by Lucy Adams
Protecting Lady Esther
The King’s League Book One
Lucy Adams
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
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Also by Lucy Adams
Author’s Note
Prologue
“Goodness, Esther, you must not behave so!”
Esther regarded herself in the looking glass once more, trying her very best to remove the pout from her expression and realizing that she did, in fact, appear to be nothing more than a petulant child.
“I do not mean to behave inappropriately, Aunt,” she said, lifting her chin, settling her shoulders, and trying to find some sort of contentment with her new bonnet. “But it is only that I am fully aware that I must have an excellent appearance everywhere I go – and I cannot think that this bonnet aids that!” Frustrated, she pulled the ribbon strings out from under her chin and tore the bonnet from her head, flinging it back towards the box. “I do not know what the seamstress was thinking to include such an item.”
Her aunt, the honorable Lady Ware, sighed discontentedly and gestured to the maid to pack the bonnet again. “She was hoping that it might suit you,” she replied, as the maid scurried to do as she was instructed. “If it does not suit you, then there is nothing to concern yourself with. We shall simply return it with a note of appreciation for her efforts. You are, at the very least, pleased with the gowns and dresses she has made for you?”
Esther, feeling a little chagrined, nodded and brushed her hands down her new day dress. “I am very pleased, yes,” she answered, feeling a slight flush of shame touching her cheeks as she thought of the five other new gowns that now hung in her wardrobe, each delicately beautiful in its creation. “I do apologize, Aunt, for behaving so.” Turning towards her aunt again, she spread her hands out as though to express her sorrow still further. “I ought not to have done so. You have been very generous, and I have acted ungratefully.” She dropped her head, fully aware now of her own selfish behavior and realizing that she ought to merely have stated that she did not like the bonnet and requested politely to return it. There had been no need for such an outburst.
Her aunt sighed, looked to the maid, and murmured a request for a new tea tray. The maid bobbed a curtsy and left at once, leaving Esther and her aunt alone.
“Tell me, Esther,” Lady Ware said gently, “what is it that troubles you so?”
Esther sighed inwardly, looking at her aunt and seeing the usual intense gaze that she had come to know so well. Lady Ware had often been by Esther’s side over the last few years, ever since Lady Leighton, Esther’s mother, had passed away. They had forged a strong bond, and yet there were still things that Esther kept to herself, that she did not quite want to share with her aunt.
Lady Ware, however, seemed to be quite determined to discover them.
“Esther, you act as though you believe this Season will be nothing more than a disaster,” Lady Ware said firmly—when Esther said nothing. “You have already enjoyed one Season, have you not? Why do you fear this one?”
Sighing heavily, Esther sat down in her chair and let her gaze rove about the room as she tried to find the right words to express all that she felt. Her stomach twisted itself into knots, making her all too aware of the anxiety that never seemed to leave her.
“I am grateful for your company this Season, Aunt,” she said slowly, not wanting to portray any sense of disappointment in her father, the Earl of Leighton. “Last Season was my debut, as you know, and it went reasonably well.” She managed a tight smile, which her aunt did not return. “However, my father was often very tired and quite distracted with news and the responsibilities of his estate, even though he was not at home. We often stayed home in the evenings and could not accept as many social invitations as I had hoped.”
Lady Ware’s green eyes flickered and a look of understanding crept into her face. “I see,” she answered, her expression softening. “Your debut Season was not everything it might have been, and you are, therefore, treating this Season as another opportunity to make yourself known within society.”
Esther closed her eyes, sat forward, and put her elbows on her knees, rubbing at her forehead in a manner which her aunt would not approve of. She did not care. Her mind was so greatly troubled that already an ache was forming between her brows. “I wish to marry,” she said, not opening her eyes but forcing herself to speak with honesty and decisiveness. “I want to find a suitable gentleman and marry him, Aunt Ware.” Opening her eyes, she sighed and let her hands drop. “You know it is my father’s dearest wish, and I do believe it would take a good deal of worry from him. But yet….” Sighing, she sat back again, seeing her aunt’s flickering frown. “But yet I fear that I am not the young lady I am required to be. I did not garner a single bit of attention from anyone last Season, Aunt. What if I fail again?” Her heart began to quicken, the knots in her stomach tightening. “What if I am not the young lady that so many gentlemen require? My red hair, for example, is not the color that a young lady ought to have!”
Lady Ware laughed softly, although this only riled Esther rather than comforted her.
“My dear girl!” Lady Ware exclaimed, waving a hand in Esther’s direction. “Your hair will be something that all society shall notice about you! You will be instantly recognized, which goes in your favor.” She smiled gently at Esther, who felt her heart begin to calm just a little. “I can understand your concern, but your lack of success last Season was, I am quite certain, due to your father’s inability to take you to all the required occasions. That will not matter this Season, I am quite certain of it.”
Esther blew out a long breath, able to gather some of her aunt’s confidence for herself and dragging it towards her so that her anxiety no longer had such a tight hold.
“Now, go and see if your father wishes to come and join us for tea,” Lady Ware said, as the maid knocked on the door, entering with the tea tray. “He has been working i
n his study for much too long, and if I know my brother at all, I know that he will continue to do so until he is dragged from it by one of us!” Her green eyes, so alike to Esther’s father’s, gleamed with mirth. “Do go and fetch him, my dear. I shall have the tea poured by the time you return.”
Esther, a little buoyed by her aunt’s warm spirits, did as she was asked and left the parlor, making her way towards her father’s study. This year would be very different, she told herself, trying to keep the same sense of encouragement that her aunt had evidenced only moments ago. This Season, she had her aunt to accompany her to various places, which had worked out very well for both Esther and Lady Ware, whose three daughters had all grown up and married very well indeed. Lady Ware enjoyed the Season enormously and had seemed delighted when Lord Leighton had asked her to attend Esther during this year. Surely, with Lady Ware’s help, Esther had more chance than ever before to find a suitable match?
“I am not certain I believe you, Lord Leighton.”
Esther stopped dead, aware she ought not to be eavesdropping against her father’s ajar study door but finding herself entirely unable to help it.
“I do not care what you believe. It is the truth. I have not seen him for some time,” she heard her father say with a gruffness to his voice.
“And yet I find myself questioning it,” came the second voice. “You do know that he is dead?”
Esther frowned, leaning against the wall and trying to peer through the gap in the door. She could not make out the gentleman speaking to her father but certainly did not like the tone that he was using. Her father was a respected gentleman of the ton, who held a highly respected title and had even served in the army – although that had been before Esther had been born. Her father was the second in line and had been forced to return home to claim the title after the death of his brother, Esther had been told. A wife and a son had followed soon after, and Esther herself had been the second child born to Lord Leighton. Her older brother, Jasper, was now married and soon would be producing the next heir, no doubt, to ensure the family line was continued.
A harsh exclamation dragged her back to the present, reminding her of what she was doing. Looking through the gap again and trying to fix her gaze on the man talking inside, she saw a gentleman standing in front of her father with a long, dark red scar on the side of his cheek. It stretched from his earlobe to almost the corner of his mouth—rough, jagged, and bright. Something within her trembled at the sight of this, even though she had very little idea as to who the man was.
“Good day, Leighton.”
Scrambling for cover, Esther hurried away from the door and hid herself in a small alcove where she would not be seen. Waiting until she heard the butler show him out, Esther then hurried out of her hiding place and approached the butler as nonchalantly as she could.
“I did not know my father had a visitor this afternoon,” she began, as the butler waited politely. “Pray, what was his name?”
The butler hesitated, then looked away. “I could not say, Lady Esther. He was not announced and did not have a card.”
That is very odd indeed, Esther thought, frowning just a little. Very odd indeed.
“I am just going to speak to my father,” she said, not saying a word about what her true thoughts were on the matter. “Pray, do not disturb us for a few moments, if you please.” The butler nodded, and she left his side, thinking that she would have to ask her father outright about the strange gentleman. She could use the excuse of hearing raised voices to discover whether or not her father was in any particular difficulty – although she did not know what such a difficulty might be.
“Papa?” Pushing open the study door, she was horrified to see her father sitting there with his head in his hands, as though he were struggling with something truly horrific.
“Papa!” she exclaimed, hurrying in towards him. “What is wrong?”
The Earl of Leighton looked up at once, pasting a hasty smile on his face that did nothing to cover the worry woven into his expression.
“I heard raised voices,” Esther said pointedly. “Who was calling upon you, Papa?” She tried to keep her tone light, but this appeared to do nothing to help settle her father. He turned his face away, sighed heavily, and then shook his head.
“I have something for you,” he said, pulling open a desk drawer and taking out a small velvet box. “I should have given it to you long ago, mayhap, but I did not. It is very precious to me, but it is only right that you should have it.”
Esther frowned, seeing that her father was avoiding answering her question but still intrigued as to what was in the box he now held. “Papa, if there is something wrong—?”
Holding up one hand, he waited until she had stopped speaking before handing her the box. “As I have said, my dear girl, this is very special to me, as it belonged to your mother, but I want you now to have it. It has great importance, for it was the gift I gave your dear mother on the day of our marriage. I pray now that you will wear it often to remember her, and so that you may also be blessed with the happiness of marriage as she and I shared together.”
Tears suddenly blurred Esther’s vision as she took the velvet box from her father. Lifting the lid carefully and with her heart suddenly aching at the memory of her late mother, Esther took in the beautiful silver locket that was contained within. It was fairly large but hung on a delicate chain. There was a single emerald gem centered within it, which she knew would match the color of her eyes.
“It is beautiful,” she whispered, reaching out to touch it with a gentle finger. “You are quite certain you want to give it to me, Papa?” A single tear streaked down her cheek as she looked back at him, seeing him nod. There was a kind smile on his face, but there still lingered a sadness about him that Esther wanted so desperately to chase from him. Was it the memory of his late wife, so dearly loved, that tore at his heart now? Or was there something more to it now?
“It is very precious to me, even though there is nothing contained within the locket itself,” Lord Leighton said, as she looked up at him. “Indeed, I do not even know how one goes about opening it! Not that such a thing matters, for it is what this locket reminds us of that is of the greatest importance.”
Esther nodded, although something about what her father had said buzzed about her head, as though he had said something wrong, something that she could not quite understand. “It will always remind me of Mother,” she whispered, her throat aching furiously. “It is an extraordinary gift.”
“You will wear it, Esther?” Lord Leighton asked, his tone a little desperate as though he expected her to refuse it. “Say that you will wear it always. That you will never be parted from it.”
“Of course, Papa,” Esther replied, her voice shaking with all the deep emotion that rose up within her. “I shall cherish it—always.”
“Good.” He smiled at her, and then he came around from behind his desk and kissed her cheek. “You have always been so very beautiful, my dear girl. And now to know that you are to wear the very same locket as your mother makes you all the more so.”
Esther held her father’s hand tightly, some sort of warning ringing in her ears – although what it warned her of, she did not quite know. “Thank you, Papa. This means a great deal to me – more than I can say.”
Chapter One
“Do come in, Lord Westbrook.”
Charles, Earl of Westbrook, stepped into the darkened room, feeling the same thrill of excitement and anticipation that came every time he joined with his fellow spies.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he murmured, seeing the other men nod to him. “A cozy evening, it seems!”
“Indeed!” grinned one Lord Brandley, coming forward to greet him. “It has been some time, has it not?”
Charles shook Lord Brandley’s hand, truly delighted to see some of those he considered both his counterparts and his friends. “It has been, but as you know there has been some difficulty in both discovering the book and in bring
ing it to London.” He grimaced, letting go of Lord Brandley’s hand. “I believe that I was being closely watched whilst I was away from town.”
Another gentleman, Lord Montague, nodded and poured Charles a brandy, handing it to him. “There are more than a few spies at work here in England,” he said gruffly. “Sir Taylor has discovered as much.”
Frowning heavily at what was being implied, Charles looked about the room at the others and saw how some shook their heads, with others sighing heavily.
“Do you mean to say that Sir Taylor has been in difficulty?” he asked, realizing that he had missed a good deal since being away from town. “What has occurred?”
Lord Brandley waved a hand towards a couple of vacant chairs before taking one himself. Following closely, Charles sat down also and then looked about him. Something was worrying the men here, and he did not know what it could be.
“Sir Taylor had something of great value,” a gentleman named Lord Watts began, speaking from a corner of the room. “We do not know precisely what it was, for he was unable to tell us before he was taken.”
Charles swallowed hard, an icy chill rushing over him. “Taken?”
“Killed,” Lord Brandley said bluntly. “The French, we believe.”
A little shaken, Charles looked about the room again, where each of the spies – known collectively as “The King’s League” were gathered. Each of their faces showed both grief and anger – grief that they had lost one of their men and anger that his life had been taken by those who had infiltrated their country in order to send back information to their side. Charles felt his own spirits sink low, his own anger beginning to burn at what had occurred. Sir Taylor had been doing as he had been commanded, having given his time and now his life for the king. He had worked for many years for the king and had, in fact, recruited Charles to the cause some three years ago in 1812. It was sickening to think of him gone, struck down by an intruder in their fair England.