by Lucy Adams
“Capital!” he boomed, grinning broadly at Sebastian, who was struggling to show any sign of contentment back in return. “You will be at Lord and Lady Whitehaven’s ball this evening, I presume?” Seeing Sebastian’s feeble nod, he laughed and clapped Sebastian hard on the back again. “Then I look forward to seeing you then, so that we might begin this momentous task!” With a chuckle, he rose from the table and moved away, leaving Sebastian sitting, somewhat stupefied, with the other gentlemen.
“I cannot quite believe he won,” he heard someone say, finding himself blinking rapidly at what had just been decided. “That gentleman is always rather lucky, I must say.”
“Indeed,” he heard another gentleman remark. “And with those shipments, I cannot quite……”
Sebastian pulled himself out of his own thoughts and listened hard, trying to overhear what else was being said, only for the two men to wander too far away. Shipments?
He was alert at once, his mind turning over what had just been said. It was not as though there was anything untoward about Lord Chesterfield having shipments and the like arriving at the docks, for many gentlemen did such things but for Sebastian, it was a piece of information that he would now have to pass on, knowing that it might soon prove to be very useful indeed. There had been someone in London smuggling spies from other countries into England but as yet, no-one had caught them. Could it be Lord Chesterfield?
Do not be so ridiculous. Frowning, Sebastian stood up and straightened, telling himself that it was time to return home to prepare for this evening’s ball. And yet, another part of him wanted to go to the other two gentlemen who had been talking to see if he could find out anything more. Battling between his two different desires, Sebastian let out a long, steadying breath and tried to think clearly. He would see Lord Chesterfield again this evening, which meant there was certainly no need for him to hurry after him now and try to wring out some information from him about these supposed shipments. And besides which, he told himself, sternly, he was being overly cautious. Such a remark probably meant very little indeed.
With a long breath, Sebastian set his shoulders and walked to his host, taking his leave but thanking the gentleman for a very pleasant afternoon. Feeling rather glad that he had decided to return to his own townhouse on foot rather than taking his carriage, Sebastian set out along the pavement, enjoying the afternoon sunshine and finding that his mind became a little more settled as he walked.
Being a part of The King’s League meant that he was, of course, constantly on his guard. He had been a part of the group for some three years now, but last Season, he had found himself embroiled in a particularly difficult situation which, whilst resolved, had left its mark upon the group. One of the gentlemen involved in trying to decipher the truth of the situation had lost his life, and some others had been gravely injured. He had not sustained anything particularly terrible, but to know that a friend of his had died at the hand of their quarry had been galling. He had found it difficult to return to the League, not because he was afraid for his own safety but rather because he was so torn with sorrow whenever he realized that there was one of them absent, never to return.
You still have responsibilities. Do not let his death be in vain
It was words he had spoken to himself many times before but Sebastian knew that he still needed to remind himself of such things. Being in The King’s League brought danger with it, no matter where one was or what one did, but it was a risk that each gentleman accepted when they joined. To keep the country and the King and Prince Regent safe from enemies who crept in, hidden in shadow and falsehoods, was one of the greatest privileges Sebastian had ever known, and he was not about to turn away from it now.
Consider things carefully, Sebastian. He had to take his time and not hurry towards conclusions that did not make sense. Just because the League had found out from a captured enemy that there was someone smuggling others such as he into the country did not mean that Lord Chesterton was involved! He was being much too eager, much too hasty in his thinking. After last Season, Sebastian knew he was desperate to bring any new investigations to a swift conclusion, so as to avoid all danger and to minimize the chances of someone else’s life to be brought to a sudden end. It was a strange, unsettling feeling and he certainly did not much like it.
“Lord— Lord Millerton?”
He stopped at once, lifting his head up and looking into the face of a young lady. A young lady whose light green eyes, auburn hair and gentle smile sent his heart into a hurried hammering, which did not slow down even as he bowed.
“Good afternoon, Lady Callander,” he said, with a small, tight smile that he hoped did not betray his astonishment at seeing her. “You have returned to London for the Season?”
Lady Callander had been with Sebastian last Season, when they had both helped the League discover the truth to a deep and disturbing mystery that had caught them both up within it. He had found her to be wise, determined, and loyal but given all that had occurred and all that he had felt afterwards, he had not continued to keep up his acquaintance with her. In fact, he could recall taking his leave of her, feeling almost numb as he walked from the room. He did not know how she herself had felt over his departure, nor how she had managed to deal with all that had occurred with her friend, but to see her now, she seemed entirely unchanged.
“I have,” Lady Callander replied, with a small smile catching one side of her mouth as she looked up at him, her eyes holding his and reminding him of just how he had admired her last Season. “And you?”
“I have returned also,” he said, feeling rather foolish as he said something that was so very apparent. He cleared his throat, not wanting there to be any sort of silence between them. “And just how long have you been in London?”
She lifted one shoulder. “A fortnight or so,” she answered, although she did not smile and indeed, he noticed her eyes drifting away from his face. “I have not seen Lady Franks yet, of course, even though I hear she has returned to London.”
Knowing that she was referring to her friend, who had married Lord Franks a little less than a year ago, Sebastian nodded his head, finding it quite difficult to speak to the lady, even though they had shared so much together the previous Season. “I am sure you will see her soon,” he said, with a tight smile. “Do you have plans for this evening?”
Lady Callander’s eyes returned to his in a moment, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “I will attend Lord Whitehaven’s ball this evening.”
“As will I,” he said, surprised when he felt himself rather reluctant to speak to her again, perhaps upset by this strange and stilted awkwardness between them. “Perhaps we shall be able to speak a little longer then.”
“Yes,” Lady Callander said, sounding a little more eager than he had expected. “In fact, Lord Millerton, I had wondered if……” She trailed off, her brow furrowing and her gaze dropping to the ground. Her lips caught her teeth as she bit her lip, now appearing rather puzzled.
Sebastian looked at her steadily, feeling a flicker of interest in his mind. “Yes, Lady Callander?”
She looked up at him again, giving herself a small shake. “No, it does not matter,” she said, as though speaking to herself. “There is nothing that need concern you, Lord Millerton,” she said, clearly now deciding to keep what she had thought to say to herself. “This evening, then.”
He bowed, touching his hat. “Yes, until this evening, Lady Callander,” he said, refusing to give in to the desire to speak to her about what it was she had been about to say and quenching his curiosity. Taking his leave of her, Sebastian let out a long breath he had not known he had been holding. With another deep breath, he continued walking along the streets of London, pushing aside all thoughts of Lady Callander and trying desperately not to think of what had occurred the last time he had seen her. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of that! Mayhap this evening, he would find a way to keep out of her way, until his mind and heart began to settle instead of returni
ng repeatedly to the events of last Season. With a grimace, Sebastian shook his head to himself, lifting one hand to rub across his eyes as if he could erase the memory of meeting Lady Callander from his mind.
Perhaps this evening would not be as joyful an evening as he had expected. What with Lord Chesterfield and his determination to have Sebastian’s thoughts on each and every young lady that he danced with, as well as Lady Callander’s expectation that he would seek her out for another conversation, Sebastian felt his heart sink towards his toes, his eager expectation for this evening beginning to fade away already. Perhaps returning to London had been a mistake.
Chapter Three
The ball was quite beautiful and Bridgette had to confess that, despite the fact that various gentlemen immediately came to seek her out for a dance— gentlemen whom she knew were seeking her out simply because she was a wealthy widow — she found herself smiling brightly as the music began for the first dance of the evening.
Thankfully, it was a dance that she did not have to engage in, giving her a chance to collect herself, to watch the other ladies and gentlemen sweeping across the floor and allowing herself a long breath out, pushing the last of the tension away.
She could not explain it but seeing Lord Millerton again earlier that day had sent her into a very strange flurry that she could not quite explain. Last Season, she had found herself trying to help her dear friend, Miss Hemmingway, only to discover that there was a darkness within the depths of the situation that she had not expected. Lord Millerton had been there on the evening that it had all come to an end and the terrible truth had been revealed; when she had been frantic in her efforts to find Miss Hemmingway, only to discover that Miss Hemmingway’s very life had been threatened. He had supported her then and she had found herself filled with a deep regard for him, but it was a regard that she supposed was not returned. He had left London soon afterwards and she had not heard from him since. Perhaps it had been foolish of her to simply interrupt him as he had walked along the street, but the words of greeting had left her mouth before she had been able to stop them.
“Lady Callander, can that be you?”
Bridgette gave a small start, hurried from her thoughts before she was ready, turning to greet none other than an old acquaintance, whom she recognized from the previous Season. “Lady Madeline!” she exclaimed, greeting the lady warmly. “How good to see you again!”
Lady Madeline was the daughter of the Earl of Hamilton and, as such, was very much pursued by the gentlemen of the ton, even though the Earl was involved in shipping and trading rather than by more respectable means. They did not share a close acquaintance but Bridgette had to admit that she felt herself rather grateful that Lady Madeline had come to speak to her this evening. They were only a few years apart in age, for Bridgette had been married almost as soon as she had entered London.
“I confess that I am rather weary already and the ball has only just begun!” Lady Madeline replied, with a chuckle. “My father thinks I am being most ungrateful, of course, as though I ought to be glad for every modicum of attention that the gentlemen of London throw at me, but I confess that I am growing rather tired of it.”
Bridgette laughed, shaking her head ruefully. “That is my feeling also,” she said, with a sigh. “But then again, I have no need to marry again, given that my husband made certain that I would have enough to live comfortably for the rest of my days.” She tipped her head, taking in Lady Madeline, with her raven hair and flashing green eyes that glittered like emeralds. Bridgette felt rather dull in comparison. “Surely you will have to marry soon?”
Lady Madeline sighed, folding her arms across her chest and giving every appearance of someone rather troubled with what was being asked of her. “My father insists on encouraging me to do so but I confess that I have no eagerness to step forward into matrimony as yet,” she said, with a shrug. “The gentlemen who pursue me do not care anything for me, but rather for the dowry that will come to them if I was to marry.” She rolled her eyes, behaving in what Bridgette considered to be a less than proper manner — although that was, she considered, a little refreshing. It was rather nice to hear the lady speak of such things with complete honesty instead of pretending that all was just as she hoped for. After a moment, she also noted that there appeared to be no companion nor parent with Lady Madeline. Was that because she refused such a thing? Or was it because she had slipped away, unwilling to remain fixed within the bounds of propriety?
Seeing Lady Madeline’s searching gaze, Bridgette felt a small flush warm her cheeks, spreading her hands as she began to speak. “I am also in such a position,” she admitted, honestly, wondering if a camaraderie could be struck up between them. “Being a wealthy widow means that gentlemen are eager to make my acquaintance, but not for the reasons I might hope!”
Lady Madeline put a gentle hand on Bridgette’s shoulder. “They are the ones who are failing, Lady Callander, not you,” she said, firmly. “If they do not want to make your acquaintance in order that they might know you a little better, then that is their own foolishness.”
Bridgette smiled at her and after a moment, Lady Madeline graced her back with a smile of her own.
“Mayhap we ought to assist each other,” she said, hopefully. “I will admit that I am a little alone this Season, for whilst my very dear friend, Lady Franks, is to be present this Season, I have not yet seen her and certainly, she will be very eager to spend time with her husband, of course.”
“Of course,” Lady Madeline agreed, looking a little puzzled.
“Therefore, given that we are both facing the same struggles within society, mayhap we might warn each other as to which gentlemen ought to be refused without question,” Bridgette continued, seeing the way that Lady Madeline’s eyes lit up almost immediately. “And, if there is ever some interest from a particular gentleman, the other will assess his attributes also and mayhap quietly prod about to see if there is any kind of gossip that might then add a little more knowledge of the fellow.”
Lady Madeline considered this for a moment, her lips bunching together as she looked back steadily at Bridgette. Bridgette herself felt her cheeks warm a little more, clearing her throat and fearing that she had already overstepped, having suggested something to Lady Madeline that she might find more than a little improper.
“That is a wonderful idea!”
Immediately, Bridgette’s heart flew into a quickened rhythm, relieved that Lady Madeline had not immediately refused her or laughed at her suggestion.
“I admit that most of my acquaintances think I am quite foolish for behaving so, and tell me that I ought to be seeking out a husband, just as my father has suggested,” Lady Madeline continued, “and whilst I hope that I can have one more Season without being forced towards courtship and engagement, it would be good to have someone coming alongside me in the very fashion you have suggested.” Her hand reached out and caught Bridgette’s, squeezing her fingers tightly. “I am sure we shall become very dear friends, Lady Callander.”
“Bridgette, please,” Bridgette replied, as Lady Madeline smiled all the more brightly. “If we are to become very good friends, as you say, then I think it only proper for you to address me so.”
“How wonderful!” Lady Madeline exclaimed, her eyes shining. “Then let us begin this very evening!” Her eyes darted to something behind Bridgette’s shoulder, her smile fading slightly. “There is a gentleman approaching you already, Lady Callander — I mean, Bridgette.” Her lips quirked but her eyes remained on the approaching gentleman. “I do not think I am acquainted with him.”
Bridgette caught her breath, wondering if it was to be Lord Millerton. Her hand pressed lightly against her stomach, wondering at the strange sensation of butterflies fluttering their wings gently, merely at the thought of him. Was she anxious about what he thought of her, given their earlier conversation? Or was there something about being in his company again that sent a thrill of excitement straight through her?
Tu
rning slightly, she smiled at Lady Madeline, who finally dragged her gaze back to Bridgette’s face. They said nothing to each other, the conversation of other guests floating about them as they each awaited the arrival of this gentleman.
“Lady Madeline!”
Bridgette blinked in astonishment, turning slowly to see a gentlemen she did not recognize bowing low in front of Lady Madeline. Lady Madeline also appeared rather astonished, with her eyes wide with surprise. When the gentleman rose from his bow, they both curtsied at once, with Bridgette surprised at the disappointment that crested up within her like a wave that it was not Lord Millerton as she had thought.
“Lord…..Lord Chesterfield?”
Lady Madeline’s voice held a good deal of puzzlement, making Bridgette smile inwardly. The lady clearly had no qualms about making it apparent that she wasn’t sure whether or not she had the right name for the gentleman, although she could see from the way that his smile faded at the edge that he was a little displeased with the fact that she did not immediately recall him.
“Yes, Lady Madeline,” he said, dipping his head again. “You are quite correct.”
“I see.” Lady Madeline gave him an assessing gaze, letting her eyes rove up and down as she took him in. “You have come to London for the Season, then?”
“I have,” Lord Chesterfield replied, his grey eyes glancing towards Bridgette, to whom he had not yet been introduced. “Although this is not my first ball of the Season.”
Lady Madeline laughed. “Nor is it mine,” she replied, with a small shrug. “Ah, might I also introduce you to a very dear friend of mine?” She turned towards Bridgette with a warm smile, which Bridgette returned, even though she herself would not have suggested that she and Lady Madeline were ‘very dear friends’.