by Lucy Adams
“Then you were just as I feared,” she said, brokenly. “Another gentleman seeking only to secure me for his own purposes.”
“I need the money!” Lord Chesterfield cried, as though it justified his behavior. “I could not go on without it!”
Lord Millerton shook his head, his hand now firmly on Madame Bereford’s shoulder so that she could not move without him being aware of it.
“This cargo, then,” he said, speaking to Lord Chesterfield. “You brought people to England, did you not? People that Madame Bereford had arranged to be brought here.”
Madame Bereford made to say something but Lord Millerton pushed down hard on her shoulder and she glared up at him, her mouth tight and angry.
“Yes,” Lord Chesterfield muttered, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself. “It was an excellent way to bring in coin, of course, for a high price is paid for the transport of ladies and gentlemen, particularly if they are to be brought in without anyone knowing of their presence here.”
Lord Millerton glanced towards Bridgette, then to Lord Windsor, Lord Hearst and then to Lord Lexington who, thus far, had said nothing at all. She remembered what the League had been told about the ships who came to the docks, and how those who came from the ships were dressed as crewmen, so that no-one could tell one from another.
“Wait a moment,” Lord Lexington said, slowly. “You mean to say that the people you brought into England, you knew nothing of them?”
Lord Chesterfield nodded but did not look up.
“Then they could have been anyone,” Lord Lexington said, darkly. “Madame Bereford, tell us of these people.” His tone was hard, his eyes like steel as he glared at her. “You have already told us that you brought Miss Sarah here. Am I to surmise that more of your ladies are from France?”
Madame Bereford tilted her head, her smile a little coy. “Perhaps.”
“And the rest?”
Madame Bereford said nothing, her eyes looking away from Lord Lexington, ignoring him completely.
“The rest came off the ship as crewmen,” Lord Chesterfield said, slowly, as Madame Bereford drew in a sharp breath, narrowing her eyes at him. “I do not know where they went or what became of them.”
Bridgette looked sharply at Lord Chesterfield, an idea suddenly hitting her. “Did you ever take any of this ‘cargo’ back to France?” she asked, as Lord Chesterfield slowly lifted his gaze to hers. “Did you have any cause to do such a thing?”
Lord Chesterfield swallowed hard, looked to Madame Bereford who, Bridgette noticed, had gone a shade of white.
“Yes,” he said, heavily. “I have had to do so, on occasion.”
Bridgette looked sharply at Lord Millerton, seeing the color drain from his face as he began to understand.
“Then Madame Bereford, you have brought spies to England,” Bridgette said, hoarsely. “You have had them return to France with what they have learned, and then brought them in anew. And you have used Lord Chesterfield and Lord Cambleton to do it.”
It took a moment but, after a breath, Madame Bereford let out such a loud, furious laugh that it took everyone’s breath away.
“How foolish,” she crowed, laughing hard at Bridgette’s words. “Lord Cambleton knew precisely what he was doing. He came to me, approached me and made the suggestion that we might work together!” She laughed again, and Bridgette saw Lord Millerton’s hand tighten on Madame Bereford’s shoulder. “Lord Cambleton wanted to be more than just a mere baron. He wanted more wealth than he had, and I wanted more girls for my house.” She smiled cruelly. “It seems we were meant to work together.”
Lord Millerton lifted Madame Bereford without warning, so that she stumbled as he pushed her forward, out from her chair and towards Lord Hearst.
“Take her,” he said, hoarsely, as Lord Hearst took Madame Bereford’s arm. “Take her to Lord Watt. He will know what to do.”
Bridgette watched the smile slide form Madame Bereford’s face. What had she expected? She surely had not thought that simply because she was born in another country that she would be free of the consequences of what she had done?
“I am sure that you know what the punishment is for traitors,” Lord Hearst muttered, as Lord Lexington fell into step on the other side of Madame Bereford. “You shall face the highest punishment our Prince can mete out.”
“Although,” Lord Lexington added, “you might save your life by telling us all that you know.”
Madame Bereford said nothing, her head still held high as she was led from the room. The room fell silent and Bridgette saw the alarm written in Lord Millerton’s eyes.
“What has she done?” he said, hoarsely, as Lord Windsor and Lady Madeline drew near. “Just how many have been brought here, because of what she has done?”
Lord Windsor let out a long breath. “We cannot know,” he said, honestly. “But at least we are aware of it now.”
Lord Millerton shook his head, running one hand through his hair. “We have a good deal of work to do now,” he said, speaking of the League. “We must find every single one that Madame Bereford has brought in.”
Reaching down, Lord Windsor grasped Lord Chesterfield and pulled him, whimpering, out of his chair. No longer was there the proud gentleman standing before them, laughing and overly bold but instead there stood a broken, ashamed man who held not even the smallest amount of respect.
She had never really known Lord Chesterfield at all, Bridgette realized, finding not even a modicum of sympathy for him.
“I should take this one to Lord Watt also,” Lord Windsor said. “And then I shall return to make certain this is dealt with.” He gestured to the right, where Lord Cambleton’s body lay.
“Very good,” Lord Millerton murmured, holding out one hand to Bridgette. “Come, Lady Callander. Lady Madeline. I should escort you both home.”
Bridgette leaned into Lord Millerton at once, feeling his arm about her waist as she rested into him. “Perhaps we should return Lady Madeline first,” she murmured, looking up into his face and seeing the hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth, despite the circumstances. “If you would be agreeable?”
Lord Millerton reached down and kissed her forehead, lingering for a moment. “More than agreeable,” he said, before walking from the room, Bridgette held closely by his side.
Epilogue
“Should you like to come inside?”
Sebastian looked at Lady Madeline, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and finding himself feeling a good deal of sympathy for what she had endured.
“I shall take you inside,” Lady Callander said gently, glancing at Sebastian, who gave her a small nod of understanding. “And ensure you are settled with your father before I return to the carriage.” She smiled gently at Lady Madeline, who nodded but did not return it with a smile of her own, no longer appearing to be the self-assured, confident young lady that Sebastian knew.
“I thank you,” Lady Madeline murmured, glancing at Sebastian. “And thank you for everything that I have been shown this evening. I am grateful for what you have done.” She turned to Lady Callander. “And to you also.”
Lady Callander gestured for Lady Madeline to step out of the carriage, her eyes filled with sympathy. “You have been through a great ordeal, this evening, Lady Madeline,” she said, quietly. “Especially with seeing Lord Cambleton….” She trailed off and Lady Madeline drew in a shaky breath,
“Indeed,” was all she said, before she stepped out of the carriage, leaning heavily on the arm of the waiting footman.
“I will not be long,” Lady Callander murmured, leaving Sebastian to sit alone in the carriage, his mind filled with all that had occurred.
Everything that had clouded around them, everything that had filled him with confusion, sorrow and frustration now seemed to have disappeared entirely. There was nothing left but himself and Lady Callander, and that sent such a flurry of joy and hope and happiness into his heart that Sebastian knew that there was only one thing he now wanted to do.<
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He wanted to not only court Lady Callander, but to give her his whole heart, his whole self, his whole life. The thought of being apart from her, of returning to his estate alone, seemed so terrible that the pain slammed hard into him.
Lord Chesterfield and Madame Bereford would face the consequences of what they had done. Lord Cambleton already had paid the ultimate price, it seemed, and now he need not think of it any longer. Yes, the League would have a good deal more to achieve, if they were to rid England of all the spies that Madame Bereford had brought in through Lord Chesterfield’s ships, but that was a job for everyone in the League, not just for himself. There were other things he could consider now, a future that included Lady Callander.
The urge to speak to her, to tell her the truth of his heart, of what he wanted for them both, of what he dreamed and hoped for, began to grow deep within him. It was not a slow increase but rather a flood that seemed to fill him from the bottom to the very top of his head. His heart began to thump furiously as the door opened and Lady Callander climbed back inside, sitting back down with a heavy yet relieved sigh.
“Lady Madeline appears to be a little more recovered, now that she is back at home,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Her father was waiting for her, and his presence seemed to encourage her somewhat, although I will admit that he was a little surprised when she asked for a glass of port before she retired!”
He laughed, the sound making her laugh in return, which seemed to chase away some of the lingering darkness of what had occurred that evening. Reaching up, he rapped on the roof and the carriage began to roll away, leaving him and Lady Callander sitting in silence aside from the sound of the carriage wheels on the road. Suddenly the importance of what he wanted to say seemed to overwhelm him, his stomach twisting back and forth, his palms sweaty as he looked into Lady Callander’s beautiful face.
“Lady Callander, there is something that I want to express to you,” he began, realizing that he was tripping over his words already. “I — I find that my heart is overwhelmed with delight for you. No, more than that… much more than that.” He rubbed his forehead with his knuckles, feeling all the more foolish as he tried to explain what he meant. “I am more than relieved that this evening has brought most everything to an end, albeit with a rather daunting prospect of having to chase Madame Bereford’s spies from our shores,” he continued, trying to find ways to convey what he wanted without being overly poetic. “It has left me thinking about what I want next.”
Lady Callander’s eyes were glowing as she leaned forward, the dim light of the carriage lanterns illuminating her features with a gentle radiance. “And what is it that you want, Millerton?” she asked, softly.
“You.”
The word was out of his mouth before he could think of what else to say, or how eloquently he ought to express it. He could say nothing more but simply continued looking into Lady Callander’s eyes, waiting for her response.
A smile slowly began to spread across Lady Callander’s face, brighter and more glorious than ever he had seen before.
“I — I want to marry you,” he found himself saying, the truths of his heart being revealed to her one after the other. “I have found myself filled with affection and regard and admiration for you, Lady Callander — Bridgette — I have found… that I love you.”
Lady Callander’s swift intake of breath, the wonder in her eyes and the faint color to her cheeks told Sebastian that all he had said had found its way directly into Lady Callander’s heart. There was nothing more he could say, waiting now for her response, for her reply to his words of love.
“We have long been acquainted, Millerton, and I have found my affection for you growing,” she said, softly. “Your heart echoes the same strains of love as my own.”
He caught his breath, his hands reaching for hers as the carriage continued to wind its way through the London streets.
“I love you,” she said, simply, “and I can assure you that if you asked for my hand in marriage, I would accept you without question.”
“Then will you marry me?”
She laughed at the urgency and the eagerness that came from him but Sebastian could not wait another moment before he asked her. Their fingers intertwined as he held his breath, seeing her smile tenderly up at him.
“Of course, I shall marry you,” she said, with such a joy to her voice that Sebastian felt himself practically burst with happiness. “Just as soon as we can set the date.”
Even though the carriage was a little unsteady, Sebastian leaned forward, his hands on Lady Callander’s waist and his knees practically on the floor of the carriage as he tried to kiss her. She laughed at the awkwardness of it but slid her arms about his neck as he lowered his head, their lips finally meeting.
It was as though the stars had fallen from the sky and had landed all around them, as if the fragrance of the roses in Hyde Park had come to fill the carriage. Sebastian felt his heart overflow, his delight and joy solely in knowing that Lady Callander loved him as he loved her. They had endured a very difficult circumstance, had found the truth of it and now all that was left was to cling to each other and to the hopeful promise that was now to be theirs.
“I will love you with all that I have and all that I am, for the rest of my days,” he told her, as she brushed one hand down the side of his face. “I give you my pledge from this day on.”
“As I will love you,” she told him, the promise in her eyes flooding him with a fresh wave of love that Sebastian knew would never leave him, holding him fast until the end of his days.
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Lady Eliza’s Broken Heart is the novella length prologue to Lucy’s first series, London Season Matchmaker. Find out about Lady Eliza and the Duke of Avondale’s romance when it was in its early stages… before he broke her heart!
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