.

  “I am retaining this diary for evidence, sir. I will see that the Magistrate receives it and understands the relevance of the contents.”

  At that Springer jumped up. “No. No, man, you cannot. ‘T’would be a violation of my Lucy’s thought, her life, her privacy. You cannot take that away from here.”

  “I can and I will,” answered Ian firmly. “I am sympathetic to your loss, sir, but I am committed to seeing that justice is administered fairly to those who are guilty. You have already confirmed, before witnesses…” he gestured to the three silent men, “…that Miss DeVere in no way stole anything from you. That you, in fact, gave her the brooch, as she has so stated several times. Now I’m sure this diary will assist in confirming Miss DeVere’s story. I will treat it with care, of course, but I cannot vouch for what will happen once it reaches the Magistrate’s office. It is quite possible that parts might become public…especially if they are entered into the proceedings of a court case…”

  “Bravo.”

  The merest hint of a whisper from Lucius reached Ian’s ears, but he remained silent, watching Springer as the magnitude of the situation finally dawned.

  “Very well.” Springer bowed his head acknowledging defeat. “I will withdraw my accusation. The Magistrate will be informed immediately. Now please…return my daughter’s diary.” He held out his hand.

  “I will return it, trusting you to be a man of honor who will stand by his word. I caution you once more that your statements have been heard by myself and these three gentlemen, who will act as witnesses to confirm all that you have said, should the Magistrate feel the need to become privy to our conversation here today. “

  Springer nodded. “I will not go back on my word.”

  “Very well. Good day to you, sir.”

  Ian turned his back on the old man and walked from the room, followed by his three friends.

  As the door closed behind them, each looked at the others and grinned.

  “Champagne?”

  “Definitely.”

  *~~*~~*

  Amelia awoke to brilliant sunshine and Hannah, Countess of Penvale, leaning over her, wiping her face.

  She blinked, coughed and stared. “What are you doing?”

  Hannah grinned. “Washing your face.”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “Because you’ve been horridly sick and can’t do it yourself?”

  “Oh nonsense. Here. Give me that.” She attempted to reach for the cloth and found her arms were apparently now made of jelly. “Damn.”

  “Thank you. Now you understand.” Hannah finished cleaning Amelia’s face.

  “You don’t have to be smug about it,“ pouted Amelia.

  “If you’re well enough to complain, then you’re definitely better.” Hannah plopped down on the side of the bed. “I’m so glad. We were all terribly worried.”

  “You were?” Amelia was surprised. “That’s…very kind of you. Julia and Léonie as well?”

  “Yes, all of us. Even Aunt Beatrice, who is the loveliest and brightest lady with a dreadfully naughty wit, and I sense she has stories that would shock us out of our slippers. But I haven’t managed to pry one out of her yet…”

  Amelia managed a weak chuckle. “You will. I’d lay guineas on that.” She stretched a little. “Am I allowed out of bed?”

  “You think you can stand?” Hannah raised one eyebrow.

  “I’m going to have to. I have a rather pressing need.”

  “Aha.” Hannah nodded. “I’ll call the maid. She’s very good at that. You’ve been using her support for the last day or so.”

  Amelia blinked. “Oh good God. I have no privacy left, do I? Everything is now a matter of public record, including my trips to the chamber pot. Fortunately, I’ve been ill and remember nothing.” She managed to lift a hand dramatically to her forehead.

  “Nicely done. That should work quite well, I think. With anyone who hasn’t been in this house for the last forty-eight hours.”
/>   “My husband has been here, I suppose.” Amelia’s spirits sank. “He must be so tired of all this by now.” Her eyes stung. “I’m such a failure at being a wife, Hannah. I have a notorious past, I can’t even avoid being arrested, and now I manage to get horribly sick at his friend’s house. How much more of a nuisance could I be?”

  “Oh do stop, Amelia. That’s complete and utter silliness, and I’m only excusing it because you have been horribly sick. But you’re not sick now, so stop acting like an idiot.”

  “Uh…” Amelia was rather taken aback.

  “It’s time someone told you that you’re not perfect. Nobody is. And it’s time you also learned that there are a few of us who actually like you. No matter what you did in your disreputable past. So consider all that while I get the maid to help you to the chamber pot.”

  With those blunt words, the Countess of Penvale made a rather rude sound with her mouth, something like a horse breaking wind, and clambered down off the bed.

  “By the way, you’re probably not fully up to it yet, but if you have a bite to eat and think you can endure us all for half an hour, I believe your husband may have a bit of news that will set you on the road to recovery right enough.” Hannah tossed the Parthian shot over her shoulder, leaving the room with a wicked grin on her lips.

  Gritting her teeth, Amelia allowed herself to be assisted, washed and dressed after a fashion. The wardrobe of choice was another robe, this time a deep ruby red and high at the neck. It was modest but close to her favorite color, so she accepted it, having no other options at this point.

  Ian arrived, smiling, and held out his arms.

  “God, love, it’s good to see you looking so much better.”

  She went to him and buried herself in his embrace. “If this is better, then I really must have been at death’s door.”

  She felt his chuckle as it rumbled through his chest. “Well, you scared me. Let’s leave it at that.”

  She gasped as he picked her up, not sure if she’d ever get used to him sweeping her off her feet in the literal sense.