The King's League Box Set: Regency Romance

by Lucy Adams

  He floundered for another moment, his mind refusing to give him the answer he required. She was looking at him with such a strong gaze and he was so very greatly embarrassed that—for some moments—it seemed quite impossible to remember his own name.

  “I am Lady Esther,” the young lady said, sighing with apparent exasperation. “Pray, do not wait for propriety’s sake, my lord. Might you give me your name also?”

  “Of course, of course,” he said hurriedly, his words tumbling over each other. “The Earl of Westbrook, Lady Esther.” He bowed awkwardly. “And you shall send all bills to me, Lady Esther. I insist. The bill to repair this gown, if it is possible, and the bill for a new gown of your choosing, whatever the price.” His face burning, he bowed again and then turned away, wanting to leave the young lady alone in order to prevent further embarrassment to both herself and to him. “Excuse me.”

  “You are excused,” he heard the lady say, her tone a little jarring. “Good evening, Lord Westbrook.”

  “Good evening,” he muttered over his shoulder, knowing that now he was behaving abominably and certainly was unspeakably rude, “and again, Lady Esther, I apologize.”

  His face still hot, he strode away at once, thinking that mayhap the shadows no longer held the protectiveness he had hoped for. Returning back to the center of the ballroom, he soon found himself surrounded by friends and acquaintances once more, all speaking of London gossip, of their hopes for the Season, and whispering about one gentleman or another. Charles tried to embrace the joviality, tried to let himself forget the embarrassment that had been his, but no matter how hard he tried, the image of Lady Esther remained firmly fixed in his mind. Her sharp eyes, her tight lipped smile – it would not leave him. No matter whom he conversed with or whom he led to the dance floor, there was none but Lady Esther lingering on his mind. He had never made such a fool of himself before, and it was that feeling, mayhap, that he did not like. It clawed at him, biting into his heart and rendering him entirely unable to enjoy any part of the evening. For whatever reason, Lady Esther had done what no other young lady had ever been able to do in capturing his full attention even though, he thought grimly, it was for all the wrong reasons.

  Chapter Two

  “Papa?”

  Esther peered into her father’s study as she carefully pushed the door open, expecting to see him within. The room was, unfortunately, entirely empty, and there was a slight chill about the place that made her wonder when he had been here last.

  Frowning to herself, Esther walked a little further into the room as though she expected there to be some sort of clue as to where her father might be. He had not been at breakfast, and upon asking one of the footman, she had been reassured that he was not still abed. So where might he have gone? It was much too early for afternoon calls, and Lord Leighton was not the sort of gentleman to go out walking early in the morning.

  Her heart twisted painfully as she recalled how her father had given her that beautiful locket only yesterday. She had worn it to the ball last evening, which her father had not accompanied her to, but rather he had left her in the care of her aunt. He had, however, told her just how beautiful she looked and had commented on the locket around her neck. Her eyes closed tightly against the flood of tears that rushed towards her, her breathing a little ragged as she rested her hands on her father’s study desk. Just where was he?

  “Oh, Lady Esther! Excuse me, I–”

  Her eyes flew open, only to see a maid standing there with her expression one of sheer embarrassment, evidently having come to dust and clean in Lord Leighton’s study but having accidentally stumbled upon Esther instead.

  “It is quite all right,” Esther said quickly, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief and straightening up. “Do come in and go about your duties.”

  “Thank you, miss,” the maid murmured, her head low as she came into the room. “What with the master gone, I thought it best to get his study in order until he returns.”

  Esther, who had been on her way towards the door, stopped dead. “Gone?” she repeated, turning around slowly to see the maid looking back at her with an astonished expression. “Lord Leighton is gone somewhere?”

  The maid bit her lip, looking all about her. “I did not mean to speak out of turn, miss.”

  “No, no,” Esther replied hastily. “It is only that I did not know my father had gone from London.” She studied the maid carefully, feeling a deep sense of shame that her staff seemed to know more about her father’s disappearance than she did. “Where has my father gone?”

  The maid glanced at her and then shrugged. “I don’t know, Lady Esther. It’s not my place to know. The butler just said that the master was gone—out of town—on some business. That is all I know.”

  Esther blinked rapidly, her heart fluttering in an uncomfortable fashion.

  “He left last evening, as far as I know,” the maid finished, now appearing a little embarrassed. “I didn’t see him myself, Lady Esther, but the butler—”

  “Thank you,” Esther interrupted, more firmly than she had first intended. “That answers a good many questions. I shall leave you to go about your duties now.” She did not wait for the maid to say anything more in response but rather swung back on her heel and strode from the study, keeping her shoulders down and her head up. It would not do for the staff to know of her sorrow and confusion, especially when it seemed that they knew more about her father’s whereabouts than she did!

  Making her way towards the drawing room in the hope of finding her aunt, Esther threw her mind back to when her father had given her the locket. It had been only a few minutes after his visitor, whomever it had been, had departed from the house, and Esther was quite certain that her father had either been afraid of the gentleman with the scar, or he had been left sorrowful over what had been shared. Perhaps there had been a bit of both, but—for whatever reason—Esther recalled, he had not wanted to answer her question as to who the gentleman was. He had avoided answering her altogether, in fact, and had brought out the locket instead of telling her what the trouble had been.

  Had it been simply a matter of her father thinking that the subject had nothing whatsoever to do with Esther? Had it been his way of protecting her? Or was there something more malevolent about the gentleman and his visit to London?

  “Aunt?”

  She pushed open the drawing room door to see her aunt sitting quietly by the fireplace, although no fire burned there today. She was reading through some correspondence, it seemed, for she looked up to smile at Esther with an unfolded letter in her hand.

  “Good morning, Esther,” Lady Ware murmured quietly, dropping her gaze back to her letter. “Come now, I will share with you all the news from Alexandrea, who has written to share such lovely–”

  “Where is my father?”

  Esther’s interruption made Lady Ware frown as she put her letter down carefully, looking up at Esther with sharp eyes.

  “I do not mean to be rude,” Esther said quickly, before her aunt could begin to criticize her. “But it is only that I cannot find my father anywhere, and I was hoping to share with him the news of how last evening’s ball fared.” She watched her aunt carefully, seeing the frown grow steadily deeper rather than clear entirely.

  “My dear girl, did he not inform you that he was to go out of London on a matter of some urgency?” Lady Ware said slowly, her expression now both curious and surprised. “There was a short note waiting for me only this morning—after I broke my fast. You did not know of it?”

  A little sorrowful, Esther slumped down into one of the nearby chairs and shook her head, her heart growing suddenly painful. Her father had written a note to Lady Ware but had not left one for her?

  “Well, I am surprised that he did not do so, but he must have expected me to simply share this with you,” Lady Ware said in a practical tone. “I am here to guide you through society this Season, and therefore, he obviously left me to deal with this matter.”

  Esther s
wallowed her tears, refusing to allow them to fall. It was not like her father to behave so, she was quite certain, for he did not often keep such things from her. Even if he was to go out for an afternoon call, he would always inform her of where he was going and when he expected to be back. So why had he not done so now, particularly when he was gone from London entirely?

  “The note did not state much at all,” Lady Ware continued when Esther said nothing. “Just that he has some business that needs his immediate attention, and so he has returned to the estate. It will take him a few days to do all that is required of him, and then he hopes to return to us here.”

  Esther mentally calculated that, with the time it took to return to the estate and then back to London once he had resided there a few days, Lord Leighton might very well be absent from town for over a fortnight. She swallowed hard again, a warning ringing in her ears. A warning that she could not ignore. There was something wrong here, something that she could not quite understand. Her father had looked so sorrowful the last time she had seen him and had appeared so very upset over some matter that he would not share with her. She could not get her sense of worry removed from her heart. Was his absence in some way connected to the visitor who had called upon Lord Leighton, the gentleman with the scar? The snippets of conversation she had overheard rang back in her ears all over again, reminding her of the strangeness of what had been said. No, she determined, shaking her head. There was more to her father’s absence than there first appeared, more to his hasty retreat from London than a mere matter of business. She did not know what it could be, nor had she any way of discovering the truth, but there came a slow-growing sense of fear mixed with determination. Determination that she would discover the answers that she now required.

  And her first step would be to write to her father at home and to wait for his reply, which she was quite certain would not come. If her father had left London on a matter of business, then he certainly would not have left without either speaking to her or writing to her to inform her of his intentions, no matter how urgent the matter was. Her aunt might be fooled by the note, but Esther was not.

  “Esther?”

  Dragged back to the present, Esther looked up to see her aunt looking at her with confusion in her eyes.

  “Yes, Aunt?” Esther replied, smoothing out her skirts and trying her best to look nonchalant. “What is it you were saying?”

  Lady Ware let out a long, heavy sigh. “You are distracted this morning, Esther.” She waved a hand. “I suppose that is to be understood, given the ball last evening, but you must not allow your thoughts to linger on what occurred. I am quite certain that Lord Westbrook will do everything he promised, once you have chosen the gown you desire.”

  Esther shook her head, having not been thinking on Lord Westbrook or the struggles she had needed to deal with last evening. “I was not thinking on Lord Westbrook,” she said firmly. “I was merely wondering–”

  “He must be some sort of ridiculous oaf to have made such a mess of your gown,” Lady Ware continued distractedly. “To stand on the back of a lady’s gown and then not remove his foot when she is pulled back speaks of a lack of awareness and consideration that does not make me think well of him.”

  “Yes, Aunt,” Esther murmured, seeing that her aunt had decided that the note she had received from her brother was quite the accepted explanation and realizing that to suggest otherwise would only bring a good deal of difficulty to matters at hand. If she told Lady Ware that she suspected her father was in trouble, then her aunt might either refuse to even consider the idea and demand that Esther focus solely on the Season, or her aunt might believe her and then become greatly distressed, to the point of being quite unable to help Esther at all and perhaps demanding that they return home at once.

  Neither scenario was a particularly good one as far as Esther was concerned. As her aunt droned on about the lack of consideration Lord Westbrook had shown towards her, Esther considered what she might do next.

  She had to discover the name of the gentleman who had visited her father only yesterday. Absentmindedly, Esther reached up and touched her locket that now hung about her neck, remembering just how her father had looked when he had given it to her. Had he done so immediately after the scarred gentleman’s visit, for fear that something might occur to him thereafter?

  And just how was she to go about seeking out this gentleman when she had no idea where he might be or what his name was? Her jaw clenched, her brows sinking low as she struggled to come up with a sensible suggestion.

  Your father’s correspondence.

  It was an idea at least. If she looked through her father’s letters and the like, she might then come across something that could inform her as to who that gentleman might have been. Mayhap there would be an address she could visit, where she might make discreet enquiries. And, of course, she would write daily to her father if she had to, although she fully expected not to have a single reply to anything she sent to the estate. If her father was there, as he had said, then he would write back to her almost at once, but if he was not, then her letters would go unanswered. Then she would know for certain that something was gravely wrong.

  “Esther! You are not paying attention!”

  Esther jumped, visibly startled. “I am sorry, Aunt,” she said quickly, putting on her most innocent expression. “I was merely thinking about what color of gown I might choose for my replacement.” She smiled and saw her aunt’s frustrated expression begin to fade away. “What do you think? And where might we go to select such a gown?”

  Her aunt, clearly satisfied by Esther’s apology and now distracted by what they were to do that afternoon in seeking out a replacement gown, began to speak animatedly about what she thought was best. Esther listened with half an ear, trying her best to look as though she were paying attention even though her mind was filled with all other manner of thoughts, specifically trying to work out what she was to do and where she might have to go in order to learn more about her father’s difficulties.

  Do not worry, Papa, she said silently, as though he would somehow be able to hear her. You are not going to face this trouble alone. Whatever it is, I am coming in search of you and, together, we shall confront it. Her throat began to ache again with the sorrow and confusion that melded itself to her heart, but with an effort, Esther thrust such feelings aside. She had to find a good deal of courage now; she had to discover a new strength within herself, for if she was to help her father, then she could not allow any sign of weakness.

  I will find you, Papa. I am coming.

  Chapter Three

  “Where are you to go to this evening?”

  Charles, who had been enjoying a glass of very fine brandy, sighed and stretched himself out in his chair, feeling as though he did not want to go anywhere in particular, given that Whites was so very comfortable and given that it was not too late in the evening and fairly quiet.

  “I was to go to The Shrew,” he said, seeing how Lord Brandley’s eyes lit up. “But I confess I feel much too tired to do so.”

  Lord Brandley chuckled. “You cannot escape from your duties however,” he replied with a broad grin. “Besides which, The Shrew is a place where many gentlemen spend many an enjoyable hour. I am certain that many of the gentlemen from the League would be glad to replace you, should you be quite certain that you do not wish to attend.”

  Charles chuckled, lifting his brandy glass and throwing back the rest. Letting out a sigh of satisfaction, he set the empty glass down again. “I am well aware of that, but I fear that some could not be trusted to keep their wits about them,” he replied, with a knowing look towards his friend. “Besides which, I have no intention of gambling, which may well be a vice for some of those in the League.” He gave a small sigh, rolling his eyes in self-mockery. “I am rather dull, am I not?”

  “Indeed, you are,” Lord Brandley agreed with another grin. “You do not lose yourself in your cups; you do not gamble and certainly have no eagerness to
frequent Madame Buxley’s house, which you know must also be done if we are to search all of London.”

  Aware that Lord Brandley was referring to one of the less seemly parts of London, where a gentleman might go in secret so as to relieve himself of his pent up desire, Charles shrugged and looked away. He had never had any wish to go to such a place as that, even though it was often the establishment where an enemy of England might go, unable to resist the urge and the pull that dragged him there. Had not the League captured more than a few spies at places similar to Madame Buxley’s?

  “I gladly leave that responsibility to others,” he said, pushing himself up out of his chair and seeing Lord Brandley laugh. “I shall, with a good deal of unwillingness, go to The Shrew and see if there is anything to discover there.”

  Lord Brandley also rose to his feet, his smile suddenly gone and a new seriousness drawn into his expression. “You seek out the gentlemen that we currently suspect?”

  Charles nodded slowly, his jaw tensing. This was when it became a good deal more difficult, for when they were back amongst the ton, the gentlemen in The King’s League were forced to act with a good deal more secrecy than before. What made it all the worse was that there were one or two gentlemen that the League was watching closely, for fear that they might have connections to the French and be actively involved in encouraging and aiding them in their attempt to conquer England. Charles had two names to seek out – one Lord Autry, whose family came from France, and the other, Lord Breton, whose wife had a good many connections within France itself. They might well be innocent entirely, Charles knew, but it was best that he watched them carefully for some time. He would have to introduce himself to them also, and the best place to do that was when a gentleman was off his guard, merry and perhaps a little inebriated. They would think nothing of such a meeting, whereas they might be a little suspicious should they be thinking clearly. Unfortunately for Charles, there were a good many places where such gentlemen might be, although he had been reliably informed that Lord Breton enjoyed gambling at The Shrew, one of London’s infamous gambling hells, and so he intended to go there also in search of the fellow.