Alyssa Everett

by A TrystWith Trouble

  “He did, and they are, but I just couldn’t sit there and smile and pretend...” He shook his head. “I can’t do it.”

  We’d reached the library. I pulled the door closed behind us. “You can’t do what?”

  He looked down at the floor and his shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “I can’t marry Helen.”

  I gaped at him. He couldn’t marry her—the same girl he’d just perjured himself for? The girl he’d been willing to risk his neck to protect? “What are you saying, Teddy?”

  “I’m saying I want to cry off, and I need you to come with me tonight so I can tell her before I lose my nerve.”

  He looked so woebegone, I might almost have found it in me to agree—if I’d been completely out of my mind. “Now, hold on. In the first place, I already went with you once and you turned craven at the last minute, making me look like an utter yahoo. In the second place, don’t you think you’re being a trifle hasty? You were in love with the girl only this morning.”

  “But that was before the inquest. I’m not sure you realize it, Ben, but she was implying that you were...well, it was something not very flattering to you.”

  I grimaced. Contrary to Teddy’s generous estimation of my unworldliness, I knew exactly when my name and character were being dragged through the mud. Still, this was his future we were talking about, not mine. “Stop right there. I’m no great admirer of Lady Helen, I admit, but don’t go breaking off your engagement on my account. To be frank, she may have had her reasons for taking a jab at me. Her sister and I had a bit of a falling out last night.”

  “Did you?” Teddy’s face registered interest. “So that’s why old Leonard was giving you the evil eye.”

  “Never mind about that. The point is, when it comes to your marriage plans, leave me out of the equation. If the shoe were on the other foot and I were the one with the troublesome fiancée, I wouldn’t want you expecting me to choose between family loyalty and my heart. In fact, if I were in love, I wouldn’t give a tinker’s damn what anyone else thought.”

  I was surprised to hear myself arguing against prudence, family interest and common sense, especially for something as absurd and insubstantial as love. That I should be doing it on behalf of manipulative, scheming Lady Helen made me wonder if I’d taken leave of my senses. But Teddy believed in romance and happily ever after—everyone in my mother’s family did—and I couldn’t allow him to sacrifice his future on my account.

  Teddy shook his head. “It’s not just that. You heard her testimony. If she’d only said she saw me scuffling with Sam Garvey and he’d tripped and hit his head, the outcome of the inquest would never have been in doubt.”

  “But, Teddy, the footman’s death was ruled an accident. You’re a free man. And Lady Helen didn’t see you scuffling with Sam Garvey. You told me yourself he was already dead when you came upon them.”

  “I know, but...”

  “Besides, it’s not as if she completely threw you to the wolves, is it? She said she was too frightened to remember what happened.”

  Teddy’s jaw assumed a stubborn angle. “Yes, but she should have lied for me. I did as much for her.”

  I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. “What kind of tortured logic is that? Do you mean you actually want to marry a liar?”

  He looked momentarily nonplussed before answering, “Well, yes, provided she’s lying for my sake.”

  Sometimes Teddy made me want to tear out my hair. “But if a girl lies for you, who’s to say she wouldn’t lie to you? Much better to have a girl who says precisely what she thinks.” Leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb, I spread my hands. “Take a girl like Barbara, for instance. She’s notoriously difficult and she wouldn’t know how to be tactful if she took lessons, but there’s no doubt where a man stands with her. I’d rather be ignored by that sort of girl than flattered by one who deals in false coin.”

  Now that was ironic. I’d been ignored all day by Barbara, who’d stayed home from the inquest just to avoid me, and it had irritated me no end. Still, this was no time to explore my personal grievances, no matter how great the provocation.

  “But that’s the problem.” Teddy’s forehead furrowed in a befuddled expression. “I’m not sure I really know Helen at all. That footman fellow was being too forward with her, and she never confided in me. And then there were those hints she kept dropping about you today at the inquest.”

  “I told you, leave me out of this. I’ll wager she was only doing her sister’s bidding.”

  “Even setting that aside, I have an uneasy feeling about her. I could swear she’s hiding something. Say you’ll come with me, Ben. I won’t have the courage to cry off unless you do.”

  I hardly knew how to answer. He was right to be uneasy about Lady Helen. I’d seen the blackmail letters she’d received. But it still seemed a hasty decision on his part, one he would abandon again as soon as he faced Lady Helen’s tears. Besides, for some reason I didn’t care to examine, I was oddly reluctant to see all connection broken off between my family and Barbara’s.

  “I’m not exactly welcome at Leonard House right now,” I hedged, “either with Barbara or with her father.”

  “All the better. If you’re in Lord Leonard’s black books, there’s less risk we’ll be drawn into a long, painful scene. We’ll just go there, give Helen the bad news, and tell her she’s free to claim she called off the wedding. Then we’ll make ourselves scarce.”

  Assuming Lord Leonard didn’t challenge me to a duel first. Or I didn’t see Barbara, take leave of my senses and strangle her with my bare hands. Or Sam’s killer didn’t use me for target practice again. “Why don’t you ask someone else this time? How about John?”

  Teddy pulled a face. “John’s been avoiding me.”

  “What are you talking about? He was at the inquest today.”

  “Yes, at the inquest, and I see him at dinner most evenings, but he never has more than two words to say to me. It’s been that way ever since I asked Helen to marry me. I think he dislikes her.”

  Or perhaps it was just that John knew she’d been involved with another man and that she was hiding her secret from Teddy. At least John had tried to tip Teddy a hint by telling him Sam Garvey had been making up to the girl. “All the more reason you should ask him rather than me if you’re going to break off your engagement.”

  “I’m telling you, he won’t come with me. You come, Ben. You’ve never let me down before.”

  Put that way, how could I refuse? The best I could do was stall for time. “It’s a bad idea to rush into these things, Teddy. The Leonards are probably still dining with your family anyway. Why not have dinner here, then go home and sleep on it? If you still feel the same in the morning, I’ll bear you company to Leonard House tomorrow.”

  He considered a moment. “All right. If you insist, I’ll wait one more night. But at the very least, let me send a note to Leonard House, informing Lord Leonard I mean to call on him tomorrow. Get my foot in the door, so to speak, so I can’t lose my nerve.”

  With any luck, he’d change his mind and the appointment would become a run-of-the-mill social call. And if it didn’t—well, as angry as I might be with Barbara, it still wouldn’t hurt to check on her safety. A man had been murdered under her very roof, after all. “Fine.”

  Teddy sat down at my father’s desk and penned a short note. I rang for a footman, and Teddy instructed him to deliver the message to Leonard House.

  It wasn’t until after Teddy and I finished dinner and he took his leave that I thought to wonder exactly how he’d worded his note to Barbara’s father.

  Barbara

  “Thank you for lifting my punishment, Papa.” I stood rigidly before the desk in my father’s study. Since the moment my abigail had relayed Papa’s wish to see me, my heart had been in my throat. He must have discovered the caricature in the Courier. Of course he would blame me. I’d be lucky to escape with a caning.

  “I called you down here for a reason, Barbara.�
��

  “Papa,” I began tremulously, determined not to cry, “if I’ve done something to upset you, don’t keep me in suspense...”

  He rubbed his hands together. “On the contrary, it appears I may soon owe you that apology I spoke of.”

  Apology? Apparently he hadn’t seen the caricature. Though I feared it was only a matter of time, I was grateful for at least this brief reprieve. “I don’t understand.”

  With a smile, my father took a folded piece of paper from his desk and passed it to me.

  After three days of brushes with a murderer, a blackmailer, a Peeping Tom and a libelous caricaturist, I had no idea what Fate meant to throw at me next. My hand trembled as I accepted the page.

  It was a note, written on heavy paper of the finest quality. I unfolded it and read:

  Lord Leonard,

  With your permission, my cousin Beningbrough and I wish to call on you at one o’clock tomorrow to discuss the matter of marriage with your daughter.

  Your most humble and obedient servant,

  Cliburne

  I looked up from the message in confusion. “Cliburne is bringing Lord Beningbrough with him? Why would he do that?”

  “Don’t you see what this means? Beningbrough has decided to do the honorable thing and offer for you. He knows how unwelcome he’s made himself here, so he’s asked Cliburne to smooth his path.”

  So this was Helen’s piece of good news. My pulse beat out of time. “I’m sure you must be mistaken, Papa. It doesn’t mention me by name. Isn’t it more likely Cliburne means to discuss his own wedding to Helen?”

  “No, no.” My father waved one hand in an impatient gesture. “Use your head, Barbara. Cliburne runs tame here. Why would he waste his time sending a note if he wished only to discuss the wedding arrangements? More to the point, why would he bring that impudent cousin of his?”

  “He’s brought him here before.”

  My father scowled. “Only because Beningbrough subscribed to that filthy rumor about Helen and the footman. Fortunately, that’s all behind us now. Depend upon it, if Beningbrough comes tomorrow, it’s because he recognizes his duty to make you an offer of marriage.”

  His duty? Perhaps Papa had a point. It did look odd that Ben should choose to return here after that dreadful scene on the stairs. And Cliburne’s note had come from Ormesby House—the paper had the duke’s crest embossed on it. Why should Cliburne have written a note on the Duke of Ormesby’s stationery unless Ben had put him up to it?

  His duty. Now that I considered matters, Ben was too self-righteous to shirk anything resembling a duty.

  “The question is,” Papa mused aloud, rubbing his chin, “should I consider his offer, or send him away with a flea in his ear? Is a duke’s son worth cultivating as a connection even if the boy is a lout and the duke in question is that debauché Ormesby?”

  My hands balled at my sides. “Don’t my feelings enter into this at all? Aren’t you going to ask whether I wish to marry him or not?”

  I wasn’t about to accept Ben. Even if I’d been wrong to assume he’d walked out of my life, he’d still never said or done anything to suggest he truly cared for me. So what if a proposal would mean looking my fill every day at those drowsy gray eyes and that sensual half smile? So what if he kissed better than I’d imagined possible? Whether because he’d seen the caricature in the Courier or because Papa had called him out, Ben was only offering for me in order to salvage my reputation.

  “Naturally your feelings enter into it. But I’d advise you not to be too choosy. You’re not getting any younger, Barbara, and there aren’t many suitable men willing to offer for a girl as headstrong and plainspoken as you are. Now that I’ve finally brought Beningbrough up to scratch, you’d be a fool not to make the most of it. Think about that.”

  I sighed. “Yes, Papa. Is there anything else?”

  He frowned but answered brusquely, “No. You may go.”

  Trudging back up the stairs to my room, I wondered why the only proposal I was ever likely to receive should leave me feeling so crushingly depressed.

  My sister’s bedroom door stood ajar. I’d no sooner passed it than Helen came darting out, slipping her arm through mine. “There you are, Barbara! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I take it Papa lifted your punishment?”

  “Yes.”

  She beamed. “Didn’t I tell you he would? Come in and sit with me, and I’ll tell you all about Beningbrough.”

  “There’s no need.” Subtly, I tried to disengage my arm from Helen’s grasp. “Papa already told me.”

  “He did? I’m surprised Papa even caught on.” Still clinging to my arm, she broke into a mischievous grin. “So what do you think? Isn’t it amusing? I did it for you, you know, because you sounded so blue-deviled this morning when you told me it was Beningbrough’s fault Papa locked you in your room.”

  I was growing confused. “Did what for me?”

  “Said all those things about Beningbrough and Sam, of course.” She laughed. “You should have seen the look on Beningbrough’s face. First he went pale, then he went red, then he looked as if he’d swallowed a hot coal.”

  Alarmed, I spun to face her. “What did you say about Ben?”

  She giggled. “I didn’t so much say it as hint it. I mentioned his father, and then I suggested ever so delicately that Beningbrough might have been interested in Sam. Peculiarly interested.” She squeezed my arm, her blue eyes dancing. “I so wish you could have been there to see it! But at least you’ll be able to read about it in the papers tomorrow. The reporters in the room practically swarmed Beningbrough as soon as the inquest was over.”

  She went on chattering, but I was too stunned to answer as the horrible truth sank in.

  Good God. Beningbrough wasn’t coming to propose marriage to save my reputation. He was coming to propose marriage to save his.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ben

  “It could be worse,” Teddy said, reading over my shoulder as our carriage neared Leonard House.

  Just as I’d feared, the papers had made a cake of me. Beneath the maddeningly ambiguous headline Dead Man in Love Triangle with Noble Heir, the Times had printed The Marquess of Beningbrough, heir to the Duke of Ormesby, gave testimony on his rumored connection to the unfortunate manservant. Papers like the Evening Mail and the Star had both walked a similarly fine line between opening themselves up to libel charges and making the sort of veiled accusations calculated to increase their circulation.

  I cast a jaundiced eye in Teddy’s direction. “How could it be worse?”

  He pointed to the article at the top of the page. “Now that the Cato Street traitors have been found guilty, everyone will have their executions to talk about. Instead of a nine days’ wonder, you’ll be a three days’ wonder.”

  “What a stroke of fortune that I should have multiple violent executions to look forward to.” Angrily, I tossed the folded paper on the seat beside me.

  I was still fuming when we reached Leonard House and the Leonards’ footman admitted us. As we made our way into the entry hall, my temper cooled to a simmer, replaced by a vague sense of nervous expectancy. Was it because poor Sam Garvey had been killed in this very room, or because there was a good chance I might catch a glimpse of Barbara?

  “I told Lord Leonard in my note we were coming to discuss my engagement,” Teddy whispered beside me. “I expect he’ll try to talk me out of breaking it off.”

  The footman ushered us not to the drawing room upstairs, but to the family’s ground floor morning room. I thought it an oddly informal place to receive us, given the nature of Teddy’s business with the earl.

  We discovered Lord Leonard standing before the morning room window, looking inexplicably pleased with himself, his thumbs tucked in the pockets of his waistcoat. To my surprise, Barbara was in the room with him, perched with straight-backed correctness on the edge of the sofa. Despite the malicious way she’d treated me, I was glad to see her safe and sound, if only b
ecause I’d been spared the awkwardness of having to ask after her health.

  “Come in, come in.” Lord Leonard beckoned Teddy and me further into the room. He seemed in an uncharacteristically hearty mood, especially for a man whose daughter was about to be jilted.

  Entering, I stole another glance at Barbara. I had to admit, she was in looks today—not that she was ever out of looks, but today she wore a willow-green gown that clung enticingly to her every curve and highlighted the rich red of her hair. How monstrously unjust that any girl so mouthwatering should turn out to be scheming and underhanded.

  Teddy bowed in her direction. I was about to sketch a mocking bow of my own, one as stiff and halfhearted as humanly possible. It dawned on me, however, that any hint of coolness would only give Barbara the satisfaction of knowing her sister’s barbs had hit their mark. Better to pretend I wasn’t in the least perturbed. The more courteous I was, the more unsatisfied it would leave her.

  “Your servant, Lady Barbara,” I said silkily, giving her a low, exaggerated bow.

  Her cheeks turned pink. A fresh sense of ill-usage shot through me at her self-conscious flush, a sure sign of guilt. So she had put her sister up to insulting me. Dash it, what had I ever done to her? I’d actually begun to wonder if I might be developing feelings for her, and she’d gone out of her way to mock me. It made me want to cross the room, take her by the shoulders, and kiss—I mean, and give her a good shaking.

  Instead, I simply smiled a bland, unruffled smile and headed for one of the armchairs near the window.

  “No, not there, Lord Beningbrough,” Lord Leonard said. “Let Cliburne sit there. You sit over here, closer to Barbara.”

  I obliged him, since it made more sense for Teddy to sit facing the earl. As I settled myself on the chair before the sofa, Barbara cleared her throat portentously and spoke up. “I was pleased to hear the result of the inquest, Lord Cliburne.”