Murder in Mayfair

by D. M. Quincy

  By God. What had Somerville done to her? Atlas stepped closer, shielding her. “Do not be afraid,” he said quietly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  She stared at him as if he didn’t understand anything, which at the moment, he didn’t. Somerville didn’t strike him as a cruel or unsavory character, but Lilliana’s reaction told him all he needed to know about the man.

  “Rosie, it’s me, Matthew.” The duke approached her, a welcoming smile wreathing his face. “I’ve looked everywhere for you.”

  Her eyes glistened before she jerked her elbow away from Atlas and spun around, dashing out the mahogany double doors and vanishing around the first turn. Atlas followed her with the duke on his heels.

  “Rosie!” the duke called.

  Atlas halted and spun around, purposely blocking the duke’s path. “She clearly does not wish to be in your company.”

  Somerville flushed and tried to step around Atlas’s brawny frame, his gaze fixed on the corridor Lilliana had dashed down. “See here, Catesby, this is none of your concern.”

  Atlas stepped in his path. “I disagree.”

  Eggleston came out of the drawing room. “Your Grace, you are causing a scene.”

  “I don’t give a damn,” Somerville snarled. “It’s Roslyn.” He pointed in the general direction where Lilliana had vanished. “Didn’t you see her?”

  Avoiding the duke’s gaze, the older man shifted from one foot to the other. “She has obviously chosen a different life for herself.”

  “But why did she run away?” Confusion filled his voice. “The three of us were all we had left.” He turned back to Atlas with a menacing glare. “Get out of my way. I mean to go and find my sister.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Your sister?” Atlas stared at the duke. “The devil you say.” The words came out like a growl. “Her name is Mrs. Lilliana Warwick.”

  The massive double doors to the parlor closed behind them. Someone giving them privacy.

  “Her name”—Somerville punctuated each word with the full weight of his ducal authority—“is Lady. Roslyn. Lilliana. Sterling.”

  “How can that be?” Atlas narrowed his eyes. “Everyone knows Lady Roslyn is living in Scotland with her sister, Lady Serena, now the Countess of Dunston.”

  “Wrong.” Somerville lowered his voice. “My sister has been missing for ten years. Eggleston put it about that she’d gone to live with our sister.”

  Eggleston dipped his chin in agreement. “Quite right. It was my duty as guardian to save the family name from scandal and taint. Then as now.” He placed a hand on the duke’s sleeve. “Your Grace, perhaps it is best to let her vanish again. Think of the scandal. She was never a biddable girl. Lord only knows what manner of mischief she’s involved herself in all these years.”

  Somerville shrugged the man’s hand off. “That will be all, Eggleston.” He spoke with steely courtesy.

  “Your Grace—”

  The duke’s expression hardened. “Leave us. Now.”

  It appeared that Eggleston wanted to continue to protest, but finally he bowed his head and retreated to the drawing room. The duke turned his attention back to Atlas.

  “What business do you have with my sister?”

  Atlas’s gut twisted. Whatever hopes he’d briefly harbored of taking Lilliana—Roslyn—to wife were effectively dashed by this revelation. She was the daughter and sister of the Dukes of Somerville, one of the highest dukedoms in the land. She’d never been beneath him. In reality it was he, the youngest son of an only recently titled baron, who was no match at all for her. “Why did she run? What did you do to her?”

  Rage blazed in Somerville’s eyes. “What exactly are you accusing me of, Catesby?” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “She vanished when I was ten-and-five. Are you intimating that I am the reason she ran away?”

  Atlas didn’t know what to believe. “I only know what I saw. She ran from you. It did not appear to be the touching family reunion that you perceive it to be.”

  Somerville exhaled. “I cannot understand it. We’re barely ten months apart in age. We were always as close as a brother and sister can be, especially after Serena—our older sister—married and moved to Scotland.”

  “Let me go and find her,” Atlas said. “And then perhaps we can sort all of this out.”

  “I will do no such thing.” Somerville spoke with indignation. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with my sister?”

  “Rest assured I have only her best interests at heart.” For now, it was best to avoid the details of how they’d met. “The rest I will leave for Lilliana to share with you.” Without awaiting a response, Atlas pivoted and went in search of Lilliana. Behind him, he heard the duke call out. “You there, where does this corridor lead?” Atlas grimaced. Somerville obviously wasn’t content to wait while Atlas sought Lilliana out. Be that as it may, Atlas intended to locate her first.

  He succeeded, finding her on the upper level of Charlton’s massive, two-story library. The room was decorated in wood tones with bookcases lining every wall, a huge fire roaring in the hearth at one end of the chamber. Atlas made his way up to her, his hand running along the dark wood bannister perched atop elaborate scrolled iron balusters.

  When he reached the landing, she watched him approach. “I thought this house was big enough to get lost in.”

  He smiled a little. “Fortunately, Charlton’s servants are not so discreet that they could not point me in the right direction.”

  She was curled up on a window seat, her arms around her tucked knees, the skirt of her gown pulled over them, guarding her modesty. His throat tightened. He’d never seen her look so vulnerable. Even when that brute Warwick had sold her in the yard, she’d worn her dignity like a suit of armor. Now she allowed herself to be laid bare before him. “So,” she said, “you know the truth about me.”

  There was so much he didn’t know about this woman he’d thought to wed. “Lilliana Hastings?”

  She acknowledged the irony in his voice. “I had to come up with an assumed name rather quickly when the runner asked for my family name.”

  “That is why you used the butler’s surname.”

  “I did not think Hastings would mind. I suppose you spoke with Somerville.”

  “To your brother?” He took a seat next to her. “Yes. And, briefly, to your guardian.”

  She released a shaky breath. “I suppose there’s no escaping him now.”

  He clenched his fist at the thought of Somerville hurting his sister. “He cannot harm you any longer.”

  “If only that were true.”

  “I will help you leave this place and disappear somewhere in the countryside with the boys.” He spoke with urgency. “No one need ever find you.”

  “Ever the gallant.” She smiled, sad and wistful. “Always coming to my rescue.”

  “I won’t let Somerville get within a horse’s length of you.”

  “He was always such a sweet boy and very protective after our parents died, although we both had a naughty side. Unlike my sister, Serena, who always followed the rules.”

  He blinked, puzzled by the fondness that shone in her eyes when she spoke of her brother. “I am confused. You weren’t running from you brother?”

  “Mattie? Not exactly. I just don’t know who he is anymore.” Her face darkened. “Mattie was away at school. He couldn’t help me, and Serena had just married and moved to Scotland. I was alone with him.”

  A cold knot formed in his stomach. “Alone, you mean, with your guardian—with Eggleston.”

  “Yes.”

  Fury tunneled through him when he recalled she hadn’t bled on her wedding night. “Did he force you?”

  “He tried.” She swallowed. “He . . . touched me . . . and forced me to touch him . . . in ways . . . and in places that he shouldn’t have. When I resisted and said I would tell my aunt, my father’s widowed sister, he threatened to lock me away in a hospital for bedlamites where no o
ne could find me. I had no one to turn to.” She angrily swiped away a tear, as though frustrated with herself for showing any emotion. “I would lock the door to my bedchamber against him. But then he had the lock removed.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Is that when you left?”

  She nodded. “My maid helped me. I dressed in servants’ clothing, and she got her cousin to take me to Town. I was going to try to find my aunt, but she was abroad. Her house was closed when I arrived. I had no idea where to go, and then I saw the haberdashery.”

  “Warwick’s place.”

  “Yes, I remembered going there with my mother when I was a little girl. Godfrey was kind to me then. He always gave me a sweetmeat.” Atlas could well imagine the avaricious shopkeeper indulging the young daughter of the renowned Duchess of Somerville, his wealthy and celebrated patron. “I went in and asked if he was looking for a shop girl. He didn’t recognize me. He hired me, and I had been there less than a month when Godfrey offered marriage. I was willing to do almost anything to get away from London. I lived in fear that Eggleston would find me and lock me away in some asylum where Mattie and Serena would never be able to find me.”

  “So you wed Warwick.”

  “Yes, and he took me to live in Slough.”

  Many of the questions he had about her past began to resolve in his mind. “I suppose the jewelry Warwick sold was yours, gems worthy of a duke’s daughter.”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you know about the jewels?”

  “I learned about them during the course of the investigation.”

  “Yet you never asked me about them.”

  “I supposed you would tell me anything you wanted me to know.” He paused. “The love letter that Godfrey found among your things. Was that perchance a missive from your brother?”

  “You know about that too?” She rose and went to the railing before turning around to look at him. “Yes, it was a letter Matthew sent me shortly before I ran away. It was all I had left of him.” She took a deep breath. “It added to Godfrey’s anger. When he didn’t find blatant evidence of my maidenhood, he was convinced there had been another man. I didn’t defend myself against his accusations. I was so young and inexperienced that I wasn’t certain whether or not Eggleston’s actions had truly robbed me of my innocence.”

  Atlas swallowed a curse. The suggestion that Eggleston’s abuse might have been that invasive of her body made him want to run the bastard through with a saber. “When we came to London, why did you not go to Somerville and tell him the truth, now that he has come of age?”

  “He was so young when I left. I knew Eggleston would have spent the last ten years poisoning him against me. I had no idea what kind of man he had become.” She leaned back against the railing, her hands resting on either side of her hips. “And when I saw Matthew in the park with Eggleston by his side, I knew I couldn’t risk going back.”

  “I think you underestimate your brother.”

  “Do I?” She sighed. “The men in my life have not always given me cause to trust them. I feared Eggleston would find a way to lock me away and separate me from my boys.”

  Atlas surged to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll send Thea to you and see that you are taken home.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To take care of Eggleston,” he called over his shoulder as he ran down the stairs.

  “Atlas,” she called to him from over the railing. “Stop. It’s over.”

  “No, it’s not. But it will be soon.”

  An inferno raged inside of Atlas as he stormed through the mansion’s endless corridors before finally reaching the drawing room. He zeroed in on Eggleston, who stood whispering in the duke’s ear. He strode straight to him, drawing off his white kid leather glove as he did so.

  “Atlas,” Thea called from behind him. “Is Lilliana all right?”

  He barely heard her. He halted before Eggleston and slapped the man hard across the cheek with his glove. “Hampstead Heath at dawn. Name your second, Eggleston.”

  Eggleston’s eyes went wide. A collective gasp sounded throughout the room.

  Somerville stepped forward. “What is this about, Catesby?”

  He did not take his eyes from Eggleston’s pale face. “My official letter of challenge will arrive at Somerville House tomorrow.”

  Charlton was suddenly by his side. “Surely, we can resolve this matter as gentlemen.”

  “No, we cannot.”

  Eggleston coughed. “Come now, Catesby.” His voice shook. “I have no idea what is the matter with you—”

  “Your very presence offends me.” He came closer until he was practically nose-to-nose with the bastard. “And I will not be satisfied until I have dealt with you in the manner you deserve.”

  Eggleston’s face turned an unhealthy shade of gray. “Whatever I have done to cause offense, I apologize.”

  Atlas stared him down. “I do not accept.” He wasn’t letting the whoreson off that easily.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Charlton asked.

  “Yes, do tell.” Malice swirled in Eggleston’s eyes. “What exactly is the offense I am accused of? I should like everyone in this chamber to hear of it.”

  “You little bastard.” After all he had done to Lilliana, the swine now intended to sully her name. Atlas whispered furiously in the older man’s ear. “Did you think you could take indecent liberties with a young girl, your own ward, who you were charged with protecting and nurturing, and not pay the price for it?”

  Somerville’s face flushed. “What are you speaking of, Catesby?” He stared at his former guardian, a look of disbelief on his face. “And where is my sister?”

  “In the library. I think she would welcome your presence there.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Well.” Charlton handed Atlas a drink. “You certainly know how to break up a perfectly good party.”

  They were in the earl’s drawing room along with Thea, who was pacing back and forth. Somerville remained closeted in the library with Lilliana. Eggleston, at least, had had the good judgment to depart quickly after the scene with Atlas.

  “Although,” the earl continued, “this supper that never happened will be notorious once word gets out that you issued a challenge here this evening.”

  Atlas took a sip and grimaced. “This is whiskey.”

  “I thought the occasion called for something stronger.” Charlton settled himself in an overstuffed chair and looked over toward Thea. “Perhaps you’d care to sit, Mrs. Palmer, before you tread a hole in my Axminster.”

  She rounded on him, her expression fierce. “This is not a laughing matter. Atlas, that big jackanapes over there, could be dead by the day after tomorrow at this time.”

  “Nonsense.” Atlas took another taste of whiskey, savoring the smoky, spicy flavor. “I’m an excellent shot.”

  “Why are you doing this?” She came to stand over him with her arms crossed over her chest. “What did Eggleston do to Lilliana?”

  Atlas examined the amber liquid in his glass. “This has nothing to do with Mrs. Warwick,” he said, unwilling to subject her reputation to the taint of yet another scandal. “It is a private matter between gentlemen and shall be settled as such.”

  She stared down at him. “You’re a terrible liar.” She pivoted to Charlton. “You’re supposed to be his friend. Talk him out of it.”

  Charlton placed his drink on the table beside him. “That would be rather difficult, as I have already agreed to be his second.”

  “You’ve what?” Outrage contorted her usually pleasing features. An angry Thea was a formidable sight, one that any sane man would try to avoid. “I should have known. You’re an even bigger idiot than he is.”

  “Why am I the bigger idiot,” Charlton asked, “when your brother is the one who will be on the business end of a pistol?”

  “Because cooler heads are supposed to prevail,” she snapped. Thea resumed her pacing. “A duel! It’s dangerous and ridiculous. I’ll neve
r understand why men are such imbeciles.”

  “Ladies have been known to duel as well,” Charlton protested.

  “I should like to see that.” The warmth of the whiskey floated through Atlas. “It’s said they do so in a state of partial dishabille,” he said, referring to the rumored practice of females dueling while topless.

  The two men exchanged a knowing grin. Thea threw up her hands. “I give up on the both of you. Acting like randy boys barely out of the schoolroom when there are lives at stake.” She marched out of the drawing room while calling for her wrap.

  Atlas bottomed out his whiskey. What Thea failed to grasp was that it was precisely because lives were at stake that he turned to humor to ease the tension.

  “I will do my best to try to settle this matter without violence,” Charlton said. In his capacity as Atlas’s second, it was his duty to determine whether an actual duel could be avoided.

  “Don’t you dare. The duel goes forward.”

  “I somehow suspected that would be your answer.” His expression became more somber. “As bad as all that, was it? What he did to her.”

  Atlas clenched his teeth. “Let’s just say a bullet wound is the very least of what he deserves.”

  “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Somerville entered the room and turned to Charlton. “Would you mind? I need a word alone with Catesby.”

  “Not at all.” Charlton rose and sauntered in the direction of the double doors that led to the dining room. “I think I’ll have a bite to eat. It would be a shame for all of Cook’s efforts to go to waste.”

  The pocket doors slid open as he approached, no doubt thanks to an alert footman stationed on the other side of them. Charlton turned to face the men. “Do join me, gentlemen, if you care to once you’ve had your talk.” He reached out and pulled the sliding doors shut, disappearing behind them and leaving Atlas and the duke to their privacy.

  “Mrs. Warwick?” Atlas looked to Somerville. “You spoke with her.”

  “Yes, she has just gone home with your sister.” Somerville’s expression was strained. “It seems I owe you my thanks.”