Dangerous Games of a Broken Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  “I desire only to speak with either the Duke or his mother,” she replied firmly. “I am in no trouble.”

  “Do not leave the poor girl out in the cold, Bartholomew,” a sharp voice called from inside the shadowed foyer. Adelaide attempted to peer over the butler’s shoulder, but she could not make out the speaker. The stern tone sent a shiver up her spine, reminding her of stark governesses from bygone days.

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Bartholomew muttered, gesturing for Adelaide to come inside. “Shall I have the kitchen prepare an early tea for you?”

  “If you would,” the speaker replied, though she was still nowhere to be seen.

  “Just through the door on the right,” Bartholomew urged, noting Adelaide’s confusion. “Do your companions care to come inside?”

  She smiled. “I think they would prefer to remain outside, thank you.”

  “Very well.” As the door closed behind her, Adelaide felt a sudden rush of panic. The comforting glow of the sunlight evaporated, leaving only the dark entrance hall of the Mayfair townhouse. Her sole exit to the outside world had been shut off. Indeed, Lady Francesca still stood on the steps beyond. If anything were to happen, she doubted anyone would come to her aid.

  What are you expecting to happen? she chided herself. The Dowager Duchess is likely to be perfectly civil towards you, given your attachment to her son. Truly, she wishes for the marriage to go ahead as much as anyone. You heard Reuben say so. With so many waifs and strays turning up at the door, no doubt she is eager for him to make an honest man of himself.

  Calming slightly, she glanced around. The walls of the entrance hall were paneled with dark mahogany, whilst the floorboards were cloaked in thick rugs of deep burgundy intertwined with rich navy. No scrap of natural light seemed able to find its way in, though oil lamps flickered down the hall. Tapestries hung from every wall, depicting classical ladies and refined gentleman in various states of action. Some remained motionless and stiff, sitting in chairs. Others stretched out in repose, whilst several images depicted fierce battles and proud soldiers. It was a curious mixture of art, with one central point of similarity--everything held a heavy, gothic quality.

  The butler disappeared down the stuffy corridor, abandoning Adelaide to her foolish undertaking. Ignoring her unease, she made her way into the first room on the right. The door was already open, leading into an equally gloomy drawing room.

  “I was wondering if I might have the pleasure of your company one day soon,” a voice remarked. Adelaide’s gaze flitted this way and that, but she could not pinpoint who had spoken. Two high-backed armchairs were positioned beside a roaring fire at the far side of the room. The Dowager had to be sat within one of them. Either that, or she was rather good at hiding.

  “Your Grace?”

  “Indeed, Lady Adelaide. Come, sit with me.”

  Forcing away the nausea that lingered in the pit of her stomach, she followed the sound of the Dowager’s voice. Sure enough, the old lady sat in the right-hand armchair. Despite her advancing years, she retained some semblance of beauty and elegance. Her silvery hair was arranged in a modern fashion, piled up in curls atop her head. Meanwhile, her eyes were sharp and clear. They gazed upon Adelaide in a hawkish fashion that made her feel like prey.

  “You knew I would come?”

  The Dowager smiled. “I thought you might, if you were akin to the tales that my son has told me of you.”

  “Your son has spoken of me?” She was oddly taken aback by the admission.

  “He is rather fond of you, or so it would seem,” she replied, with a flick of her slender wrist. “I have never seen him quite so enamored of a young lady before, and I have certainly never encountered one who might entice him towards marriage.”

  Adelaide gave a tight laugh. “Perhaps, the latter shall remain unachievable.”

  “You are concerned about the announcement?”

  “I am, Your Grace. Residing in London, you must be aware of how swiftly gossip may spread,” she explained quietly. “I happened to be at the Assembly Rooms the other evening, and news of our engagement already appeared to be common knowledge. I should hate to think that I have been fooled into believing your son is an honest gentleman, when he does not mean to wed me as he has promised.”

  The Dowager chuckled, taking Adelaide aback. “My son shall wed you in due course, as arranged. You must not worry, dear girl. He is a reckless creature of whims and fancies, but he is rather taken with you.” She offered an encouraging smile. “Indeed, I do not know how you have managed it, but I commend you for it.”

  “How do you know he still intends to wed me, Your Grace?”

  “Because he is my son, and I wish it of him,” she replied. “If he will not do so willingly, then you may rest assured that I will insist upon it.”

  Adelaide’s heart sank. “So, he does not wish to marry me?”

  “In truth, I believe he does. My son is a curious individual. He does not always process matters in the same way that others might,” she ventured. “No doubt the imminence of the engagement has startled him. He will return once he has managed to calm any disquiet within his mind.”

  Adelaide’s head snapped up. “Return?”

  “Indeed… I do not currently know of his whereabouts.”

  “He is missing?”

  The Dowager laughed. “He often vanishes for days on end. Occasionally, it may be weeks, but he always returns. I do not imagine this state of affairs shall be any different.”

  “Weeks?” Adelaide gasped.

  “You have nothing to fear, my dear. He will come back to you.”

  “And if he does not?”

  “He will, Lady Adelaide, one way or another.” Her tone carried an unsettling chill that made Adelaide’s blood run cold. Although she looked old and fragile, Adelaide had a feeling that there was more to the Dowager than met the eye. If Reuben did not come home of his own accord, she imagined there would be dire consequences.

  “Will the announcement go ahead, Your Grace?”

  The old lady reached out and took Adelaide’s hand. “It will, sweet girl. I shall see to it myself. That way, my son will understand that he cannot continue to hide from his responsibilities. I am not getting any younger, Lady Adelaide, and I should like to welcome grandchildren before my time is done. His days of amusing himself are at an end.”

  Adelaide flushed at the notion. “My mother and father will be most pleased to hear this news.”

  “And you, Lady Adelaide? Do my words comfort you?”

  She nodded. “They do, Your Grace”

  “Then I can ask for nothing more.” She clapped her hands together abruptly, frightening Adelaide out of her skin. “Now, where are those tea things? I am quite parched. Bartholomew! Where are the maids with our tea things?”

  Adelaide sat back in the comfortable armchair and let her gaze drift into the flickering flames that licked in the grate. She had not expected to be so welcomed by the Dowager, and she did not know how far to trust the friendliness. Although, she could understand the old lady’s position. Evidently, she wanted to secure her son’s future as keenly as Adelaide’s parents wished to secure hers. Children safeguarded legacies. Without a good marriage and an heir, everything the Fletchers had built would fall to nothing. They would become a half-remembered name in the annals of history.

  It made her think about her cousin, Charles Colborne, who stood to inherit all of her father’s lands and titles once he died. The notion of it had always stuck in Adelaide’s throat like a lump of dry bread. Being female, all of that was denied to her. Indeed, none of this would have happened if things were different. Had she been born a man, she would not have to marry for security. It did not seem fair. It never had.

  Half an hour, and several cups of tea later, Adelaide emerged from the townhouse to find Lady Francesca sitting on the front step with Edith. Neither looked best pleased.

  “At last,” Lady Francesca remarked bitterly. “I had quite given up on you.”r />
  “My apologies, Lady Francesca.”

  She stood and brushed down the back of her dress. “You were in there far longer than I expected.”

  “You are not the only one who is surprised.”

  “It was a success, then?”

  Adelaide gave a small shrug. “As successful as it could be, given the nature of my betrothed.”

  “But your engagement still stands?”

  “As far as the Dowager is concerned, it does.”

  Lady Francesca clapped her hands together in delight. “That is splendid news! Goodness me, I was so afraid for you.”

  “Truly, I thought my heart might leap right out of my mouth.”

  “Well then, what do you say to a celebration at Miverts Hotel? My treat. Edith, you do not mind, do you?”

  The chaperone shrugged. “You may do as you please. You usually tend to.”

  Adelaide giggled. “How can I possibly refuse?”

  They were halfway down the street when Lady Francesca removed something from her small bag. “That reminds me, a rather unpleasant young man handed us this note whilst you were inside. He said I was to give it directly to you.” She handed Adelaide a square of paper that had been folded and sealed without an emblem.

  “Did you get a good look at the man?”

  “Not really. He appeared to be an urchin of some kind. He frightened Edith half to death.”

  “He did that, Lady Adelaide,” Edith conceded.

  Adelaide frowned. “How very peculiar.”

  Lady Francesca nodded. “I thought so.”

  Cautiously, Adelaide unfurled the square of paper and read the words within. She held it close to her chest, to avoid the peering eyes of Lady Francesca. The handwriting was instantly recognizable.

  I am almost disappointed, my love. Don’t you know, marvelous things come to those who wait? Do not become like all the other girls, I beg you. Thinking of you.

  So, this is a game, she thought sadly. What was she supposed to do whilst she waited? After all, as she had said, patience was not a virtue she possessed.

  Chapter 8

  Jasper wandered along the Chelsea embankment, admiring the River Thames as it flowed away towards the sea. He often liked to walk by the riverside. It cleared his mind, blowing away any lurking cobwebs.

  That afternoon, he had much to think about.

  Memories of the previous day came flooding back, more troubling and vivid than ever. He pictured Adelaide staring listlessly out from the front step of her home, tears streaming down her cheeks. The desperation with which she had scoured the newspaper was not something he could easily forget. He could not recall a time when he had seen her in so much distress. Not knowing how to help her, he had placed his hand on her shoulder and hoped for the best. Even now, he chided himself for not doing more.

  Just that morning, he had attempted to speak with her. He had longed to make amends for his lack of fortitude in the face of her sadness. Upon arriving, however, he had found that she had already departed for Mayfair. She had gone with Lady Francesca, by all accounts. A surprising truth, for he did not think they were particularly close acquaintances.

  You ought to have done more, he told himself. You simply stood there and let her cry. Perhaps, she is seeking friendship elsewhere because you cannot offer the kindness she requires. Not to mention the fact you told her you would cast her aside in favor of Miss Green. Could you really do that to her? No wonder she is finding alternative company. Adelaide sent you away, didn’t she? When has she ever sent you away before?

  After her outburst, she had asked him to leave. The act had stung him to the core. It was not like their usual conflicts. There had been no playfulness to it. Truly, he had wanted to do so much more for her, and he had seen the disappointment in her eyes when he did not.

  From his window, he had watched her turn Miss Green away from the house, too. He had thought to run down and speak with Miss Green himself, to try and explain matters, but she had looked much too enraged. He was no coward, but he had learnt a long time ago that it was prudent to leave furious women alone.

  He and Adelaide had always enjoyed an unusual companionship. Others thought it peculiar. Miss Green had certainly been vocal about her opinion. However, he saw nothing strange in it at all. They locked horns from time to time, but what companions did not? They teased and amused one another, and spoke with a refreshing freedom. Adelaide was his dear friend and he hoped she would always be so. He had not meant it when he’d said he would have to make a choice between a friend and a romance. At least, he did not think he meant it. Now, he felt as though he were somehow losing her—a prospect more upsetting than he knew how to put into words, now that it was a potential actuality.

  Please believe that I intended to do more, he thought, as if she could somehow hear him. I would have attempted to fix your suffering, had I only asked what ailed you. I have grown so accustomed to our taunting that I forgot how to be sympathetic. I forgot how to act when you were in genuine pain.

  He supposed her distress had something to do with the lack of announcement in the previous day’s newspaper. It had not been there this morning, either. As much as he disliked Reuben Fletcher, he knew how invested in the match Adelaide was. He would rather have seen the announcement and simmered in silence than have her weep.

  “You devil,” he muttered aloud, swiping his cane at a stray daisy that poked through the masonry ahead.

  “Now, that is not a particularly kind thing to say, is it?” a voice shivered through the air like ice.

  Jasper whirled around. “Who goes there?”

  “You do not recognize my voice, yet you call me devil?”

  He narrowed his eyes, attempting to peer into the unseen shadows that lined the embankment. “Duke?”

  “If only.” The voice chuckled as a figure emerged from behind a nearby cluster of trees. Jasper frowned to try and make out the face, but the gentleman wore a top hat. It cast a darkness across his features. “What is the matter, Lord Gillett? Do you not recognize me?”

  A tremor bristled up his spine. “Lord Rowntree?”

  “And here I was, believing I had not made a keen enough impression upon you.” He flashed a cold grin. “You see, I have been waiting, Lord Gillett.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Ordinarily, I am a patient man, but the task I have set you is somewhat time sensitive. I informed your… employer of its sensitivity over a week ago now,” he went on, every word making Jasper want to run for cover. “And yet, days pass, and I hear no word from him. We did not even begin to discuss the fundamentals before we were interrupted at the Assembly Rooms.”

  Jasper cleared his throat. “Had you asked to hear from him?”

  “Of course,” Lord Rowntree snapped. “How else am I supposed to get this enterprise underway?”

  “If it is the Earl of Leeds that you wish to converse with, why have you accosted me?” Jasper wondered boldly. “Presumably, you have followed me on my walk here. I believe I deserve to know your reasoning.”

  Lord Rowntree laughed icily. “As I say, I am a patient man. However, I have certain expectations,” he explained. “The Earl agreed to my terms and yet he offers me naught but silence. Such a transgression cannot be ignored.”

  “Perhaps, he has changed his mind?”

  “He has already taken half the fee, Lord Gillet. He cannot change his mind. He requires that money, does he not? He seemed rather desperate when he came to me. I might have asked why he needed it, but that is not in my nature—I do not like to pry into the minutiae of peoples’ troubles.”

  “You would have to speak with him yourself. This is none of my concern.” Jasper made to walk away, but Lord Rowntree darted forwards to block his path. With painstaking slowness, he pulled back the corner of his long coat to reveal a set of glinting blades.

  Jasper froze. His eyes glanced up and down the embankment, but there was no one else wandering the riverside. It was much too cold and the threat of rain
hovered in the darkening clouds. He did not much care for the Bow Street Runners, but, in that moment, he wished they might suddenly appear.

  “I am not finished speaking with you,” Lord Rowntree warned.

  “I can do nothing to help you and threatening me will do no good.” Jasper was grateful that his voice did not waver. He was a reasonable boxer, but he did not relish the idea of facing Lord Rowntree’s knives. The villain was infamous for a reason. Murder gave him little pause for thought.

  Lord Rowntree flashed an alarming smile. “No, perhaps you are right. I doubt threatening you will be of any use at all,” he said coolly. “That pretty little thing at the Assembly Rooms, however… an acquaintance of yours, is she not?”