The Lady Emily Capers, Set One

by Regina Scott

  “The one in Miss Alexander’s bedchamber,” Asheram finished. He nodded to the footman, who pelted off down the corridor once more. “The rest of you, stay here,” he ordered the girls and Hannah.

  Hannah was most content to do exactly that. The girls, however, crowded around the bed, exclaiming over the excitement. David closed his eyes again, and she didn’t think he was all that tired. She herded them toward the group of chairs by the fireplace and cautioned them to lower their voices. Before she could return to David’s side, Dr. Praxton arrived. As he did not feel comfortable examining David with so avid an audience, she had no choice but to usher them all out into the corridor to wait.

  “So, she really was guilty,” Lady Emily declared. “I told you so.”

  “Well, you needn’t crow,” Priscilla retorted. “What kind of Season am I going to have now? You can imagine what the gossips will say about the countess. And my mother and father haven’t the funds to see me through a Season. No one will want to align themselves with our family. I’ll die a shriveled old maid!” Her voice had risen to a wail, and the rest of the girls looked alarmed.

  “Nonsense,” Hannah told her sternly, although a part of her wondered whether the jaded Londoners would not react exactly the way Priscilla had described. “No one can blame you for what happened.”

  The other girls chorused their agreement. Priscilla looked only slightly mollified.

  Dr. Praxton came into the corridor then to confirm that David was out of danger, at least from the injury. “He still needs to be watched for a day or so, and try to keep him in bed until Easter, if you can. But I see no reason why he cannot recover fully.”

  Relief flooded Hannah. The girls beamed at him. As they stood talking for a moment, Mr. Asheram hurried down the corridor.

  “Ah, Dr. Praxton, I’d hoped I’d catch you. Would you come with me? There’s been an accident.”

  Dr. Praxton rolled his eyes. “Another one? The members of this household certainly have a tendency to get hurt. First that strange incident with the former Lord Brentfield and his son, then his lordship, and now this. Who is it this time?”

  “Lady Brentfield,” Mr. Asheram said.

  Priscilla started, and Hannah caught her arm.

  “I would prefer,” Mr. Asheram added, “that you all wait here. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.” He hurriedly led the doctor away.

  Priscilla bit her lip, even as Hannah wondered whether the woman could have fallen through one of the passages. She shuddered at the kind of injuries that might result.

  “Let’s go join his lordship,” Hannah suggested to the troubled girls. They found David sitting up gingerly in bed. The covers had fallen to his waist, and his nightshirt was open to his belly. The girls stared in fascination at the hairs on his chest, the flat plane of his stomach. Hannah found herself just as mesmerized. He caught them ogling him and pulled up the covers with a grin.

  They chatted about nothing for some time, until Hannah could tell that David was tiring. He kept covering his mouth as he yawned, and his head seemed to be too heavy for his neck. She was glad when Mr. Asheram appeared in the doorway and motioned her out.

  “Lady Brentfield has been taken away,” he murmured in the corridor.

  Hannah frowned. “Why? What happened?”

  “She broke through the ceiling.” When Hannah covered her mouth to keep back a cry of horror, he hurried on. “Luckily, she fell into one of the unused bedchambers and most of her body landed on a bed. She appears to have a broken leg and any number of scrapes and scratches. However, Dr. Praxton believes her mind has snapped. She smiles at everyone and talks about the ball her mother is planning for her come out. He has put it down to depression following her husband’s death. I think that would be the kindest thing to call it, for everyone’s sake.”

  Remembering Priscilla’s fears for her future, Hannah nodded. “Is there no hope for her, then?”

  “Perhaps, but she will need someone to care for her, constantly. Dr. Praxton fears she may injure herself. We are sending for Priscilla’s parents. They will know what must be done.”

  Hannah nodded again. “She brought this on herself, but I don’t like to think of anyone drifting away like that. What happens now? The girls and I should not stay on.” Much as it hurt to admit that, she knew it to be true. They could hardly have a house party under the circumstances. The idea of returning to the Barnsley School was never less inviting. How could she leave David?

  “Priscilla should stay until her parents arrive,” Mr. Asheram told her. “But you’re right that it would be easier if the other girls returned to the school.”

  And they could not return alone. She knew that. Her duty lay in getting them safely back to Miss Martingale. Hannah straightened. “We’ll leave tomorrow, after the girls have had a chance to sleep.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see they return to their rooms. Perhaps you’d like a moment alone with David.”

  She offered him a smile in thanks. A moment later, and the girls had filed out with fond good nights. Hannah approached the bed.

  David yawned, not bothering to cover it this time, and motioned her to sit beside him. “Alone at last,” he quipped.

  She smiled at him, and when his look turned serious, she knew her feelings were showing on her face. There were so many things she longed to say to him, but she had to stick to her duty or she would never leave. “Mr. Asheram told you about Lady Brentfield?”

  “Just a little. He’s explaining it to the girls as he takes them to their rooms. Are you all right?”

  “I will survive,” she replied. “Priscilla’s parents will be here soon. I’ll be taking the other girls back to the Barnsley School tomorrow.”

  He frowned. “You’ll be what?”

  She sat straighter. “I must, David. I’m their chaperone.”

  He reached for her hand. “And you’re my love. I need you more than they do.”

  The pouty look melted into one of tenderness. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. The gentle warmth seemed to fill Hannah. She pulled away before it could be her downfall. “But I have a responsibility to them. I’ll return when I can.”

  “When you can? I’m not a patient man, Hannah. I want you to marry me. I need you to marry me. I don’t want to have to travel all the way to another city to see you.”

  She reached out and touched his cheek. “And I want to marry you. But the girls cannot stay on after what happened to Lady Brentfield.”

  “I don’t see why not. I’m the earl, aren’t I? If I say they can stay, they can.”

  She shook her head. “I think Asheram is right that it would be better for them to go. I cannot stay here alone without a chaperone, and I have a responsibility to the girls.”

  “You also have a responsibility to your betrothed. What if I have a relapse after you leave?”

  “Don’t say that!” she cried, afraid to even think it. “You’re going to be fine. Dr. Praxton said so.”

  “Doctors have been known to be wrong,” he argued. He leaned back against the pillow and narrowed his eyes. “In fact, I feel the pain returning now. You’re growing dim. Hannah?” His head lolled to one side, eyes fluttering shut.

  She knew he was teasing her. He had to be teasing her. “David Tenant, you cannot have your own way in everything,” she told him sternly.

  He did not stir.

  Fear seized her. “David?” she tried louder, bending over him. He grabbed her about the middle and pulled her down into his arms. She gave herself over to the joy of his kiss, feeling his arms tighten about her as his mouth warmed against hers. The sweet pressure raised an answering fire within her. When at last he let her go, she could not find the will to leave his side.

  He smiled at her. “I take it back, Miss Alexander. You make a terrible chaperone. I’m afraid if you don’t leave this room this minute, you are going to be thoroughly compromised.”

  Hannah returned his smile, her lips tingling along with the rest of her. “I told
you, my lord, that you cannot have your way in everything. However, I think I can spare you a few more moments before I go tell the girls we’re staying.”

  David pulled her back into his embrace.

  Chapter Nineteen

  David did not wait until Easter Sunday before venturing out of bed. Hannah found him pulling on his tweed coat when she and the girls visited him the next morning.

  “You lay back down this minute!” she commanded. Daphne rushed forward to prop him up as if she expected him to fall over as easily as she did. Ariadne stood by wringing her hands. Priscilla started laughing at them, and Lady Emily looked disgusted by the whole affair.

  “I’m fine,” David assured them, disentangling himself from Daphne’s grip. The grimace as he did so told Hannah he was hedging the truth again. “There are matters I must attend to.”

  “Now he decides to play the earl,” Asheram said with a sigh from the doorway. “Much as I applaud your determination, my lord, I must protest. Dr. Praxton said you were not to rise before Easter.”

  “Dr. Praxton doesn’t have a secret room waiting to be opened,” David countered.

  The girls were immediately intrigued. Over their demands for an explanation, Hannah raised her voice. “A secret room that has waited for who knows how long. It will still be there when you are better, my lord.”

  David walked slowly to her side and raised her hand to his lips. “What’s this ‘my lord’?” he murmured, tracing a line of kisses across her palm. Hannah felt weak at the knees, but she recognized his strategy. She snatched back her hand.

  “I told you yesterday,” she murmured fiercely back, “you cannot have your way in everything.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Why not? It’s worked so far.”

  “You’re impossible!” she protested, feeling a laugh bubble up the absurdity of the situation. She fervently hoped she would always give in so easily to his smile and teasing.

  Asheram cleared his throat, and she found the girls regarding her with looks of wonder.

  “Miss Alexander,” David told them all, tucking her hand in his arm, “has agreed to be my bride.”

  She hadn’t felt right about telling them the night before, not with the more dismal news regarding Lady Brentfield. She was gratified to find that they were all delighted with the announcement. Amidst the well wishes, David somehow slipped from the room. She knew, however, exactly where to find him. After entrusting the girls to Asheram’s care, she picked up a candle and entered the passage again.

  She found him waiting at the crossroads.

  “Took you long enough,” he said with a grin as he leaned against a beam.

  With a shake of her head, she followed him to the room.

  She found the lock cut off and lying on the floor.

  “I asked Ash to take care of the lock this morning,” David explained, kicking the debris aside with his booted foot. “But I also told him no one was to enter until we did.” He gazed at her. “Ready?”

  Hannah nodded, mouth suddenly dry. David pulled on the latch, and the door swung open. Both of them raised their candles.

  Light streamed onto gold and silver and the rich hues of fine oil paintings. David ventured through the door, and, finding a lamp on the inside wall, lit it. By the increased light, Hannah saw that the room had been once used as an opulent bedchamber. A huge four-poster bed dominated the center of the room, with a gilt-framed mirror as big as the bed over the top of it. The bed itself was littered with satin covers and pillows and bolsters, all in a lurid shade of crimson.

  “And everyone thought he only enjoyed hunting,” David murmured.

  Hannah caught herself blushing at the love nest. But as her gaze moved beyond the bed, she found that the rest of the room was crowded with statues, masks, vases, paintings, and every other kind of art. She easily identified a painting by the Spanish master Greco and another by Rembrandt. David bent to retrieve a ruby pendant on a chain of wrought gold that must have belonged to a pirate and draped it about her neck. “It appears we’ve found Lord Brentfield’s treasures.”

  Hannah fingered the ruby, which was easily as large as her fist. “It would appear so. But we still don’t have an answer. Did he know that the countess was stealing them? If so, why didn’t he simply put a stop to it?”

  “Perhaps this holds your answer,” David replied, retrieving a sealed note from the plane of the great bed. It was fine vellum and bore the Brentfield seal. He broke it and unfolded the note. Hannah leaned over his arm to read along with him.

  “To whom it may concern,” scrawled the curling masculine hand. “I have grave misgivings regarding my stepmother, Sylvia, Lady Brentfield. I have spoken repeatedly and at great length with my father, but he refuses to listen, putting my suspicions down to annoyance that I must share his attentions. Accordingly, I have done what I thought necessary to safeguard my inheritance from her cunning wiles. I can only thank God that Father never informed her of the secret passages that run throughout the house. I have hidden a number of pieces along them, with the majority in this room. If you have found this, it most likely means she has done me in. Be warned.”

  It was signed, “Nathan, Viscount Hawkins, heir to Brentfield.”

  “So, it wasn’t old Lord Brentfield after all,” David mused, setting the note back where he had found it.

  “What a shame his father didn’t listen,” Hannah said, thinking of the lives lost from the countess’s greed.

  David caught up her hand and held it tight. “I almost made the same mistake. If you hadn’t convinced me . . .”

  “If the girls hadn’t convinced me,” Hannah corrected him, enjoying his touch. “We have a chance now, David. We mustn’t waste it.”

  “I promise you, I won’t,” he replied, bending to caress her lips with a kiss.

  Chapter Twenty

  By Easter Sunday, most of the area surrounding Brentfield knew of the earl’s engagement. Servants will talk, and their masters will listen. Hannah found herself thoroughly examined at services in the Wenwood Church. Every time her eyes strayed from the altar, her gaze was met by another woman. To her surprise and relief, most looked quite pleased for her. When Reverend Wellfordhouse announced the banns for the first time, someone started a cheer that was quickly hushed. “He is risen!” Reverend Wellfordhouse greeted them as they left services.

  “He is risen indeed!” Hannah and the girls chorused. As they moved toward the waiting carriage, Hannah felt joy well up inside her. They were so lucky. None of them had been seriously hurt by Lady Brentfield’s machinations. The artwork was being restored to its rightful places. Priscilla’s parents were due to arrive any day to care for Lady Brentfield. And Hannah was engaged to marry the most wonderful man in the world.

  She turned to see David teasing the good vicar until the young pastor laughed along with him. Several of the older members of his congregation cast him dark glances, as if a minister had no right to so thoroughly enjoy himself. The reverend quickly sobered. David grinned as he strolled toward the carriage to join them.

  Before Hannah could ask him what had been so funny, Dr. Praxton intercepted him.

  “How’s the head?” the doctor asked. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it this morning.”

  “And miss all the ladies in their Easter best?” David countered. “I’d have to be far sicker than that. Look at my Hannah in her lilac. Small wonder everyone’s cheering for her.”

  Hannah blushed at his prideful praise. She had borrowed Priscilla’s dress for the occasion, and the girls were in bright muslin as well. Even Lady Emily had been persuaded to wear a sky-blue gown that made her look her age for once. Several of the village youths had noticed, but the girl had kept her head high as she walked past the admiring glances.

  Dr. Praxton clucked, eyeing him. “You’re still too pale. Get some rest this afternoon.”

  As he moved off to greet others, Hannah glanced at David. He winked at her and turned away before she could check to see if he did indeed look pale
in his navy coat and tan breeches. She promised herself to give him a good scold when she got him alone, which would not be soon enough for her.

  She was grateful that he had insisted the girls stay through Easter. Ariadne and Daphne’s family had made other plans for the holiday, and Lady Emily’s father was in Vienna, so Hannah and the girls would have had to spend the day at the school. Besides, there was no place she would rather be than with David.

  The girls were quiet as they rode home in the Brentfield carriage. David could not resist teasing them.

  “Doesn’t Easter signal the start of this ‘Season’ I keep hearing about?” he asked Ariadne.

  “Indeed,” the girl responded, smoothing out imagined wrinkles in her jonquil-colored gown. “Mother is letting Daphne and I come out together, even though I’m a year younger.”

  “And how many hearts will you break when you’re in London, Miss Courdebas?” he asked Daphne.

  She blushed and elbowed her sister, who glared at her. “Not enough,” she countered with a giggle.

  David grinned at her. “And you, Lady Emily?”

  Lady Emily eyed him as if she found him less than amusing. “I don’t intend to participate in the Season. I intend to gain admittance to the Royal Society for the Beaux Arts. Besides, I am already promised.”

  Priscilla stared at her, and Daphne and Ariadne gasped.

  “You never told us!” Priscilla complained.

  Lady Emily shrugged. “I saw no reason. It has been arranged since we were children. It isn’t as if it were a love match.”

  Hannah sighed. The news was the one dark spot in her day. Now that she had found her love, she didn’t like to hear of others being denied the pleasure. She glanced at David and saw by his tender smile that he was thinking the same thing.

  “But you must have a Season,” Priscilla protested. “Everyone will remark if you do not.”

  “You must dance at Almack’s,” Daphne put in worshipfully.

  “You must partake of the midnight supper at the ball Priscilla has been planning for ages,” Ariadne put in with raptured tones.