by Heather Boyd
“You’d be surprised,” Wharton teased.
“I mentioned my stutter,” Scarsdale admitted.
Price frowned. “You don’t stutter.”
“I do,” he admitted. “Or I did when I was younger. Every now and then, in certain circumstances, I feel it coming back.”
“What sort of circumstances?”
Scarsdale pressed his lips together tight.
Price glanced at Wharton. “Not at White’s.”
“Not at Bradshaw’s,” Wharton noted.
“Not anywhere I’ve been with him.”
“Or I,” Wharton said as he leaned against the window to look fully at Scarsdale. “You know there’s only one place I can think of that I’ve never been with him.”
Price frowned. “Where’s that?”
Wharton’s grin widened. “In the bedchamber, of course.”
Price choked, trying not to laugh out loud. “Neither have I, and never plan to.”
Scarsdale scowled.
Wharton slapped his thigh. “Well, isn’t he an odd fellow. He actually talks to his lovers.”
Price shook his head. “Many men do, I’m sure.”
“Talking leads to discussing feelings, or the lack of,” Wharton said, smiling, but then a frown crossed his face as his carriage came to an abrupt rough halt. “Devil take it!”
Price righted himself and heard shouting outside. He glanced out the nearest window while Wharton opened the trap door to the groom’s perch above him. “What is it, Merrow?”
“Another carriage blocking the road, my lord. We’re not the only one, either.”
“For heaven’s sake, hurry them up.”
Scarsdale opened the door and poked his head out. “Can’t see anything from here.”
Just as Scarsdale was about to shut the door, a woman called for help and a dog began to bark.
Price recognized those voices. They were his family.
He burst out of the carriage and stumbled a few steps as he looked around wildly for Lenore.
Ahead was chaos. People were coming out of their carriages and the nearby houses to watch the spectacle unfolding on the street.
Wharton strode forward to take charge, pushing his way past anyone who got in his way. Price followed, desperately searching for Lenore in the crowd all around him.
The crowd thinned, and he saw a woman was lying upon the road, unmoving and still. Her back was to him, but her hair was dark like Lenore’s…and her body was twisted about at an unnatural angle.
He froze—and then his heart started to beat so fast that his ears rang. A hollow rushing filled him, much like it had on the night he’d found Angela’s body.
He placed one foot in front of the other until he was standing a yard away from the still form, but his heart was in his throat.
In the failing light, he could see the woman’s clothing was of good quality.
The sounds around him grew dim as he stared.
He couldn’t move.
Couldn’t believe the woman he loved had been lost again.
“Lord Carmichael. Price!” Lenore’s voice soared over the din, and he snapped his head around toward the sound. It took a long frantic moment to find the source.
Lenore stood in the crowd with Hero at her side, waving at him.
She was safe and well.
Unharmed.
He dragged in a life-giving breath then looked down at the body lying on the road. It was not his Lenore, but another woman. A complete stranger.
His heart restarted, almost painfully. He rushed toward his wife and dragged her into his arms to hold her close to him as hard as he could. “I thought I’d lost you, too,” he whispered.
Lenore looked up at him and cupped his face. “I was coming home when we had to stop. Like you must have done.”
Price kissed her lips, and then turned his head to place a soft kiss on her wrist over her pulse. He couldn’t lose Lenore, too. Not now.
He realized he was reacting badly and eased his grip on her to look at the scene again. The woman was much older than Lenore, thin but well dressed. The quality of her clothing was the only detail he’d observed correctly.
Lenore turned in his arms. “They say he meant to kill her!”
“Who?”
“That man over there.”
A young man was being restrained on the other side of the street. He was resisting but surrounded by men and by women who were shouting at him. He likely wouldn’t escape them but he was certainly trying.
The man’s jaw was set, and his face showed not a shred of remorse for the victim.
Price suddenly remembered Lady Scott had seemed much the same when she’d been confronted about her crimes. It was a memory that haunted him sometimes, how she’d killed and actually shown pride for what she’d done. She’d seen nothing wrong with her actions, just as this fellow didn’t seem to yet.
“Another murderer,” Price said as bile rose up his throat. “There’s nothing we can do if they have her assailant.”
Around Price, the talk rose in volume. Someone said they had seen it all. Someone claimed the pair had argued. Another professed to have witnessed the moment the old woman had been pushed into the path of the oncoming carriage. He noticed the team of horses and carriage stopped just beyond the victim.
The truth would be harder to discern when morning broke tomorrow. He’d spent some time working with the good men of Bow Street. People should not be allowed time to think about what had happened and change their stories. Unfortunately, every retelling of this tragedy would make it a more interesting tale. It was important to collect as many statements as possible so some version of the truth could be decided tonight.
Wharton and his men were wading through the mass of onlookers, pushing some back, sending others back to their homes and moving those with statements to give into a line.
He looked around him again, saw a poorly dressed fellow with his head bowed, cap in hand, talking with someone he recognized from half a year ago. The man was being questioned by a shady fellow from a scandal rag. He was shaking his head, but the man kept pestering him. Believing it to be the coachman who might have been driving, and most likely blameless, he was also the best witness to the victim’s final moments and had to be interviewed.
Price reached out to Wharton and tugged his sleeve. “You should find out what the driver has to say before he’s persuaded to sensationalize his story,” he whispered.
“Where is he?”
“I think that will be him over there, with a fellow from the newspaper.”
Wharton sent men to bring the coachman to him immediately.
Another familiar face came into view and Price reached for Wharton’s sleeve again to get his attention. “Davis is finally here. You’ll find him competent.”
A woman started screaming and fighting her way through the crowd to reach the victim.
He paled, remembering the anguish of his godmother’s victims families all too well. The young woman fell over the corpse, crying for her mother and begging her to wake up.
Wake up? She never would.
He pulled Lenore back a step with him. “Come.”
Wharton frowned at him. “You’re not staying?”
“No. I’ve seen enough death and loss to live without more.” He kept one arm around Lenore’s waist. “I’d better get her home.”
Wharton searched his expression, and then nodded. “All right then. Go. I’ll have one of my men inform her coachman.”
Price looked for Lenore’s carriage and found it blocked by the scene, too. It might take some time for her carriage, or even Wharton’s, to be free of the traffic. The night wasn’t particularly cold and the sky was clear. “We’ll have to walk, I’m afraid.”
“All right,” Lenore said, and then drew her shawl tighter around here shoulders.
He bid Wharton goodbye and then guided Lenore round the onlookers to the empty pavement beyond. He kept one arm around his wife, holding her close to his
side as they began the trek home. “Are you all right, my dear?” he asked of her.
“I am. It’s not the first body I’ve seen, unfortunately.”
“Nor I. Death is never pleasant.”
“No, it is not.” Lenore wiggled for her freedom but reached for his hand and squeezed it tight. “Were you reminded?”
He understood what she meant without asking her to clarify. “Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not tonight.” Not ever. The panic he’d felt when he’d believed Lenore had been injured matched what he’d felt over Angela Berry six months ago. He never wanted to worry about Lenore like that again.
They may have started their marriage in the worst way, but already, he didn’t think he could live without Lenore in his life.
Price lurched to a stop as he remembered an earlier thought. He hadn’t thought he could love anyone as much as he had Angela—but he cared about Lenore a great deal more than he’d thought he might.
The pain of Angela’s loss had never been too far away. But now…it didn’t hurt so much anymore when he thought about losing her.
Lenore tugged on his hand and his vision clouded. He looked away for a moment, striving to master his emotions. He’d once thought falling for another would mean betraying Angela’s memory. Had his love been too brief, too slight, to last forever?
Lenore squeezed his hand again, and at her encouraging smile, his heart soared and he took a step forward. She urged him along toward home and he followed in a state of shock.
His home was their home now.
They made love there.
He loved Lenore there.
He loved her.
Price nearly fell over his own feet there and then.
He had done the unthinkable.
He’d fallen in love with Lenore somewhere along the way, when he’d promised himself he never would.
Chapter 19
Lenore waved goodbye to her friends from Albemarle Street the next afternoon and climbed into her carriage, headed for home and her husband. Hero had been too energetic today to make shopping on Bond Street an enjoyable experience for her. If not for Aurora’s insistence they persevere in their search for the perfect feathers for her hat, Lenore might have given up hours ago.
The grooms seemed to be keen to get underway, cracking the whip over the team and laughing together. Lenore had made a point to learn all the servants’ names from the moment of her marriage but had little excuse to use many of them.
She listened now, and learned the servants had a small amusement planned for their evening below stairs. She quickly deduced there was a birthday to celebrate and dancing to be had. For a moment, she felt a little envious. Once Lenore would have been part of that merriment, but those days were behind her now. She was a lady, and expected not to notice what the servants were doing in their own time or feel nostalgic for the simple way her life had once been.
She had no reason to complain about her situation. She was a married woman, a countess, and she still had her own friends. Old friends who treated her only a little differently now that she was a countess. She supposed eventually she’d make friends within the ton, but she was in no hurry to become part of the rarified world her husband moved in. Amusement within the ton was by invitation and rarely spontaneous. Nothing at all like the fun the servants would have that night.
Lenore folded her hands in her lap and considered again the good she could do now with her new situation. She had bought nothing for herself that day, having already received a surfeit of new possessions upon her marriage and after, when she’d hatched her plan to seduce her husband, but she thoroughly enjoyed shopping for others, too. Aware that the Hillcrest cousins’ finances were predicted to decline over the coming winter, Lenore had asked if the ladies would mind if she purchased each of them a gift. The Hillcrest cousins were proud women, and she’d known not to offer too much. She had settled on giving them something entirely practical and entirely useful for an early Christmas gift. Lenore had suggested new winter cloaks for each of them and had not been turned down.
Hero tried to burrow under her hands, and she laughed again. “Well, that is my friends sorted out for Christmas,” she told Hero, giving him a vigorous rub. “They’ll have those warm cloaks by next week and I won’t have to worry so much about them catching a chill when they go out. Am I very bad not to have mentioned the hats, muffs and scarves Madam will secretly add to my order and deliver, too? What do you want for the holiday? A nice juicy bone?”
Hero licked her face.
She laughed and pushed him away, wiping at her cheek. “Oh, you are unstoppable today. How about a walk in the park before we head home?”
As soon as she said walk, Hero started barking and bouncing around the carriage like a puppy. She tapped on the roof and asked the coachman to change direction for Green Park instead. She’d only keep the grooms out a little while longer, and then they’d have their party to go to. It would probably go on all night…or she hoped for them that it might.
Green Park should be quiet today, and Hero would bother no one as he dashed about and expended his abundant energy without getting in anyone’s way or knocking over inkpots. If he wore himself out now, he’d be less trouble for the servants later.
She got out with him when they stopped but one of the footmen, Peter, attempted to accompany her onto the grassy lawn. She waved him back. “I hardly need an escort, sir.”
“Lord Carmichael expects it, my lady. It wouldn’t be proper to let you go walking alone.”
Lenore sighed. Since her marriage, she’d found the ever-present servants hard to adjust to. They were not following her out of devotion but out of duty. She understood why they were nice to her. She had been one of them once, and knew they were only doing what they were told so they would not risk their position. However, today, she’d just like to enjoy some time alone with her dog in the outdoors. “We’ll just stretch our legs and be back before you now it. Wait here, please, Peter. Do not follow me.”
Although the fellow didn’t look happy, he had no choice but to follow her orders.
Lenore strode off, with Hero darting around her excitedly and barking.
She tossed a stick she found on the ground and Hero gave chase, bringing it back for a second throw and then a third. She started to meander through the park, enjoying the time alone and letting Hero chase after her and the birds.
When she went home tonight, she hoped to make merry herself with her husband. They’d become very close in recent days, and that could only improve. She felt there was no one in the world who could have understood her better right now than Price. She was often overwhelmed by her new position, but he promised she would become used to this life of ease soon enough. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined to marry into the nobility. But she was the wife of an earl and counted her blessings daily.
Price was a good man. A wonderful lover, and he was becoming a dear friend. She smiled whenever she thought of him…and of falling asleep in his arms at night. He was still never in her bed when she woke, though. He didn’t want to disturb her rest. Lenore didn’t mind but sleeping late had never been her way or even possible as a paid companion. Besides, everyone needed privacy. Especially husbands and wives.
It wasn’t long before she noticed a pair of women walking toward her and Hero. The sun was slowly sinking behind them, and Lenore was almost upon them before she recognized Lady Kelly walking beside Lady Berry. Lady Kelly hadn’t called or responded to her letter. Lenore was quite surprised to see her and with Lady Berry of all people.
Lenore came to a complete halt.
Lady Kelly smiled at her. “Why, Miss Griffin, what a remarkable surprise.”
She blinked that Lady Kelly had used her former name, when she had most definitely written to Lenore, and used her title, too. Deliberately leaving off her title in front of Lady Berry was an insult and could not be allowed. “It’s Lady Carmichael now, my lady.”
&nb
sp; “Oh, how forgetful of me.” Lady Kelly tittered, looking anything but contrite. The hair on the back of Lenore’s neck began to rise when she gestured to the other woman. “I understand you are already acquainted with my old friend, Lady Berry.”
“We have not been formally introduced,” Lenore said quickly. Her husband had not thought an introduction was required, and Lenore wasn’t sure she needed to be friends with this lady. Lady Berry wasn’t a happy person and certainly was no friend of her husband’s. The last occasion she’d met with Lady Berry had not been pleasant.
Lenore brought Hero close to her side when he made a sound and fixed his leash to his collar. If there was a scene to be made, she wanted to ensure her dog behaved himself.
When she stood again, Lady Berry stared at her in such a way that Lenore began to wish she’d not left her servants behind.
Although unwanted, Lady Kelly performed the introductions anyway—and included the fact that Lenore had acted as a paid lady’s companion for many years. Lenore felt certain she phrased the introduction that way to cause Lenore embarrassment. Was she offended because Lenore suddenly outranked her?
“So you’re the poor girl who made a match with that unfeeling cad.”
Lenore shook her head. “My husband is no such thing. He’s a wonderful man.”
The woman smirked. “You should speak to the families of the victims of his godmother before rendering an opinion on his character. Their daughters were murdered, and all because he pursued them.”
Lenore blinked. “That is not true.”
“Oh believe me, it is indeed the case. Lord Carmichael could and did have any lady he wanted. Those poor girls never stood a chance once he turned on the charm. Even my child fell victim to his scandalous ways.”
Lenore lifted her chin. “He would never lead a lady on.”
Lady Berry grimaced. “That statement just proves how little you know your husband.”
“I’ve known him all my life.”
Lady Kelly shook her head. “He has deceived even you, then.”
“He has not. Lord Carmichael is kind and caring. A true gentleman.”