“Murder?” Hermione asked. First Saintcrow and now Miss Fleetwood’s fiancé? It was a wonder the streets of London weren’t running with blood!
“Yes,” Miss Fleetwood said with a sniff. “Tony, Lord Saintcrow, that is, was murdered in his own house. And the worst thing about it is that they do not know who did it.”
* * *
At Miss Fleetwood’s words, Hermione felt faint. “Did you say Lord Saintcrow?” she asked, trying not to show just how uncomfortable Miss Fleetwood’s confession had made her.
“Yes,” Miss Fleetwood said with a nod. “I understand that he had some business dealings with your father? That is why I am here, Lady Hermione. I wished to know if perhaps your father knew something that might help the Bow Street runner my brother has hired to find out the truth of what happened to him.”
Good God, Hermione thought with an inward gasp. Mr. Rosewood had been hired by Fleetwood? What a coil!
“I’m afraid my father and I aren’t that close, Miss Fleetwood,” she responded truthfully. “Indeed, though I did know that my father had lost some horses to Lord Saintcrow in a card game, I have no notion of the particulars of the affair. I did meet your fiancé once, but it was brief. He was quite handsome, though.”
She added that last in an attempt to say something good about the man. After all, she’d not been his biggest supporter after he stripped her of her grays in the presence of the entire membership of the Lords of Anarchy.
“Oh, he was handsome, indeed,” Miss Fleetwood said with a flash of animation that made Hermione realize just how beautiful she must have been before her illness. “And he was a good man. If a bit wild. I blame his driving club for some of that, of course. Tony was never so ungoverned as he was after he joined the Lords of Anarchy.”
Was there no other way in which the late Lord Saintcrow might have been entangled in Hermione’s life? she wondered. Perhaps he was secretly the editor of her friend Leonora’s poetry. Or was Ophelia’s long-lost brother? Must he also have been a member of the Lords of Anarchy?
Though, if that were true, why hadn’t he been driving out with the club that day in the park? She was new enough with the club that she didn’t know the name of every member, but if Lord Saintcrow was so involved with the club that his fiancée complained about his exploits with them then one would think he’d have been with them in the park.
Aloud she said, “I am well acquainted with the club.” And since it would be easy enough for the other lady to find out, she added, “Indeed, I have only recently been admitted to the membership.”
At Hermione’s admission, Miss Fleetwood’s eyes widened. “You? But you are a lady. Surely ladies do not belong to such clubs.”
“It is only recently that they began admitting ladies,” Leonora spoke up, loyalty for Hermione in her voice. “Indeed, Hermione was the first lady to be admitted to the club. It was a true honor, bestowed upon her because of her excellent driving.”
A silence hung between them for a moment. Then, perhaps sensing that further condemnation of “such clubs” would do her no good in her present audience, she said, “I mean no disrespect. I am sure that you are not one of the members who pushed my Tony to take more and more risks. But there are some men among the membership who … well, I will say only that I hope you know what you are about.”
“No insult was taken, Miss Fleetwood,” Hermione said with a speaking glance at Leonora. Really, how was she to learn what the woman had against the club if her friends made her stop talking? “Perhaps you can tell me what happened and then I might be prepared for such behavior myself? For I admit I’ve only been a member for a few weeks. And I have not yet participated in any club activities.”
But the moment had passed. “It was nothing, Lady Hermione. Truly. I was probably only imagining things. If I’d known someone like you was a member I would have been less foolishly afraid of the club. Indeed, I think ladies must always be a softening influence on men, do you not think?”
A memory flashed in her mind of just how very … hard Jasper had felt the other day in her arms. Was she blushing? she wondered. Then, she remembered. The wedding! Jasper!
“Oh dear, Miss Fleetwood,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I am afraid that my friends and I must be off. I just recalled that we have a very important appointment.”
She rose, and took the flustered Miss Fleetwood’s hand. “I am so pleased that you stopped by. And I do wish to hear more about Lord Saintcrow and what happened to him. If there is anything I can do to make the situation more bearable, I hope you will let me know.”
“You are too kind, Lady Hermione,” said the other lady with a smile. “I vow, I do not have very many friends. My brother is often so protective that he frightens off anyone who dares to get close. That is why I was so happy to have Tony.”
“Then you will have to come to tea once I am settled in my new home,” Hermione said impulsively, even as she was thinking of how soon she could recount Miss Fleetwood’s tale to Jasper. “I will be at Mainwaring House in Grosvenor Square.”
The brunette’s brow furrowed. “I do not understand.”
“We are on the way to Lady Hermione’s wedding to the Earl of Mainwaring, Miss Fleetwood,” said Ophelia, clearly eager to be off.
Miss Fleetwood’s gasp was evidence enough of her surprise.
“I’m sorry, Miss Fleetwood,” Hermione said, even as she and Hermione were handed into the waiting carriage by the lingering footman. “Do come for tea, though!”
And leaving a stunned Miss Fleetwood in their wake, Hermione her friends set out for St. George’s Hanover Square.
* * *
“Where are they?” Jasper demanded for the fifth time in four minutes as he and the duke of Trent stood, along with Lord Upperton in the vestibule of St. George’s Hanover Square.
“I am sure my daughter will arrive soon, Mainwaring,” said Lord Upperton with the grin of a man who was about to be relieved of a great responsibility. He was also, perhaps, pleased by the marriage settlements he and Jasper had worked out the day before which added to his personal coffers considerably. “I left orders for Greentree to have the carriage brought round at precisely nine-thirty.”
“Perhaps there is traffic, Mainwaring,” said Jasper’s mother. Given the way she and his sisters had reacted to the news of his impending nuptials, he’d been surprised when all three requested to attend the ceremony, but he’d agreed easily enough. It would be better for everyone concerned if he and Hermione were able to begin married life on good terms with one of their families.
“She will be here,” said Trent. “Just be patient. You know how Lady Hermione is. It’s entirely possible she chose to drive herself.”
At the notion of Hermione driving a coach and four to her own wedding, Jasper couldn’t help but laugh. Leave it to him to marry the one lady in London who just might do so.
Even so, he doubted somehow that Miss Dauntry and Leonora would allow such a thing to transpire.
Just then, the doors were opened by a liveried arm, and a breathless Miss Dauntry stepped in, followed by Leonora.
And finally, Hermione.
Jasper took a moment to drink her in.
Her dark hair, which always appeared to be shiny and tidy, was today dressed in a looser, more feminine style which left a single curl to caress her neck. The blue morning gown was one he’d seen her in before, but paired with a brightly colored cashmere shawl it was more festive somehow. She was at once familiar and someone entirely new. And she would soon be his.
“Will I do?” she asked with a smile that told him she knew exactly what he’d been thinking.
“I believe you will,” he said with a grin, offering her his arm.
“I am sorry we were late,” she said in a low voice as they walked in an untidy procession to the front of the church. “I had a very interesting visitor. Which I will tell you about later.”
“Tease,” he said, not giving a fig who her visitor had been. All he cared about
now was making this beautiful, stubborn, maddening woman his.
“I see everyone has arrived,” said the bishop with a brisk nod, as Jasper and Hermione and their guests took their places.
And then the ceremony began.
If he were entirely honest, Jasper would admit that he did not recall a word of what any of them had said. At least not beyond Hermione’s firmly uttered, “I will.” When the clergyman was finished, he pronounced them man and wife, and before he knew what he was about, Jasper had lowered his head and kissed her—restraining the flare of passion he felt anytime she was in close proximity.
“Shall we repair to Mainwaring House for a celebratory repast?” he asked the others, tucking Hermione’s arm in his.
After murmured assent, they all left the church and Jasper handed Hermione into his carriage for the short ride from Hanover Square to Grosvenor.
Almost as soon as the door shut behind them, he pulled her into his arms for a proper kiss. One that left them both breathless and Hermione’s hand clutching his now horrifically rumpled cravat.
“There,” he said with a grin. “I wanted to do that the moment you walked into the church, but I decided that might be a bit too much for the bishop.”
Her cheeks pink, Hermione laughed, a low giggle that did nothing to cool his ardor. “I suspect that the bishop might have had some objections to a kiss like that in a house of worship.”
“It would be worship,” he said with a raised brow. “Just not worship of the Lord.”
“I believe that breaks a commandment, does it not?” she asked saucily. “It is a good thing you chose to restrain yourself. I’d hate to begin our marriage with you excommunicated.”
“We almost didn’t begin it at all,” he said playfully. “I do not mind telling you I had a moment of fear when I suspected you weren’t coming.”
“Do not be absurd. I wouldn’t leave you at the altar,” she said with a shake of her finger. Then, her eyes grew serious. “I was late because of a visitor. As I told you.”
Seeing that the giddy mood had passed, he settled back against the carriage squabs, though he kept her hand in his. “Who was it? Not Rosewood again, I hope?”
“No,” she said with a frown. “It was Miss Fleetwood, of all people.”
That name put Jasper on alert, though he schooled himself not to show it. “As long as it was she and not her brother,” he said with more sharpness than he intended. Calmer, he went on, “I still have reasons for wishing you to avoid Mr. Fleetwood.”
“Even if it had been him,” Hermione said with a show of her teeth, “I could not have turned him away. But in this case there was no need because it was Miss Fleetwood. And though Ophelia and Leonora and I were on our way out of the house, we decided to speak to her privately for a few moments at least.”
“And?” he asked.
Quickly she revealed the conversation that had transpired between the four ladies.
“I am now not only pleased that you spoke to her,” he said with a shake of his head, “but I wonder that you were able to tear yourself away in order for us to be married!”
At his jest, she rapped him on the knuckles with her fan. “I should have done so considering how lightly you speak of it,” she said with a scowl. “But in all seriousness, did you know she was betrothed to Lord Saintcrow? What are the odds of such a coincidence?”
“I could calculate it, but there are too many variables for it to have a great deal of meaning,” he said seriously.
At her raised brow, he shrugged. “Sorry, I am nothing if not a mathematician.”
“It’s the first I’ve heard of it,” she said with a frown.
“It’s hardly a secret,” he said with a shrug. “It’s how I win so often at cards. I’m able to calculate the odds of getting a particular card in my hand after seeing which ones have already been played. It isn’t particularly difficult if you know what you’re doing.”
“If it weren’t difficult,” she shot back, “then everyone would do it.”
He said nothing.
“I had no idea,” she said with a shake of her head. “Me, married to a mathematician. It boggles the mind.”
“Because you have a particular antipathy for maths?”
“Because I have a particular antipathy for maths,” she confirmed.
“Then let us get back to the subject at hand,” he said, drawing her against him, liking the feel of her warm body tucked up against him. “What did Miss Fleetwood have to say about Saintcrow? Or Fleetwood for that matter?”
It occurred to him that he’d perhaps been hasty in ordering Hermione not to have any dealings with the Fleetwoods while they were her neighbors. It had been a missed opportunity, he realized now.
Hermione told him about Saintcrow and the Lords of Anarchy.
“Do you think it’s true that they encouraged him to take risks?” she asked, her body stiff, clearly not wanting to hear him confirm the report.
“It’s possible,” he said, not wanting to lie to her. “But I should have thought that after that business earlier this year, Lord Payne would wish the club to turn over a new leaf. Isn’t that what you said was his intention in accepting ladies into their ranks?”
“Yes,” she said, snuggling up against him. “And as far as I know they have been behaving themselves. Of course I’ve not had the chance to interact with most of them.”
“Do you think Miss Fleetwood had any suspicions about her brother being involved with Saintcrow’s murder?” he asked, wishing he’d been there to question the lady himself. Of course, it was likely she was far more forthcoming with Hermione than she’d ever be with him.
“I don’t know. I had the feeling she was going to tell me something more,” Hermione said. “But I recalled that we were late and fobbed her off with an invitation to come for tea once I was settled at Mainwaring House.”
For a moment, he was struck dumb at the pleasure he felt at hearing her speak of her settling into Mainwaring House. But then the substance of what she’d actually said sank in. “My darling wife,” he said with a bark of laughter. “You are utterly brilliant!”
“I am?” she asked puzzled at his sudden giddiness.
“One of the reasons I was so damned worried about you getting friendly with the Fleetwoods was that I did not wish for you to get caught in that house alone. Or rather, alone with him. He’s a dangerous fellow and I worried for your safety. And I didn’t feel much better about your safety in your own house.”
“And inviting Miss Fleetwood to Mainwaring House removes that threat?” she asked, leaning back to look into his eyes.
“It does,” he said with a grin. “And this way, I can speak to Miss Fleetwood as well. There was no way I could get into the Fleetwoods’ house without raising his suspicions.”
“I must admit to being baffled at having pleased you so much without even realizing what I was doing.” She shook her head. “If this is a sign of how marriage to you will be on a daily basis, I suppose I will like it well enough.”
“Well enough?” he asked with mock affront. “Damned with faint praise!”
“I can hardly be overjoyed at being unable to replicate my triumphs thanks to never knowing what it is about them that made it possible for me to enact them in the first place,” she said, her brows drawn together.
“I shall be sure to give you some instruction on the matter just as soon as I am able,” he said, kissing her on the nose. Then the mouth.
And they spent a very enjoyable few moments kissing before the carriage drew to a stop and Jasper reluctantly let her go.
“I suppose our guests await,” she said with a sigh.
“They do, Countess,” he said with a grin. “But, the good thing about that is that as the lady of the house, you can ply them with food and drink and then leave whenever you like.”
“Won’t that be a little scandalous?” she asked, shocked.
“Maybe a little,” he said with a grin. “But you’re only a newlywed once in
your life. Why not take advantage of it when you can?”
And with that, he handed her down from the carriage and into their married life.
Fifteen
When the carriage arrived in Grosvenor Square, Hermione was surprised to see that the servants of the Mainwaring town house had been assembled in a line from the front door and down the wide black-and-white tiled marble hallway.
“Welcome to Mainwaring House, my lady,” said the butler, Greaves, a short dapper man with more gravitas than many noblemen she’d met. “I hope that you will be happy here.”
It was a good thing Jasper was there by her side, else Hermione would have been in real danger of turning and fleeing in the other direction. It wasn’t that she was frightened. But more that she was unaccustomed to such ceremony. And certainly not in celebration of her.
Up until that moment, the swiftness of their betrothal and marriage had felt strange, even unreal—as if it were happening to some other Hermione who would be the one to deal with the details of the whole affair. But as she stood there in the ornate entrance of Mainwaring House, the weight of it landed squarely on her shoulders. With such force that Jasper turned to look at her, his expression worried.
“Are you well?” he asked in an undertone that only she could hear.
Was she well? Hermione hardly knew. But as she had often when in the face of situations that threatened to overwhelm her, she squared her shoulders and gave her best impression of what an Amazon warrior must look like on going into battle.
“Of course,” she said, not letting one fraction of her fear show in her word or countenance. Turning to Mr. Greaves, she said warmly, “I thank you, all of you for your warm welcome. I only hope that I will endeavor to make the house a happy one.”
And, though Jasper said it was unnecessary, she went down the line shaking every servant’s hand and committing their names to memory. Or, as near as was possible. It was exhausting, but once she’d reached the boot boy, she felt reasonably able to recall their faces if not all their names.
“That was remarkable,” Jasper said as they made their way to the great dining room where the wedding breakfast was to be held. “I think you charmed them all. Even the cook, who is always cross when he’s expected to leave the kitchen for any reason.”
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