by Lucy Adams
“Brown.”
She hesitated. “And his eyes? Was he rotund or thin? Tall or a little short?”
Lord Hazelton’s jaw worked for a moment, his eyes flashing, and she feared he might refuse to answer. Then, with a heavy sigh, he set his jaw and looked at her again.
“Your husband had green eyes, if I recall correctly,” he stated, quite firmly. “He was as tall as I and certainly not rotund by any means. In addition, he had a thick, full beard and moustache, which were tinged here and there with grey.” He cleared his throat. “I am sure of it.”
Bridgette let out a laugh at this, rising to her feet and waiting until Lord Hazelton did the same.
“Then I can assure you, Lord Hazelton, that you are quite mistaken,” she said, dropping into a quick curtsy. “My late husband had blue eyes, was only a little taller than I and certainly was not of a slim build, and nor did he have a beard nor a moustache! In short, my lord, I believe that you have him confused with someone else.” She arched one eyebrow at him, seeing his confusion as he looked at her with a furrowed brow but no anger now in his gaze. “Mayhap there is a Lord Callanish or a Lord Carrington that you might have confused with my late husband.”
“I do not think I have done so,” Lord Hazelton said, blinking rapidly as he dropped his eyes to the floor. “Lady Callander, the reason I came to call upon you was not to argue with you.”
Looking up into his face, Bridgette sighed inwardly and forced herself to smile at him again. “I am sure you did not intend to have such a heated discussion,” she said, practically. “For neither was that my intention.”
Lord Hazelton seemed to be struggling to find the right words to say, clearing his throat roughly as he tried to speak. “The fact is…..” He stopped. “The truth is, Lady Hazelton, I — ”
A scratch came to the door just as he was about to express something that Bridgette was quite sure she did not want to hear. Calling for the person to enter, she turned back to Lord Hazelton and dipped into another curtsy.
“I am sure we will have a much better conversation the next time we meet, Lord Hazelton,” she said, with as much sweetness as she could muster. “Until our next meeting.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the butler coming into the room, no doubt about to introduce yet another gentleman caller to her. With a small smile in Lord Hazelton’s direction, she turned bodily to face the butler, turning all of her attention onto whoever was next to come into the room.
“You have Lord Hessington come to call to you, my lady,” the butler said, with a small inclination of his head. “Will I ask him to come in?”
Bridgette glanced back at Lord Hazelton, who was frowning still, one hand rubbing between his brows as though he was trying to erase the confusion that grabbed at his mind.
“Yes, if you please, once Lord Hazelton has taken his leave,” she said loudly, turning back to Lord Hazelton and fixing a smile to her face that she knew did not reach her eyes. “I bid you good afternoon, Lord Hazelton.”
It was as if she had spoken into a long silence, for Lord Hazelton started violently and then looked at her in puzzlement. After a moment, his expression cleared and he began to stammer, stumbling towards the door as he went.
“I thank you, Lady Callander,” he said, bowing again, his features still etched with confusion. “I thank you for your time and your willingness to listen to me.”
Bridgette wanted to say that she had not been permitted anything other than to listen to him but wisely chose not to do so. “Good afternoon, Lord Hazelton,” she said again, eager for him to step out of the room so that she might take even just a few seconds to collect herself. After another moment, Lord Hazelton nodded, bowed yet again, shuffled his feet, muttered something to himself and then stepped out into the hallway.
Bridgette let out a long sigh, falling back into her chair and closing her eyes. No doubt the butler would be at the door in a moment with Lord Hessington ready to launch into another banal conversation which she would have to endure. Whatever had Lord Hazelton been speaking of? Why had his description of her late husband been so very different to her own? She simply could not make sense of it, frowning hard to herself as she tried to understand what he had meant. Lord Hazelton had seemed to be very certain that the man he had been describing had been Lord Callander, whereas she knew for certain that it could not be. Even though his description of the fellow had been incorrect, she knew for certain that to describe him as ‘jovial’ and ‘good humored’ was almost laughable! The late Lord Callander had been never been cruel to her but certainly had never been in a good humor. He had been dull and dispirited, and even though she had never quite understood his urgency when it had come to marrying her, Bridgette was quite certain she knew the gentleman she had married.
Lord Hazelton had simply confused him with someone else, she decided, sitting up a little straighter and forcing herself to smile as the door opened and the butler came in. There was no need to think of it any longer, it had merely been an error on his part. And what did it matter now? Her husband was long in his grave and she now entirely free of him.
In fact, she decided, rising to curtsy towards Lord Hessington, she did not even want to think of Lord Callander again. Her life was her own, her choices hers to make and nothing was going to take any of her newfound happiness away.
Chapter Two
Studying his cards carefully, Sebastian, the Earl of Millerton, picked up one from the pile in the middle and then looked at his cards anew. It was a very basic game but one that he very much enjoyed, for it took both skill and luck to win.
“You are taking much too long, Millerton,” one of the other gentlemen complained. “Do hurry up.”
Sebastian chuckled, the chose another card from his hand and set it down in the middle. A murmur ran around the group of men seated at the table but Sebastian did not make any comment nor allow any expression to come across his face. All that he required was to keep his nerve, hide his hand and pray that the rest of the cards would treat him well.
“So,” said Lord Chesterfield, who had only just played his hand. “You are back for another Season, it seems.”
Sebastian shrugged. “What else is there to do but come to London?” he asked, as Lord Chesterfield laughed softly. “To remain at the estate would make me a very dull gentleman indeed.”
Lord Chesterfield lifted one eyebrow, giving Sebastian a knowing look. “You hope to find a wife this Season, mayhap?”
Trying not to feel the ripple of awkward tension that ran down his spine at such a remark, Sebastian tried to keep his face in a nonchalant expression. “I do not know,” he said, sounding rather bored. “There has never been anyone to catch my eye thus far, but you can never tell what will happen!”
“That is true enough,” Lord Chesterfield grinned, giving Sebastian a sly wink. “But I know you well enough to state that you will certainly need a wife soon, given that you must produce the heir.”
Again, Sebastian felt his skin prickle at such a remark but said nothing, letting out a small sigh as though he was wearying of such a conversation.
“You may pretend otherwise,” Lord Chesterfield continued, chuckling, “but do not think that you can hide such a truth from me.” His smile slipped and the light faded from his eyes. “You are not the only one who finds yourself in such a position.”
Sebastian looked at his friend in surprise. “But you have never once mentioned an eagerness to wed,” he said, taking the opportunity to mock Lord Chesterfield a little. “Do not tell me that you have to step away from the joyous pursuit of pleasures and excitement in order to properly focus on finding yourself a wife?” He grinned, knowing full well that Lord Chesterfield liked nothing more than to spend the majority of the Season going from one occasion to the next, reveling in all that came with being a part of the beau monde. In all the years he had been friends with Lord Chesterfield, Sebastian had never once seen him take even the slightest notice of any young lady in particular. Yes, he l
iked to flirt with them, to dance and laugh with them, and certainly appreciated when their attentions were fixed solely upon him, but he had never once taken any young lady courting! Were things truly about to change?
“In short,” Lord Chesterfield said, eyeing his cards as he considered what was now on the table before them, “my mother has returned to my estate instead of living at the Dower house, as she ought.”
Sebastian frowned. A lady of the house did not tend to remove to the Dower House until her eldest son was wed. Most likely, Lord Chesterfield had encouraged his mother to do so, simply because he did not want her company.
“And she will not return there until she finds that I am secured to a young lady of good breeding and an excellent fortune,” Lord Chesterfield continued, heavily. “Can you imagine it?”
Unable to keep the smirk from his face, Sebastian dropped his head, pretending to scrutinize his cards rather than to look at the gentleman. Lord Chesterfield sighed and then placed his card down on the table, meaning that it was now Sebastian’s turn.
“The old witch has me quite stuck,” Lord Chesterfield continued, muttering under his breath as Sebastian took his turn. “I do not know what I am to do!”
“I do not think I have ever seen you cowed before a woman,” Sebastian remarked, with a sly smile.
Lord Chesterfield let out an exasperated sigh. “It is only because her dear friend, the Dowager Netherdale, has been blessed with a grandchild of late,” he said, with a roll of his eyes. “And thus, my mother has decided that she would also like such a thing—not because she has any sort of affection for the idea, but rather so that her friend will not outdo her in some way.” Rolling his eyes, he waited for the gentleman next to him to play his hand, eyeing the cards on the table in an auspicious manner. “Therefore, if I am to rid her from my house, I must find a wife this Season.” He suddenly looked at Sebastian hopefully, his eyes flaring with a light that spoke of a new idea. “I say, could we not both assist each other in such a manner?”
All joviality left Sebastian at once as he looked at Lord Chesterfield. “Assist?” he repeated, as though such a word tasted quite bitter on his tongue. “You forget that I am not searching for a bride.”
Lord Chesterfield waved a hand. “Nonsense,” he stated, with a firm shake of his head. “Of course you are. You must. Now, even if you court the lady but decide that she is not the sort of creature for you, the task at hand remains the same. You shall assist me in securing a promising, pretty creature for my bride, and I shall do the same for you.”
“I have no need for your advice,” Sebastian replied quickly, only for Lord Chesterfield to wave a hand dismissively.
“Of course you do, of course you do,” he said, firmly. “Everyone knows that a gentleman ought to secure the opinions of others before he decides on a wife! Else, he might be caught up in only the lady’s beauty and miss the viper tongue that is so plain for others to see!” He chuckled at this but Sebastian only winced, fully aware that everything Lord Chesterfield said was true but still finding himself quite reluctant to agree.
“As I have said, I have no desire to secure a wife at present,” he said, but it was to no avail. Lord Chesterfield, appearing now to be in very high spirits, slammed down his hand of cards, showing the rest of the gentlemen that he had won and, chuckling, slapped Sebastian hard on the back.
“Capital!” he boomed, grinning broadly at Sebastian, who was struggling to show any sign of contentment back in return. “You will be at Lord and Lady Whitehaven’s ball this evening, I presume?” Seeing Sebastian’s feeble nod, he laughed and clapped Sebastian hard on the back again. “Then I look forward to seeing you then, so that we might begin this momentous task!” With a chuckle, he rose from the table and moved away, leaving Sebastian sitting, somewhat stupefied, with the other gentlemen.
“I cannot quite believe he won,” he heard someone say, finding himself blinking rapidly at what had just been decided. “That gentleman is always rather lucky, I must say.”
“Indeed,” he heard another gentleman remark. “And with those shipments, I cannot quite……”
Sebastian pulled himself out of his own thoughts and listened hard, trying to overhear what else was being said, only for the two men to wander too far away. Shipments?
He was alert at once, his mind turning over what had just been said. It was not as though there was anything untoward about Lord Chesterfield having shipments and the like arriving at the docks, for many gentlemen did such things but for Sebastian, it was a piece of information that he would now have to pass on, knowing that it might soon prove to be very useful indeed. There had been someone in London smuggling spies from other countries into England but as yet, no-one had caught them. Could it be Lord Chesterfield?
Do not be so ridiculous. Frowning, Sebastian stood up and straightened, telling himself that it was time to return home to prepare for this evening’s ball. And yet, another part of him wanted to go to the other two gentlemen who had been talking to see if he could find out anything more. Battling between his two different desires, Sebastian let out a long, steadying breath and tried to think clearly. He would see Lord Chesterfield again this evening, which meant there was certainly no need for him to hurry after him now and try to wring out some information from him about these supposed shipments. And besides which, he told himself, sternly, he was being overly cautious. Such a remark probably meant very little indeed.
With a long breath, Sebastian set his shoulders and walked to his host, taking his leave but thanking the gentleman for a very pleasant afternoon. Feeling rather glad that he had decided to return to his own townhouse on foot rather than taking his carriage, Sebastian set out along the pavement, enjoying the afternoon sunshine and finding that his mind became a little more settled as he walked.
Being a part of The King’s League meant that he was, of course, constantly on his guard. He had been a part of the group for some three years now, but last Season, he had found himself embroiled in a particularly difficult situation which, whilst resolved, had left its mark upon the group. One of the gentlemen involved in trying to decipher the truth of the situation had lost his life, and some others had been gravely injured. He had not sustained anything particularly terrible, but to know that a friend of his had died at the hand of their quarry had been galling. He had found it difficult to return to the League, not because he was afraid for his own safety but rather because he was so torn with sorrow whenever he realized that there was one of them absent, never to return.
You still have responsibilities. Do not let his death be in vain
It was words he had spoken to himself many times before but Sebastian knew that he still needed to remind himself of such things. Being in The King’s League brought danger with it, no matter where one was or what one did, but it was a risk that each gentleman accepted when they joined. To keep the country and the King and Prince Regent safe from enemies who crept in, hidden in shadow and falsehoods, was one of the greatest privileges Sebastian had ever known, and he was not about to turn away from it now.
Consider things carefully, Sebastian. He had to take his time and not hurry towards conclusions that did not make sense. Just because the League had found out from a captured enemy that there was someone smuggling others such as he into the country did not mean that Lord Chesterton was involved! He was being much too eager, much too hasty in his thinking. After last Season, Sebastian knew he was desperate to bring any new investigations to a swift conclusion, so as to avoid all danger and to minimize the chances of someone else’s life to be brought to a sudden end. It was a strange, unsettling feeling and he certainly did not much like it.
“Lord— Lord Millerton?”
He stopped at once, lifting his head up and looking into the face of a young lady. A young lady whose light green eyes, auburn hair and gentle smile sent his heart into a hurried hammering, which did not slow down even as he bowed.
“Good afternoon, Lady Callander,” he said, with a small,
tight smile that he hoped did not betray his astonishment at seeing her. “You have returned to London for the Season?”
Lady Callander had been with Sebastian last Season, when they had both helped the League discover the truth to a deep and disturbing mystery that had caught them both up within it. He had found her to be wise, determined, and loyal but given all that had occurred and all that he had felt afterwards, he had not continued to keep up his acquaintance with her. In fact, he could recall taking his leave of her, feeling almost numb as he walked from the room. He did not know how she herself had felt over his departure, nor how she had managed to deal with all that had occurred with her friend, but to see her now, she seemed entirely unchanged.
“I have,” Lady Callander replied, with a small smile catching one side of her mouth as she looked up at him, her eyes holding his and reminding him of just how he had admired her last Season. “And you?”
“I have returned also,” he said, feeling rather foolish as he said something that was so very apparent. He cleared his throat, not wanting there to be any sort of silence between them. “And just how long have you been in London?”
She lifted one shoulder. “A fortnight or so,” she answered, although she did not smile and indeed, he noticed her eyes drifting away from his face. “I have not seen Lady Franks yet, of course, even though I hear she has returned to London.”
Knowing that she was referring to her friend, who had married Lord Franks a little less than a year ago, Sebastian nodded his head, finding it quite difficult to speak to the lady, even though they had shared so much together the previous Season. “I am sure you will see her soon,” he said, with a tight smile. “Do you have plans for this evening?”
Lady Callander’s eyes returned to his in a moment, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “I will attend Lord Whitehaven’s ball this evening.”