A Season in London (Timeless Regency Collection Book 6)

by Elizabeth Johns

  Emma gasped in shock and covered her mouth.

  “I will spare you the details, but they had not merely been shot. Someone had deliberately mutilated them. My dogs were my companions in life, in war—my family,” he said.

  Emma could see he was trying to control his emotion.

  “How could anyone hurt a harmless dog?” she asked in disbelief.

  He shook his head and looked away. The memory was obviously still very painful for him, all these years later.

  “He is a sick man. He knew how much they meant to me. William and I saw Lofton leaving his estate that night and followed him to the caves not far from the village. We suspected him of being the culprit and having plotted some manner of revenge. A few hours later, we saw him dragging something heavy near the grave, though we did not witness anything directly. We returned the next morning to investigate.

  “Expecting illegal goods, we instead discovered a smuggler’s body in a shallow grave near to where we had buried the dogs. When we went to confront Lofton, we found him with bandaged arms, claiming he had fallen into some thorns while a little top-heavy. I recklessly grabbed his arm, and blood oozed through the poultice. I ripped the bandages off and would have likely killed him, for he was covered in scratches and bite marks, but because he claimed to have been drunk, William held me back.”

  “So it led you and Falteroy to concoct the scheme to catch him? Did he admit to killing the smuggler?”

  “Melvyn never admitted to any wrong-doing. He claimed he happened upon the man already dead and buried him near the dogs to allay any suspicions of revenue officers. Smuggling was—is—common in these parts near the coast, and most look the other way. However, the old Viscount Lofton and Melvyn’s elder brother died in a mysterious accident not long after, and many suspected it was retaliation for the smuggler’s death.”

  “Why would they think so? What happened to them?” she asked, full of questions about the man who had killed her brother.

  “Nothing so strange it could not be counted an accident. Their small fishing vessel was found overturned, and their bodies were discovered in fishermen’s nets two days later.”

  “How horrid!” Emma exclaimed.

  “Indeed, it was a wretched business, and the sudden change in circumstances never felt right. William had begun to pay more attention to the operations of the estate since returning from university; he, of course, noticed Cassie. Melvyn had taken over as Viscount Lofton, and he thought to give Cassie to William to spite me. Our calf-love had dwindled, and William had not been aware of my feelings to begin with. He had been away at school during our brief courtship, but Melvyn knew of my intentions towards his sister.”

  “What of Cassie? Was she a mere pawn in this?” Emma asked, feeling defensive on behalf of her unknown sister-in-law.

  “No. Cassie was nothing at all like her brother. She was a beautiful soul. However, it was a perfect situation to publicly work against Lofton. William had begun to suspect Lofton’s activities with the French went beyond smuggling into treason when documents began to go missing in conjunction with Lofton’s military duties. William worked with your uncle—who was his contact at Whitehall—spying for the Crown, and I began to plant information to try to trap Lofton through various orders and missives. He was suspicious and clever. I did not know the entirety until Lofton signed the confession.”

  “Why did my uncle allow Lofton to court Jane?”

  “He did not believe it would come to anything, and he had no evidence to confirm my suspicions. It might have alerted Lofton had he refused.”

  “Poor Jane, but I do not think her heart was touched.”

  “It is a shame she must suffer the repercussions of it all. I wish I could have caught him sooner.”

  “Christopher did not play a part in it, did he?” Emma asked worriedly.

  “No, nothing traitorous. He did do something careless, which is why he never made the delivery to my brother.”

  “What was it? Please tell me,” she pleaded.

  “Lofton wrote he had been . . .” He coughed. “Ah . . . making an exchange with a female French spy when Christopher happened upon them. Christopher mistook the exchange and decided to play the hero. I presume he believed the . . . the exchange was not by mutual consent. Ahem. Lofton says the Frenchwoman shot him so he could not identify them. Dead men tell no tales, I am afraid.”

  Emma felt her cheeks heat. She understood his meaning well enough. “And he chose to incriminate Christopher by placing a note on his body?” she asked.

  “Yes. One intended to divert attention from himself.”

  She nodded sadly.

  “Now what happens to dear Jane?”

  “We have a plan for dear Jane, if she is agreeable.” He leaned forward and pulled Emma to him. “But I do not wish to speak of Jane at this moment,” he whispered huskily.

  A warm, nervous sensation spread through her, and she could feel his chest rise and fall as his arms slid around her. He smelled faintly of sandalwood, earth, and horse, and she wanted more. Despite her nerves and the upheaval in her life during the past week, she realized she accepted what he was saying. She wondered how she came to be here—married to a stranger, rescuing her cousin from a traitor, finding her brother’s killer, and in the arms of her husband—but her thoughts abandoned her as he brushed her lips with his.

  He murmured her name against her neck, and the soft wisps of air sent shock waves to her very core. Unfamiliar feelings burned through her, and she suddenly felt beautiful, secure, loved. Emma blinked and looked at this man whom, she suddenly discovered, had already commandeered her heart.

  Hesitantly, she raised her arms and pulled his lips to hers. He kissed her slowly and gently until her knees were weak and she was lost with desire for something more. Several more minutes passed before Shelton pulled away.

  “We should perhaps take this upstairs, my beautiful wife,” he whispered through ragged breaths.

  Emma could not think. She could only nod. She could not explain the strange feelings but knew she wanted more, that this was right. Reaching down, he swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs.

  Chapter Ten

  Jane turned over, wondering where she was. She was in a strange bed and a strange room. She blinked to clear the sleep from her eyes, and that was when it all came back to her. She would like to go back to sleep and hope when she awoke next time it would have all been a bad dream. How much her life had changed in a single day!

  She expected her mother would be here soon, having spread word around town she was ill or had gone to a house party. There was bound to be scandal—it was unavoidable with the way gossip spread in London—for no one left town at the height of the Season without good reason. She had meant what she had said to Lofton. She would rather be a spinster than be married to that monster. Nevertheless, it did not mean it would be easy.

  Her mother would have a plan. Her mother always had a plan. It would likely include marrying her off quickly to someone in need of a fortune who would look the other way. Was that not what Lofton had been? She shuddered.

  A light tap sounded on her door a few minutes later.

  “Enter,” she replied.

  A maid looked in. “My lord has asked me to see if I can be of assistance, miss? Would you care to dress for dinner or would you prefer a tray in your room?”

  Had she slept through the entire day?

  “I suppose I will dress for dinner.” There was little point in being alone, and she needed to thank Lord Falteroy for rescuing her earlier. She had been too overcome to do it properly.

  “Mrs. Shelton brought some clothes for you.”

  “I had not even thought of it,” Jane confessed.

  After she was dressed in a simple blossom-pink muslin and her hair had been piled in loose curls upon her head, Jane went in search of her cousin. The maid had thought she might be in the nursery.

  At first, Jane wondered what Emma would be doing in the nursery, but then she
stopped mid-thought and reflected that perhaps Lord Falteroy was married and had children. She shook her head and chastised herself for being silly. She had no doubt imagined the look he had given her earlier. Besides, two days ago, she had thought she was to marry Lofton. Her narrow escape should be sufficient for now, she thought as she climbed the final flight of stairs to the nursery, without already thinking of another man.

  “Papa, you hold the cup like this,” she heard a sweet little voice say with a lisp.

  “Yes, Lady Evangeline,” she heard Falteroy say with amusement.

  Jane peeked in through the doorway to see Lord Falteroy sitting at a small table with an angelic little girl whose head was covered in red curls.

  Evangeline saw Jane and smiled.

  “Want to join our tea-party?” she asked, surprisingly articulate.

  “I did not mean to intrude. I was told my cousin was to be found here,” Jane said.

  “Lady Jane,” Lord Falteroy said, rising to his feet. “May I introduce you to my daughter, Lady Evangeline?”

  The little girl curtsied gracefully.

  “Pleased to meet you, Lady Jane. Please have some tea and some blackberry biscuits.”

  Jane looked to Falteroy, who inclined his head with a smile.

  Jane sat on a tiny chair, and Evangeline served her. “Blackberry biscuits are my favourite,” she told the little girl, whose face lit up at the admission.

  “Mine, too!” she exclaimed.

  Jane’s heart ached with pain, knowing she might not know the joy of motherhood because of the scandal. She wondered if Falteroy knew how fortunate he was. She studied him watching his daughter and could tell that he did by the pride in his eyes.

  “Well, Lady Evangeline, I do think it is time for your bath.”

  The little girl sighed. “I know, but I wish it were not.”

  “I will be back to tuck you in later.”

  “Yes, Papa. I hope you will come back for tea soon, Lady Jane.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Lady Evangeline.”

  The maid directed the little girl to her bath, and Jane stood to leave. For some reason, she wanted to cry and hurried from the room. She thought to seek reprieve in the garden, hoping fresh air might calm her nerves.

  “Lady Jane?” Falteroy called to her as she made her way through the house. “Are you all right? I was going to ask you to walk with me.”

  She turned and tried to control her emotions with a smile. She nodded and took his offered arm.

  “She is a beautiful child,” Jane said as he directed her down the stairs and out to the terrace.

  “I am happy you were able to meet her. It has been hard for her, without a mother’s love. Why the tears? Did Lofton harm you?” he asked gently.

  She shook her head. “Not in the way you may think. I realized when I saw your daughter that I might never marry because in the eyes of Society I am ruined. I may also never have the chance to be a mother. Silly, is it not? I should be grateful to be alive.”

  He stood close enough to touch her and lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

  “No. I do not think it silly at all.” He was very close and looked deep into her eyes. For a moment, she forgot about her troubles.

  He pulled back to an arm’s length. “I am sorry I was unable to prevent Lofton from doing this to you.”

  “Surely you do not blame yourself for his reprehensible behaviour?”

  “Not his behaviour, but I should have stopped him before he kidnapped you.”

  “I shall recover. It remains to be seen what repercussions there will be, but I am trying to remain hopeful. My mother is very resourceful.”

  Falteroy was quiet and appeared lost in thought as he looked skyward into the night. He finally spoke. “Let us hope the focus is now on Lofton and thus diverted from you. I am glad you are safe from him now.”

  “Lord Falteroy, thank you,” she said softly, feeling the inadequacy of the words as she spoke them.

  He inclined his head and returned to the house.

  Lady Wetherby burst through the parlour door, not waiting to be announced. “Jane! Where is my dear Jane?”

  “I am here, Mother,” Jane said as she walked in from the garden, where her father and Lord Falteroy were talking.

  “What has happened?” her ladyship cried as she hurried to embrace her daughter. “You are being forced into this marriage, then?” Lady Wetherby asked, as she was joined by her husband who had come into the room to greet her. “I was certain, my dear Lord Wetherby, you were arranging this match to save us from scandal.”

  “She is not being forced into anything, Tilda. Lofton is dead,” Lord Wetherby explained.

  He caught her before she swooned and helped her to a chair. Jane found her mother’s smelling salts from her reticule and wafted them under her nose.

  “You should allow me to be seated before shocking me, Lord Wetherby,” Lady Wetherby said when she had recovered.

  “I was unaware you were so easily shocked, my dear. How did you leave things in Town?”

  “Oh!” She waved her kerchief. “I made Jane’s excuses for the party, saying she had the headache. Then I put it about we were all to attend a house party here in celebration of Emma and Shelton’s marriage, so the bride and groom could have time together before he sets out again for the Continent.”

  “I knew you would think of something, Mother. I am happy I will have a few days before going back to Town, but I know I must,” Jane said bravely.

  “Indeed, you must,” her mother agreed. “We cannot allow rumours to be fed. We must find you a new suitor quickly, before anyone remembers who Lofton was.”

  The door opened, admitting Emma and Colin. “Good evening, Aunt. I could not help but overhear you, and if Jane wishes, she may stay here with me until I leave for Dorsetshire.”

  “I do not know if that would be wise, Emma,” her aunt said with a frown.

  Lord Wetherby intervened. “We need not decide tonight.”

  He turned to William and Colin. “I hope the two of you will now feel free to retire from your duties to the Crown. I certainly would if I were in your shoes,” he said with a smile.

  “I feel my mission to be completed,” William said.

  Everyone’s eyes turned to Colin. A look of surprise crossed his face. “I suppose I should ask my wife if she minds having a resident husband.” Clearly noticing Emma’s face flush, he continued, “But I believe that is a discussion for privacy. Would you care to join me for a walk in the garden, wife?”

  Jane watched her cousin and new husband leave with a pang of wistfulness, though she was truly pleased for her. Emma seemed to have found happiness. How could she not, with a husband who so clearly adored her?

  Lord Falteroy was playing a game of spillikins with his daughter on the other side of the parlour, while Jane’s parents discussed her future in hushed tones. She would very much prefer to be absent from the conversation. She had no desire to be forced to wed whoever would have her, but her parents were speaking of leaving in haste to do just that.

  “Lady Jane,” she heard a little voice say to her. When she looked up, Lady Evangeline was standing before her.

  “Yes, Lady Evangeline?”

  "Papa says I must go back to the nursery now. Will you promise me you will not be gone tomorrow?”

  Jane was unsure what to say. She did not know what her future held. But the little face was looking at her expectantly.

  “I promise I will not leave without a proper good-bye,” Jane answered with a smile.

  “I do not wish for you to leave at all,” the little girl said sweetly.

  “Thank you, Lady Evangeline,” Jane replied.

  “Good night,” the child said and made her curtsies to everyone in the room before leaving with her nurse.

  “What an adorable child!” Lady Wetherby exclaimed.

  “Thank you. I am very proud of her,” Lord Falteroy said, taking a seat.

  Jane felt acutely aware of the tensi
on in the room. Her parents had been discussing her future and were now silent. Would it be unconscionably rude for her to excuse herself? It was not as if she would have much say in the matter at this stage. She would suffer for her poor judgement, possibly for the rest of her life. She wished Emma were still here to support her.

  “Would you mind if I took some fresh air?” she asked, not feeling brave enough to be present for the discussion of her future—not in front of Lord Falteroy.

  “Jane, you should be involved in these decisions,” her mother insisted.

  “May we not wait a few days? Will it make any difference?” she pleaded.

  “I beg your pardon,” Lord Falteroy said. “I will excuse myself. I did not realise you were discussing personal matters.”

  Lord Wetherby let out a sigh. “Not at all. I beg you will forgive our manners. We are naturally very distraught, and we are all exhausted. Perhaps everything will look clearer in the morning.”

  On his words, Lord and Lady Wetherby excused themselves for the night, but Jane felt too restless to go to bed.

  “Would you still like some fresh air or was that merely a way to avoid the impending conversation?” Falteroy asked.

  “Both,” she said with a slight smile.

  “The gardens are pleasant at night. I would not, however, recommend walking out to the marshes alone after dark.”

  “Thank you. I am sure the gardens will suit my purposes.”

  She stood to leave, feeling disappointed, wishing Falteroy would join her.

  He stood up as well, and she felt a fool. She must have imagined the earlier attraction between them. Anyone who had been rescued in such a manner, and by a hero dreams were made of, would likely be as self-deluding as she.

  “Jane,” he said as she walked slowly to the terrace door.

  “Yes?” she asked, reaching for the handle.

  “May I accompany you? Or would you prefer solace?”

  “I would prefer your company, sir,” she replied, her heart beginning to pound.

  He brushed his hand with hers as he held the door open for her to pass. They walked to the stone balustrade and stopped to look out over the garden.