The King's League Box Set: Regency Romance

by Lucy Adams

  To her horror, he leaned over and rapped loudly against the door, making her heart scream with both pain and fear over what might happen next. Lord Rushton pressed himself into the shadows once more, pulling Augusta with him until they were both wrapped in as much darkness as he could muster. Augusta closed her eyes tightly and waited, quite sure that, in a moment, she would hear Mr. Stayton’s footsteps on the floor of his chambers and that the door would be flung open. What then? Would he come out and demand to know who was there, searching for them until he discovered them? Or would he merely find someone to blame, whether it was to be a maid or footman or any other person he could call to account.

  But there came no sound of his feet on the floorboards, no sharp, angry voice demanding the truth. There was only the sound of her quickened breathing.

  “I do not think that anyone is within,” Lord Rushton said, his eyes bright as he looked at the door, stepping out of the shadows and moving towards it. “Now, Lady Augusta, I wish for you to remain here and watch for any sign of Stayton arriving. If he does, then you must rap on the door or the wall so that I am alerted.”

  “And what if there is not enough time for you to quit the room before he appears?” she asked, only for Lord Rushton to wave a hand dismissively.

  “I will find a way,” he said, turning away from her. “Just remain here and keep watch.”

  She shook her head immediately, hurrying towards him just as he turned the door handle and pushed it open. “I do not think that me remaining here is at all wise.”

  Lord Rushton’s eyes glimmered with a hint of mirth as he looked at her over his shoulder, although how he could find anything mirthful at this present time, she simply could not understand.

  “Then what will happen if Stayton returns to his rooms and we are both within?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted. “How shall we explain not only your presence but also my presence here when he does not even know that I am residing in this house?”

  Augusta opened her mouth to express an argument that would satisfy him but found that she could not argue with his logic. Lord Rushton chuckled, took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a quick kiss to the back of her hand. Then, before she could even react, he was gone, hurrying into the room and the door pushed closed behind him.

  Chapter Nine

  Marcus exhaled slowly as he let his gaze rove all over Stayton’s room as a small smile quirked the corner of his mouth. Kissing Lady Augusta’s hand had been perhaps a poor decision, but it was not one Marcus regretted. He had wanted to reassure her and to convey, in some small way, just how much he appreciated her determination to find enough courage and strength of will to do as he had asked her. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he found himself increasingly drawn to Lady Augusta, although part of him wondered if it was simply because of how much time they had spent with each other these last few days.

  “Now is not the time for such thoughts,” he muttered to himself, before fixing his resolve and studying the room a good deal more carefully.

  There was a large four poster bed in the middle of the room, the head of the bed pressed up against the wall. There was only a small glow of red coals in the fireplace, ready to displace the chill of the summer evening. A few candles were placed here and there, alighting parts of the room well enough for him to see. Nothing in the room appeared to be out of the ordinary, although he was interested to see the writing desk in the corner of the room.

  “Although I highly doubt that I should find anything interesting there,” he muttered to himself, knowing that anyone involved with the French would take great pains to hide their actions from everyone else. The penalty for such actions was treason and death was not a consequence that anyone wanted to face.

  Regardless, Marcus made his way towards it, picking up a candle as he went and set it down on the writing desk. There was not even a single piece of parchment set down upon it, which in itself was a little surprising. Frowning, Marcus looked all around the writing desk, pulling open each drawer in case he found something of importance. There was nothing there save for a spare quill. Sighing inwardly, Marcus made to step away only for his eyes to catch sight of something small lying on the floor, with most of it hidden underneath the desk. Bending down, he pulled it out slowly, careful not to rip it. The parchment appeared to be entirely blank, a swell of disappointment in his chest as he looked down at it. Putting it down on the writing desk, he ran his fingers over it lightly, wondering if there was any residue of any kind upon it. Turning it over, he leaned closer, something more capturing his attention.

  A spiral of anticipation ran though him as he realized there was writing on the other side of the parchment. He had not noticed it at first, given that it was written lightly and in pencil. Knowing that he could not read it now, Marcus folded it up carefully and placed it in his pocket, picking up the candle again. Looking around the room once more with an experienced eye, he took a few steps closer to the bed, intending to look underneath.

  Until a frantic knocking caught his attention. It was clearly Lady Augusta, who, from the quickness of her knocks, was evidently a little afraid for him.

  Marcus reacted at once. Assuming that he did not have the time with which to escape, Marcus spun around, set the candle down where it had been and then threw himself to the floor.

  Within moments, he had secured himself under the bed, the long cover hiding him on either side. He had expected dust to cloud around him but there to his surprise, there was nothing of the sort.

  “Evidently, Lady Augusta ensures that every inch of this house is thoroughly cleaned,” he murmured to himself, putting his hands flat to the floor and steadying his breathing as much as he could. He did not know how long he had until Stayton entered but certainly was quite prepared to linger here for as long as required. Grimacing at a few aches and pains that tugged at him, Marcus closed his eyes and tried to remain as quiet as he could.

  “I will ensure to do so, my lady.”

  Marcus’ eyes flared open as he heard the voice, wondering who it was that addressed Lady Augusta as ‘my lady’. It could not be Stayton, for he would refer to her as ‘Lady Augusta’ or ‘Cousin Augusta’. Searching his memory, he recalled that Stayton had a few of his own servants with him, wondering if the person who had come into the room was one of said servants.

  “I thank you, Knowles,” he heard Lady Augusta say, her voice ringing out through the room, making him smile just a little as he realized she had said it with force so that he might hear it. “I will let you attend to your duties now, of course.”

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  Marcus closed his eyes tightly and continued to breathe slowly and quietly, relaxing every single muscle of his body as he kept himself calm. He had no concerns as regarded being discovered, for Knowles would not look underneath the bed and, even if he bent down to pick something up, the bedspread was touching the floor on either side and Marcus would not be seen.

  “That lady has no right to demand anything of me.”

  Marcus listened with interest as Knowles began to make his way about the room, muttering to himself as he might well do when he did not think anyone else was about.

  “Foolish child,” Knowles continued, with such spite in his voice that Marcus felt a jolt of anger rock him. “Foolish, foolish girl.”

  Marcus gritted his teeth but kept his eyes closed, breathing quietly and keeping himself quite calm despite all that he felt. Now was not the time to react with anything akin to anger. It was more than likely that most of his own servants had a remark or two to make about either himself or some of his guests when they did not think they were being overheard.

  “Her and that ridiculous father of hers,” Knowles continued, his feet heavy on the floor as he walked about, sorting things out for his master. “The despondent failure who has nothing but foolishness in him.” He snorted with derision, walking near to the bed and making Marcus tense. “Although it isn’t as though Stayton has anywhere else t
o go.”

  “Knowles?”

  Marcus jerked in surprise, having heard no footsteps to announce the arrival of someone else nor having heard the door open.

  “Ah, Mr. Stayton,” Knowles murmured, his tone quiet and respectful and quite the opposite of what it had been before. “Good evening.”

  “Good evening,” Stayton muttered, striding into the room. “I should like to retire, I think.”

  “But of course.” Knowles moved away from the bed, leaving Marcus wondering if he would have to spend hours upon hours lying here in silence, until he could be sure that Stayton had fallen into a deep sleep. “Can I fetch you anything else, sir?”

  Stayton yawned loudly, sitting down on the bed which gave a slightly ominous creak. “Nothing until the morning,” he said. “And I shall dress into my night things without assistance this evening, I think.”

  “Of course.” Knowles’ footsteps made their way towards the door. “Good night, sir.”

  Stayton did not reply, and Marcus heard the door shut tight. Wincing inwardly as he realized he would have no other choice but to hear Stayton preparing to retire, Marcus kept his eyes closed and prayed that it would not be long until Stayton fell into a deep slumber.

  Otherwise, it would be a very long night.

  Rubbing his stiff back, Marcus made his way up the staircase into his rooms, glad that he did not have to rush or hurry given that everyone else within the house was already asleep. The summer evenings were not black with darkness and so the gloom that pierced the windows was light enough for him to find his way. He moved carefully, his steps slow and unhurried, making not even the smallest of sounds.

  Stayton had not blown out his candle for some time, and from the sound of the turning of pages, Marcus had assumed that he had been reading. Trying to stay awake in the hours it had taken for Stayton to begin to snore had been a trying task indeed, but Marcus was certain it would be worth it, provided that the paper in his pocket was of use.

  “Lord Rushton!”

  He staggered back in shock, one hand clutched to his chest as what appeared to be a wraith of some description stepped out just as he neared his door.

  “Lord Rushton!” it said again, as he gasped for air. “I wondered what had become of you.”

  “Lady Augusta,” he wheezed, bending double in an attempt to drag in air. “I did not…..did not expect you.” He fought to return his breathing to normal, his skin still tingling with the shock he had received in seeing her step out from the darkness into the gloom. The paper crinkled in his pocket as he rose to stand, seeing her standing uncertainly in front of him, although he could not quite make out her features.

  “I am sorry to have startled you,” she whispered, as he turned the door handle of his room and stepped inside. “I could not sleep, fearing what had become of you.” She shook her head, as though irritated with herself. “I even quit the house for a time so that I would not betray my anxiety to my father or to Stayton.”

  “Oh?”

  She gave him a small smile. “I took some servants to the village to search for your tiger.” Her gaze became downcast. “I found nothing.”

  He looked back at her, choosing to remain silent and marveling at the care and consideration she had for him. His disappointment over the news about his tiger weighed heavily on his mind, fearing that the worst had occurred to his manservant.

  “You were not discovered, then.”

  ““I was quite all right,” he said, softly. “Neither Knowles nor Stayton knew of my presence.”

  She nodded, then followed him inside. His fireplace still glowed with embers and, chilled from lingering under the bed for so long, Marcus immediately went to add a little more to it, stoking it up as best he could. Lady Augusta came to join him, a shawl over her gown. She was still fully dressed, he realized, seeing her features lit by the first flickering flames of the fire. Evidently, she had been waiting for him for some time, unable to even think of sleep before she saw him again. That brought a smile to his face, despite his aching back and stiff limbs.

  “You stayed from your bed for my sake,” he murmured, as she sat down in a chair by the fire. “That is something I greatly appreciate, Lady Augusta.”

  She said nothing but watched him as he lit a wick and set flame to a candle or two on the mantlepiece. Marcus felt his gaze lingering on her, his heart filling with a sense of contented happiness as he sat down opposite her.

  “What did you discover?” she asked, the moment he had done so. “Did Stayton say anything?”

  Shaking his head, he saw something flare in her eyes, although whether it was disappointment or relief, he could not quite make out.

  “The only person who spoke was Knowles,” he replied, as Lady Augusta held his gaze intently. “And he did not have much in the way of kindness when it came to speaking about you and your father.” He shook his head, anger burning in his heart as he recalled how despicably the man had talked. “He is a servant, nothing more. He is quite able to speak his mind when he is alone, I am fully aware of that, but to have such evident derision and dislike is quite extraordinary.” He saw Lady Augusta frown, her reaction quite muted. “You do not find it surprising, I think.”

  Lady Augusta let out a long sigh then looked away, clearly thinking over how best to express herself. Marcus let the silence linger, not wanting to speak into it but to give Lady Augusta the time she needed to consider her reply.

  “My cousin is a man who is full of his own righteousness,” she said, eventually, her gaze still held far from his face. “He considers only his own needs and likes to think of himself as far greater than either myself or my father.” With a heaviness in her eyes, she looked back at him. “I am afraid that he wishes to make a match between us, and that is why he has resided here for so long.”

  Alarm rose in Marcus’ chest almost at once. “You mean, he wants to marry you?”

  Lady Augusta nodded ruefully. “I am not suggesting for a moment that I would accept him, but I am beginning to believe that this is his intention. Something my father has remarked has made me very anxious indeed as to the conversation that goes on between Stayton and my father, when I am absent.”

  Marcus did not like to even think of Lady Augusta married to someone such as Stayton. He had never even met the man but from the words Lady Augusta chose to describe her cousin and her explanations of what he had been doing in residing at this house for so long, Marcus felt quite contented in his dislike of the fellow. “But you can refuse him, should he ask,” he said, firmly, whilst Lady Augusta looked back at him sadly. “Surely your father would not force you to do so?”

  Lady Augusta let out a long slow breath, her eyes suddenly glistening in the candlelight. “I have nothing but this house and my father,” she said, quietly. “If my father threatened to have me sent from this house if I did not agree, then what choice would I have?” Her smile was a watery one, her lips quivering. “However, I do not think that, at present, Lord Berwick will do anything of the sort. He is much too lost in despondency at present to consider any such thing as that.”

  Marcus knew he should not be grateful for the gentleman’s unwell state but the relief that swamped him upon hearing that Lady Augusta was, for the moment, safe from Stayton’s clutches, brought him almost a sense of gladness over the despair that held the Earl captive. Guilt swathed him and he dropped his eyes to the floor.

  Then, something that he had overheard from Knowles came back to him, hitting him hard in the chest. He caught his breath and in an instant, Lady Augusta was sitting forward in her chair, her hand outstretched as though he would need to take a hold of it.

  “What is it?” she asked, her hand still held out to him. “Lord Rushton?”

  He stared at her and, slowly, she dropped her hand and a small nudge of regret burned in his heart.

  “It is something that Knowles said,” he breathed, a cold chill rushing over him. “Something about your cousin, Lady Augusta.”

  Lady Augusta swal
lowed but nodded. “Yes?”

  Marcus closed his eyes and tried to remember the words exactly. “The fellow was speaking to himself, talking about both yourself and your father in very derogatory terms. Thereafter, he made a remark about Stayton, about his residing with you.”

  Silence crept between them but Marcus could feel Lady Augusta’s tension, knowing that she was waiting desperately for him to speak, to explain what he meant.

  “I remember it,” he said, keeping his eyes closed as he had done under Stayton’s bed. “The man was clearly frustrated that his master was continuing to reside here, but he said, quite clearly, ‘it is not as though Stayton has anywhere else to go’.” His eyes flew open and he looked back at Lady Augusta, seeing her face almost waxen in the candlelight. Her eyes were wide, her mouth a little ajar.

  “Lady Augusta,” he said, making to get to his feet, only for Lady Augusta to wave one hand in his direction, encouraging him to remain seated. “What does it mean?”

  “I—I do not know.” She closed her eyes, her breath rattling from between her lips. “Stayton is in trade. He has a residence of his own—a quite suitable and, from what I have heard, fairly charming one.” Her eyes opened, her fingers pleating the fringe on her shawl in worry. “He has staff there—indeed, he has brought three of his own here! Knowles, his groom and a maid that….” She trailed off, one hand reaching up to press against her mouth.

  “It is very odd to bring a maid with you, if you are to reside in a house that has its full complement of staff,” Marcus murmured, seeing that she too had reached the same conclusion. “Why would he do so?”

  Lady Augusta closed her eyes, her hands dropping to her lap as she considered. “Then that must mean that my cousin is not as solvent as we had been led to believe,” she stated, a small catch to her voice. “He is not the gentleman I believed him to be. If he has no home to return to, no staff to care for him, then his purpose to remain here is simply because he has no other place to go.”