Barons, Brides, and Spies: Regency Series Starter Collection Volume Two

by Mary Lancaster

  “Who is Geoffrey?”

  “Geoffrey Verney is the squire’s son. He taught me to ride.”

  There was a smudge on her cheek, her hair hung down in disarray, but a keen light still shone in her eyes. Luminous brown eyes a man could drown in. He shook his head with a slight grin. “And will you now settle down in Cumbria with a quiet, reliable husband? This Geoffrey, perhaps?”

  A frown creased her smooth forehead. “No, Geoffrey is a friend.” Letty put a hand to her mouth to hide another yawn. She looked nothing like the gently-reared niece of a vicar in that soiled gown. Would she return home and marry this friend of hers, Geoffrey? Certainly possible, despite her denial, but he found the idea not to his liking. “Perhaps a nap?”

  “Yes.” She nodded sleepily and settled back on the carriage seat opposite, tucking her legs up.

  He stripped off his coat and covered her with it, then sat back and watched her, slightly amused at her abandoning any attempt at decorum, but also very much stirred and flattered by the trust she showed in him. Her disarray seemed to emphasize rather than diminish her fresh, youthful innocence. He would see her home, and once she’d moved out from under Lady Arietta’s roof, that would be the end of their association. He found this very unappealing.

  Two hours later, the streets of London appeared under a darkening sky. “Letty?” he said quietly. He leaned over and gently shook her shoulder.

  She stirred and sat up. “Oh! Have we arrived?”

  “We are just entering Mayfair.”

  “I’ve come to a decision about what we discussed, Brandon,” she said, her hands busy at her hair. “I will stay with Arietta for the time being. Surely it’s better I should try to find out what lies behind her curious behavior.” She rushed on before he could interrupt. “Kendall might have been a French spy, but it doesn’t mean that she is.”

  He frowned. “Either way, I don’t want you living with her. It’s not safe, Letty.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Arietta would never hurt me.”

  “She hasn’t cared too much for your safety until now, has she?”

  “That isn’t fair. It would never occur to her that I could be snatched away from a ball by a gang of murderers, now would it?” She scowled at him. “I suppose you’d prefer me to return to Cumbria?”

  “Far be it from me to suggest you leave before your Season ends, but if there’s no one suitable to chaperone you, it would be wise.” He brushed away his own selfish motives, not having to worry about her, as well as removing her from the lure she held for him. Letty had got too far under his skin for his liking.

  “Well, I appreciate your advice.” She stiffened her shoulders. “But I shall decide what’s best for me.”

  Frustrated, he frowned at her. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

  She shrugged and glanced away. “I shan’t bother you again, have no fear.”

  “Letty, if you have need of me…”

  She firmed her lips but said nothing.

  He had made a hash of it and now it was too late. The carriage had pulled up outside Arietta’s townhouse.

  After he assisted her down, the butler opened the door.

  Letty coolly curtsied. “It has been quite an adventure, Mr. Cartwright. Thank you for bringing me through it safely. I doubt we shall meet again. I am to be presented to Queen Charlotte in her drawing room next week. The following evening, we shall go to Almack’s Assembly Rooms. One hears so much about it, one can’t leave London without experiencing it,” she added airily.

  “The marriage mart? I hope you are not disappointed.” he said, rising to the bait.

  “Is that what it is called? Then I don’t expect to see you there. I suspect it would find little favor with you.”

  He sighed, he could hardly argue with her here on the pavement with the butler watching on. Better to work behind the scenes to remove her from Arietta’s influence. “It is my hope that you will enjoy the rest of your Season, Miss Bromley.” He offered her his arm and escorted her to the front door. “Even if you do not see me, know I am never far away if you should need me.”

  Her gaze flew to his with an expression he found hard to interpret. “I foresee no reason to need you, but I am grateful, thank you.”

  They reached the porch. “Be happy, Letty,” he murmured, bowed, and left her.

  The front door closed behind her as he crossed the pavement, annoyed with himself for suffering some inexplicable sense of losing something precious. He would not drag Letty down into his world when she deserved so much better. Advising the driver of his home address, Brandon entered the chaise. He must bathe and change, then go to Whitehall to give Willard his news. No doubt he would be anxious to hear it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Holmes’s imperturbable butler’s manner faltered. His eyes wide, mouth ajar, he took in the state of her appearance. “Miss Bromley! Lady Arietta has been most dreadfully upset.”

  Letty swung around at a cry. Footsteps ran lightly down the marble staircase.

  “Letitia!” Arietta gasped when she reached her. “I’ve been frantic. Where have you been?” Not waiting for an answer, she placed an arm around Letty’s shoulders and drew her toward the stairs. “I feared you might have eloped.”

  Letty stared. “Eloped? Who with…?”

  “Some catastrophe has befallen you. A carriage accident?” Arietta glanced at the footman who had just entered the hall. “You shall tell me all about it upstairs. Are you hungry?” A foot on the step, Arietta turned to the butler. “Poor Miss Bromley has suffered a carriage accident, Holmes. Order tea and sandwiches, and some of Cook’s carrot cake. She will have it in her bedchamber.”

  Once the door closed behind them, Arietta burst into noisy tears. She fumbled for the lace handkerchief tucked into her sleeve and sobbed into it. “I was so worried, Letitia, you cannot imagine. I shall be patient until you’ve bathed and changed your gown and are more comfortable. And then you must tell me what happened from the moment you disappeared at the ball!”

  On the long journey back to Mayfair, Letty had discussed with Brandon what to tell Arietta. She was to stick as close to the truth as possible while withholding what was said about her late husband.

  When she had bathed and changed into a dressing gown, she joined Arietta on the sofa in her room.

  “Lord Fraughton, Mr. Descrier, and Lord Elford were involved in smuggling?” Arietta exclaimed, after Letty had given a brief account of what had happened, omitting some of the more scandalous aspects of her and Brandon’s experience. “Kendall and I knew them socially, but not this Marston.”

  “Did Sir Gareth mention anything about these men?” Letty swallowed the last of the ham and cress sandwiches and picked up a slice of iced cake.

  “I doubt he would have even if he had heard something. He did seek to spare me anything unsavory. He thought of women as delicate beings. And dear Kendall would never become involved with smugglers.”

  “Mr. Cartwright can be of no further interest, surely.”

  Arietta frowned. “Perhaps not. It would appear he is working for the Home Office in this matter.”

  “Yes, and he looked after me. He was a gentleman.”

  “Well, that’s to be applauded, Letitia, certainly,” Arietta said thoughtfully. “One would expect him to say nothing about your involvement in this episode, for he might find himself compromised.”

  “Compromised?” Letty asked, surprise distracting her from Arietta’s volte-face about Brandon.

  “Well, you did spend the night together. It would be damaging to you both should it be put about.” She raised her eyebrows. “Unless he wishes to marry you?”

  “You don’t understand!” Letty pulled back the sleeve of her dressing gown and showed Arietta the raised welts on her wrist. “We were both tied up!” She thought it prudent not to add they were tied together, it might give the wrong impression. Lying a foot away from Brandon, his handsome mouth at kissing distance. She wished now that he had kis
sed her. She might have something to remember. Frowning, she forced herself back on track.

  “Oh, how horrible!” Arietta’s eyes filled with tears again. “I shall send for a salve, and some arnica for your poor chin.”

  “Mr. Cartwright doesn’t have the remotest desire to marry me,” Letty said firmly. “Nor do I consider him a possible husband.” She could never allow herself to dwell on such a possibility, for it would surely result in heartache.

  “Well, that’s to the good then.” Arietta poured out another cup of tea from the pot. “If the business is hushed up, I’m sure nothing will come of it.”

  Letty had little fear that the ton would hear about it. Whitehall would surely draw a cloak of secrecy over it. She ate the last of the cake, sipped her tea, and watched Arietta blow her nose, wondering if she would give up her quest now to uncover the truth behind her husband’s death. She seemed, thankfully, to have lost interest in Brandon.

  “I’m sorry about the costume,” Letty said.

  “A trifling matter, my dear. Don’t give it another thought. On a lighter note, your court gown has arrived. Adele has placed it in your wardrobe.”

  A surge of anxiety tightened Letty’s stomach. Her curtsey to the queen was looming, and her uncle and aunt eager to hear of it. “Shouldn’t I do more to prepare for my presentation, Arietta?”

  “There is not much to do. I shall go through the details of the ceremony with you tomorrow, and if your ankle is better, you can practice until your entry and exit from the room, and your curtsy, are perfect.”

  “Thank you, Arietta.” Letty’s voice trembled. How on earth would she explain to Uncle Alford if she missed it? The suggestion of an ankle injury would bring him to London. “I’m so grateful for your generosity.”

  “Nonsense. It is my pleasure as I’ve told you.” Arietta kissed Letty’s cheek. “You must rest now, for you look quite drained. It’s important you look your best, for I have accepted two engagements for this week.” She stood. “Now, I shall order a light supper to be sent to you after you’ve had a nice long rest. Best to stay quietly in your room tonight.”

  “Yes, Arietta,” Letty said meekly.

  When Arietta had gone, Letty rushed to the wardrobe. The gown held no surprises, she had tried it on twice, but hoped somehow it would become something more pleasing. It had not. It was still an odd style with its wide hoop, flat at the front, the waist sitting just beneath the short low-cut bodice. It seemed to represent something to be endured rather than enjoyed. She could not think of it now and shut the wardrobe door.

  With the intention of going over everything that had occurred after she was snatched from the masquerade, Letty crawled onto her bed. But once she rested her head on the pillow, her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted into sleep.

  Letty woke at a knock on the door. “Come in.”

  The footman entered, carrying a tray. “I hope you are feeling better, Miss Bromley.” He smiled at her and placed it on a table.

  “I am. Thank you, Joseph.” Letty breathed in the tasty aromas filling the room and discovered she was hungry again.

  She sat at the table and sipped from a fortifying glass of red wine. Chicken soup, thinly sliced ham, salad, bread, and a slice of apple tart. She sighed, so relieved to be back in comfortable and safe surroundings.

  Some hours later, filled with renewed energy, she glanced at the mantel clock. Eleven o’clock. Perhaps Arietta was still awake and might welcome some company.

  Letty knocked on Arietta’s bedchamber door but received no answer. Returning to her room, she quickly dressed in her blue cambric that buttoned down the front, donned her house slippers, tidied her hair, and descended the staircase. The marble foyer stood empty, the butler having retired and the footman who was to replace him, not in position.

  The salon lay in darkness, but light rimmed the drawing room doors. The voices were too soft to guess who it might be. A dinner guest? Letty’s hand hovered indecisively over the latch. It might not please Arietta should she interrupt them. As she turned away, the voices grew louder. Arietta raised her voice, and Letty distinctly heard her say the man’s name. Pierse.

  Startled, Letty backed away, turned, and hurried down the corridor. Pierse was the Frenchman who’d been with Fraughton in the library when she and Brandon hid in the closet.

  The footman now at his station in the entry hall, stared at her.

  Letty slowed her steps and forced a smile. “I wished for some chocolate,” she said, a hand on the banister-rail. “I didn’t want to disturb the staff, and was going to make it myself, as I often do in Cumbria.”

  “Might I fetch some for you, Miss Bromley?”

  “No, thank you, Joseph. I’ve changed my mind.” She yawned. bringing a hand to her mouth. “I find myself most awfully sleepy. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Miss Bromley.”

  As she hurried up the stairs, she heard the door to the drawing room open.

  Letty reached the landing as they entered the front hall.

  “It was good of you to call, Monsieur Pierse.” Arietta’s voice floated up. “You must be fatigued having just arrived from France.”

  “A little perhaps,” Pierse replied. “We shall meet again, soon, oui?”

  The front door closed on him. Letty hovered on the landing while Arietta spoke to Joseph, wondering if the footman would give her away. She sagged with relief when he didn’t. Arietta said goodnight and began to climb the stairs.

  Her heart pounding, Letty ran lightly over the carpet to her bedchamber. As she pulled her gown over her head, a seam ripped. She kicked off her slippers, then shoved the lot into her wardrobe. She snuffed out the candles, climbed into bed, and drew the covers up to her chin.

  Moments later, the door opened. “Letitia?”

  With a mumbled reply, Letty rolled over and blinked at the shape of Arietta outlined by the sconces in the corridor.

  “Just making sure you are all right, my dear. Good night.” The door shut again.

  Letty lay staring into the dark. She wished she could have heard what they talked about. Her initial desire to warn Arietta, was quickly quashed. Arietta had made no mention of a visitor. Because he’d called so late, it appeared secretive, when it really might not be that at all. The Frenchman could be an old friend of Kendall’s. Had he known that Fraughton was dead?

  Whether his visit to Arietta was something concerning or not, Brandon must be warned. But she had no idea where he lived. She thumped her pillow which had turned into a rock. What to do? It was impossible to send a letter to Whitehall; all the post was dealt with by the butler. And Brandon may not appreciate it.

  She might find Brandon at the card party they were to attend the following evening, or failing that, the soiree on Saturday. Her heart still thudded uncomfortably. Had Arietta lied to her? Did she, as Brandon had suggested, have some secret agenda? Letty could do nothing until she spoke to him, and only hoped it would be before her curtsey to the queen, for she was sure it would not go well with this weighing heavily upon her.

  Brandon sat in a leather chair in Fraser Willard’s library nursing a brandy. He had revealed all that transpired and now waited in the charged atmosphere while his spymaster digested it.

  “I still can’t see Napoleon’s connection to the opium smuggling. They fear this Journal Noir being discovered, however,” Willard said. “That much is clear. And are determined it never sees the light of day. It is sure to prove of great interest to Whitehall.”

  “I’m informed Robert Marston has gone into hiding.” Willard rose to top up their glasses. “He hasn’t been seen in London. And as there’s no record of him having fled to France, someone must be sheltering him.”

  With a nod of thanks, Brandon accepted the freshly filled glass. “Has the comtesse been in contact?”

  “Yes. She received an unwelcome visitor. The porter was stabbed to death, and her Paris apartment turned upside down. Her country estate, too, although there was no staff except an aged caretake
r—the house was closed, everything under holland covers, apparently. Nothing taken from either residence. The comtesse has been staying at a friend’s apartment and assures us the journal remains in her possession.”

  “I’m relieved to hear she wasn’t hurt.”

  “The bad news is that Comte de Lavalette’s appeal has been dismissed, and the date of his execution set for Thursday.”

  Brandon released a breath. “We run out of time. We need to keep these men behind bars in case Lavalette reaches London. Is the escape plan still in place? Does she say?”

  “She assures us everything is prepared for his rescue. It is to take place within days.”

  “Did she explain what she has in mind?”

  “No, she prefers not to. She fears her letter may be intercepted.”

  “Then we must curb our curiosity and wait.” Brandon rubbed the prickles on the back of his neck. He found the waiting excruciating.

  “And in the meantime, see if you can sniff out Marston. Visit his old haunts. Bring him back alive if you can. We need to question him.”

  “I’ll start at the Covent Garden brothel he favors,” Brandon said, pleased to see some action. “Not a man of taste by all accounts.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  After breakfast the next day, Letty tried on the court dress the price of which had shocked her. She’d seen the bill from the dressmaker, before Arietta whisked it away saying it was a necessary expense. Such a lot of work had gone into the making of it, and understandably so, embroidered as it was with wreaths of silver leaves and decorated with rows of lace, ribbons, and bows. It was undeniably pretty. Unfortunately, it didn’t flatter her. She looked rather like one of those balloons that carried people aloft in a basket. While she could not like the style, just stepping into it and having Adele do up the hooks brought a rush of excitement. She gathered up the skirts and the long train and carefully descended the stairs to the drawing room where Arietta waited.

  “The magnolia white suits your complexion,” Arietta said. “Debut court gowns are notoriously unflattering, we must lay the blame for that at the door of Queen Charlotte and the Prince of Wales who insist on employing last century’s hoop but with the fashionable high waist. Do you like the headdress?”