The King's League Box Set: Regency Romance

by Lucy Adams

  Marcus tried to smile. “I will be quite contented with a small room,” he managed to say. “You have been very kind already.”

  Lady Augusta ignored him, speaking a little more to the butler, before turning back to him.

  “You shall have one of the guest chambers,” she said, although Marcus was certain he heard a slight hesitation in her voice. “I insist. It is clear that you are a gentleman, even if you do not recall your own name.” She came a little closer to him, smiling gently up at him. “It is in the way that you speak, even though you have said very little, I confess.”

  He tried to laugh but could not summon the energy. Closing his eyes, he started violently at the feeling of her hand lightly pressed against his knee, but when he opened his eyes to look at her, he saw her gesturing to various footmen and someone who appeared to be a gardener coming towards him. Within a few moments, Marcus found himself being gently helped down from his horse, his head screaming in pain at being jostled in a manner that he knew could not be helped. The agony of it was so great that he found himself being swept towards unconsciousness once again, despite his desperation to remain fully awake. He could hear Lady Augusta’s voice, crying out to the men who surrounded him to be gentle and he let his consciousness cling to her voice, even though his eyes closed and his body became limp.

  It was her voice that helped him to keep himself awake, finding himself settled onto a soft bed and, within minutes, his boots removed, his jacket taken from him and blankets then set over him. It was only once everyone had left him to lie there, once the many helping hands had removed themselves from him, that he finally found the strength to open his eyes again.

  Lady Augusta was looking at him, her hands held tightly together as though in prayer, pressed against her chest, the fingertips touching her chin.

  “You are awake,” she said, quietly, looking at him with evident relief. “The doctor will be with you soon, I am sure.” Her smile was a little restrained, no light in her eyes now but rather a deep concern that he felt radiate out from her. “One of the footmen has gone to fetch you something to eat and drink, which I hope will bring you some relief.”

  “I am sure it will,” he answered, his voice rasping but finally, his body beginning to relax, the pain lessening just a little as he rested in the soft bed. “You have been very kind, Lady Augusta, and I would not keep you from your own comfort.” He tried to smile but could only lift the corner of his lips. “I am sure you must be both famished and rather damp.”

  Her smile became rueful. “Indeed,” she answered, taking a few steps closer to the side of his bed and looking down at him. “But for the moment, let me tell you where you are.” Her lips pressed together, whitening for a moment or two, before she began to speak again. “My father, the Earl of Berwick, resides here, as you know. My cousin, the honorable Mr. Stayton, is also present with one or two members of his own staff with him.” One hand spread out to her left. “He does not reside her permanently, you understand, but has been with us for some months now.”

  “I see,” Marcus murmured, looking at her as intently as he could and realizing, much to his interest, that there was a strain in her features which had not been present before. There was something about her father or her cousin which brought the lady a good deal of tension.

  “I….” She trailed off, taking in a deep breath and setting her shoulders, giving herself a slight shake. He could not quite determine whether her shiver came from the cold or from something else. “I will not inform them of your presence here as yet, sir.”

  Had he been feeling well recovered, he would have encouraged her to speak a little more about this particular decision or, at the very least, enquired a little more as to her current situation as regarded her father and brother, but given that he was struggling against the desire to sink into slumber, Marcus chose not to do so.

  “The staff will not speak of it to them either,” Lady Augusta continued, with a sudden determination in her voice. “I am mistress of this house and, thus, you need not have any concern as regards the staff here.” She shivered hard and Marcus frowned, immediately regretting the action as pain shot across his forehead.

  “I understand,” he said a little thickly, sleep now tugging at his eyelids with great strength.

  “And you are situated in the west wing of the house,” Lady Augusta continued, with that same briskness that had only entered her voice a few moments before. “Near to my own chambers, but that is only so I can ensure that you are well looked after.” There was a slight flush to her cheeks as she spoke but Marcus did not feel anything other than gratitude. “My father and my cousin reside in the East Wing.”

  Marcus closed his eyes, unable to keep himself from such a thing any longer. Letting out a long, slow breath, he tried to say something, tried to force his eyes open so that he could see Lady Augusta again, but simply could not do so.

  “Sleep now, sir,” he heard Lady Augusta say, his head drooping to one side as he faded into a dreamless rest, his body and his mind worn out with all that had happened.

  Chapter Three

  Augusta had washed, changed and warmed herself by the fire but now such a sense of nervousness overtook her that she found herself all of a tremble, fearful about what her cousin would say and what, if anything, might happen to Rufus. The dog had appeared as she had led her horse and the gentleman upon it back towards the estate and had seemed to enjoy their return back to the house, whilst she had found her mind filled with many questions that, even now, could not be answered. Her eyes closed and she let her breath rattle out of her, trying her best to calm herself.

  “My lady?”

  She turned at once, starting violently out of surprise and nervousness rather than anything else.

  “I do apologize, my lady,” the maid said quickly now looking quite apologetic that she had upset Augusta in some way. “I did not mean to startle you.”

  Augusta managed to smile, despite the fact that her fingers were continuing to twist into each other as she battled her anxiety about what was to come. “You did not,” she said, looking at her lady’s maid, Mauve, with as warm an expression as she could manage. “Is there something wrong?”

  The maid shook her head and came a little further into the room, closing the door behind her. “No, my lady,” she said, her expression a little troubled. “It is only that I thought you should know that your cousin has returned home from…..wherever he was….in a terrible mood,” she said, her words adding to Augusta’s fright. “There was an injury to his leg and the doctor has been sent for.”

  Augusta swallowed hard. “I see.”

  Mauve pressed her lips together tightly for a moment, then inclined her head. “He is asking for you to go to him at your earliest convenience, my lady.”

  Augusta sucked in a breath, her heart throwing itself at her chest as dizziness overtook her. Glad that she was still sitting down, she clasped the arms of the chair tightly and tried to breathe at a normal pace.

  “My lady?”

  “I—I will go just as soon as I am able,” Augusta said, not allowing a flicker of emotion to show itself in her expression. “I am a little tired after my walk and need a few minutes more to recover.”

  The maid nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

  “And the staff are all fully aware that nothing is to be said about our other resident?” Augusta asked, forcing a calmness into her voice that she did not feel. “My father will be troubled to hear of it and my cousin…..” She trailed off, as the maid watched her carefully. Augusta paused then chose her words with great care. “My cousin does not need to be told of it either, given that he clearly has enough of his own troubles at present.” There was an unspoken understanding between herself and the staff here at the house, with each of them knowing that Mr. Stayton was not a welcome guest and that his presence in the house had been a little too long, but Augusta was always careful not to speak too openly of such things, not wanting to have her father’s staff gossiping about wh
at she had said. Whilst Augusta trusted her maid and her staff implicitly, there was still that requirement to keep their relationship to one of respect and deference.

  “The staff will not say a word, I can assure you,” the maid answered, bringing Augusta a swell of relief. “Tompkins has made it quite clear what will happen to anyone who decides to disobey your order, my lady.” A sheen of fear shone in her eyes for a moment, before she bobbed another curtsy. “If there is anything else?”

  Augusta shook her head. “There is not,” she answered, giving the maid a quick smile before turning her head away and listening to hear the click of the door being pulled tight.

  Her stomach tightened with fear and worry but Augusta forced herself to get to her feet, knowing that she would have to face her cousin at some point. There was little need for her to remain sitting here, anxious and trembling, when she could simply go to Stayton and speak to him, as he had asked. It would at least take away the sense of impending doom that was hanging over her head, although she was certainly very afraid of what he might say or do given what Rufus had done to him. Would he demand that her dog be shot, as a consequence for the injury he had sustained? Closing her eyes, Augusta felt herself sway just a little, the thought bringing her a rush of pain.

  “I will not allow it,” she said aloud, her voice filling the room but lacking the confidence she wanted to hear. “I will not allow him to harm Rufus.” Her shoulders set, Augusta drew in a long breath, calming her spirits and forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, walking towards the door and out along the passageway in search of her cousin.

  Augusta kept her head high as she walked into the drawing room, seeing Stayton sitting on the couch with one leg extended, resting on a stool in front of him. His manservant, Knowles, stepped back into the shadows, but did not quit the room. Stayton’s eyes darted to hers and, much to her surprise, he dropped his gaze rather than glare at her as she had expected.

  “Lady Augusta,” he said quietly, referring to her by her correct title rather than simply using her name. “I thank you for your willingness to come and see me at this present time, when I know very well that you must be tired and…….” Looking away from her, he heaved a great sigh. “And greatly troubled, given my behavior.”

  Augusta stared at him in astonishment, having never expected to hear such a thing from his lips. Her eyes widened as he looked back at her again, shaking his head with evidently great sorrow.

  “I do not think I can adequately express my sadness and regret at how I spoke to you, Lady Augusta,” he said, his eyes not quite looking into her own, as if he could not bring himself to do so. “I was in a foul mood and, the truth is, I have felt myself rather lonely these last few weeks.” Sighing again, he finally raised his eyes to hers. “You will think me very foolish, no doubt, given that I could easily return home and to my acquaintances there, but there is no happiness there either.”

  Augusta swallowed hard, trying to overcome her astonishment and shock at his apology in order to reply to him. “You find no happiness in what you do?” she asked, realizing just how little she knew about her cousin’s life. He was in trade, from what she understood, and thus was able to continue his work no matter where he resided. Letters of all kinds came for him on a daily basis and yet still, he showed no interest in returning to his own home.

  Stayton snorted, scowling at nothing in particular. “My acquaintances aspire to remove themselves from trade and seek to marry well, so that they can live lives of frivolity and enjoyment,” he told her, revealing a side to himself that she had not seen before. “I have no such wish. I want to work hard and gain a good living, so that in the quieter, darker years of my life, I will have nothing to concern myself with.” He shrugged. “They ridicule me for this. I could not bear it and as such, came to reside with your father for a time.” His eyes linked to hers. “But I behaved odiously towards you, Lady Augusta. I allowed a letter and the cruel mockery contained within to spite my heart and to bring foulness to my words. I can only ask for your forgiveness.”

  Augusta did not know what to say, having never heard her cousin speak in such a way before and certainly being quite uncertain as to whether or not she ought to believe him.

  “And you must not think that I am angry with your dog,” Stayton continued, gesturing towards his leg. “He was quite right to defend you, just as I ought to have been given these wounds to bring me back to myself, to make me aware of what I had said to you.” He smiled ruefully, wincing as he shifted his leg just a little. “I will not ask you to find a forgiveness for me at once, Lady Augusta, but rather I will beg your apology and promise never to behave so again.”

  “I thank you,” Augusta managed to say, an uncertainty in her heart as to whether or not her cousin could be trusted. “I appreciate your candidness and your willingness to study your actions and reflect upon them.”

  He sighed again and closed his eyes. “I am a cretin,” he said, softly, speaking to himself rather than to Augusta. “A cretin who ought not to be given any sort of consideration whatsoever. You are very kind, Lady Augusta, and I shall not forget your goodness.”

  It was not until Augusta had sat down to eat with her father that she truly began to feel a little more at ease. Stayton had decided to take dinner in his rooms, choosing to rest rather than to force himself to walk to the dining room and sit politely as he would have been expected to do. Lord Berwick did not make mention of this, however, looking across the table and smiling quietly at his daughter.

  Augusta was relieved. Her father appeared to be in good spirits and that was reason enough to rejoice.

  “You have had a fine walk this afternoon, I hear,” Lord Berwick said, as the first course was served to them both. “It was a damp afternoon, was it not?”

  “It was, yes,” Augusta replied, picking up her soup spoon. “But I never think that the rain or the clouds ought to keep one at home.”

  Her father chuckled, shaking his head and looking at her from under thick, grey eyebrows before he lifted his spoon to his mouth. They ate in companionable silence for a while, leaving Augusta to reflect that on the days her father appeared well and contented, her whole world seemed to brighten. On the days that he was quiet and melancholy, the skies grew darker and the sheen disappeared from her view. She cared a great deal for her father, although Augusta had to admit that she wished she could speak openly with him. Perhaps then she might have been able to talk about all that had occurred with her cousin and his, thereafter, very strange apology and expressions of loneliness and sadness that she had never once suspected. Whether or not she could trust his words was something that Augusta still had to consider, although she was quite certain it would take her some time before she was able to make a decision. He had appeared so very frightening, so very intimidating and she could still feel her skin crawling as she had looked into his face and saw the malevolent lewdness there.

  “You are a little distracted this evening, Augusta.”

  She started at the sound of her father’s voice, looking down to realize that her soup spoon had been halfway to her mouth but that she had held it there for some time, her mind returning to all that had occurred that afternoon.

  “My apologies, father,” she stammered, a little embarrassed. “I was lost in thought.” She smiled at him, knowing full well that he would not ask her what she was thinking of, for fear that she would mention the Season or an eagerness to go to London—neither of which he wanted. Instead, they ate together through meaningless, meandering conversation that left Augusta with a sadness deep in her heart that was all too familiar. She would never have the father that she longed for. She would not be granted the wish she had long held to have a friend or a companion to whom she might speak her innermost thoughts and wishes to. Her father would continue on in this life just as he had done for so long, expecting her to remain just as she was, without complaint or consideration for her own future. It was a heavy weight around her shoulders and one that Augusta wa
s used to carrying, although, this evening, it felt a little heavier than usual.

  “Your cousin is absent this evening.”

  Augusta lifted her head, setting down her dessert spoon. “Yes, he is,” she answered, vaguely. “I am sure he will join us tomorrow for breaking our fast, father. Knowles is taking care of him for the present and I am sure he will be quite well again very soon.”

  The Earl of Berwick sat back in his chair, one hand on his slightly protruding stomach as his eyes fastened to hers. “He is a decent gentleman, I suppose.”

  A sudden flurry of alarm began to rifle its way through Augusta’s heart. “He is,” she agreed, slowly, not quite certain what her father meant by such a remark. “But he is in trade, father.” That, surely, would be enough to prevent her father from continuing with any possible consideration he had as regarded Mr. Stayton. Augusta waited quietly, her heart beating a little quicker than before as she battled a sense of fear that threatened to capture her heart and mind all over again.

  “That is true enough, I suppose,” the Earl said, eventually, his brows furrowing as his dark brown eyes, so similar to her own, looked back at her. Augusta remained quiet, watching her father carefully, taking in his lined face, the greyness of his hair, the wrinkles around his eyes and wondering if he was beginning to think about his own future and, therefore, what would become of her. From her perspective, her father was in good health, with a strength to him that many older gentlemen could not boast of. Surely he could not be thinking of making a match between herself and Mr. Stayton. Whilst cousins were permitted to marry, it was not considered to be wise and certainly she had no desire to do so!

  “A decent fellow, nonetheless,” her father murmured, heaving himself up from his chair as Augusta rose to join him. “I do think he will remain here a little longer, Augusta. It would be good for you to spend a little more time in his company.”