“I’ll send you a message when I arrange something.”
Andrew Stanford stood up at the same time as the major and glanced over at Lucy.
“You have monopolized Miss Harrington, Robert, and now I have to go.” He mock-frowned at Lucy. “I’ll come down with you if I may. My carriage is at your disposal.”
Lucy smiled at Mr. Stanford. “I’m sure Mrs. Giffin was an excellent replacement for me.”
“Please don’t ask me to answer that, Miss Harrington. How could I choose between two such wonderfully enchanting ladies?”
Major Kurland cleared his throat. “If you’ve quite finished, Stanford?”
“I believe I have.” Mr. Stanford bowed low to Lucy and then to Sophia. “Good-bye, ladies. I will be back tomorrow to take you both to the park as promised.”
The two men left together and Sophia gathered up the spent cups and saucers, and placed them on the tea tray.
Lucy stood staring at the door, her mind whirling with possibilities, none of which was very pleasant. If the physician was correct and Broughton had been poisoned, who was responsible? If it was Oliver’s idea of a prank, it had gone disastrously wrong and ended up taking his grandmother’s life. His life would be over at three-and-twenty. If it wasn’t Oliver, did someone else hate the Broughton family so much that he or she was willing to kill more than one of them to achieve their goal?
And which Broughton had been their target?
By all accounts, the dowager was one of the most disliked women of the ton, but what about Broughton himself? Major Kurland had described him as an excellent and efficient officer, which meant he probably had many enemies from the lower ranks. But Anna liked him, and despite her sweet nature she was no fool....
“Lucy?”
She turned to see Sophia hovering in the doorway.
“I’m sorry, I was wool-gathering. What did you ask me?”
“You might be interested to hear that Mr. Stanford spent most of our time together asking me about you.”
“He did?”
“Yes, he was very interested in your family and Kurland St. Mary. I hope you don’t mind that I shared such personal information with him.”
“Why would I mind?”
“It’s just that you are looking rather fierce.”
Lucy walked over to her old friend. “I was just thinking about what Major Kurland came to tell us.”
“About the Prince Regent?”
“Yes, and about the Broughtons.” She registered the sound of a carriage stopping outside the town house. “I wonder if that is Anna and your mother?” She walked over to the window and peered through the curtains. “It is. Did Nicholas Jenkins manage to behave himself? By the look of Anna’s expression, I suspect not. Oh dear, he’s throwing the reins to his groom in a most ill-tempered fashion, and hurrying up the steps before Anna can have the door shut in his face.”
“Then we must sit down and not be caught snooping at the window!” Sophia returned to her seat by the fire where she immediately picked up her abandoned sewing and looked industrious.
Lucy came to sit opposite her as the door opened and Anna came through, her face flushed and her blue eyes flashing.
“Nicholas is insisting on coming in.” She yanked her bonnet off her head. “If you wish him to survive, may I suggest you talk to him? I am going upstairs to lie on your bed with a headache!”
Nicholas entered with Mrs. Hathaway. His expression darkened as Anna swept by him without a word.
“Anna—”
He bit his lip as she didn’t respond and Lucy immediately felt sorry for him. After exchanging greetings, Sophia engaged her mother in conversation while Nicholas sat beside Lucy and simply stared into the fire without a word.
“May I offer you some advice, Nicholas?” Lucy said mildly. “Sulking won’t endear you to any lady, let alone my sister.”
He glanced up at her, a stricken look on his handsome face. “Oh, I do apologize, Miss Harrington, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that—” He swallowed with some difficulty. “Whenever I open my mouth, I appear to put my foot in it.”
Lucy patted his arm. “Which is exactly why your grandparents wished you to come up to London and learn how to go about in society.”
“I didn’t come because of that. I came because Anna, I mean Miss Anna Harrington, was here.”
“I know.”
“But she is determined not to acknowledge the connection between us.”
“That you are old friends who grew up in the same village?”
“I thought we were more than that, I assumed—”
“Well, perhaps that was your first mistake. No young lady likes to be taken for granted.”
“I simply tried to tell her that she didn’t need to chase after titled old men at Almack’s.”
“You told her that? Oh dear.” Lucy sat back. “How did she respond?”
“Not well.” He tugged at his neckcloth. “She said I had no right to order her around, and then things just got worse until we were practically yelling at each other.”
“Anna was yelling?” Lucy tried to imagine that. Mayhap her sister’s feelings for Nicholas were more complex than she liked to admit. It was rare for Anna to raise her voice to anyone.
“And now she says she never wants to see me again.”
The pain and confusion in Nicholas’s gaze made Lucy feel far more sympathetic toward him than she perhaps ought.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”
He sighed. “I’m fairly certain she did. You know your sister better than anyone, Miss Harrington. Is there anything you can think of to help me make amends?”
“A written, heartfelt apology and a posy of flowers would be a good place to start.” Lucy considered carefully what to say next. “I’d also attempt to treat her more like a new acquaintance than a long-standing friend.”
“Thank you, Miss Harrington. I’ll do that. She does look rather different here in London, actually.” He gave a gusty sigh. “I suppose that if she wants me, she knows where I am. If she finds someone else here she prefers, like that stodgy old Broughton fellow, then at least I’ll know that I tried to warn her off.”
“Perhaps you should look around for a bride yourself, Nicholas, instead of propping up the wall and glaring at anyone who has the effrontery to ask Anna to dance.”
He blushed. “Wouldn’t that make her jealous?”
“If she truly cares for you, it might. And if she doesn’t, and you find yourself attracted to another young lady, then you can both move on with your lives with no regrets.”
“That’s an excellent point, Miss Harrington. Thank you.” He rose to his feet and bowed. “I won’t stay and see if Anna wishes me to drive her back to Clavelly House. I have a strong suspicion she’d rather walk.”
Lucy patted his hand. “I suspect you are right. We’ll make sure she arrives back at Clavelly House safely.”
He took his leave of Sophia and her mother and positively bounded down the stairs and out into the square. Lucy watched his carriage depart and then turned to Mrs. Hathaway.
“Did they really have an argument in public?”
“Oh no, my dear, they had the decency to wait until they were in the carriage.” Mrs. Hathaway chuckled. “If any young man had ordered me around like that, I would’ve lost my temper, too. But Anna set him back on his heels.”
“She can be quite forceful when she puts her mind to it.”
“I’d forgotten that.” Mrs. Hathaway’s smile faded. “Although, I must admit, I did feel quite sorry for young Nicholas. He is obviously head over heels in love with her and simply lacks the maturity to let her know it without coming across as a pompous, all-knowing idiot.” She paused. “I believe that’s what Anna called him.”
“The thing is, I can’t help thinking that in time he would make an excellent husband for her. He certainly brings out her temper, and that must mean her feelings are engaged.”
“I agree.” Sophia nodded.
“Charlie used to drive me batty, but I loved him anyway. But what can we do? Anna has to make up her own mind about whom she wants to marry.”
“Yes.” Lucy smiled. “But perhaps with a little connivance from her sister.”
Robert sat back in Andrew Stanford’s luxurious carriage and eyed his old friend.
“For a man who claims to be perpetually busy, you seem to be spending a lot of time at the Hathaways’.”
Andrew shrugged. “I can always find time for the things I enjoy.”
“And what draws you there in particular?”
“The same thing that draws you, I imagine. Interesting company.”
“Mrs. Giffin is certainly that. To be widowed at such a young age was very hard for her.”
Andrew’s face went blank. “I know.”
Robert exhaled. “Of course you do, I apologize.”
“It’s all right. My Harriet died three years ago attempting to give me a son.”
There was nothing Robert could think of to say that wouldn’t sound either clichéd or insincere.
“I understand that Miss Harrington had the care of her younger siblings since their birth,” Andrew said.
“That’s correct. The twins have known no other mother. Thankfully, the little hellions have been sent off to school now and Miss Harrington finally has the opportunity to widen her horizons.”
“She’s remarkably competent for her age.”
“She’s twenty-six and this is a most improper conversation to be having about an unmarried lady.”
Andrew’s eyebrows rose. “You’re preaching propriety at me, Robert?”
“She is a good friend of the family.”
“I understand that she organizes your life, too.”
“She certainly helped with my recovery.”
“Which raises her even higher in my esteem. If she can deal with you in a temper, my friend, she can probably deal with any man.” Andrew looked out of the window. “We’re at Broughton House. Are you quite sure you don’t want to come and stay with me?”
“I promised the countess I’d support her through this ordeal. Thank you for the offer, but no.”
Robert slowly descended from the carriage and leaned on his stick to look up at Andrew.
“Thank you for the ride.”
“You’re welcome.” Andrew winked. “I’ll see you tomorrow no doubt. But do remember I’m taking the ladies for a drive in the park at three. Perhaps we’ll see you there instead?”
Robert didn’t reply and turned to make his way into the house. The butler was passing through the hall and he stopped the man.
“Has Mr. Oliver come back yet?”
“No, Major, he has not.”
“Is Lieutenant Broughton awake?”
“I believe he is. Do you wish me to inquire if he is receiving visitors?”
“Yes, please.” Robert started up the stairs. “I’ll be in my room.”
Half an hour later, after talking to Foley and being scolded for staying out in the rain, he made his way along the corridor to Broughton’s suite of rooms and knocked on the door.
“Good afternoon, Major.”
Broughton’s valet let him in and positioned a chair close to the four-poster bed where his employer lay propped up against the pillows. Broughton’s face was pale and his eyes were ringed with dark purple shadows. He sipped at some water but seemed to find even that difficult to keep down.
“How are you?” Robert asked.
“Surviving.” Broughton put down the cup with a hand that shook. “My stomach is still in turmoil and my head hurts abominably.”
“Have you spoken to Dr. Redmond?”
“Yes; apparently he believes I was poisoned.”
“And what do you make of that? Do you think the man capable of proving such an outrageous statement?”
“Earlier this year, after discovering that my grandmother had taken it upon herself to dose everyone with her own concoctions and brews, I personally employed Dr. Redmond as our new family physician. I met the good doctor at a lecture in Cambridge we both attended, and he impressed me with his modern scientific thinking.”
“So you believe he might be right about the poison?”
Broughton sighed and his eyes closed momentarily. “I suspect he is correct.”
“Did he mention anything about what happened to your grandmother?”
“There’s no need to be so tactful, Kurland, it’s not like you. Dr. Redmond asked leave to examine her body.” Broughton met Robert’s gaze. “I gave him my permission.”
“And what does he hope to achieve by that?”
“He is beginning to wonder if she was poisoned, too. He maintains that if you know what you are looking for, such traces are easy to identify.”
“And if he believes he has found evidence of poisoning? What will you do then?”
Broughton’s hand clenched into a fist. “Find out who did this to us, and make them pay.”
“Your mother believes it would be in the family’s best interests to simply ignore what has happened, and bury your grandmother with all the necessary ceremony.”
“She’s not the one lying in bed weakened by the administration of poison, is she? I want to know the truth, Kurland.”
“And I will help you discover that to the best of my ability. I know all too well the frustration of being tied to one’s bed when one needs to be up and about dealing with things.”
“I’m glad you said that, because there is one thing I’d like to ask you.” Broughton licked his lips and Robert handed him the glass of water. After he’d taken another sip and grimaced, he fixed Robert with an anxious stare. “Where in God’s name is Oliver?”
“I don’t know.”
“Blenkins, my butler, said he hasn’t been seen since the night of the ball.”
“Has Blenkins consulted with Oliver’s manservant?”
“I’m fairly certain that’s where he got his information from.”
Robert considered how to pose his next question and then decided that Broughton was blunt enough to hear his worst suspicion. “Do you think Oliver might have something to do with this?”
“As I said, he has a vicious and uncontrolled temper. He might have thought it amusing to make us both ill.”
“Amusing?”
“He’s not right, Kurland, there’s something inside him that enjoys watching others suffer. Even as a child one couldn’t leave a puppy or any small animal in his care. They always ended up dead.”
Robert rose to his feet. “I’ll find him for you, never fear.”
“Be careful.” Broughton swallowed hard. “He might not even remember what he’s done. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.”
“Thank you.” Broughton closed his eyes and sank back on his pillows. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll ask Dr. Redmond to report back to you about my grandmother’s body if I’m not available when he calls.”
“Of course.”
Robert nodded to the valet, who went to the door to let him out. “When you have settled your master in, would you send Mr. Oliver’s manservant to my room? I’d like to speak to him.”
“Yes, Major.”
“Thank you.”
Robert made his way back to his room, the sound of his cane hitting the wooden floor the only interruption to the quietness of the house.
When Robert went in, Foley was folding cravats and putting them away in one of the drawers. He’d barely opened his mouth before Foley abandoned his task and came hurrying over.
“Major, come and sit down by the fire.”
For once he didn’t argue. He’d exceeded his strength hours ago and wanted nothing more than the oblivion of sleep. He kept trying to remind himself that he’d made considerable progress in the last few months, but it still wasn’t enough. He resented his lack of mobility with a stubborn rage that refused to die.
“I’m going to fetch your dinner on a tray.” Foley held up his hand. �
�And no arguing with me either. You’re worn out, sir, and I won’t have it on my conscience if you drop dead in front of me. Your aunt Rose would have my head.”
Robert leaned back in the wingchair and let out a slow breath. “I’m not arguing with you, Foley. I’m too exhausted. That’s why I’m sitting here meekly absorbing your pearls of wisdom and anticipating my dinner in front of the fire.”
Foley moved closer and frowned down into Robert’s face. “Should I send for the doctor? It’s not like you to admit you’re not feeling well.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t well. I said I was tired and hungry.”
“Of course, Major. You sit there quietly, and I’ll fetch you up a nice dinner.”
“And don’t forget to send my apologies to the countess.”
Foley sniffed. “As if I would forget the social niceties, sir.”
After Foley departed, Robert yawned and stretched his legs out toward the warmth of the fire. A discreet tap on the door had him sitting up again to face a young dark-haired man who came to stand in front of him.
“I’m Silas Smith, Major Kurland. Mr. Oliver’s man.”
“Thank you for attending me here. I understand that Mr. Oliver has not been seen since the night of the ball at Almack’s?”
“He certainly hasn’t been back home, sir.” Smith shuffled his feet and dropped his gaze to Robert’s cane. “But that’s not unusual. He’s a young gentleman with a wide acquaintance.”
“I can imagine.” Robert studied the manservant. “Do you have any idea of his particular haunts?”
“Some of them, sir.”
“And does he have any close friends he might have taken refuge with?”
“Not really, sir. He has a bit of a temper on him that tends to alarm folks.”
“So I’ve heard.” Robert paused. “Have you ever seen him in a rage?”
“Yes, sir.” The manservant touched a livid scar on his cheek. “He threw a bowl of soup at me once, and knocked me out cold.”
“Would you say he’s being acting oddly at all recently?”
“Yes, sir. He’s always been one to hold grudges and let himself brood over matters, but recently he seems to have gotten worse.”
Death Comes to London Page 8