by Lucy Adams
Letting out a long, frustrated sigh, Charles sat back in his chair and let his head rest back against it. “So someone else searched Sir Taylor’s estate before we did,” he said, gruffly. “They may have discovered…”
Instantly, something hit him, hard. A sudden, sharp shock ran straight through him, his breath hitching as his eyes widened in shock. His whole body became alive with tension, his heart pounding furiously as he stared blankly ahead, his hands curling into fists.
“Lord Westbrook?” he heard someone say, sounding as though they were speaking from far away. “Is something wrong?”
Charles could not quite form words, trying to work out what it was he wanted to say without being able to produce any sound. His mouth opened and shut, his mind whirring furiously – until, suddenly he threw himself out of his chair and pointed towards Lord Huddersfield.
“That is it, you see!” he exclaimed, his voice reverberating around the room. “I have it!” Lord Huddersfield stared at him blankly, only for Charles to let out a laugh of delight as things began to fall into place. “That is it precisely!”
Lord Brandley cleared his throat and arched one brow, as Charles turned back to face him.
“What is it you speak of?” he said patiently. “Forgive us for not understanding the quickness of your mind, Lord Westbrook, but we do not know what you have understood.”
Charles whirled about to face his friend, throwing his hands up into the air. “The two are connected!” he exclaimed, his voice filling the room. “Sir Taylor and the disappearance of Lord Leighton!” He saw Lord Brandley’s eyes flare, only for the very same expression of understanding and astonishment to begin to filter into his expression. “You know of Lord Leighton’s prior role in The King’s League, do you not?”
Lord Brandley nodded quickly. “I do, of course.”
“Then,” Charles continued hurriedly, “does it not make sense that he is, mayhap, involved with the cipher?”
A few gentlemen began to murmur amongst themselves, their voice turning into a low hum of noise. Charles, who knew that not everyone was aware of Lord Leighton and what he had done in the past, turned back to them and began to explain.
“Lord Leighton was involved with The King’s League from its infancy,” he said quickly. “He retired from it when his wife passed away some years ago, and we presumed all was well.”
“And now you think he is somehow involved in this matter with Sir Taylor?” asked one of the men, frowning. “Did he know Sir Taylor?”
Charles nodded fervently. “Indeed, he did. Sir Taylor and Lord Leighton were very closely acquainted and, from what I have been told, often took on certain tasks together. Sir Taylor may very well have turned to Lord Leighton when there was no one else to turn to.” His heart quickened furiously. “This would explain Lord Leighton’s disappearance from London as well as, mayhap, the reason behind his daughter being attacked by the very man who called upon Lord Leighton only a few days before.” Looking around the group, he saw a few men frown, whilst some were nodding slowly, clear understanding in their eyes.
“Then who is this gentleman with the scar?” asked Lord Watt, getting to his feet to pour himself another brandy. “Do we know him?”
Charles shook his head. “I do not know who this man is, but clearly he is searching for Lord Leighton, as we are. Mayhap he visited Lord Leighton to ask some questions of Sir Taylor and, thereafter, Lord Leighton felt unable to remain in London for fear of what might occur.”
“The man could easily have threatened his daughter or his sister – Lady Ware, is it?” Lord Brandley asked, as Charles nodded. “Perhaps Lord Leighton felt he had to disappear from London in order to keep them safe.”
“And if he has the cipher,” Lord Riggerton added, speaking for the first time, “then all the more reason to disappear.”
Another thought captured Charles’s mind. “And he had only just returned to London with his daughter,” he said slowly, thinking quickly. “Mayhap he had every intention of handing the cipher to us but had not yet had opportunity to write to arrange a meeting.”
Lord Watt nodded fervently. “We had only just gathered together for the first time,” he said, confirming what Charles now believed. “Lord Leighton, knowing the significance of what he had, would take every precaution. He would not simply have sought us out at the first for fear that someone might be watching him or that he would be intercepted.”
“Better to play the part of a gentleman here during the Season simply to encourage his daughter to find a husband,” Lord Brandley added, his brows now low over his eyes as he continued to think on what had been revealed. “If that is as you say, Lord Westbrook, then we have a good deal of work ahead of us. The two matters are no longer separate but one.” His eyes lifted to Charles, and Charles could see the seriousness held within them. “We must have that cipher.”
“And we must protect Lady Esther,” Charles added firmly. “We cannot allow her to be involved in this any more than she already is. The man in question – the one with the scar – is clearly willing to do whatever he has to in order to find Lord Leighton and that includes injuring Lady Esther.” A small tremor ran through him. “If I had not roused myself that night, then I do not know what would have become of her.”
Silence ran around the room for a few minutes, as each gentleman considered what had been said and allowed the pieces to fall into place in their own minds. Charles resumed his seat, aware of the tension still running through him and knowing that now, Lady Esther’s safety meant a good deal more than before. The last thing he wanted was for Lady Esther to put herself in danger, or to be used as leverage for their enemies to get what they desired. Most likely, the French – for that was who was behind this, Charles was quite certain – were already watching her closely, making certain that if she were to go somewhere that would reveal the location of Lord Leighton, that they would know of it also.
“What should we do next?” Lord Watt asked, his question filling the room and encouraging every gentleman present to make their thoughts known. “We must decide on a plan going forward.”
“I shall remain by Lady Esther’s side as much as I can,” Charles began quickly. “I have spoken to her already and assured her that I will do what I can to help her find her father.”
“But you have not told her of The King’s League?” Lord Brandley queried, as Charles shook his head. “Shall you do so?”
Hesitating, Charles looked about the room and saw each gentleman looking back at him with no clear answer in their expressions. Sighing inwardly, he spread his hands. “I do not know.”
“Then do not, for the time being,” Lord Watt said. “No doubt she will have to know of it all soon enough, but if you are content not to do so for the time being, then she will accept whatever else you say without question, I am certain of it.” He grinned, suddenly lightening the atmosphere that hung over them all. “We shall hear the whispers soon enough, I am quite certain of it.”
Charles frowned. “Whispers?”
“That you are courting Lady Esther, of course!” Lord Brandley interjected, making a few gentlemen chuckle. “But she is beautiful and well mannered, so I do not think that you shall rebel too much against the suggestion.” He grinned at Charles, making Charles flush and shake his head, aware that this was simply something he would have to accept.
“I have already spoken to Lady Esther about what may occur when the beau monde becomes aware of my singular attentions towards her,” he said, trying not to allow a single touch of emotion into his voice. “She is aware of what might occur and has agreed to it.”
A moment of silence ran around the group, before Lord Riggerton spoke.
“You may then find yourself engaged—very soon?” he asked, looking at Charles in surprise. “You do not find yourself unwilling to be so?”
Charles shook his head, surprising himself with his own lack of concern. “I must marry at some stage,” he said, repeating almost the very same words he had said
to Lady Esther. “Lady Esther is a very suitable match, so I have no qualms about doing so, should it be required of me.”
“And Lord Leighton will grant you his blessing, no doubt, when all has been brought to an end,” Lord Watt added with another quick grin. “But we are becoming a little unfocused.” Clearing his throat, he spread his hands. “So, Lord Westbrook is to continue with his attentions towards Lady Esther, ensuring her safety as best he can, whilst carrying on with his search for the gentleman with the scar running down his cheek.”
“As shall I,” Lord Brandley interrupted, as Lord Riggerton also lifted a hand. “Lord Autry and Lord Breton are yet to be questioned as to any involvement they might have with the French, so mayhap Lord Riggerton can do so?”
Charles nodded. “Very good.”
“If I might help with that also,” added in Lord Hogarth, much to Charles’s satisfaction, for it seemed that every gentleman wanted to help progress the investigation as quickly as they could.
“And I shall go to Lord Leighton’s estate,” said Lord Huddersfield, as Lord Brandley nodded. “I know that we have sent a man, but he did not search for anything.”
“And I shall attend with you,” Lord Brandley said. “We must conduct a thorough search.”
“Good.” Charles felt his spirits lift as the other gentlemen in the room spoke of what they would do in order to aid the investigation, which included small matters such as speaking to the hackney driver whose hackney had been taken by the scarred man, to writing out yet more pages from the book before removing it to another secure location.
“And then we shall meet back here in ten days’ time with our reports,” Lord Watt finished, as the atmosphere in the room began to build to one of tense expectation. “Let us hope that we have either captured the scarred man or discovered the whereabouts of Lord Leighton.”
“Or both” Charles interrupted, making Lord Watt grin wryly. “And let us pray that Lord Leighton is safe.”
The group murmured their agreement, before Lord Watt stood, ready to dismiss them – only for there to come a knock at the door. The tension mounted furiously as Lord Watt crossed the room to open the door, only to reveal the man they had sent to Lord Leighton’s estate standing in the doorway.
“My lords,” the man said, inclining his head as he spoke. “I have news.”
Charles rose to his feet, gesturing for Mr. Peel to come into the room. Peel was one of many working-class men that The King’s League employed—as and when they were needed—and Mr. Peel was one of the most reliable.
“What is it you have discovered?” Charles asked, seeing the grim expression on Mr. Peel’s face and feeling his heart begin to thud with dread. “Tell us, please!”
Mr. Peel nodded, looking around the room. “The estate didn’t have Lord Leighton in it, my lord,” he said, in a low voice. “He wasn’t there. The staff hadn’t heard he was coming back and weren’t expecting him.”
Charles nodded, having expected as much. “I see.”
“But what was worse,” Mr. Peel continued gravely, “was that the estate had been broken into.”
Having turned away to make his way back to his seat, Charles now swung about and faced Mr. Peel again, his worries rising steadily. “What do you mean?”
“Just that.” Mr. Peel shrugged. “I was told that someone had broken into the house when everyone was abed. They didn’t appear to have taken anything, but it seems as though the lordship’s study had been ransacked.” He spread his hands wide. “The maid told me that almost everything had been overturned. Said there were papers everywhere and things left smashed all over the place.”
Charles drew in a quick breath as Lord Brandley muttered something under his breath. This was just as he had feared. Lord Leighton was not at his estate, as he had said, but had gone somewhere that no one yet knew. Now, more than ever, he was convinced that Sir Taylor had sent the cipher to Lord Leighton, which would account for the damage to Lord Leighton’s study. Someone had been searching for it, someone who had worked out that there might be a connection between Sir Taylor and Lord Leighton long before they had.
His stomach dropped, and he swallowed hard, realizing that he had no idea where Lord Leighton might be at present. He would have to speak to Lady Esther now, and he would have to tell her that her father was not at his estate and that he did not know where the gentleman was.
How would she react? She would not be pleased, that was for certain. Would she break down in tears? Or would she simply accept what had been said and quietly acknowledge that there was a good deal more to her father’s disappearance that had yet to be discovered? Would she continue to show that singular determination to find out the truth? He did not know, and he began to feel his heart ache for her. She had been foolish to go in search of him herself, but he could not even begin to imagine the fear that must have captured her heart when she began to think that her father had disappeared without reasonable explanation. There had been a good deal of bravery in her actions, even though he had been forced to come to her rescue thereafter, and that, he thought, said a good deal about her character. No, he would have no concern about his own future when it came to Lady Esther. Being practically minded, he had already considered what might be required of him and found no difficulty in accepting it. Lady Esther was more than suitable and that was all that he needed.
“It seems that your considerations have been correct then,” Lord Brandley said, interrupting Charles’s thoughts. “If Lord Leighton was in possession of the cipher, having been given it by Sir Taylor, then it makes sense that his study was overturned.”
“Whoever it was, knew to search there for it,” Lord Watt added quietly. “They knew he might have it with him.”
“Which means we must ensure that all of our efforts are solely centered on finding Lord Leighton and the cipher,” Charles said. “We each know what is required of us, do we not?” Seeing every man present nod, he cleared his throat and spread out his hands. “Then let us go to it, gentlemen. There is not a moment to be spared.”
Chapter Eight
“Good evening, Lady Esther.”
Esther curtsied beautifully as Lord Westbrook bowed in front of her, thinking him very handsome indeed this evening.
“Good evening, Lord Westbrook,” she said, finding herself rather glad to see him even though they had not been apart for more than a few hours. He had taken her walking in St James’s Park earlier that afternoon, and they had enjoyed both the company and the fine summer’s day. Her only regret was that they had not been able to speak of her father or of his consideration of such matters, given that Lady Ware had been present with them.
It had, however, forced them to converse about all other manner of things, which had, in its own way, brought her a little relief from her difficult circumstances. She had found Lord Westbrook to be an easy gentleman to talk to, and they had spoken of her home, his estate, and their shared love of riding. That had come as a pleasant surprise to her, and she had very much enjoyed his description of his newly purchased pair of greys, expressing a wish to see them one day.
This had brought a smile to his eyes as she had blushed, realizing what she had said and catching her aunt’s knowing look. Even now, Esther found her cheeks a little hot as Lord Westbrook smiled at her, wondering if he recalled what she had said as strongly as she did.
“I do hope you will permit me to dance with you this evening,” Lord Westbrook said, after greeting Lady Ware. “Or am I too late? Is your dance card already filled?”
She laughed and shook her head. “You are not the first, but it is not filled by any means,” she told him, seeing him grin. “I would very much like to dance with you, Lord Westbrook. I thank you.”
He smiled at her for a moment longer before taking her dance card and then writing his name in two places – one of which she noticed was the supper dance. A spark of anticipation caught her. Perhaps then they might be able to discuss matters a little more openly.
“The cot
illion and thereafter, the supper dance which is, I believe, a waltz.” He let go of her dance card and inclined his head, before lifting it again. “And I can see that you already have Lord Watt, Lord Hogarth, and Lord Riggerton written there also. All excellent gentlemen, I must say, and quite right to seek you out, Lady Esther.”
She managed to smile but detected something in his tone that made her frown. What was it that he was trying to hide from her? Displeasure that so many gentlemen had written their names before him? Surely not, for he had managed to secure the supper dance, which was surely the most significant!
“And I shall not keep you from your first dance of the evening,” he continued, looking over her shoulder and evidently seeing something she did not. “Lord Hogarth is to dance the quadrille with you, I think?”
She nodded, turning to see Lord Hogarth – who had been introduced by Lord Watt, whom she already had been acquainted with – approaching her. He was tall and rather thin, but with a warm smile that seemed at odds with his cool grey eyes. Lord Westbrook stepped out of the way and made to take his leave, although not before he had given Lord Hogarth a broad grin, which the fellow acknowledged with a nod. Esther frowned, a good deal more confused now at this strange behavior but was soon forced to set it aside as Lord Hogarth greeted her and then took her to the floor for her first dance of the evening.
“It is the supper dance next, my dear.”
Esther, who had felt nothing but a growing anticipation for this particular dance, looked up at her aunt and then nodded, attempting to appear as nonchalant as she could.
“Lord Westbrook has been very attentive.”
“He has, Aunt.”
“What should you wish me to say should he ask to court you?”
It was a question which Esther had been expecting, given Lord Westbrook’s very obvious attentions towards her the last few days, but even still, she felt her breath quicken suddenly.