A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  Her heart warmed. “You will not feel compromised?”

  He lifted her hand to his lips. “You are safe. Old Lord Amory’s murderer has been found. Stolen goods and illicit markers will be returned. I submit to you that justice has been served for all involved. Except, perhaps, for me.”

  Servants, cooks, hostlers and grooms bustled through the Carr grounds, preparing for the ‘wedding of the season’ to take place on the following morn. Trudy had spent most of the day running to and fro doing her mother’s bidding—fetch this, find that, go there. She was exhausted and the sun had not yet set.

  When she could put it off no longer, she descended to the foyer to arrange a huge vase of flowers. ‘Oh, Trudy, no one can do it as well as you!’ Mother had said. She would have argued, but Mother would just have found another chore. This one, at least, was pleasant.

  She was just placing a spray of ferns when Lancelot burst through the front door, looking happier than she’d seen him in a very long time. He gave her a breath-stealing hug.

  “It is done, Gertie! Everything is returned. And,” he removed a wad of papers from his jacket and waved it in front of her nose, “here are the markers! Every last one of them. It is finally over.”

  Tears of sheer relief welled in her eyes and she felt as if a giant stone had been lifted from her chest. She threw her arms around her brother and hugged him tight. “Thank heavens. This is such a relief.”

  “You should have been there last night, Trudy. Collingwood was masterful. When he was done, they had no choice but to agree.”

  She smiled, well aware of how ‘masterful’ Collingwood could be. She grabbed Lancelot by the sleeve and pulled him into the small family parlor to the fireplace. “Burn them now, Skippy.”

  He laughed and dropped them on the banked coals. The pages curled at the edges, turned black and then burst into flame. His hand tightened around hers as they watched them turn to ashes. “I should have come to you sooner, Gertie.”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to help you. ’Twas Dare. Only he could have solved this problem.” She would find a very special way to thank him.

  “Dare, is it? Well, you’d better keep him in your pocket. He’s a handy friend to have in a pinch.”

  She flushed when she thought she’d rather keep him in her bed than her pocket. “Have you told him it is finished?”

  “I’ll tell him tomorrow. He said he was coming to Laura’s wedding.”

  “I think he’d like to hear from you that everyone has kept their word.”

  “Of course. I’ll find him at White’s.” He bent over the grate and stirred the ashes. “Tell Mother I will be home for dinner.”

  Trudy watched him go, certain now that everything would come aright and that things were unfolding as they should. She was even beginning to believe that it was possible to think of a future with Collingwood. But she would have to leave that for tomorrow. Mother had insisted that everyone must stay in tonight with so much happening tomorrow.

  She put the finishing touches on the flower arrangement and hurried up to her room before her mother could think of another thing that only she could do. She had no more than shut her door when a soft rap turned her around to open it.

  Fiona pushed in, hurried to Trudy’s bureau and opened several drawers. “I need to borrow a fichu. Mama says my neckline is too low.”

  Trudy silently agreed. Fi nearly spilled out of her dress. The neckline was more suited to an evening gown. Had she gained weight?

  “I know you have a white one trimmed in a lace ruffle somewhere.”

  Trudy closed the drawer and opened another to remove the triangular scarf that would save her sister’s modesty.

  Fi went to Trudy’s dressing table and looked in the mirror as she fastened the piece around her neck. “I swear! I shall be so glad when Laura is finally safely wed and off to India. Such a to-do! And Laura would just as soon stand before the altar with only the family as witnesses to say her vows. You’d think it was Mama who is getting married.”

  “Laura is the first of us to wed, Fi. By the time I marry, she will scarce notice.”

  “Well, she had better not rest. I plan to marry as soon as may be. I shan’t wait for her to primp the house and gardens and plan another wedding. Mine will be simple and elegant. And quick.”

  Trudy narrowed her eyes and glanced down at Fiona’s bosom. “Is there a reason for your haste, Fi?”

  “Do not be vulgar, Trudy, or I shall tell Mother.” Fi punched her on the arm.

  “Well, that is a great relief, because I think Laura is vacillating again. This morning she came to me and asked if I thought Colonel Burke could change.”

  Fiona gaped. “Change? Whatever could she mean?”

  “I suppose she meant if he could change his feelings or his behavior. She does not like that he has a mistress. Or that his manner to her has been, well... a bit tepid. She thinks he only wants her dowry.”

  “Faugh! Men are corporeal creatures. They cannot control their urges and that is why mistresses and harlots exist. Laura should grow up and accept things as they are.”

  “Do you, Fi? Does your beau have a mistress? Or does he have you?”

  Her sister’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

  “Are you willing to turn a blind eye while the man you love, the man you marry, goes to another woman?”

  “The man I love would never—”

  “Did you not just say men are corporeal creatures?”

  “You are twisting my words, Trudy. And, anyway, Laura has no strong feelings. I cannot see her being passionate about anything. Why should she care what Colonel Burke does?”

  Trudy sighed. How like Fiona to ignore what was directly in front of her. “You are mistaken. Laura is very passionate, but she is also reserved. You flaunt your feelings, but Laura—”

  “She feels nothing for Burke?”

  “Perhaps a bit of mild contempt.”

  “She said she wanted babies.”

  “This morning she hinted that I should not save my new gown for her wedding. That I should wear it whilst it is still in style.”

  “What?” Fiona clutched at her throat. “She is going to jilt Colonel Burke after all? This is your fault, Trudy! You should never have told her about Colonel Burke’s philandering. You should never have encouraged her to beg off. You are ruining everything!”

  “How—?”

  “Mother is sure to have apoplexy and never let us out of her sight again.” She hurried to the door and paused with one hand on the latch. “Well, I will not stand for this. I will take matters into my own hands and you, Trudy, can take the hindmost!”

  The slamming door might have been heard throughout the house, but it did not so much a slow down the preparations. No one came to inquire what had happened, and there was no point in warning Laura that Fiona was on a rampage. Everyone in earshot had heard Fiona.

  Still, Fi would have a good cry and then apologize for her behavior. They were sisters, after all, and would stand by Laura no matter her decision.

  “And with a day to spare!” Morton crowed to the gathering at White’s. “Come, lads, pay up.”

  A twinge of guilt tweaked Dare. He looked around the parlor at his friends. And a few of Lancelot’s victims. “Actually—”

  “Actually,” Morton interrupted, “Dare identified the Shadow a day or two before. Is that not so, Dare?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But he couldn’t announce it until he confronted the man, and... well, you all know the story.”

  “Indeed we do,” Rother agreed. “Very queer circumstances, if you ask me. But it all fits, does it not? Complete down to Amory’s fancy walking stick. Is it true old Amory’s blood was still in the engraving?”

  “Quite gory,” Morton said, warming to his subject.

  Dare sighed. There was no stopping the story now and, though the matter was muddy, it was somehow satisfactory.

  He noted Lord Towe sitting in his favorite chair and
remembered the day he’d made the wager. Towe had warned him he’d better learn to bend before he broke, especially if he got himself involved with Gertrude Carr. He separated himself from his friends and went to sit across from Towe.

  “Sorry for the kerfuffle at your ball last night, Towe.”

  “’Twasn’t your fault, lad. Couldn’t be helped. This has been a deucedly peculiar season, has it not? But I must say that I am pleased it is nearly over. A bit disconcerting to have a thief and a murderer running amok. I hope you are not suffering remorse.”

  Dare bowed his head and looked at his hands. “There is always a consequence to taking another man’s life. It wasn’t intentional, but I will deal with whatever trouble my conscience gives me. I think it will not be monumental. He was attempting to kill Miss Trudy. The less said and the sooner forgotten, the better.”

  “Hmm. She is the one thing that will not be soon forgotten, eh? I watched you with little Miss Gertrude last night. Is there something I should know?”

  Dare thought of Trudy and smiled. Two weeks ago, how could he have guessed what lay ahead? How his life would change. Indeed, how even his firmly held beliefs would change? “Not yet, Towe. But you will be pleased to know that I have learned to bend.”

  The old man laughed. “I am delighted to hear that, Collingwood. I think your father would be, too. There’s a spark in you I haven’t seen for a very long time. I pray you will keep it up.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  GARISH LIGHT PIERCED the darkness of Trudy’s room and she was about to protest. Ah, but then she remembered she’d left instructions for an early breakfast and bath. Today was Laura’s wedding day and she wanted to make an early start. If she waited until the last moment, Mother would find myriad things for her to do and then she’d never be presentable.

  She pushed herself upright as her maid placed the breakfast tray over her lap. “Thank you, Betty. Am I the first up?”

  “Yes, miss. Both Miss Laura and Miss Fiona left orders not to disturb them until they rang.”

  “I do not suppose that will be long now,” Trudy murmured. She sipped her tea and picked at her pastry. She had no appetite. Excitement, she supposed.

  “Your bath is ready for you, miss, when you are done.”

  She put her tray aside, slipped her pink wrapper on and went to her door. She noted a corner of a paper protruding from under the rug just inside her door and picked it up. Fiona’s handwriting. She slipped her finger under the seal and unfolded the paper.

  Trudy,

  Please forgive me. I am sorry for my temper, but I was so distressed to hear the news of Laura’s change of heart that I could not think straight. I have waited patiently for so long to be with the man I love that the thought of yet another delay was more than I could bear.

  Ah, an apology for her tantrum. How sweet. She’d read the rest later. She handed it to Betty. “Please put that on my dressing table, Betty. I will finish reading it after my bath.”

  “Aye, miss.”

  Though she usually liked to linger in the tub, she made quick work of her bath and shampoo. There was so much to be done in mere hours. Soon back at her dressing table with Betty braiding her wet hair in an intricate weave, she took up Fiona’s letter again.

  I hope you will understand that I have taken this extraordinary measure only because it is necessary. For the moment, all you must know is that George and I have been in love for three long years. We could tell no one since Mother would have forbidden any friendship between us.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake! This was not an apology for her tantrum. George who? And three years? Who had Fi loved for three years?

  I met him by the garden gate at dusk, and when I gave him the news he was even more upset than I. He begged me to run off with him to Gretna Green, and I agreed. By the time you read this, we shall be well on our way, and when next I see you, I shall be Mrs. George Bradley.

  George Bradley? The skinny lad next door? Lydia’s brother? The rascal who’d tormented them growing up? The handsome man he’d grown into who’d teased them like a brother, partnered them at balls and brought them punch? How had this gone on under her own nose? How had Fiona ever kept this secret so long?

  I do not wish to make trouble for you, but someone will have to inform Mama and Papa. I know you can withstand Mama’s hysterics and Papa’s blustering. I only hope that, someday, you will all understand.

  Fondly, Fi

  Oh! If only she’d gone to Fi last night and told her Laura had changed her mind yet again! She must warn Laura before she informed her parents what Fi had done! She sat still long enough for Betty to secure her braids in a coronet, then made a dash for her door.

  When three separate raps went unanswered, Trudy opened Laura’s door and stopped stock still. She shivered with a pang of foreboding. Laura’s bed had not been slept in. A pristine piece of paper was propped against her pillow with a single word. Trudy. Dear God! Had her sister run away to avoid marriage?

  Filled with dread, she lifted the letter and broke the seal.

  My dearest little sister,

  I have left this note for you because you are the only one who will understand and will not hate me for what I’ve done.

  Oh dear, this was not starting well. She sank onto Laura’s window seat, suspecting she would want to read this sitting down.

  Years ago, when I made my bow to society, I fell deeply in love with a man. I gently encouraged him as Mother taught, making it clear that my passions were locked away. After one pristine little kiss, I knew I would never love anyone else. And I have not. But, dear Trudy, there was a misunderstanding. When I behaved reserved and elegant, and held myself aloof as Mother taught us, he thought I was cold and distant. He thought I was discouraging him and abandoned his suit.

  Ah, that would not be the first time Mother’s meddling caused trouble.

  And I, fool that I am, thought he had cooled in his ardor when I allowed him that one little kiss. I feared that he thought me silly and fast, just as Mother had warned. I have never regretted anything as deeply as that kiss.

  But, miracle of miracles, he came to me two nights ago and renewed his suit. He swore he has loved no other before or since, and that a chance word alerted him that, perhaps, we had misunderstood each other. He begged me on one knee to go away with him and marry. What could I say but yes? With all my heart, yes?

  Oh! How perfectly lovely! Laura would be happy at last.

  When next I see you, I will be the Viscountess Morton! Henry obtained a special license and is taking me to his family seat in Sussex to be married in his own parish. He wants us to sign the same parish register as generations of Mortons before us. And our children will be christened there, as well. So romantic, is it not? He has quite a poetical turn of mind. Is it not all so wonderful, Trudy?

  Gloriously, extraordinarily, ecstatically wonderful!

  You made me see the mistake I was about to make, so I know you will be happy for me. Please tell Mother and Father I am sorry for the scandal this will cause. As for the Colonel, I know he will easily find a more suitable wife for an officer. And I? I shall be blissfully married by the time you read this. My only regret is that I have left you alone to explain this to Mother and Father, but I know you, of all of us, are equal to the task.

  I am your devoted and grateful sister,

  Laura

  Trudy groaned. She was deliriously happy for Laura, but the task of breaking this news to Mother and Father would not be easy. They would blame her for Laura’s sudden change of mind, and they would not be far off the mark, though Lord Morton had had something to do with it, too. She shuddered to think of her mother’s reaction.

  Oh, Colonel Burke! Someone had better tell him at once. And Mother would... would... oh! She could not even imagine what Mother would do. One thing was certain. They would need a level head, and heaven knows there was not a single level head amongst the Carrs!

  Dare had been reading Littleworth’s brilliant apology to him—whic
h must have been submitted last night—in the Times when Trudy’s summons had taken him by surprise. Her explanation was somewhat jumbled and seemed to have something to do with Laura and Fiona. Lancelot had been unclear on everything but the fact that Trudy had sent him to fetch Dare. He braced himself, stepped out of his coach, climbed the stairs and knocked firmly on the Carr’s door.

  The cloying scent of too many flowers struck him the moment the butler answered his knock. Behind him, servants were scurrying here and there but it all seemed confused and disorganized instead of the excited bustle of an impending wedding.

  The butler bowed and opened the door wide. “Come with me, my lord. The family is expecting you.”

  Interesting, since the last time he’d been here Mrs. Carr had all but thrown him out.

  Mrs. Carr’s wailing was audible even before the butler opened the sitting room door. “What ever shall we do? We are ruined! Ruined, I tell you! We shall have to move to Scotland!”

  “Now, Ellen. Calm yourself,” Robert Carr said. “I fear you are approaching hysteria. That will solve nothing.”

  “Solve? What are you saying, Robert? There is nothing to be solved. It is a fait accompli. The day is ruined. We are ruined!”

  “Collingwood!” Trudy jumped to her feet when she saw him and came to take his hands to draw him farther into the room.

  She was dressed informally in some sort of pink frippery that barely covered her. He thought it might be a dressing gown. This little preview of what it would be like to have Trudy as his wife, in his home, gave rise to an unseemly lust. He had better get a grip on his lust before he disgraced himself.

  Her color was high but she did not seem overly distressed. “Thank heavens you are here. Everything is such a jumble and we hardly know where to begin.”

  “Coffee, if you have it.”

  She smiled and he was glad to see that she was not as dramatic as her mother. Calm in a crisis. That was a very becoming trait, and one obviously not learned from her mother. He was also quick to note that neither of Trudy’s sisters were present. Was this about Trudy, then?