London's Wicked Affair

by Anabelle Bryant

  Conversation wafted through the terrace doors and further discussion was abandoned. Amelia returned, no worse for the wear, although Collins’s lascivious leer revealed he had more on his mind than pyramidal orchids.

  The clock struck nine, reminding Lunden of his late-night appointment and eviscerating further deliberation. He politely withdrew. Best to get on with confronting the makeshift blackmailer so he’d be able to focus on smoothing every other wrinkle in his life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As instructed, Lunden arrived at Rotten Row at the time indicated in the missive he’d accepted two days earlier. He opened the glass window and waited. Dangerous business, meeting during the night hours with little knowledge of the other participant, but he had no care for his safety. For years he’d wished himself dead instead of his brother. What difference would there be in the world if upon morning he turned up deceased? He’d leave behind no one to mourn, no one to fend for security. His bills were current, his staff nicely paid. He could be erased from this world with little consequence.

  Time ticked at an infinitesimal pace and regret stole over him like an unwelcome shadow. Aware the heavy weight of despair would eventually crush his soul, he conjured images of Amelia, her green gaze brilliant with laughter, but the vision would not hold. Instead, from some murky corner of his mind, remembrances of the night his brother died resurrected with pristine clarity, the image of Douglas’s moonlit corpse as vivid as a lethal nightmare.

  A personal liaison was private and he’d had no right to intrude where Douglas chose to exclude him. His brother’s reaction had been appropriate, albeit unnecessary. Had Douglas allowed him into his life, would he have accepted the circumstances? Hindsight shadowed the obvious answer with doubt. With certainty though, had a conversation ensued instead of a reckless chase on horseback in the middle of the night, his brother would still be alive. And Lunden had caused the chase. Unintentionally, but at fault nonetheless.

  There was no solace in the thought. He didn’t speak for weeks after his brother’s death. Mute by choice. Safety in solitude. Now, he’d rejoined life as he’d once known it, and nothing had changed. The loose filaments that formed his caliginous memories remained interwoven in profound heartache.

  He threaded his fingers through his hair in frustration. This foolish game of what ifs and had onlys claimed no winner. He accepted all blame years ago.

  With a sigh of resignation, Lunden removed the suede pouch from his pocket and slid his brother’s watch into the palm of his hand. The hour nearly matched the current time. The eerie observation served to snap his attention to the clatter of approaching horse hooves.

  In less than two minutes, a carriage pulled adjacent to his, the windows aligned in neat unison. The glass opened and Lunden inclined his head, peering into the dark coach interior in an effort to discover the mysterious visitor’s identity. He could see nothing, the stranger having extinguished the light.

  “Thank you for keeping this appointment.”

  The voice was unfamiliar, a rich baritone. Lunden moved his lantern closer to the glass, in hope of a fortuitous glimpse inside the adjacent carriage.

  “How could I not when it concerns Douglas? Your letter indicated it was of the utmost importance.”

  He could hear the shuffle of boots on the lancewood floor as if the occupant reordered his thoughts along with his position.

  “Correct. I’ve learned you intend to sell the Lamb Street town house. I would like to make an offer of fair price for its purchase and conclude a private sale.”

  Stunned, Lunden inhaled a sharp breath. “Your letter was misleading. You implied you had information concerning the night of my brother’s death. Was that a ploy to force me here and infuriate me? If so, you’ve accomplished your objective.”

  The stranger remained silent. When he spoke again, his voice held a softer edge as if he’d lowered his guard and realized the error of his ways. “I knew your brother well. I saw him the night of his death. Earlier that evening, actually.”

  When the stranger said no more, Lunden prodded, his temper barely contained. “That’s all? You can’t expect me to express gratitude for such useless information.”

  Again he heard shuffling from inside the stranger’s carriage. Minutes ticked by. Lunden reached upward to rap on the carriage roof and indicate his desire to leave, when the inscrutable stranger spoke again.

  “Douglas planned to meet someone that evening. When you interrupted their rendezvous, your brother panicked, setting off at breakneck speed. You followed. His horse stumbled and your brother was thrown. Behind, another gave chase, angered by the intrusion and worried on Douglas’s behalf. You returned home with your brother’s body under duress and gunfire. Someone was injured. Shot in the leg. You fell into mourning and the obligations of your newly acquired title with little happiness. You never returned to London nor learned who your brother entertained that evening, but you understood the circumstances. You’ve blamed yourself for his death ever since.”

  Blame well placed. A suffocating wave of regret consumed him and Lunden fought for breath.

  “Rumors circulated concerning the volatile relationship between the two of you. There was the public argument witnessed only hours before Douglas’s death. Society believed you snatched the duchy through fratricide. You fled London to keep your brother’s memory unblemished and the gossipmongers at bay.”

  Lunden forced calm. He paid a heavy price to have that secret kept and this stranger recalled the night’s events as clearly as he knew them to be true. Had this man shared the information with anyone? The threat of injury to Douglas’s reputation, his memory, and exposure of their history was more vulnerable than ever before and the knowledge he no longer solely harbored the truth, shook him to the core.

  “I must go.” A tone of impatience underscored the stranger’s three words. “Consider my offer. Otherwise, no matter the degree of your discretion, word will spread. Everyone will be aware of your return within hours if I deem it so, and if that doesn’t change your mind, I’ll expose your private knowledge gratuitously.”

  “Wait.” Lunden bit out the command through clenched teeth. “How do you know these things? When will we meet again?”

  He watched as the glass closed and the carriage jolted forward, his connection with the past broken for the evening.

  * * *

  “I have so much news to share, I may burst.” Amelia settled on the bench beside Charlotte, anxious to impart the details of last evening. “It seems forever since we’ve spoken and with my leaving for Lakeview I needed to see you this morning.”

  “I wondered at the hour. Even Dearing doesn’t wake this early, and he is fastidious about keeping his daily schedule.” Charlotte nodded in affirmation of the fact.

  “I wish there was some way we changed his mind and you accompanied me today. It will be a terribly quiet trip with Mary in the coach.”

  “You can blame yourself for that.” Charlotte offered a crooked smile, amused with her friend’s antics. “But once you arrive, you’ll have a splendid visit with your family. I will miss you most. I look forward to our daily jaunts, otherwise I rarely leave the town house. Dearing prefers I stay at home. . . .” Her voice trailed off in a despondent whisper.

  “Another troubling stroke of the brush.” Amelia clasped her hands together and huffed a frustrated breath. “He keeps you captive for no reason.” With preoccupation to her own marriage plight, she’d neglected Charlotte’s unhappiness, and now the weight of poor conscience crushed her enthusiasm flat. “I’ll only be gone two days. When I return, we’ll pursue this problem with vigor.” She held her palm up when Charlotte opened her mouth to object. “Your future is as important as mine. While you worry on my behalf, and you should, for my brother is orchestrating a scheme I’ve yet to decipher, I’m determined to see us blissfully content.”

  “Why would Matthew instigate something devious? Are you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions?”

 
The troubling note of despair in Charlotte’s reply had Amelia wishing she’d never mentioned her suspicions.

  “Perhaps, although the last few days have led me to believe differently. While I’ve known Father assigned him the task weeks ago, Matthew never seemed motivated to achieve my betrothal with persistence and I believed he would offer me more understanding in the matter. That being said, I would never have engaged Lunden’s assistance if I knew Matthew secured a candidate and intended to proceed with intense determination.” She paused, concern causing her words to soften in regard of the present state of affairs. “I walked with Lord Collins in the garden after dinner and he behaved as if a decision has been made, acknowledging my brother sought him out with an agreement. I’m puzzled to what my brother hopes to gain and disappointed at his callous decision making. I expected some degree of thoughtfulness from Matthew.”

  “Is Lord Collins so terrible? Do you see no way to be pleased with the union?”

  “Charlotte, the man is almost as old as my father.” She shot her friend a wide-eyed look of exaggeration. “And while he appears congenial, I suspect there’s more to the story. Why would he wish to marry so quickly? He knows nothing of my personality other than what he’s gleaned from idle gossip. It’s hardly a firm foundation for a lifelong commitment. When I suggested we take time to get to know each other with a considerable courtship, he dismissed the idea and uttered he ‘needed to get on with things.’”

  Charlotte’s aghast expression spoke volumes.

  “Well, I’ll have none of it.” Amelia rose from the bench. “With Lunden’s assistance I have already secured preemptive survival skills. No man will ever find me at a disadvantage. I intend to marry for love, not convenience.” She paused and eyed Charlotte with a softer expression, although her words fortified her resolve. “As for your marriage, we’ve yet to discover the source of Lord Dearing’s discontent. But we will. We may be women in a society which grants all the power to men, but we are intelligent women determined to find happiness.”

  By the end of her speech, empowerment echoed across the courtyard and the ladies looped arms set to return home. Amelia had planned to regale Charlotte with every detail of her closeted adventure with Lunden, the scent of his skin, the heat of his body pressed against hers, and the magic of their kiss, but having reconsidered, remained pleased with the dual-purposed focus of their discussion.

  Besides, kisses were best kept private. The tingling sensation coursing throughout her veins whenever she relived the moment assured she made the correct decision.

  Returning home, she found her traveling bags packed, Mary in the hall, and the carriage set to depart. Upstairs, Matthew was in the study examining his puzzle, his face a mask of concentration. Scooping Pandora into her arms she strode to the window, but not before she spared a glance toward the closet, an amused smile curling her lips.

  “You seem a little anxious to be rid of me. Mary already waits in the hall.”

  “Take no offense, dear sister. I merely want you on your way before the hour grows late. I’ve assigned additional tigers to the coach, but I reserve misgivings seeing you off without a more suitable chaperone. Had I the opportunity, I’d accompany you, but the society is holding an important meeting and I can’t be absent. With your insistence to visit Father today, you leave me few options.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She reached forward and shifted a puzzle piece with her forefinger, clutching Pandora in a secure hold as the cat wriggled with impatience. “Your misgivings would have been more appropriately placed when you sent me into the garden with Lord Collins.”

  “Was he not to your liking then?” Matthew stalled in his activity and offered her a sidelong glance.

  “You aren’t serious?” Amelia captured her laughter before it broke free.

  He returned his attention to the work before him and dismissed the question with a derisive snort. “He’s a well-respected peer with accomplished academic success and financial security. I fail to see your objection.”

  “He’s as old as Father.” She shuddered as her mind conjured an image of the man. Pandora meowed in objection.

  “That’s a gross exaggeration.” Matthew’s matter-of-fact tone revealed he was more interested in the pieces he placed near the Aegean Sea than her discontent.

  “Not through my eyes.” Amelia cuddled her cat closer to her heart, lost in the comfort of soft fur.

  “Perhaps we both need a new perspective.” He shifted to the corner of the table and examined his puzzle. “No matter how I attempt to assemble this portion, it will not match. It’s as if the pieces are missing. I can’t make heads or tails of it.” His face pinched with displeasure and his brow pleated when he looked to her.

  Her world was far more important than his. “And what of the situation Collins will soon acquire? Do you know of his familial circumstances?”

  “Life is compromise.” Matthew stepped away from the table and advanced with a stern tone. “Do you think when I was a lad running through the fields at Lakeview I imagined my future as an invalid with the limitations imposed by my limp? My friends are married and settled, supporting a family of sons and daughters who bring pleasure and pride. I learned quickly that women enjoy picnics and dancing, and when they seek a husband they wish for a complete man, not one who barely manages the stairs on a rainy day. So I aspire to make my mark as a scholar and find happiness in other pursuits. As a male, I have the luxury of time to choose my future and produce an heir, but you do not. Nevertheless, I have compromised. I suggest you do the same.”

  A rush of emotion humbled her usual rebuttal. Matthew’s wistful confession tugged at her heart. She touched his sleeve, but he shrugged off the gesture and returned his attention to the puzzle. The thought of marrying Collins was no less repulsive, but perhaps she needed to consider her choices with enlightened importance.

  Still, her intent with Father to convince him to allow her to choose her own spouse, remained steadfast. And the sooner she arrived at Lakeview, the better. Firm in purpose, she straightened her shoulders and drew a deep breath.

  “Shall I tell Mother you’ll visit soon? She worries for you.” She met his eyes squarely, determined not to belabor the subject. Matthew detested the attention.

  “Yes. I’ll plan a trip.” Distracted by the pieces on the table, his answer was half platitude. “Once everything is resolved at the society, I’ll have more time. Assure Mother I will visit within a fortnight.”

  “I’ll be leaving then.” She turned, hesitation in her step. “Have you seen Lunden? Do you know where he is this morning?”

  The question garnered Matthew’s attention and he pierced her with a glare. “What is this strange fascination with Scarsdale? His whereabouts are no concern of yours. I’ve warned you, Troublemaker, to stifle your curiosity. His arrival in London is not to be shared.”

  Disregarding his brusque tone, she tutted her disapproval and carried Pandora from the room, annoyed with her brother’s misplaced admonishment.

  Safely nestled in the carriage with her sleeping maid, Amelia stroked Pandora’s coat and considered which tactic would convince her father she deserved to choose her own husband, despite stalling through several Seasons. Eventually, her thoughts alternated to Charlotte’s situation and her hopeless feelings in assistance to her friend. What was wrong with Lord Dearing? Did he not realize he’d married one of the kindest, gentlest women in all England? Or was there something in Dearing’s countenance that he feared revealing to Charlotte? Through her friend’s insecurities and society’s natural inclination, they’d come to place the blame at Charlotte’s feet, but without a doubt the same could be suspected of Dearing. She’d need to ask more questions to truly solidify if her suspicions were correct. With new determination, Amelia vowed to secure Charlotte a better future, even if she had little control over her own.

  The carriage rolled to an abrupt stop and Pandora leapt from her lap and settled in a corner below the far banquette. Concerned, Amelia swept
the curtain to the side and peered through the window, curious why the coachman would rein in the team when they’d only traveled a short distance.

  “Milady?” An outrider came to the square window. Sincere distress marred his young face.

  Amelia opened the glass and waited for his explanation.

  “Barley has gone lame.” He indicated the tawny mare aside the chestnut with a curt wave of his hand. “She can’t continue. Should I ride home and return with a fresh team? We haven’t traveled very far.”

  The sun remained high. It couldn’t be past noon, yet they’d never reach Lakeview before nightfall if she didn’t have a strong team. Best spend a short time waiting beside the road than risk traveling into the night hours. It wouldn’t take long for one of the outriders to return with new horses.

  “Yes, please do so. Have the driver lead us to the side, there near that meadow, and we’ll await your return.” Amelia’s eyes passed over Mary fast asleep in the corner, blissfully unaware how their plans had altered. “Thank you.”

  The servant nodded his head and disappeared toward the front. Amelia closed the window, although she heard their conversation resound through the carriage roof. After the coach pulled to the side, the jangle of the harness signaled the team was unhooked before the thunder of hooves marked the outrider’s departure astride the chestnut.

  “I do hope he hurries.” Muttering her concern, Amelia pulled her knees under her skirt and settled in to wait.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lunden bridled Hades and reached for the saddle. The horse snorted and pulled at the bonds holding him hostage, anxious to be free of the stable. At Beckford Hall, the horse roamed the acreage, strong and obedient, as fast as a secret unleashed. Riding served as one of the few pleasures Lunden allowed himself, the wind in his ears instead of the cynical voice of regret. Now, Hades whinnied and shook his mane; a flick of his tail signaled his impatience. Lunden spoke to him in a low soothing tone as he tightened the buckles and secured the leather straps.