Journey to love (Runaway Regency Brides Special Edition) (5 Story Box Set)

by Regina Darcy

  Summersby raised his glass.

  “I salute you, Lady Beecham. You must make my wife’s acquaintance. Georgette will be delighted to meet you.”

  The Earl’s grey eyes showed that, however convinced the Duke was by Frederica’s explanation, he was not convinced of it at all. But he said nothing.

  “As you are with us,” he said, “we shall be grateful for your thoughts on the subject of how we can bait the trap.”

  “The trap?”

  “The man who does your brother’s bidding is named Muller. He was a former sailor when the Marquess was in the Royal Navy. Muller left His Majesty’s service and in the years following, made himself notable for his criminal exploits. The Marquess located him and since that time, Muller has been in his employ. Your brother and I served on the same ship. When the shot was fired at me while I was leaving Larkin’s home, I recognised the man with the pistol.

  Muller. It matches the name on the paper that you gave me and thus we have identified a central figure in the scheme. Now we must find a way to bait Muller, for only by luring him can we capture the Marquess.”

  Frederica ate her sandwich, the Earl having dismissed the butler, and poured tea for herself and the gentlemen. The bread was fresh, probably from the loaves baked that day for use on the morrow. The cook had sent up generous slices of beef, chicken and pork, indicating that the Earl was not ungenerous in matters of dining.

  As she doubted if he was even at home often enough to eat regular meals, she wondered whether it was the servants who benefited most from his largesse. She could not imagine Rowland being so thoughtful in his provisioning. While he was aware that leftover food was consumed by the staff, it galled him, she knew, to think that they were fed on his expense, even though their meals and board were considered part of their wages.

  She turned her attention back to the conversation which was focused on how the man Muller could be induced to turn his loyalty against his master, the Marquess. Ideas were proposed and then discarded. Frederica listened, chewing thoughtfully on her sandwich as she attended to their conversation.

  They were not making much progress.

  Frederica, fortified by her meal and by the wine which had preceded it, interrupted the Duke when he was engaged in an overlong explanation of the means by which international currency could be traced to its source.

  “If this man, Muller, shot you, he must know that he did not kill you. Doubtless he will not be paid unless he can be successful in his efforts. He must be persuaded to believe that my brother wishes to discuss a new strategy. With both of you there, he can be overpowered and persuaded to tell you what he knows.”

  That the persuasion might involve the use of fisticuffs, Frederica did not doubt. But he had initiated the deadly engagement by firing at the Earl, she thought pragmatically.

  “We do not know the methods by which the Marquess summons his assistants,” Gilberton reminded her.

  “It may not matter. I can imitate my brother’s handwriting sufficiently that a brief message telling Muller where to go and when to be there could be delivered to him.”

  “He is known to frequent the Widowing Whale, on the docks,” Gilberton said, following her line of reasoning. It was a simple plan and simple plans, he had found, were the most efficient.

  “Then you can send the message there. Where should he meet you?”

  She had, without intended to, taken charge of the discussion and the plan. The Earl shot the Duke a proud look as if he were silently commending the achievements of a protégé.

  “I will need ink and paper,” Frederica said.

  “You are certain that you can successfully imitate your brother’s handwriting?”

  “Of course I am certain,” she said. When she sent her articles for publication, she wrote them in her brother’s style of penmanship so that they seemed to have been written by a man and not a woman. A woman’s opinions were not sufficiently valued to be published.

  “Midnight?” Summersby suggested. “Isn’t that when all the dark deeds are done?”

  “Not all of them,” Gilberton said. “I think eight o’clock would serve just as well. It will be dark. We must seek a place that will not alert Muller than anything is ominous, yet it must invoke the same atmosphere of privacy that he would be accustomed to in his dealings.”

  “Rowland is forever going off somewhere,” she said. “He does none of this business at home. I recall that, years ago, he kept rooms in another part of the city. It was not a disreputable section, but it was not Mayfair. He may have kept those rooms.”

  “Why did he keep rooms if he lived here?”

  “Mother thought that he had a mistress,” Frederica admitted. “She said nothing to Papa because he would be disappointed.”

  “And your mother would not have been?”

  “She assumed that, as Rowland was young and unmarried, he had another recourse.”

  Summersby studied her. “You are clearly a very modern young woman,” he said, impressed.

  Frederica shrugged. “Mother felt it was no use pretending that life was other than it is and she had no illusions.”

  “She sounds very much like Great Aunt Elspeth,” the Earl said.

  Summersby shuddered. “Your Great Aunt Elspeth,” he muttered as if he lacked words to describe her.

  “Is she so very difficult?”

  “Not at all,” the Earl replied, glaring at Summersby. “She is merely opinionated and determined and not to be trifled with.”

  “It was not a month ago that you were lamenting her insistence on your matrimony, should you die and leave Gilberton without an heir. If that isn’t frightening, I don’t know what is. Using the prospect of your death to drive you to the altar?”

  Summersby shuddered again.

  Matrimony.

  It was the subject on Frederica’s mind, but not one to be broached in the Duke’s presence. However much he lauded her as a modern woman, he might be offended by a female proposing marriage to a gentleman. She was confident that, even if the Earl refused her proposal, he would not be troubled that she had the effrontery to ask.

  Summersby stood up. “I shall take my leave now. No doubt the image of your Great Aunt will haunt my dreams,” he said. “I only hope that I have sufficient presence of mind in the morning to follow through on my part of this plan.”

  “Do,” the Earl replied drily, “or you shall be visiting me at Newgate.”

  After the Duke had departed, the Earl leaned his head to one side. “Now, then, Lady Beecham,” he said. “Why don’t you tell the real reason for your presence here tonight. I am touched that you came here out of concern for my wellbeing, and I even believe that you do have compassion for my fate. But you did not come here in the dark of night, alone, to ask me how I fare with the noose so close to my neck.”

  “I didn’t come alone, I brought a footman with me. Sam Duncan; he’s very reliable and . . . then you were not here, so I sent him home. I don’t want him to get into any trouble. The reason that I am here tonight—” Frederica took a deep breath and went on. “—I am here because I had a dreadful quarrel with Rowland. He is angry because I have declined to accompany Lord Oakland on the last couple of evening rides through Hyde Park. Rowland said that I must marry Lord Oakland because I am a burden for him to support and it is time that I recognised my responsibility to become a wife so that another man, other than my brother, will undertake the financial duty that I bring.”

  “Your brother told you that?” the Earl asked with a raised eyebrow.

  She nodded.

  Hurt rose up inside her but she quelled her tears. She must not be emotional at this time or the Earl would think her hysterical.

  “I don’t have a sister,” he said, “but I should think that, if I had, I would value her more than the cost of her living in my household. Perhaps your brother is simply a dastardly sort of man. Have you considered the possibility?”

  “It does not signify. I cannot marry Lord Oakland, I begr
udge every moment that I spend in his company.”

  “That is to your credit, Lady Beecham,” the Earl said as he refreshed the tea in their cups. His actions were so casual that she realised he was quite comfortable in performing the sort of domestic tasks that gentlemen were not expected to undertake. “No one should marry with the prospect of boredom ahead.”

  “Is that why you are unmarried, my lord?”

  He paused, his teacup halfway to his mouth. “I suppose that is part of it,” he answered her guardedly.

  “And the rest of it?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought,” he said humorously. “I leave that to Great Aunt Elspeth, who ponders matrimony on my behalf every single day.”

  “Is she very particular?”

  “Not at all. She wants me to marry so that, if I meet with death in an untimely manner, there will be an heir for Gilberton. No,” he responded to Frederica’s unasked question. “She knows nothing about Dalton’s murder and the danger I am in. My family knows relatively little about my pursuits. My Great Aunt thinks that I am an irresponsible but amiable sort of chap who puts personal pleasure above familial obligations. She is not the harpy that Summersby described.”

  “I was resigned to marrying Lord Oakland at first,” Frederica said, speaking very fast so that she could get out all the words she needed to plead her case. “I had no choice. But then, you came into the carriage and gave me your card. You are unlike anyone I have ever met. You face danger with far greater spirit than I can face the tedium of marriage to Lord Oakland. You embrace life, Lord Oakland embraces his physical infirmities. You—I did not realise, until meeting you, that I am entirely unsuited to be Lord Oakland’s wife.”

  Your kiss left me breathless.

  The thought came unbidden to her mind and she blushed. Now was not the time for juvenile sentiments. Logic would win the day.

  “Lady Beecham, that is apparent to anyone who meets you, that you are too spirited for that bore.”

  “But women are to do as instructed. I was told to marry Lord Oakland and because my brother is my guardian, I thought I must obey him.” She raised her head to meet the Earl’s gaze. “I told him this night that I will not marry Lord Oakland. He says I must, or I must leave… I will not marry Lord Oakland.”

  Her heart was pounding so fast and loud that she thought the Earl must surely hear it.

  “I wish to marry you!”

  At her outburst the Earl froze with his teacup midway. Frederica rushed to get the rest of the words out.

  “I wish to share whatever danger you endure and I promise that I will not complain or berate you for whatever situation we find ourselves in. I wish to live my life fully, as you do, not from behind the staid curtains of the drawing-room.”

  I fear you have already conquered my heart.

  “My lord, will you marry me?”

  In the pregnant silence that followed the Earl put his cup down.

  Frederica held her breath as she watched him ponder her suggestion. Had she been mistaken? Maybe she was not alluring enough for the Earl. Just as the silence became unbearable and she was about to speak the Earl put up his hand to silence her.

  Frederica gulped, her heart beating widely in her chest.

  Their gaze locked and she felt her mouth go dry.

  “My dear Lady Beecham,” he said, his face revealing none of his thoughts, “if marriage is what you want, I will happily oblige.”

  Federica’s eyes widened as she watched him seal his promise with a kiss on the back of her ungloved hand.

  Her life was never going to be the same again.

  ELEVEN

  Carla had concealed her mistress’ absence so effectively that no one guessed Frederica had not spent the night at home, and Sam and Carla, together were able to sneak her back into the house and into her room with no one the wiser. It was too early for the household staff to be about their morning duties and by entering from the back, Frederica managed to make her way to her room soundlessly and undetected.

  When the morning routine began and the servants were at their work, Carla put out the word that Lady Frederica was indisposed. There was no indication that the Marquess cared about his sister’s plight; he did not dispute the claim that she was ill, nor did he ask after his sister’s welfare. The kitchen sent up food for her to eat. The household staff knew that their master was what Mrs Moore called an “unfeeling brother” and they worried about her. But they could not protect her; instead, they showed their concern with broth and tea.

  Carla was gratified to learn that her mistress and the Earl of Gilberton had reached a betrothal understanding which would release Frederica from marriage to Lord Oakland. How this was to be accomplished Frederica did not know and as her mind was firmly set upon the plan to expose the real murderers of Lord Dalton, she spared no thoughts for marriage. It was enough that the Earl had agreed to marry her. Now they must make sure that he lived to fulfil that promise.

  She spent the day in a fever pitch of indecision, heightened by her worry. She had heard nothing from either the Earl or Summersby and could not help but fear that the planning had hit an insurmountable snag. Her brother had left early in the morning—was he already tightening the trap that would bring the Earl to his death? Was he putting the final touches to his scheme so that the Earl would have no opportunity to prove that Dalton’s death had not come by his hands?

  Sam knew nothing, therefore Carla had not even a snippet of information to give to Frederica to assuage her fears. No one, it seemed, knew why the Marquess had left so early in the morning. But, Frederica reminded herself, Rowland was always close-mouthed regarding his plans and unless he directed one of the servants to prepare the carriage for a particular destination, or instructed his valet to outfit in accordance with a certain occasion, the staff of the household knew as little as Frederica.

  She had never understood her brother’s insistence on such privacy. Now she did. He must have been engaged in his perfidious, illegal activities for a very long time, probably even before their parents had died. He coveted money, not for the spending of it, but to possess it. Their parents had lived simply; she knew that Rowland’s inheritance was a rich one. Why had it not been enough? The artefacts that he was purchasing from travellers who arrived in England from the East with their grave-robbing wealth were not for a desire to own ancient items of historical significance, but to sell them in order to obtain more money. How much money did he need or want? It was not in pursuit of vices such as mistresses, or cards, or drinking that had driven him to the ravening greed that sought ever more money. It was to own what the money represented: power.

  As she remained in her room, ostensibly in a state of physical depletion, Frederica wondered how it was that her brother should have grown up to be so unnatural?

  Her parents had been nothing like that and they had raised their children to be kind, honest, and considerate of others. The Beechams lived simply, without extravagance and maintained their place in society because they were respected. How had Rowland deviated so wildly from that path? Was it because they had lived so frugally, providing comfortably but not extravagantly for their children, that Rowland had gone this covetous route? Did excess sometimes spring from moderation? She did not know and doubted that she ever would. Rowland had succumbed to something dark and ominous, some disease of the mind or cancer of the heart that had shut off his better nature.

  The vicar would say that he had given in to Satan. Temptation was ever the devil’s most powerful weapon.

  Yes, it was clear that Rowland did not care about her or his bond as a brother.

  And what was going on with the Earl and Summersby? Had the Duke been successful in navigating the course of the money that had led from her brother’s account to murder? Had the message that she had forged in her brother’s handwriting been delivered to the tavern on the dock where Muller was known to frequent? Would he follow the instructions and show up at Rowland’s rooms? And would the Earl and Summersby
be able to overcome him before he realised that the summons had been false?

  How on earth could she endure the waiting?

  The minutes crept by as if they were leaden and she, obliged by her ruse of emotional prostration to remain in her room, could not go about her usual activities. Instead, she must remain inside and wait for news.

  She heard footsteps approaching and Carla entered quickly.

  “Oh, milady, his lordship is here and coming up to see you. Quickly, into the bed!” Carla helped Frederica off with her dressing gown and slippers and pulled back the linens so that her mistress could get under them.

  Frederica was reclined in her bed, Carla at her side, when her brother knocked on the door and entered before Frederica had given him permission to do so. He surveyed her recumbent form with derision.

  “Get dressed and put on your cloak,” he ordered.

  “Dressed? I have been abed all day and I am in no fit condition for going out.”

  “See that she is dressed within a quarter of an hour,” Rowland ordered Carla. He left the room.

  “Oh, milady,” Carla said worriedly as she helped Frederica into a dress. “Whatever can he mean?”

  “There is no telling with Rowland,” Frederica said wearily. She was dressed within the allotted amount of time, as her brother had ordered and waiting at the front door with her cloak on when he emerged from his study.

  “What is going on?” she questioned. “Where are we going?”

  Rowland didn’t answer. When the carriage came to the front of the house, he opened the door and pushed her inside, then entered behind her.

  “Rowland, what are you doing?” she demanded. There was something very frightening in her brother’s manner. Although he was generally overbearing and dictatorial, he had not ever used physical force against her. Until now, when he shoved her into the carriage.