by Lucy Adams
“I will be,” Robert answered, hoarsely, suddenly afraid that he was about to see Miss Hemmingway in a new light—a light that might make him realize that she was, in fact, clothed in a bit more darkness than he thought. “And for what it is worth, gentlemen, I am sorry for my failings in this matter.”
There was a moment or two of silence, which was only broken by Lord Millerton’s voice.
“You did not fail me, nor the League,” he said, firmly. “You acted in the way you thought best, in order to find what was most desperately needed at the time. And I am sure that the driver particularly will be grateful for your actions.”
“And these situations give us time to pause and to reflect on what we might choose to do the next time such a situation appears,” another gentleman added, letting Robert know that it was not seen as a fault, but a learning opportunity. “It gives us a chance to consider our actions so that we might learn from them. That is all.”
“I understand,” Robert answered, still feeling guilt pulling him down, his heart filled with remorse. “I am glad that you are recovering, Lord Millerton. Let us hope that you will not find yourself in any further danger, else you might change your mind and leave the League entirely!”
Lord Millerton managed a small, wheezy laugh which broke the tension in the room completely. “I have only just joined the League and find that it has given me more purpose and intention than anything before,” he told the room. “I will not turn my back on it now.”
“Hear, hear,” Lord Ferguson replied, another gentleman from Scotland whom Robert had known for many years. “And neither must you give up, Lord Franks. Do not let your guilt overwhelm you.” Sharp, dark eyes looked into his own. “There is still much work to do.”
Robert nodded, feeling a little better but still deeply sorrowful over what he had let happen. “I am very aware of that,” he said, as Lord Monteforte handed him another brandy. “And I am grateful to you all for your understanding.”
Swallowing a mouthful of brandy, Robert let out his breath slowly and let the conversation around him simply flow over him. Tomorrow, he would have to speak candidly and perhaps a little forcefully to Miss Hemmingway. It was not something he was relishing but mayhap, if he was lucky, he might begin to discover the truth. He could only pray that it would be so.
Chapter Seven
“You did not do well.”
He turned around but felt the sting of something sharp smash into the side of his face, letting out a yelp of pain as he pressed his hand to his cheek, stumbling to regain his balance. Whatever it was then clouted him sharply on the back of the head, making him cry out again.
“How could you be so foolish?”
“I did not know Lord Franks would come looking!” he protested, wishing he could see the man he was speaking to. “Nor did I think that keeping the notes and the kerchief would cause any difficulty.”
A harsh, cruel laugh wrapped all around him, sending a shiver down his spine.
“It is just as well that I knew of your foolishness,” came the reply, making him frown. “Come now, surely you are not as ridiculous to believe that I have no-one within your own household who is loyal to me?” The laugh came again and he felt his skin crawl. “They informed me that you had kept my notes in a small wooden box, along with the handkerchief that was given you. That is not what you were told to do.”
Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. “I did not mean to keep the handkerchief there,” he lied, half expecting there to come another burst of pain across his face. “The notes and instructions, yes, but I intended to burn the handkerchief as I was instructed.”
He had been correct. There was another strike against his body, this time to his stomach. Groaning, he doubled over and almost fell.
“Foolishness indeed!” came the voice, angry now. “You are utterly ridiculous! Why I ever thought you would be able to aid me in this way, I do not know!”
“Please,” he groaned, praying that there would come no more punishment. “I am only doing what you asked of me. I showed the handkerchief to Lord Franks, did I not?”
There came a moment of silence. “Yes, you did,” came the answer. “And it has proven that he is as I thought him to be.” Again, the silence lingered, as though waiting for judgment to be pronounced. “You have hidden what was sent to you?”
He nodded, miserably. “I have a small room within my study,” he muttered, finally managing to stand straight. “Everything is kept closeted in there, as you asked.”
“And quite safe and well?”
Swallowing hard and hating that he was forced to do as this voice, this man, this fearful threat demanded, he nodded. “Yes,” he muttered, miserably. “Quite safe.”
“That is a relief, at least,” the voice replied, dismissively. “Then you shall soon receive a note detailing what you are to do next. Make sure to attend Lord Wiltshire’s ball. And this time, you will do as you are instructed and burn the note once you have read it.”
“I will,” he croaked, one hand pressed to his sore stomach as he began to back away. “I will obey.”
“See that you do,” the voice grated. “For you know what is at stake if you do not.”
Chapter Eight
“Gracious! Whatever have you done to yourself?”
Carolyn rushed a little further into the room, only for her brother to hold up one hand, his eyes fixed on hers and holding a seriousness that she had not often seen before.
“Carolyn, I am quite all right,” he said, firmly, as she stared at the red mark that ran across her brother’s cheek, seeing how it bruised already in the middle. It was very ugly indeed and she was shocked to see her brother in such a condition.
“What did you do?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on the mark. “Did you injure yourself in some way?” Her eyes narrowed as her brother’s gaze slid away. “Pray do not tell me that there was some foolishness on your part that brought this onto yourself?”
Lord Hamilton lifted his head and frowned, his eyes fixed on hers. “Do not think that you can speak to me as though I am your delinquent child, sister,” he said, with so much anger in his voice that Carolyn took a step back. “This is not your business and, as such, I would ask you to end your ridiculous questioning.”
His words hung over her head for a long moment, leaving her feeling upset and angry. She had only been expressing concern, had only been horrified to see the injury to her brother’s face, but had not once expected such a reaction from him. Obediently, she stepped back, turning around and making her way to the dining room table, ready to break her fast. Her brother said nothing, even though she half expected him to apologize, to say that he was sorry for speaking to her in such a harsh manner. But he did not, merely picking up his newspaper and, with a shake, lifting it again so that he might continue to read it.
“Good morning!”
Carolyn turned her head to see her mother sailing into the room, her face lit with a warm expression and such evident contentment on her face that Carolyn could not help but smile. Clearly last evening’s ball had gone very well indeed, despite the fact that Lady Hamilton now had to admit that Carolyn’s choice of both gown and conversation had brought her more success than before. Whilst Carolyn herself had not enjoyed the ball very much last evening, for her thoughts had been entirely centered on Lord Franks and what she had heard about this ‘League’, she had nonetheless done her utmost to behave just as her mother expected. She had danced almost every dance, had spoken well to any gentleman who approached her and had even made a few more acquaintances thanks to the company of Lady Callander, who had also been present. It had been a successful evening, even if Carolyn had not found much enjoyment from it.
“Did you see that you have received a bouquet of flowers?” Lady Hamilton asked, coming across to Carolyn and smiling brightly at her. “A very large bouquet indeed!”
Carolyn frowned. “No, I have not,” she answered, quietly, looking across at her brother only to see that his face was en
tirely hidden from sight by his newspaper. “When did they arrive?”
“Only a short time ago,” Lady Hamilton answered, with a wave of her hand. “I have had them sent to the dining room. There was a note there also, but I have left it for you to read at your leisure.”
“I thank you,” Carolyn answered, unable to keep her smile at her mother’s exuberance hidden away. “I am glad that you feel a little better about things now, Mama.” She looked into her mother’s face, seeing that there was no anger, no regret nor frustration left there now. Instead, there was just a small sense of contentment and perhaps, a little regret that she had not allowed Carolyn to do such a thing before.
“I am glad that you have made this Season more of a success already,” Lady Hamilton answered, putting her hand over Carolyn’s. “We have only been here a fortnight and already, you have had more dances than ever before!”
“And Lord Franks is to call on me this afternoon,” Carolyn reminded her mother, suddenly finding it difficult to keep her smile fixed to her face, given just how anxious she was about such a meeting. “I thought we might take a walk together. Would you wish to join us?” She held her mother’s gaze, silently praying that her mother would refuse, so that she might be granted a silent and entirely disinterested maid to join her, but her mother immediately looked quite delighted at the idea.
“I should very much like to join you,” she said, with a swift smile. “The park, mayhap?” She laughed, her eyes twinkling and clearly entirely unaware of Carolyn’s immediate disappointment. “That way, I can remain out of your path whilst ensuring that propriety is still maintained.”
A little relieved at this, Carolyn managed a small smile. “I thank you, Mama,” she said, feeling a little glad that they had managed to find a contentment between them, an understanding and almost a camaraderie that had not been there before. Picking up her plate, she turned back to the table, set it down at her place and reached to pour the tea. Her mother did the same only a few minutes later, silencing reigning for some minutes until Lord Hamilton lowered his newspaper.
“Hamilton!”
Lady Hamilton’s screech was immediate.
“Whatever did you do to your face?”
Carolyn watched with interest as her brother’s face heightened with color. “Mama, there is nothing for you to concern yourself with,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. “I have had a slight accident, that is all.”
“But you are injured!” Lady Hamilton exclaimed, making to get out of her seat, “have you sent for a doctor?”
Lord Hamilton flung his newspaper onto the table, slammed his other hand down hard, making the crockery jump and complain.
“Why must I have first my sister and then my mother question me about such matters?” he shouted, making the room reverberate with the sheer volume of his voice. “I do not require a nursemaid nor a nanny. If I tell you there is nothing for you to concern yourself with, that I have had a small accident and nothing more, then there is no reason for you to question that further!”
Carolyn caught her breath, feeling a slight tremor run through her at the sheer anger that seemed to pour from her brother. There was something more to this, she realized, aware of just how furious her brother now was but finding no true understanding of it. There was something bigger to his supposed accident, something that had given him nothing but anger and rage which he was now throwing out at them both.
“And you do not speak to your mother in such a manner!”
Lady Hamilton’s voice was just as sharp, just as angry and holding just as much fury as her son’s. Carolyn closed her eyes and took in a long breath, steadying her own nerves as she heard her mother continue to rail at her son. Lord Hamilton let out a frustrated exclamation and practically threw himself from the table, his chair tipping back to the point of crashing to the floor.
Carolyn stared after her brother in astonishment as he pulled open the door and stormed from the room, leaving a footman to hurry forward and replace the fallen chair.
“Goodness,” Lady Hamilton said faintly, her hand suddenly finding Carolyn’s and holding it tightly, making Carolyn realize just how shocked her mother now was at Lord Hamilton’s behavior. “That was rather…..”
“Unusual,” Carolyn suggested, astonished to see the tears in her mother’s eyes as Lady Hamilton looked at her, nodding. “Do not worry, Mama. I am sure my brother is merely just a little embarrassed and, thus, does not want either of us to question him about whatever has happened.” She smiled warmly at her mother and pressed her hand. “Come now, let us enjoy our breakfast. Do you wish for more tea?”
Lady Hamilton nodded, her smile a little tremulous. “If not for something a little stronger,” she said, a note of dry mirth in her voice. “Thank you, Carolyn. I am sure you are quite right.”
Walking through Hyde Park with her mother trailing behind them made an already tense situation all the worse, Carolyn reflected, even though she was glad of her mother’s willingness to stay behind them. Lord Franks had called upon her, just as she had expected, but there was something foreboding in his gaze every time he looked at her. She could not understand it, although she had been pleased when he had agreed to take a walk in the park, glad that they would not have to sit merely facing each other in the quietness of the drawing room, with her mother present also.
“So,” Lord Franks began, clearing his throat gruffly. “Yesterday was something of a trying day.”
She looked at him, seeing his eyes dart towards hers before looking away again. “Indeed,” she answered, quietly. “How are Lord Millerton and the carriage driver?”
Lord Franks shot her a surprised glance as if he had expected her not to care in the least. “They both are steadily improving,” he told her, honestly. “Lord Millerton appears to be almost back to himself again, although he still needs to rest his shoulder. And the driver will be back in his seat within a fortnight.”
Glad to hear that both were recovering, Carolyn let out a long breath of relief. “I am glad,” she said, truthfully. “Although I confess that I am very confused over what was said yesterday afternoon. In addition, I must also wonder what it is that you wish to know or wish to seek from my brother.” She looked at him steadily but Lord Franks kept his gaze steadfastly straight ahead, not looking to the left or to the right. “I am correct in thinking that the only reason you have been calling on me with such evident determination is in order to find something within his house? Or were you the one to strike him?” She did not know where the last sentence had come from but accompanied it with a pointed look and a lift of her brows.
“Strike him?” Lord Franks turned his head towards her at once, alarm in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Carolyn frowned, wondering if Lord Franks’ supposed surprise at this was anything more than an act. After all, there appeared to be a great deal about him she did not know and, given that he had managed to pretend that he was interested in calling on her when, in fact, he was seeking something from her brother, she did not think she could trust him.
“I truly do not understand what you are speaking of,” Lord Franks continued, perhaps aware that she was uncertain of him. “Your brother is injured?”
“Yes, Lord Franks,” Carolyn answered, glancing behind her to see her mother now caught up in conversation with an acquaintance of some kind. “He has been struck across the face, if not hit elsewhere also.” She shook her head, biting her lip hard for a moment. “I cannot tell what has happened and he certainly will not tell me.”
“I see,” Lord Franks murmured, his expression grave. “That is interesting to know, Miss Hemmingway.” When she looked up at him, she saw that his eyes were now resting on hers, flickering questions held within them.
“It is interesting that my brother has been injured?” she asked, sharply, feeling a knot of anger beginning to tighten in her stomach. “Is that what you mean?”
Lord Franks did not answer immediately, looking at her calmly for some m
oments. “No,” he said, slowly, looking into her face. “As you may be aware, Miss Hemmingway, there is a good deal surrounding you of which you might not be aware.”
The note in his voice had her frowning. “I hope you do not mean to suggest that I am intentionally pretending to know less than I do,” she said, her anger still bubbling just under the surface. “Truly, Lord Franks, what I heard yesterday as I stood in your drawing room was the first time I have ever heard of something like the ‘League’ or whatever it is called.” Her voice sharpened. “And nor would I wish injury on your friend.”
“Then might I ask how you were aware that the box was taken?”
She blinked, coming to a dead stop as she looked steadily back at him. “Box?” she repeated, having no understanding of what he spoke of. “The only thing I surmised, Lord Franks, was that you came to the townhouse to either find something from my brother or to attempt to speak to him when there was no-one else to hear you do so.” Narrowing her eyes at the way his eyes still flicked over her features, she folded her arms and tilted her head. “What is it that you suspect me of, Lord Franks?”
Lord Franks held her gaze, then shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. “I have already made a good many mistakes, Miss Hemmingway, and I do not want my instincts to be proven wrong,” he said, his voice low and filled with a sense of regret. “If I trust you, if I come to believe that you are speaking the truth, then what if I am wrong? What if you are the one attempting to bring the League to its knees?”
She stared at him, aware that her mouth was now a little ajar but having no ability to close it tightly again.
“Your brother was out of the house yesterday afternoon, which means that the only person aware that I had taken a box from his study was either yourself or Lady Callander,” he continued, taking a small step forward and looking deeply into her eyes as though searching for the truth there. “Is that not so?”