Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  When the ladies arrived, Charlotte’s blue eyes focused anywhere but on Nathaniel’s face.

  He almost groaned with frustration. “Miss Haywood, I hope you have recovered?”

  “Quite. Thank you for asking.”

  “We have been considering your experiences. I was hoping you could give us a better description of the men who kidnapped you.”

  “I gave all the details I care to give to Mr. Gaunt this morning. Perhaps you should speak to him.”

  “I would rather speak to you.” This earned him a quick glance. When she caught his gaze, she flushed and hurriedly looked down to her clasped hands. Her fingers twisted in her lap and then plucked at the pale yellow embroidery running down the front of her muslin gown. Nathaniel longed to cover her restless hands with his own.

  The last few weeks had been horrendous for her. Charlotte’s fair skin was even paler than usual and dark circles smudged her eyes. Although she didn’t know it, she had been wagered and lost to perfect strangers. Then, she had been kidnapped and subsequently informed she had only one-third of her fortune left. And now she had reason to believe that her guardian’s nephew murdered two women.

  He desperately wanted to put an arm around her, hold her, and assure her that she was safe and had nothing to fear.

  Most of all, he wanted to tell her he loved her in such as way that she would believe him.

  She looked at him defiantly and sat up straighter. “I cannot imagine what more we have to say to one another.”

  “More than you might think,” he replied, keeping his tone light. “Do you remember any details of your kidnapping, or anything that might help us to find the men responsible?”

  Her blue gaze caught his. He felt her waver. Her lips parted. He leaned forward, but she closed her mouth again without saying more.

  “Will you be attending the soirée tonight at the Gilroy’s?” Lady Victoria said, breaking the silence. “Or would you rather go to the Italian opera? You’ve barely made use of your box at Haymarket, Your Grace.”

  “The opera? I had not considered it,” Nathaniel said. Once more, something shifted in his mind, some clue that continued to elude him.

  “Why?” Lady Victoria asked. “We intend to go. Miss Haywood has indicated she would be willing to attend.”

  “I see,” Nathaniel said.

  So they were planning to attend this event to prove Charlotte was indeed safe, thereby disputing the kidnapping tale. Using his box would put her on display.

  Put her on display…. An idea grew like the proverbial bean stalk. Perhaps there was a pattern to the murders, after all.

  “I will reconsider, then,” he said, “and attend. In fact, I will escort you.”

  “Excellent notion,” Archer said, rubbing his palms against his thighs. “You will not mind if I go to White’s, then?”

  “John….” His wife’s tone held enough warning for her husband to clear his throat self-consciously.

  “If we go in my carriage, there will be room for all four of us,” Nathaniel said. Archer glared at him, but Nathaniel ignored his uncle’s disappointment.

  He’d need the extra eyes to watch over Charlotte and make sure she remained safe.

  “Oh, very well,” Archer agreed. “Seven?”

  “Seven it is.”

  No one seemed inclined to allow Nathaniel to speak to Charlotte in private, so he took his leave of them. He drove his curricle through the crowded streets, feeling irritable and out-of sorts.

  Why wouldn’t Charlotte let him explain?

  Perspiring, he noticed he was nearing Gunther’s. With the warm weather and his dry through, he realized that a cool lemon ice was just what he required. He drove his curricle into a nearby street and stopped.

  When he entered Gunther’s, it appeared the rest of London’s population had precisely the same idea. The shop was full, but he managed to thrust his way through to the counter, order his lemon ice, and squirm his way out.

  “Your Grace!” a woman’s gloved hand touched his sleeve.

  He glanced down to find Lady Beatrice peering up at him from beneath a dainty hat of chipped straw tied over her blond ringlets with ribbons of dark blue.

  “Lady Beatrice,” he greeted her and then nodded toward the door. “Quite a crush in here.”

  She tucked her hand under his elbow and moved with him through the door, though it was scarcely less crowded outside. “I am so relieved to see you well. These last few days have been dreadful, have they not? I must admit I am worn to the merest sliver with worry over those poor, poor girls. I do wish they would find the dreadful madman who is responsible.” She shivered as they walked a few yards, her maid following at a tactful distance. “I shall never forget our dear Lady Anne, and to think it happened in my gardens. Why, it could have been me! I declare, I shall not be able to sleep until they arrest him.”

  “Yes, we will all miss Lady Anne.”

  Lady Beatrice finished her ice and tugged at the strings to the reticule hanging from her wrist. “This is indeed a fortuitous meeting.”

  “Indeed?”

  She laughed. “Oh, Your Grace, please don’t tease me so. I would almost believe you had no wish to converse with me. You know I value your company and treasure our conversations beyond all reason.”

  Nathaniel felt increasingly uncomfortable with Lady Beatrice clinging to his arm. Several acquaintances had noticed him and inclined their heads in his direction. From the grins on their faces, he knew there would be rumors by this evening linking Nathaniel again with Lady Beatrice.

  All of Society seemed to be breathlessly awaiting an announcement.

  And now of all times, he did not want any gossip to reach Charlotte’s ears, particularly if it involved Lady Beatrice. He had seen at Lady Beatrice’s soirée that the two women were not the best of friends. On a certain level, he was flattered by their subtle competition.

  However, with Charlotte so unhappy now, he just wanted Lady Beatrice to go away.

  “Here it is,” she said, pulling something out of her reticule.

  Nathaniel finished his ice and idly watched the crowds. How could he shake off Lady Beatrice without seeming impossibly rude?

  “Your Grace, I believe this belongs to you?” Lady Beatrice asked.

  He glanced down at her hand. She had a bluish stone streaked with gold and black held between her thumb and forefinger.

  “What is that?” he asked, numbly.

  “Is this not your lapis lazuli? The one you always wore dangling from your watch chain?”

  “I don’t know. May I see it?” His pulse raced. Where had she found it?

  She held it up higher. “You see? The gold ring at the top is bent.”

  “It certainly looks like mine,” he said cautiously. The unique corkscrew shape was proof enough, however. “Where did you find it?”

  She sighed and tucked it back into her reticule. His gaze followed the gesture, and he resisted the urge to tear it off her wrist.

  “I found it in the garden the morning after my ball. It was lying precisely where poor Lady Anne was discovered. You can imagine my horror when I recognized it. I have been so afraid—I did not know what to do.”

  “I see.” Nathaniel pulled her out of the middle of the sidewalk into the entrance to a narrow alley. “Perhaps I ought to take a closer look at it to determine if it is, indeed, my lapis.”

  She pouted and pressed her forefinger against her lower lip. “Then you have lost your lapis?”

  “Perhaps. I have not seen it lately. But my valet may have found it loose and taken it to the jewelers to have the link replaced. I will have to ask him.”

  “But this could be yours?”

  He shrugged.

  “I…just don’t know what to do, Your Grace. Have you considered what might happen if Bow Street should come to believe your lapis was found in the area where poor Lady Anne met her dreadful fate? Of course, I am convinced you are innocent, but I felt compelled to search the area. Particularly whe
n I saw you returning—almost running—back to the ball during the precise time when that poor girl…. Well, if it had been anyone else, I would have been convinced I had witnessed the madman fleeing after his attack. You must see how important it is that Bow Street not gain such a misleading understanding of the events.”

  “And how would they gain this odd idea?”

  She touched his arm. “I am afraid I should give them this and explain where I found it. There was a murder, and this may be evidence.” She turned to glance at the busy sidewalk as if agitated and afraid of being overheard. Her muslin skirts brushed his leg as she leaned closer, smelling of roses and lavender. “I simply do not know what I should do—tell me what I should do!”

  “If what you say is true, then you must give it to Bow Street.” He glanced over her head as if bored. His pulse raced when she tucked her hand under his elbow.

  “But I do not want them to think you were involved! Why, the murderer may have deliberately tried to implicate you, Your Grace.”

  “That is certainly possible. However if I am innocent, then any evidence you provide to Bow Street will not harm me.”

  “Do you truly believe that?” Her brows contracted. “Don’t they ever make mistakes? What if they were to hang an innocent man? I could not bear it if something were to happen to you.”

  “I am afraid I cannot advise you. Do what you think is correct.”

  “Then I believe I should keep this trinket. I would not want you to be unjustly accused. Despite your confidence in Bow Street, I am unsure they are of sufficient intelligence to find whoever is truly responsible if they are mislead by this paltry object.”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “I confess I am not concerned what they think.”

  “Because you are innocent. I applaud you, but surely you must see the advantages of having others support your innocence. As these horrible events took place during my ball, you must see that I feel responsible. And since the newspapers have been so quick to assign blame to you—oh, I must apologize for speaking so frankly, but you must know this as well as I—and after Miss Mooreland…. Well, you are in a terrible position for an innocent man. All that would be needed to tip the scales against you is something like that silly fob. You must let me help you.”

  Nathaniel disengaged his arm and attempted to stride back out onto the sidewalk. His muscles tensed with anger. All the women who had tried to compromise him had failed until now, and the one woman he wanted to comprise wouldn’t allow it.

  From what he had seen, Lady Beatrice had somehow found his lucky piece of lapis. Although he wouldn’t admit it to her, her fears were entirely well founded. That blue stone was all the investigators needed to pull together sufficient evidence to arrest him for both murders.

  That lapis fob had definitely lost its luck.

  Lady Beatrice clasped his arm. “I dislike being so bold, Your Grace. However, you must admit there is a strength of feeling between the two of us that cannot be denied. If we were—forgive my forwardness—engaged, would it not put to rest the rumors concerning you? They say you murdered those two women because of your dislike of females. If you are engaged, they would understand that they were wrong. And of course, as your wife, I could not supply evidence against you. You would be safe.”

  “I cannot agree, Lady Beatrice. I believe you mistake the strength of my affection for you.”

  “But surely…. You cannot be so blind to the dangers around you!” She raised her blue eyes to his face. They shimmered with unshed tears. “Truly, it is the best way to protect yourself! Let me help you.”

  “I appreciate your concern—”

  “Then you will at least give it some thought?”

  He nodded. “Of course. Now, if you will excuse me, I am late for an appointment.”

  It was everything he could do to escort her back to Gunter’s and calmly climb into his curricle. He felt sickened.

  Would she truly hand over his lapis to Bow Street and tell them not only where she had found it, but that she had seen him running away from Lady Anne that fateful night? Lady Beatrice was quite correct in realizing that Bow Street would undoubtedly take this as the last bit of evidence needed to complete their case. He would hang.

  His temper soared. That fate was preferable to an engagement to a female viper. As he pulled his curricle around and headed back toward his home, his hands were shaking with the desire to strangle Lady Beatrice. His mind kept circling back to her veiled threat. Over the past few weeks, it had been obvious she favored him, but he had not realized she was so determined to become a duchess.

  Well, he had no time to worry about her, now. He needed to find the real murderer and convince Charlotte that he loved her.

  Unfortunately, it seemed Lady Beatrice was not going to make it easy for him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Affrays.—An affray is the fighting of two or more persons in some public place, to the terror of the King’s subjects, for if the fighting be in private it is not an affray but an assault. — Constable’s Pocket Guide

  The idea of attending the Italian opera in Haymarket did not excite Charlotte. Despite the solitude of her imprisonment, she did not want to be put on display in Nathaniel’s box. The Archers thought it would be the ideal way for her to settle back into Society. She saw no reason to do so, and spending time with Nathaniel made her want to weep.

  Why couldn’t they just leave for Brighton or the country? Everyone else was leaving London. Summer was already well advanced. It was time to depart the heat and dirt of the city.

  Now that she was no longer quite so rich, Nathaniel would no doubt lose his interest in her. He would go back to Lady Beatrice.

  Thank goodness she had not accepted his ridiculous offer yesterday. Soon, they would leave London, and she could forget…everything.

  Or almost everything.

  Mr. Archer had been so kind when he showed her the letters about her inheritance. He had put an arm around her shoulders and assured her that he would do his utmost to see that what remained was invested wisely. Despite the awkwardness in his gesture, she could feel the generosity and love.

  How she wished she had come to the Archers first instead of a long series of guardians who despised her.

  Nonetheless, Mr. Archer assured her she would be comfortable, even on a meager third of what she once had. She would simply not be as fabulously wealthy. She might even earn five hundred pounds a year or so. Certainly enough to support herself.

  And Mr. Archer hastened to assure her that no one would find out about her losses unless she chose to tell.

  “Have you told His Grace?” she asked Mr. Archer.

  He fidgeted in his chair and pulled out his watch. “Not yet, my dear.”

  “Are you going to do so?”

  “If you are worried he may no longer find you as attractive, I can assure you that that is not true.” He patted her hand. “He is very much in love with you. You must forgive his, ahem, infelicitous proposal yesterday. He was merely overcome at finding you safe.”

  “Overcome with pleasure that his kidnapping scheme ended so well?” she asked, her voice sharp. She gritted her teeth remembering how pleased she had been when he opened the attic door and strode inside.

  Her savior. Ha!

  “Now, Miss Haywood, you know he did not kidnap you.”

  “Indeed? Then it must have been Lord Dacy. One wonders what his motive was.”

  What a trembling, pathetic fool she had been and all because she wanted him to love her. Even when she knew it was not possible and that his words had been a sham.

  And now dear Mr. Archer was trying to help her by saying he would keep it secret so that his nephew would still find her desirable.

  But she did not want to be loved for her money. Nor did she want to see the look on Nathaniel’s face if he married her and discovered she had very little money left.

  “You have always appeared to be an intelligent young lady,” Mr. Archer said. “While my nephew may have i
ndulged in many schemes—some of which may have been a trifle rash, if not ludicrous—his heart was in the right place. And if I am not mistaken, your heart is not entirely unengaged.”

  “It would not matter if it were. I intend to go to Egypt. I cannot spend my life idly sipping tea and gossiping: I require more than that. The duke himself explained the many duties he has. Even if I believed he loved me, he cannot spend lengthy periods away from his estates. They’d fall into disrepair just as mine have done from mismanagement and lack of attention, just as I would do if I were to remain here.

  “So don’t ask if I love your nephew or he me. It makes not one jot of difference to either of us. He will marry some fine English Miss, and I will go to Cairo. It will perhaps be more difficult without the funds I expected to have at this juncture, but I will make do, somehow.”

  With sudden, shocking vehemence, she wished she were a man. If she had been, her letters requesting information about her estate would have been answered. She would never have been brushed aside with a complacent pat on the head and an indulgent smile.

  The box her father had given her containing a puff of cotton and tobacco leaf should have meant more than just a painful memory. To her father, it was not just a reminder that her fortune was based upon those two crops, but a symbol of her responsibility: an ironbound duty.

  But she had failed in her duty to watch over her estates because she had been too young and unable to obtain the necessary information.

  In the future, she could not allow that to happen.

  Archer shook his head, pushing his teacup around in circles on its saucer. “You will not reconsider?”

  “No.”

  “Even if you received word that the man who is to lead your expedition is no more than a trickster bent on fleecing the gullible? He knows no more about Egypt than I do—probably considerably less.”

  Charlotte felt her cheeks flush. “What proof do you have?”

  “I have been doing inquiries. It seemed wise.”

  “Just like your inquiries into the state of my inheritance?”