Ladies and Their Secrets: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  Miss Newton smiled kindly at Lord Borden, her sweet nature evidencing itself once more. “My dear Lord Borden, you are correct to say that you have been more than courteous towards me. You have been resolute in your wishes to court me, but I have not permitted my heart to even consider you for a moment.” She reached for his hand and, taking it in her own, patted it gently. “But you do not care for me, so such an honest truth should not hurt you.”

  Lord Borden looked confused for a moment, before he sighed and dropped his head. “You are correct, Miss Newton,” he stated, as he dropped his hand from hers. “I feel nothing other than a deep frustration that I shall have to start from the very beginning again. I shall have to find another willing young lady with a sizeable dowry, who is happy to overlook my less than thrifty circumstances. That is more difficult than one might think.”

  Miss Newton said nothing for a moment, although Thomas was sure he saw a small, mirthful smile tug at one corner of her mouth.

  “I wish you the very best of successes,” she said gently, as Lord Borden heaved another plaintive sigh. “But I cannot accept you, Lord Borden.” She turned towards Thomas. “My heart belongs to another.”

  Thomas felt such joy swell his heart, and it was all he could do not to grasp Miss Newton’s hands and pull her into his embrace. It would not be the thing, however, given the onlookers, so instead, he simply spoke to her words of truth.

  “Miss Newton, my heart is beginning to fill with love for you. It is a feeling I have never before experienced, and I confess that I do not think it shall ever leave me. Instead, it shall only grow and blossom, for each moment by your side is a joy in itself. Say that you will be my wife, Miss Newton. Say that you will marry me and make our happiness complete.”

  Miss Newton’s eyes were shining as she took his proffered hand, looking up into his face. “My dear Lord Sharpe, I can think of nothing better,” she stated quietly. “My heart is yours also. Yes, I will marry you.”

  The murmurs, exclamations, and a spattering of applause broke the silence that had fallen upon the park as Thomas closed his eyes in delight, pressing Miss Newton’s hand tightly.

  “If I could, I would kiss you heartily,” he murmured, seeing her blush. “But I ought to ensure your reputation remains as it is, I think.” He offered her his arm, and she took it, turning towards the onlookers and towards Lord Borden.

  “I thank you all,” he said grandly. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must escort my betrothed home.” Where I shall make sure to kiss her without hesitation, he thought to himself, as he and Miss Newton began to make their way back through the park, their hearts twined together in happiness and love.

  9

  Julianna had needed to rest for a good hour before she had to begin preparations for dinner, such was her overwhelming astonishment and delight. First had come the news that she was no longer to mourn Francis, for to see him standing there before her had been more than astonishing, although she was more than delighted to see him again. However, she was entirely at a loss as to what it was he had been referring to as regarded the danger she and Hollard faced, nor why he would not say more until dinner that evening.

  Then had come Lord Sharpe’s declaration of love and his proposal of marriage, which she had accepted without hesitation. It had been sooner than she had expected and was quite overwhelming after the revelation of Francis being alive, but her heart had lifted to the skies such was her happiness and she had walked back through the park feeling as though her whole world had suddenly righted itself.

  But now she was to have dinner with her brothers, Lord Sharpe, and with Francis, whenever he chose to appear. It was a little unsettling, being entirely unaware of what was to occur when it seemed that even Lord Sharpe seemed to know what it was that was being planned. Her stomach knotted itself as she finished dressing, sitting down at her dressing table for her maid to do her hair.

  There came a small scratch at the door and, without hesitating, Julianna called for them to enter. Much to her surprise, Francis appeared at the door, rendering a gasp from the maid.

  “Do be quiet,” Julianna instructed, gesturing for Francis to come in. “My dear brother, can you not see that my maid is here?”

  Francis grinned, his beard now completely gone from his face. He was, in fact, looking quite like how she remembered him and that brought a deep ache to her heart.

  “You will not say a word, I’ll wager,” he said to the maid, as he closed the door behind him. “It is of the greatest import that my presence here remains a secret for a few hours longer.”

  Julianna rose to her feet and embraced him, tears burning in her eyes. “Oh Francis, I have missed you so.” She let him go and framed his face with her hands. “Tell me, why did you not say who you were before now?”

  Francis gently led her back to her seat and instructed the trembling maid to continue on with her mistress’s hair before answering Julianna’s question.

  “I feared, Julianna, that you would think me guilty,” he said. “I could not be sure. Therefore, I had to be as careful as I could until I was certain that you believed me to be innocent.” He smiled at her then, as the maid began to thread some pearls into Julianna’s fair locks. “And then, as much as I wanted to tell you the truth, I discovered something that I knew I had to keep to myself until this present moment. If I revealed myself to you, I was afraid that our brother might notice something different about your countenance and grow suspicious.”

  Julianna frowned, looking at Francis carefully, as though she might discern from his expression what he meant. “You are talking of Henry?”

  Francis’s expression grew grave, and Julianna felt her heart drop to the floor.

  “You are,” she whispered, as the maid stepped back, evidently complete in her task. “Oh, Francis.”

  Francis said nothing but turned towards the door, waiting for Julianna to instruct her maid that she was, on pain of dismissal, to remain entirely silent about Mr. Newton’s return from the grave until she was given permission to do so. The maid nodded, still shaking visibly, and Julianna instructed her to go below and find herself something hearty to drink to give her the strength she needed to continue on. The maid scurried from the room, leaving Julianna and Francis alone.

  Julianna’s heart was beating so rapidly, she thought she might cast up her accounts if she did not find some way to quieten herself.

  “This is all to do with Henry,” she said softly, seeing Francis nod. “I was to speak to him tonight about Mr. Carmichael.”

  Francis flinched visibly. “The man who was murdered.”

  “Yes,” Julianna whispered, knowing that this was difficult for Francis. “Jonathan told me that Henry was friends with the man.”

  “He was,” Francis replied grimly. “My dear sister, I came here to tell you that you will need a strong spirit tonight. I do not want to tell you all now, but you must prepare yourself. It will be more difficult than you know.”

  She grasped his hands, aware of the trembling deep in her soul. “But you are restored to us, Francis. You have returned. Surely there is some good in that.”

  “I must still clear my name,” Francis replied darkly. “And to do so could bring a good deal more difficulty than I can say.” He squeezed her hands and then let them go as the dinner gong sounded. “I shall see you again very soon. Eat and behave as normally as you can. When it comes time to speak to Henry, then do so just as you have planned. Ask him about Mr. Carmichael.” A deep shadow crossed his face. “I shall be listening to every word.”

  Julianna did not ask him how he intended to do such a thing but rather remained silent, a heavy weight settling over her heart as she watched him slip from the room. What was tonight going to bring? And why did she suddenly feel so terrified about it all?

  * * *

  One hour later and dinner was going as well as could be expected. Henry was glowering darkly at anyone who looked his way and had not engaged any of them in conversation. Lord Sharpe, Julianna, a
nd Lord Hollard had talked contentedly enough, although Julianna was aware of the growing tension in the room. Only she and Lord Sharpe knew that Francis was still alive and that he would be joining them at any given moment and the awareness of that brought more strain than Julianna felt she could bear.

  “Henry,” she began, once dessert had been served. “Jonathan tells me that you knew Mr. Carmichael.”

  Henry glared at her. “I do not know of whom you speak, Julianna.”

  “I think you do,” Baron Hollard interrupted, his brows tightening together as he frowned. “Mr. Carmichael was the man found murdered…supposedly by our brother. Although, I confess that I do not think I can accept such a thing now.”

  Julianna saw Henry’s expression flicker with disdain.

  “You are mistaken if you think that Francis did not kill that man,” Henry bit out, his spoon clattering on the side of his plate. “He was found guilty, if you recall, for not only the murder but for other matters also.”

  Julianna threw a glance to Lord Sharpe, who gave her a small, encouraging smile. She drew in a breath.

  “I have discovered that not to be the case,” she said softly, drawing the attention of both of her brothers. “I have found out that the three men who claimed that Francis was a thief and a criminal to be entirely false.”

  A harsh, dark laugh from Henry startled her. “He admitted to them, Julianna! Goodness, you are more foolish than I thought.”

  Lord Sharpe cleared his throat softly, the warning evident enough. “Julianna is quite correct, Mr. Newton. I was there also. I heard every word those men said. Yes, Francis may have admitted to having lapses in sense and may have decided that he was more than ridiculous with some of his behavior, but he always declared himself innocent of stealing and certainly of murder.”

  Henry shrugged, shoving his chair back from the table. “I do not think it matters, Lord Sharpe,” he said coldly. “My brother is dead. The coward took his own life instead of waiting for the justice he deserved.”

  “That is hardly fair, Henry,” Julianna replied quickly, praying that her brother was not about to quit the room. “If Francis was not guilty, then do we not have a duty to clear his name? For our family’s reputation, if for nothing else?” She tipped her head, her dessert entirely forgotten. “And you have not answered my question as to whether or not you knew Mr. Carmichael.”

  Henry glowered at her. “Yes, he was my friend,” he muttered, making to rise. “What of it?”

  “Sit down, Henry,” Jonathan instructed, his voice ringing with authority. “Our conversation is not yet over, despite your urge to run from it.” He tilted his head, looking at his brother with sharp eyes. “Tell me, why do you think that Francis killed him, if you believe that he did so? That was one thing the court could not come to a conclusion about. There appeared to be no motive.”

  Henry let out an exasperated breath, although much to Julianna’s relief, he did not ignore the Baron’s instructions to remain. “I do not care, brother,” he said, bitterly. “It does not matter.”

  “But do you not see, Henry?” Julianna interrupted, drawing her brother’s attention from Jonathan. “If we can find a way to prove that Francis was not guilty of those crimes, then our good name will be restored.”

  “And what use have I of that?” Henry snarled, his hand slamming down on the table and making her jump. “I do not care. I do not care about this family’s good name, for I am only the third son and have very little influence on anyone and anything. I could find someone to marry me tomorrow who would not give two figs about what my murderous brother has done.” He laughed at Julianna’s shocked expression, his teeth bared. “You are quite stupid, Julianna, to believe that I care anything for yourself or for Jonathan here. You have always had more than I shall ever receive, and for that, I bear you nothing but ill will.”

  Lord Sharpe’s hand settled over Julianna’s underneath the table as she reeled from the ferocity in her brother’s words.

  “You are a menace, Henry.” Jonathan’s words were cold and furious. “I should throw you from this house in disgrace.” He gestured for the footmen to clear the dishes, evidently aware that this part of their meal was at an end. “Port, I think. Julianna, if you wish to take tea here, then you are more than welcome. Henry, I think it best you leave us.”

  Henry laughed and got up from his chair. “I should not want your port regardless,” he stated, as the footman took up the tray from the corner of the room and set it down in front of Hollard before quitting the room with the rest of the staff. “Nor your company, brother. Enjoy your port. I shall be returning to the country by the morrow, for I cannot stand to be in your company for a moment longer.”

  Behind her, Julianna heard the door open but did not look around, such was her horror over how Henry was speaking.

  “You do not want port, Henry?”

  She gasped, twisting her head to see Francis standing framed in the doorway. His eyes were fixed on his brother as he pushed the door closed behind him, before slowly advancing towards Henry.

  “Is that because you have put something in it?”

  Julianna grasped tightly onto Lord Sharpe’s hand, her eyes wide with horror as she looked from Henry to the glass of port in Jonathan’s hand. No, this could not be so!

  “Francis?”

  Henry had suddenly gone very pale, his hands grasping for something – anything – that would help to keep him steady.

  “Jonathan, do not touch that port!”

  Francis’s voice was loud and authoritative, and, much to Julianna’s relief, Jonathan set the glass down, looking as shocked as Henry did.

  “I do apologize, Jonathan, for the intrusion, and for the belief that I am dead and buried, but believe me, I have had a good reason for doing so,” Francis continued, as Henry sank into a chair. “I found, much to my relief, that I could trust my sister and Lord Sharpe, and it has been their assistance in this matter that has led me to my final conclusion.”

  Henry was staring up at Francis in horror, his face a horrible shade of grey. “You died,” he whispered, his hands white as he gripped the arms of the chair. “I saw your body in the coffin.”

  Francis nodded. “You did,” he said quietly. “I did not know then what I know now, and had I done so, I might have feared that you would stab me for good measure.”

  Julianna felt as though she had been thrown back into her chair. “Stabbed?” she whispered, looking at Francis in horror. “Henry?”

  Francis nodded slowly, his expression grim. “I did not want to have to say this, but the truth is that Henry was the one responsible for Mr. Carmichael’s death. It was he that paid those three men to stand up in court and accuse me of crimes I did not commit.” His eyes flicked around the table, his face resolute. “And now, I fear, he was attempting to do away with you also, Jonathan.”

  Julianna saw her brother open and shut his mouth, staring at Francis in evident confusion. Jonathan had not said a word since Francis had appeared, evidently quite overcome with the shock of what he was seeing. She pressed Lord Sharpe’s hand under the table, struggling to contain all that she was thinking and feeling. Henry! Henry was the one responsible, not Francis. But why? Why had he done such a thing?

  “That day at Lord Thurston’s home,” Lord Sharpe murmured, an expression of understanding on his face. “Those men were describing Henry Newton.”

  Francis gave a jerky nod, as though this truth was as painful for him to say as for Julianna to hear. “I have had a year to go into the depths and the intricacies of the events surrounding my supposed crimes and subsequent conviction, but without your help in finding those three men and bringing them to the marquess’s house, then I might never have found the truth.” He gave Lord Sharpe a tight smile. “Yes, I was waiting outside the house and followed those men. I ensured they gave me a very good description of the fellow who had told them to do such a terrible thing as lie before God and man. Whilst that description could have been any number of men,
I already had the suspicion that Henry was the one involved in it all.” He shook his head, looking almost despairing. “I knew that Henry had hated me for some time, ever since our father’s will was read out. I knew that he detested the fact that I was to have more of a fortune than he, and that you, Jonathan, were to have the greatest amount as the new Baron Hollard.” He stepped away from Henry and towards Julianna, who felt as though she were quite unable to get her breath.

  “But that does not give me a good reason to murder,” Henry snapped, a little color returning to his cheeks. “This is all nonsense.”

  “If only it was,” Francis replied softly, his tone close to mournful. “I had a year, Henry. A year to think and consider and wonder who would try to ruin me so terribly, who would try to push me towards the gallows. The only person I could think of was you.”

  “But why?” Julianna asked, her voice tremulous. “For what reason?”

  There was a short silence, as though Francis were giving them the opportunity to consider the matter for themselves.

  “Because,” Jonathan said eventually. “Because he wants what we have. What you have and then, in the end, what I have.”

  Julianna swallowed hard, her throat aching terribly. She could see now that such a statement could be quite true, and as much as she did not want to admit it, she knew that this was the only reasonable explanation.

  “You felt wronged, Henry,” Francis said, addressing his younger brother. “You, as the third son, were given the smallest share. You rebelled against that; you grew bitter and cold. In the end, after it had eaten away at your heart, you decided to get what you could never possibly hope to have on your own: a title and the entirety of our father’s fortune.”

  “And so, you tried to have Francis convicted of things he did not do,” Julianna whispered, her vision blurring with tears as she saw how Henry’s head had sunk down low. “Francis pretended to take his life so that he might have the opportunity to discover who it was that had done such a terrible thing, and the answer has turned out to be you, Henry.”