Beastly Lords Collection Books 1 - 3: A Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Sydney Jane Baily

  “Are you saying my disposition isn’t as nice as Jane’s?”

  “I didn’t say that. Though I don’t think Jane would leave the middle of a dinner party, even if she’d been stabbed and shot, not if she thought it might offend the hostess. Especially if she merely wanted …” He tilted her book toward him until he could read the spine. “Not if she liked the man at the head of the table, who looked a little morose after she departed.”

  “Did he? How do you mean? Did John stop eating? Did he sigh and rest his head on his hand? How about his conversation? Did it drift off as if he were distracted?”

  Simon’s mouth fell open. “I think you need to befriend Jane and have this type of conversation with her, not me. Anyway, now I know you’re well, I’ll leave you to your evening. A word of advice though. Since people are now roaming about, mostly going upstairs, I suggest you stay here for a bit, given your state of undress.”

  As he turned to go, Maggie put her hand on his arm.

  “Was there cake?”

  Smiling as if recalling the most scrumptious piece of sponge, Simon nodded.

  “Almost better than my cook’s.” With that, he left.

  Scrunching up her face, Maggie considered. Simon was correct. She should settle in here and do her reading rather than risk running into one of the men, particularly if they were carrying John. Taking a wingchair next to the lamp, Maggie spent the next hour enjoying Poe’s thrilling short stories.

  Stretching, her stomach twinged slightly. Hmm. Go to bed thinking of glorious sponge cake, or seek it out and satisfy her craving?

  Glancing at the book in her hand, she knew what good old Edgar would do. He would brave the somewhat dimly lit mansion, sneak into the kitchen, and raid the larder. For surely, there were plenty of leftovers somewhere.

  Minutes later, she’d made her way through Turvey House’s silent main living areas and stood at the door to the servants’ wing, which not only housed the vast kitchen but also the pantry and larder. She assumed the staff’s dining room was beyond that, and any sleeping quarters for servants who didn’t sleep in the attic, such as the scullery maid.

  At the swinging door between the hall and the kitchen, she hesitated. Perhaps this would be considered a terrible breach of domestic order and etiquette. What if they were all in their nightclothes as was she?

  But sponge cake was on the other side. Gently and slowly, Maggie began to push the door inward. What harm could it do?

  Jane would never barge into the Cambrey kitchens late at night.

  With that sobering thought, Maggie stepped back, quietly letting the door swing closed. Sighing, she turned and ran smack into a tangle of arms and satin gown.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As if Maggie had conjured the devil herself, there was Jane. Except instead of looking demonic, Jane’s only devilish trait was her slightly lopsided smile.

  “I didn’t expect to find anyone else roaming about,” the young woman said, eyes filled with merriment. “I think I had a bit too much wine and not enough food to soak it up. Mother keeps an eye on what I eat. I thought another slice of sponge would do the trick.” Jane actually giggled. “Do you see? Sponge to soak up the wine in my stomach.”

  “Yes,” Maggie said. “I do see.” But the thought of going into the Cambrey kitchen with a tipsy Jane gave her no joy.

  “Why don’t we go to the drawing room and ring the bell?” Maggie suggested.

  “Oh, no. I don’t want to do anything so rude this late at night, especially as a guest.”

  “I believe the kitchen staff would prefer it to us going into their domain at this hour. Don’t you think?”

  Jane frowned, swaying slightly where she stood. “No, I don’t.”

  “That’s fine,” Maggie said, reaching for her arm. “I’ll think for both of us right now.”

  Sighing but going along with Maggie’s guidance, Jane let her lead the way to the drawing room. Turning up the lamps, relieved to find the fire still lit, Maggie held her breath and rang the bell, almost imagining she could hear it jangling back in the kitchen.

  In a very few minutes, a maid entered, still tying on her apron.

  “Yes, miss,” she said, with a weary curtsey to Maggie, who stood in the middle of the room. Then the girl saw Jane, too, now lolling upon the sofa and added another curtsey.

  As Jane began to hum, Maggie exchanged a pained look with the maid.

  “My apology for bothering you this late,” she began, and the girl’s eyes widened in shock, most likely at being apologized to. “We were only wondering if we might have two slices of sponge cake, the one served with dinner. With custard poured over if you have it.”

  Then she recalled her mother’s remedy for anything that ailed one.

  “And a pot of tea, weak, but with plenty of milk. Actually, forget the tea, just two glasses of milk will do.”

  Keeping an entirely neutral face, the maid muttered, “Yes, miss.” Bobbing another quick curtsey, she left. Maggie could only imagine the talk in the kitchen.

  Jane started to rise. “Shall we go get some cake or at least a few biscuits?”

  “Yes, it’s coming,” Maggie told her, breaking off as Jane held her hand to her mouth, a distinctly green tone overtaking her creamy cheeks.

  Looking wildly about, Maggie located a crystal bowl filled with apples. Dumping the fruit onto the sideboard, she shoved the bowl toward Jane, who sat back down heavily, and leaned over the crystal. Luckily, her hair was still pinned up and only a few stray tendrils fell forward, which Maggie pushed back as Jane lost the contents of her stomach.

  In a few moments, she had finished.

  Removing the bowl from the other girl’s lap, Maggie wondered what to do with it. It seemed a terrible thing to have it waiting for the maid bringing their snack, and the odor was starting to fill the room.

  “Stay here,” she told Jane who was leaning back, eyes closed. “I’ll get rid of this and return shortly.”

  Heading for the water closet in the back hallway, Maggie truly hoped she didn’t meet anyone now. Trying to keep the bowl as far away from her as possible, she wished she could hold her nose with one hand but needed both to steady the unwieldy crystal. Soon, she had dumped it in the toilet, thankful for the blessing of indoor plumbing. What to do with the bowl? With a shrug, she left it inside the water closet, tucked against the wall.

  She had done her part. Sadly, some wretched housemaid would have to find this when she came to clean, most likely in the early morning. No doubt, it would be an unsolved mystery discussed by servants for years to come.

  Hurrying back to the drawing room, she passed the maid leaving, nodding as the girl curtsied. In the lovely blue room was a tray with two pieces of delicate golden sponge smothered in warm custard, two glasses of milk, and no Jane.

  “Can’t let this go to waste,” Maggie said aloud. Sitting down, she polished off the first piece and drank the milk.

  “Tasty,” she added, rather enjoying talking to the empty room. Simon had been right about the baking skills of the Cambrey cook.

  Eying Jane’s portion, Maggie decided she could likely devour hers as well but would eat it in the privacy of her own room.

  Tucking Poe under her arm, she picked up the plate and glass and headed to bed.

  *

  Cam was already seated in the sunny breakfast room located on the east side of his home, awaiting his guests. It was the first time he’d been down to breakfast since his return to Turvey House. Still irked about the necessity of being carried and having his food cut for him, Cam had Cyril and his valet, Peter, bring him down exceptionally early so no one would witness his infirmities.

  With his leg cast hidden discreetly under the table, propped up on a neighboring chair, he had chosen only soft eggs and toast, which he could easily eat with one hand. If only his stomach didn’t hurt.

  When half an hour later Margaret entered, he felt a flood of enjoyment course through him as swiftly as it had departed when she’d le
ft the dining room the night before.

  Simon was close behind, and Jane entered a minute later, looking what his father used to call peaked. However, since she’d had no complaints the evening prior, it was Margaret whom he asked, “Are you feeling better?”

  Strangely, she stared at him a moment uncomprehendingly, even glancing at Jane as if the other would respond. Then her eyes widened.

  “Oh, you are addressing me. Of course. Better. Yes, I’m feeling much better. Thank you. Nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t cure.”

  He thought her good night’s sleep had also made her hair look even more lustrous and her eyes shine brighter. Even her cheeks had a perfect creamy hue.

  “You’ve transformed into the shiny penny you promised last night. I’m glad to hear it.”

  As they took their seats, he felt the need to excuse his behavior.

  “Again, ladies, I apologize for not getting up.”

  Margaret told him he needn’t offer an apology each time, and Jane, who remained silent, merely shrugged as she poured herself a cup of tea before staring silently down at the white cloth.

  “Is everything all right?” Unlike Margaret, she looked more like a well-used shilling. “You’re unusually quiet.”

  Not that he knew whether Jane normally chatted like a magpie in the mornings or not. Though, come to think of it, she did seem to have an opinion or comment to make at most other hours of the day in which he’d been in her company.

  Jane glanced at Margaret, and it seemed to Cam as if some unspoken secretive communication passed between them.

  “I have a bit of a headache this morning,” Jane said quietly.

  “How odd! Isn’t that how you felt last night, Miss Blackwood? Do you think some sort of illness is winding its way through Turvey House?”

  “No,” Margaret asserted at once. “I’m sure it is unrelated.”

  Jane nodded in agreement, then winced at the movement. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she’d had too much to drink the night before.

  Women! What strange animals.

  Speaking of which, the elder ladies entered next. The conversation led by Lady Chatley turned quickly to babies and which couples had formed attachments during the Season, both topics seeming to make Jane shrink in her chair.

  He should have warned his mother about Lady Emily Chatley’s desire to make a marriage between him and Jane. At his bidding, she would not have invited them. He didn’t like to see Jane unhappy.

  “What plans do you have for today?” he asked to change the subject from the new romances of the ton. “Those of you lucky enough to be able to get about should seize the opportunity.”

  “I thought the four of us,” Lady Cambrey began, nodding to the other females at the table, “could take a tour of All Saints. It’s a lovely church. Right on the edge of our estate. You must have passed it when you arrived. And then we shall have a picnic on the banks of the Great Ouse. The weather looks fine.”

  Cam noticed the younger ladies looking not as pleased as the older ones, and could only imagine they were both missing the excitement of London’s finer venues.

  “Mother, I suggest Grayson go along as a guide, for he knows the area as well as I do. And, of course, Simon should go, too, to keep you all company.”

  Maybe with those two along with their good humor, the ladies wouldn’t be bored.

  “Simon came to keep you company,” his mother pointed out, her face set in a mulish expression.

  Hmm. “Fine, but take Gray—”

  “Take me where?” asked the man himself, strolling in as if he owned the place, and Cam thought he was doing it to irk Lady Chatley, who had thought it extremely odd Gray had dined with them the night before. Unfortunately, she’d been vociferous in expressing her thoughts.

  “I want you to escort these lovely ladies to the church and then to the river for a picnic.”

  Gray turned to stare at him so only Cam could see his face.

  “A grand idea,” his estate manager said, his expression professing the exact opposite of his words. “Though I do have work to do. Lord Lindsey knows the area only too well. Maybe he would like to accompany them.”

  Cam would not be out maneuvered. “Lord Lindsey is going to stay and chat with me since I hardly ever see him. Whereas with you, I am rather sick of your ugly face.”

  Lady Chatley, the elder, gasped, while Gray threw his head back and laughed heartily.

  “Well said. I agree. I am fair sick of you as well.”

  Cam noticed Jane and Margaret were smiling, too. In truth, however, if there were a way to keep the latter with him, he would, but he couldn’t think of any way to do it.

  The butler had entered on his quiet servant feet, which Cam always found slightly astonishing. Suddenly, the man appeared next to him.

  “Yes, Cyril?”

  “Your chair has arrived, my lord.”

  Everyone hesitated and then understanding dawned.

  “Bring it in,” Gray said.

  Cam shot him a look. Would everyone have to be witness to his humiliation?

  “Yes,” Simon agreed. Turning to Cam, he pointed out, “You’ve finished eating. Let’s get you in it and try it out. In fact, I think this means we can all go on the outing today.”

  Cam felt his eyes grow wide. “Perhaps.”

  He was of two minds. He didn’t want to appear as an invalid to Margaret. On the other hand, he truly wanted to be in her company, not to mention to be with her when she saw the sights near his home for the first time. In any case, he was probably going to use the damned chair for the next couple of months. Thus, he might as well begin. Particularly if it could get him beside her for the day.

  In a moment, Cyril returned with the pushchair.

  Gray whistled. “You spared no expense it seems.”

  “It is the fanciest one I’ve ever seen,” Simon agreed, eyeing the contraption of rattan, mahogany, and brass-studded, tufted leather. “And look at the size of those wheels.”

  “That’s so I can get about the estate,” Cam pointed out. “Not merely for indoors.”

  “I think you could race my carriage with it,” Simon joked.

  Cam thought about it. “Let us see.”

  With as much grace as possible, he let Gray and Simon lift him onto the chair. Cam couldn’t help smiling.

  “It is superbly comfortable, precisely as I ordered.”

  Gray got behind it and gave it a tentative push. “And it moves very easily. Luckily, the church is close enough we don’t even have to load this into a wagon. We can push you the entire way.”

  True. In a very few minutes, Gray was driving the ladies in Cam’s open landau while Simon pushed him down the drive, toward All Saints Church.

  “You know there’s not really much here to see,” Cam reminded his friend. “I don’t know what my mother is thinking. It’s not like it’s St. Paul’s.” They both had a good laugh at the comparison.

  “And why are they in a carriage?” Cam laughed even harder when he looked at it ahead of them. “One can walk there in five minutes.”

  He slapped his good thigh with merriment.

  Simon joined in. “It took longer to harness the horses than the actual ride will take. I have to stop a moment.”

  He stood beside Cam, tears streaming from his eyes at the absurdity of all the ladies climbing into the landau for a two-minute trip. “I can barely breathe for laughing.”

  They were already halfway there, and in a moment, Simon started pushing him again. Then like a bolt out of the blue sky, Cam heard him ask, “Are you interested in Lady Chatley?”

  Cam tried to turn in the chair in order to see his friend’s face.

  “Stop wriggling,” Simon reprimanded as if he were a naughty child. “You’ll tip yourself over. By the way, you know you’ll be able to roll yourself around when the cast comes off your arm.”

  “Of course I know that, and I shall. Why, I’ll have arm muscles like a gorilla by the time I’m out of the le
g cast.”

  He said nothing more, hoping Simon would drop his line of inquiry.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  Simon’s sigh was loud and dramatic. “Do you have an interest in Lady Jane Chatley?”

  “For God’s sake, man, why do you care? Didn’t we have a similar conversation the other day on the veranda?”

  “Yes, however, that was before Lady Chatley arrived. I know I am behaving like an old gossip. But if you care for Jane and not for Maggie, then I need to know because I will have to report back to my wife. If you care for them both, then I might have to throttle you within an inch of your life. And if you care for Maggie and not for Jane, then we might end up as family.”

  Cam felt the smile spread upon his face. After a moment, he said, “I think I would like to end up as family.”

  Simon let out a whooping sound.

  “Yet it is not,” Cam added, drawing his laudanum bottle out of his pocket and taking a swig, “entirely up to me.”

  “True, though I think Maggie might be interested in you, too. I’ll say no more, as it would be disrespectful to my sister-in-law. I think you should declare yourself sooner rather than later though, since I plan on staying only a few more days. If I don’t get to hold my wife and son again soon, I’m going to go raving mad.”

  “Understandable. You’re lucky to have made yourself a family.”

  “I had the easy part compared to Jenny.”

  They laughed again.

  “Are you in pain now?” Simon asked.

  Cam thought about it. “No. I’m distracted by our conversation, so I’m not.”

  “Then why did you take a sip of laudanum just a moment ago?”

  Cam almost hadn’t realized he’d done it, but he could still taste it on his tongue. Dammit. And Simon sounded like Maggie when she’d started questioning him about the laudanum. He didn’t like it one bit.

  “In truth, the jerkiness of this pushchair has caused my leg to ache. I simply didn’t want to worry you. It’s strange having my leg straight out instead of elevated. Undoubtedly, it’s swelling even as I sit here.”