The Debutante: A Regency Mystery (The Sinclair Society Book 2)

by Bethany Swafford

  She walked towards the door to her bedroom. “You’re not giving me something for doing this?” I asked, confused. Hadn’t she just said I would be compensated? That was how these matters were supposed to go, wasn’t it?

  “I did that once already, and I will not do so again. Mr. Ingram will pay you when you put it into his hand.” She went through the doorway and closed the door.

  Oh, perfect. “How do I get myself into these things,” I said, staring at the letter. Once again, I had to decide if I was going to take it to Mr. Ingram’s house or not. Refusing would bring down more abuse and dismissal.

  As I didn’t have a place to go if I was turned out of the Dunbar house, I decided to complete the errand. Once again leaving the dressing room to straighten later, and mindful of the warning she’d offered regarding the weather, I hurried to prepare to go out. I caught Bunker just about to lock the door.

  It only took one look for the butler to know what was happening and he heaved a sigh. “I will have George accompany you.” His tone was firm; it was not a suggestion.

  “Thank you.” After all, Miss Dunbar hadn’t stressed the need for any kind of secrecy. If she was in expectation of marrying Mr. Ingram, there might not be a need to hide their exchange of correspondence.

  With the tall footman by my side a few minutes later, I traversed the dark, quiet streets of Bath. Thankfully, George made no effort to make conversation, apparently eager as I was to complete the errand in as little time as possible. Overhead, lightning flashed in the sky and thunder signaled the approach of a storm.

  To my relief, the windows of Mr. Ingram’s dwelling were bright with light when we approached. The same man who had opened the door to me before answered my knock. I extended the sealed envelope. “For Mr. Ingram,” I said, getting right to the point.

  This time, though, the man refused to take it. “Step inside, and I will inform Mr. Ingram that you are here.”

  A sharp crack of thunder made me jump. “I have no time to wait.”

  “Then, it’s good I was expecting you.” Much to my alarm, Mr. Ingram stepped into view behind the footman. “John, please take Miss Nelson’s escort to the kitchen and get him a drink while I attend to my guest.”

  George moved past me eagerly before I could offer any protest to his words. A raindrop hit my nose and Mr. Ingram, his face shadowed with the light behind him, held his hand out to me. “Are you going to come in, or would you prefer to become drenched? I assure you, it makes no difference to me whether we have our conversation on the doorstep or where we can have some privacy.”

  I’d already experienced being seen in wet clothes and had no desire to do so again. That, coupled with the fact that my escort had been taken from me, compelled me to step through the door. “This way,” Mr. Ingram growled, grabbing my arm in a firm grip.

  “No.” I tried to dig my feet in, but he was much stronger than I. “I just have to hand you the letter, and then I must return.”

  “Actually, I believe you, and I have a few things to discuss, Miss Juliet Sinclair.”

  Chapter Nine

  Hearing my real name shocked me into inaction for a mere moment, and he managed to get me out of the hall. He knew who I was? How could he? “You have mistaken me for someone else, sir,” I finally said as he pushed me into a library. My fingers curled around the letter, crumpling it. “Let me go!”

  Closing the door, Mr. Ingram chuckled. He moved to the sideboard and poured an amber liquid into a glass. “No, I don’t believe there has been any mistake. You bear a striking resemblance to your brother. I am astonished I did not notice it earlier and that no one has. Would you care for a drink? Sherry? Tea?”

  “No. You cannot keep me here.”

  “Oh, can’t I? Your escort will soon be dead to the world if I do not say otherwise. Is there someone else who will know where you are?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” I replied boldly. “If my escort and I do not return within the hour, he will come searching for us.”

  A scowl appeared for just a moment on his face, but then he laughed again. “And what will you tell whoever comes for you? In fact, if this person does come, I think he would find it interesting to know your true identity. Now, do you want a drink? I won’t offer again, Miss Sinclair.”

  Why would he think I would want a drink? I didn’t even want to be in the house! “I do not. And I tell you once more: you are mistaken.”

  “Brava.” He mockingly clapped his hands. “You do make a valiant effort, Miss Sinclair. If I had not known your brother and were not so well informed on everything of any importance, I might have believed you. After all, it’s a fantastical notion: a gently bred young lady taking on a servant’s position. It would be the scandal of the season if it were to get out.”

  Clearly, insisting he was mistaken was not going to work. “Fantastical, indeed,” I said, trying to think. He may know my identity, but that didn’t mean I had to confess to everything. I took a step back. If it became necessary, I would run for the front door. “I am astonished you think anyone would believe such a tale if you were to tell them.”

  The look he sent in my direction was filled with pity. “People generally believe what I tell them. Knowing things is what I excel at, and I can make sure the most important people know what they should know.”

  “Is that so?” Acquiring and passing on information was an unusual occupation. Why did he do it?

  Picking up his glass, Mr. Ingram came towards me. “Why don’t you have a seat, Miss Sinclair, and we can discuss what I would like to keep silent about this.”

  I didn’t need him to spell out what he meant by that. “I prefer to stand, and for you to keep your distance.” I tried to put as much cold disdain into my voice as was possible. “Say what you must, and then let me be on my way. With my escort sober.”

  Mr. Ingram made a mocking bow. Thunder rumbled once again, drawing my attention briefly to the window. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

  “If that were true, you wouldn’t have dragged me in here in the first place.”

  “A minor detail,” Mr. Melbourne said, shrugging his shoulders. He walked over to the fireplace and sat down in the leather chair that was there. He sipped his drink and then held out his free hand. “I believe you have a letter meant for me.”

  Reminded of the letter in my hand, I mentally cringed. Going anywhere near him was the last thing I wanted. I scanned the room quickly and spotted a table that was between me and where he was. “So, I assume this isn’t a letter requesting an assignation, is it,” I said as I walked to the table. I set the crumpled letter there and then retreated.

  Scowling, he pushed up out of the chair and went to the table. “Miss Dunbar has her charms, to be sure,” he commented as he broke the seal. “However, there’s only one thing she’s proficient at, and that is acquiring gossip and that of spreading it when I deem it necessary.”

  Miss Dunbar was noting down the gossip she overheard at the events she attended and then passing it on to him? Why would she do such a thing? Swiftly, I began to put it all together in my head. “Is this how you spend your time, then? Blackmailing people in your spare time?”

  “A gentleman with no land or investments must support himself somehow,” he said, waving his hand as he studied what was written in the note. He shook his head and balled the letter. He tossed it into the fire, and I watched it vanish in flames. “But that is neither here nor there. Miss Sinclair, it’s straightforward what I need from you.”

  He didn’t want to question me about what I was doing in Bath? “I think I will be the judge of that.”

  “Miss Dunbar has complained to me that you seem reluctant to carry her notes to me,” he said as though I hadn’t spoken. “I think it would be in your best interests to do so from now on.”

  My eyes narrowed as I considered this. On the surface, it was as simple he’d said it would be. After all, I had no intention of remaining in the Dunbar house longer than necessary. Actually, it wa
s too easy. In the past month, this was only the second time I’d had to carry a note for Miss Dunbar. “And that’s all you want?” I asked cautiously. “For me to be the messenger between you?”

  “For now,” he said, his expression pleased. “There may be other tasks I will need you for.”

  A shiver went down my spine. What kind of tasks could he mean? Maybe I didn’t want to know. “I am surprised you don’t have someone to do these tasks for you. You have servants of your own, do you not? Or other people under your thumb? Why me?”

  “I have many working for me, willingly or not, but I would not trust this task to any of them.”

  How many people was he blackmailing into doing what he wanted? Was Miss Dunbar one of these, or did she not know what Mr. Ingram did with the information she passed on to him? That was something I would consider when I was safely away from the man. “If that’s all, sir, I demand that you return my escort to me,” I said, eager to get away from the man.

  To show him how serious I was, I turned my back on him, which really was a risky move. I put my hand on the doorknob.

  “Eugenia Burnham—well, it’s Eugenia Landon by now, isn’t it?— was right about you, you know.”

  I froze, my breath catching in my throat. “What did you say?” When had he spoken to Eugenia? How did he know her?

  “She always said you didn’t behave as a servant. It’s something you might want to work on if you intend to continue with this farce. You never know when someone perceptive might begin to take notice of the discrepancies in your performance.”

  Turning the handle, I pulled the door open and strode out. Without waiting for George, I went straight to the front door. Rain poured down, and I paused only a moment before I plunged into it. Putting as much distance between Conrad Ingram and me was all I wanted and if I ended up drenched, so be it.

  The rain meant that there was no one on the street. A person would have to be desperate like I was at that moment, or up to something nefarious to traverse Bath in such weather.

  Once again, I crossed the distance from Mr. Ingram’s building to the Dunbar house at a near run. Bunker was waiting at the door and demanded to know where George was. To hear that my escort had gone for a drink in the kitchen left the butler with a frown. He bolted the door and sternly told me to cease dripping water on the floor.

  By the time I reached the relative safety of my room, I was no longer able to keep from shaking. It wasn’t entirely from the cold, though. Despite my best efforts, my secret had been discovered and by a person who had no qualms about using the information to his advantage.

  He may have only asked me to carry notes between Miss Dunbar and himself, but what would stop him from demanding something more? After all, he had said there was the possibility of other tasks for me in the future.

  “I’m not planning on being here much longer,” I reminded myself out loud. With trembling fingers, I undressed, put on my nightgown, and then hung my wet dress where it would hopefully dry before morning. I moved my chair to the door and wedged it under the doorknob. Feeling a little more secure, I climbed into my bed. Impractical though it was, I left the candle burning.

  More than ever, I wanted to leave Bath as soon as possible.

  IT WAS TWO DAYS LATER before I was able to return to my brother’s grave. There, I found the leather pouch, resting at the base of the gravestone. Though the ground was still slightly damp from the rain, the papers that I eagerly drew out of the pouch were dry and unharmed. I gave the first one my full attention.

  ‘My dear,

  If this reaches you, I fear the worst has befallen me...’

  Flinching, I closed my eyes for a moment. My brother had begun a farewell letter to the girl he loved. He must have known the danger he was in, but if that were true, why hadn’t he left Bath? Though I felt guilty reading what he’d intended only for Miss Anderson, I swiftly finished the rest of the letter and found only words of love and a request for forgiveness. There were no hints to why Jonathan feared the worst or what he needed forgiveness for.

  Why hadn’t Mr. Melbourne made sure Miss Anderson received it? Such a letter would have been a comfort to her and perhaps eased her grief. Was it possible my brother had been discreet in his courtship, and Mr. Melbourne simply hadn’t known who to deliver it to? I vowed to see it placed in her hands as soon as possible. It was the least I could do for the woman who would have been my sister.

  My eagerness over the letters had drained away as I realized the tragedy contained in the situation. Soberly, I slipped the letter back into the pouch and moved onto the next one. It was a small note, completed but cryptic.

  ‘Father,

  What we discussed before was correct—all of it. You have to break the attachment however you can and hang the risks. We must see that H is brought to account for everything.

  I will be there soon with the evidence.

  J. Sinclair

  “What?” The shocked question left my lips in a rush. I’d known Father was aware of what Jonathan had been doing, but not that they’d discussed it together. What attachment could he have been referring to? Who was H? “No. Mr. Harper?”

  Reeling back, I braced myself against one of the gravestones. Miss Anderson had mentioned that Mr. Harper had been in Bath at the same time, but he and my brother had been friends. What if Jonathan had discovered his friend had become involved in something less than honorable?

  “That doesn’t make sense.” In London, Mr. Harper had saved my life. Or had he only done that to keep from being revealed? After all, Bridges was killed in his cell almost immediately after being taken into custody. Only someone with access to him could have done so, to keep the man from talking. “I trusted him!”

  Not completely, but enough that betrayal hurt. I shook my head. “No. I’m jumping to conclusions.” There could be hundreds of men whose surnames began with the letter H. And even more men with Christian names that started with the same letter. Hadn't I expected to marry a man whose Christian name was Henry?

  Was the attachment between myself and Henry Bladen what my brother referred to? But I wasn’t mentioned in the letter at all. Was there a different attachment?

  Any chance that I was about to trust Oswyn Harper with the truth was now gone.

  Drawing my father’s watch from my reticule, I checked the time. If I wasn’t quick, I would be late to return to my duties. Reluctantly, I replaced all the letters into the pouch. Once I was safely in my room, I would have to find somewhere to hide them from prying eyes.

  “Miss Nelson!”

  Startled by the sudden exclamation, I spun to my right. “Mr. Melbourne!” I gasped, immediately recognizing the young man. My surprise shifted into irritation. “Why are you skulking outside of Miss Dunbar’s house? And at the servants’ entrance no less.”

  My scolding words only made him grin. “I was waiting for you, of course.” He glanced around in a conspiratorial manner and lowered his voice to ask, “ Did you find the letters?”

  Reminded of Daniel Dunbar waiting in a similar manner, I couldn’t keep the scowl from my face. When all I wished was anonymity, I was suddenly sought after on all sides! It was absolutely annoying.

  Mr. Melbourne’s smile fled. “They weren’t damaged by the rain, were they?”

  So, he had left them before the rain. I was fortunate to have found them unharmed. “No. I found them. But why else have you been waiting for me?”

  His eyes fairly sparkled as his grin reappeared. “Why, to ask what you have been doing to encourage Miss Dunbar to notice me. That was our agreement.”

  Of course. With all I was trying to manage, I had to be reminded of the one thing I didn’t want to do but had agreed to, nonetheless. “I’ve mentioned your name to her. However, I warn you; her affections are engaged elsewhere.”

  “Who?”

  “Does it matter?” My tone was sharp with annoyance. “You seem to be a fine young man, and if you wish advice, take this: look to another lady. They do exist
, and I can promise one of them will make you a better companion than Miss Dunbar.”

  He shifted from foot to foot and drew a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Thank you for your council. If you would be so kind, please give this to Miss Dunbar.”

  Why would he not listen to me? I’d just told him Miss Dunbar was attached to another man! Gritting my teeth, I took the note and slipped it into my pocket. If I’d known I would come all the way to Bath to be a messenger, I would not have come. “Is that all you require of me, sir?”

  “Melbourne?”

  My eyes closed for a moment. Daniel Dunbar. Of all the times for him to appear, why did it have to be now? I had never been so sought after as Juliet Sinclair!

  “Dunbar,” Mr. Melbourne said in a strained voice. “Strange to see you here.”

  “Why would you say that? I live here,” Mr. Dunbar replied, looking at me. “My sister is sure to be waiting for you, Nelson. You should go to her. None of us want a repeat of last week’s incident now, would we?”

  Ducking my head, I hurried through the entrance. The sound of the two men speaking followed me until I ran up the steps. It was fine with me if Daniel Dunbar thought Mr. Melbourne came around to court me. Maybe it would be the thing to convince him I had no interest in his attention.

  More likely, though, was that it was going to bring more difficulties to my life.

  I quickly pulled off my pelisse and then set about finding a hiding place in my room. I finally decided on hiding the leather pouch in my straw bonnet. If anyone searched my room and turned it over, it would be obvious, but it was the best I could do in the short time I had. Hopefully, once my employer was on her way, I could study the rest of the letters.

  Hopefully, there would be some nugget of information that would help me.

  Chapter Ten

  “Where have you been?” Miss Dunbar demanded as I entered the dressing room. “The Anderson dinner party is tonight, and I must be there on time.”