Brides of London: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  Lady Starling said nothing for some moments, her eyes wide and fixed on his. One hand was pressed against her chest, her throat working furiously.

  “I—I did not mean…” Her words were whispered, her breathing ragged. “When I said that I wished to be freed from him, I—”

  Realizing what she thought, Joseph shook his head frantically, horror washing over him. “I did not kill him,” he told her swiftly, seeing how she let out her breath slowly. “I discovered the scene and, thereafter, Miss Whitaker came upon me.” He saw Lady Starling close her eyes as a small tinge of color came back into her cheeks. “Her mother then discovered the two of us together and, therefore, I had no other choice but to propose.”

  Lady Starling nodded slowly, although Joseph noted the slight tremble that ran through her frame.

  “I am sorry to have to be the one to inform you of this,” he said softly, hoping that the lady was not about to faint. “I did want to do so at my earliest convenience, but I found that I had to speak to Miss Whitaker at the first, to ensure that she believed me to be innocent of the crime.”

  “But of course you are!” Lady Starling protested, taking a step forward and resting her hand on his arm. “You are entirely without guilt! I cannot believe what has occurred. I…” She trailed off, her eyes fixed on something beyond him, although her expression was a little vacant, clearly overcome by shock.

  “At least you are free from your difficulties,” Joseph said gently, not quite certain whether this was reassuring in any way. “I must ask you, Lady Starling, were you present the entire evening? You say you had not the opportunity to quit the room.”

  Lady Starling’s gaze slowly refocused on Joseph, color beginning to come back to her cheeks. “Indeed,” she replied hoarsely. “I—I had not yet found a way to quit the room without drawing attention.”

  “And you saw none leave the room?” he asked, pressing her for an answer. “Did you see Lord Paulson leave?”

  Lady Starling’s face crumpled and it was all Joseph could do not to reach out to her, seeing just how much this news had broken her.

  “I saw Lord Paulson leave, yes,” she whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes. “A servant came to speak to him and, some minutes later, he quietly slipped from the room.” She shook her head and a tear slipped onto her cheek. “I did not think anything of it, for I became distracted by the performance. And you know how the room was somewhat dark.”

  Joseph frowned, having not recalled such a fact before. Lord Paulson had ensured a good deal of light had been around the performers whilst leaving the rest of the room cast in shadow. It was, Joseph presumed, a way to ensure that the attention of the guests was entirely on the musicians themselves, but it had also given the murderer an easy way to move from the room.

  “I am sorry that you have found yourself in such a situation,” Lady Starling whispered, her hand reaching up to press his arm again. “I did not ever think that when I asked for your help, you would find yourself so troubled.”

  Thinking that Lady Starling spoke of Lord Paulson and the possible blame that now lay upon his shoulders, Joseph let out a long breath but tried to smile reassuringly.

  “I am certain it will all come aright in the end,” he told her with as much firmness as he could muster. “There is nothing you need worry about, Lady Starling.”

  Lady Starling let go of his arm and pulled out a small handkerchief, which she used to dab at her eyes. “You are a stalwart,” she told him, her compliment bringing a slight sense of pride to Joseph. “I do not know what I should do without you, Lord Ancrum.”

  “I do not think you shall have to,” Joseph replied, silently determined that he would not accept the blame for Lord Paulson’s death. “Now, if you are quite all right, Lady Starling, I should return to my betrothed.”

  Lady Starling sighed but nodded. “You will call upon me soon, will you not?”

  “But of course,” Joseph replied without thinking, for his attention was now returning fully to Miss Whitaker. “Do excuse me, Lady Starling. And do try not to worry.” He gave her an encouraging smile and was glad to see her return it, albeit a somewhat wobbly one.

  “I shall not allow it to overcome me,” she promised, a glimmer of strength in her gaze. “Good afternoon, Lord Ancrum. I look forward to seeing you again very soon.”

  12

  “I have very little of your dowry left.”

  Lydia tried not to bristle at her father’s harsh words and the way that he appeared to look down at her with an apparent disdain.

  “Do you think your supposed husband-to-be will still accept you when he knows there is very little money to go with you?”

  “I am certain of it,” Lydia replied decisively, hating that her parents were doing all they could to bring an end to her engagement. They were doing it solely so that they might keep Lydia at home with them, of course, for their selfishness knew no bounds. It had been easy for them to believe that such a thing would occur when Lydia had been nothing but an easily ignored wallflower, but now that she was so suddenly engaged, it appeared that her parents did not know what to do in order to prevent it.

  “I could have refused him, of course,” her father continued darkly, “especially given that he asked you to marry him before he so much as spoke to me!”

  “But you did not refuse him, Father,” Lydia replied, growing tired of this. “And we are to be wed. Dowry or not, I am quite certain that Lord Ancrum will not turn from me nor break our engagement.”

  Her mother, who had remained silent thus far, sighed dramatically. “And so you will turn from us.”

  Lydia closed her eyes, her hands curling into tight fists as she fought to keep her temper. “You have a multitude of servants, Mother,” she replied, seeing how Lady Templeton sighed again. “You have no need of me.” This appeared to silence both her mother and her father, for her father got up abruptly from his seat and stalked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back, whilst her mother simply sighed again.

  Lydia, seeing the opportunity, grasped it without hesitation despite her own frustration with her parents.

  “Might I ask, Mother, whether or not you recall if anyone else quit the room the night that Lord Ancrum and I became engaged?” she asked, not caring whether her mother thought this a strange question. “I know you came out in search of me, but—”

  “In search of you?” her mother interrupted, a cruel laugh running through her words. “I did not come out in search of you, you foolish girl. I merely sought the powder room, that is all.”

  This was meant to be harsh and cruel, Lydia knew, and despite the knowledge of this, she found that she could not easily overcome the sting of her mother’s words. “Regardless,” she said, as steadily as she could in the face of her mother’s hardness, “do you recall if anyone else left the room during the performances, even for a short time?”

  Lady Templeton sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “I cannot recall,” she said, waving a hand. “I was not at all interested in the performance and found my mind drifting to other matters.”

  “Lord Paulson himself,” Lydia persisted, whilst her father muttered something under his breath and strode to the door, evidently frustrated that he had not been able to convince Lydia to break her engagement. “Did you see him leave the room?”

  Lady Templeton’s gaze narrowed slightly as she looked back at Lydia. “Why does such a thing matter?” she asked, her eyes now flickering with curiosity. “Who is it that you seek?”

  Lydia hesitated, wondering whether she ought to explain. It had been five days now since Lord Paulson’s death and it had only been yesterday that Lord Ancrum had told her that the news of his passing had begun to trickle out. She did not want to give her mother even the slightest hint, however, that Lord Ancrum feared for his own involvement in this matter and so she resolved to choose her words with great care.

  “Lord Paulson was a friend of my betrothed,” she lied, holding her mother’s gaze with unwavering firmnes
s. “And to hear of his death has stunned him. Therefore, I am doing all I can to aid him in his search for the truth.”

  This seemed to shock Lady Templeton greatly, for her smirk dropped from her face as her cheeks began to pale.

  “Did you see anyone, Mother?” Lydia asked again, searching her mother’s face and wondering why she appeared so pale. “You must tell me if you did so. It is of vital importance.”

  Lady Templeton drew in a long breath, sat a little more upright, and turned her gaze back to Lydia.

  “I am glad to hear Lord Paulson is gone from this world,” she stated with far too much vehemence in her voice. “He had so many people over a barrel that his death has freed us all from his grasp.”

  Lydia blinked rapidly, looking at her mother with utter astonishment.

  “I saw only two people leave the room, although both came back rather quickly,” Lady Templeton continued, quite calmly. “A lady in light pink satin—and then another in a green gown some time later. As for Lord Paulson…” She shrugged. “I cannot recall seeing him quit the room at all, but the room was rather dark and, as I have said, I was somewhat bored.”

  Lydia did not know what to say to this, for her astonishment has risen up in her so swiftly that it had robbed her of speech. The look in her mother’s eyes and the anger in her voice told Lydia more than any words her mother might have said. Recalling how Lord Ancrum had told her that Lord Paulson had been blackmailing a friend of his, Lydia suddenly began to wonder just how widespread Lord Paulson’s reach had been.

  “Lord Paulson had blackmailed you also, Mother?” she asked, not looking away when her mother’s gaze hit her hard. “You were not the first, I believe.”

  Lady Templeton said nothing for some minutes, although her eyes flashed and her lips thinned into a cruel line. Lydia said nothing more, holding her mother’s gaze and willing her to speak. She had to know the truth of the matter, for it might aid Lord Ancrum.

  “Lord Paulson discovered something that was meant to be hidden,” Lady Templeton replied stiffly, looking away from her daughter. “I was, of course, mortified, but he was no gentleman. He demanded money for his silence.” She sniffed. “The first payment was to be given to him the evening of his musical soiree.”

  Lydia looked down at her hands, trying to steady her breathing. She did not want to know what her mother had been caught doing, but to know that Lord Paulson had been attempting to blackmail Lady Templeton only added to her awareness that a good many people might have wanted the fellow dead. Surely her mother could not have been the one involved?

  “I did not manage to give it to him, of course,” Lady Templeton replied dryly. “And no, you need not think that I was the one who sought him out, Lydia. I remained within the drawing room until I left to find the powder room. Which is when I found you and Lord Ancrum in an entirely improper situation.”

  Aware that her mother was attempting to remove some of Lydia’s shock and dismay by reminding her of her own indiscretions, Lydia simply ignored this remark and attempted to focus on what had been disclosed. “Do you think, Mother, that some of the other guests present that night were also involved with Lord Paulson and his attempts to blackmail?”

  Lady Templeton laughed cruelly and waved a hand. “No doubt most of them were,” she replied with a slight shrug. “I was given no choice but to attend, Lydia. If I did not, then Lord Paulson would not have continued to hold his silence. I am certain that I was not the only one cajoled in such a way.”

  The air grew thick about her and Lydia rose from her chair, suddenly desperate to get out of the house and into the fresh air. She felt clammy and hot, the shock of knowing that her mother, too, had been involved with Lord Paulson overwhelming her. The realization that any of the guests present at his musical soiree could have been the one to take a knife to Lord Paulson’s heart slammed into her again and again, making a yawning chasm open up before her. There might be no easy way to prove who had done such a dreadful thing, since there could be so many suspects, which meant that in order to secure an easy conviction, the Bow Street Runners could turn their eyes to Lord Ancrum alone. Her breathing became ragged, her feet unsteady as she hurried from the room. Lady Templeton made no attempt to stop her, merely sitting back in her chair with a small, grim smile on her face.

  It was at least one hour before Lydia managed to get some semblance of composure back. She had thrown on her bonnet and gloves and hurried out of doors, taking a somewhat surprised maid with her, and had walked aimlessly through London for some time. Her thoughts had become heavy, her worries growing steadily as she considered what her mother had said.

  Lord Ancrum could not be guilty. She knew that for certain, for there was no doubt within her mind now. She had spent a good deal of time with him these last few days and had found her thoughts turning to him a little more often than she had expected. She did not want him to be found guilty of something he had not done. That was her greatest fear, especially now that she felt as though she were crawling through the ether of confusion and doubt. With so many possibilities as to who might have killed Lord Paulson, what hope was there that they might discover the guilty party?

  A lady in a green gown and another in light pink satin.

  Lydia stopped dead, her maid making a small exclamation of surprise behind her. Such had been her shock at hearing of her mother’s involvement with Lord Paulson that, until this moment, she had quite forgotten what had been said. Her mother had recalled two persons leaving the room—one lady in a green gown and another who wore pink satin. That gave her a little hope, did it not? It allowed both herself and Lord Ancrum the opportunity to try and discover these people and thereafter, attempt to discover what it was they had been doing when they left the room. Thus encouraged, Lydia lifted her chin and began to walk once more, although this time her stride held a lot more purpose. Attempting to get her bearings, she soon realized that she was some distance from home, although the beau monde were all about her still. Turning around, she made to go back where she had come from with the intent of writing to Lord Ancrum at once, only for a voice to stop her.

  “Miss Whitaker, is it?”

  She turned, recognizing the lady at once. Lady Starling stood before her, almost regal in her stance. Her eyes were cold as she regarded Lydia, her chin lifted in what appeared to be arrogance and a hint of disdain.

  “Lady Starling,” Lydia replied, curtsying as though they were already acquainted. “Yes, you are quite correct. I am Miss Whitaker.”

  “Recently engaged to Lord Ancrum.”

  A faint blush caught Lydia’s cheeks but she did not look away. “Yes, that is quite right,” she stated unequivocally. “The first banns will be called this coming Sunday, I believe.”

  Lady Starling jerked as though she were utterly astonished by this news—although Lydia could not understand why. It was quite natural for a betrothed couple to ensure that the banns were called as soon as possible after their engagement.

  “You have contrived this,” Lady Starling hissed, taking a small step forward as her eyes narrowed all the more. “You cannot hide this from me, Miss Whitaker. I know that you have sought Lord Ancrum’s attentions and, when that failed completely, you then attempted to secure him by force. That is why you went out after him that evening, was it not?”

  Lydia went cold all over, her skin prickling with unease. She did not know what to say, seeing the ice in Lady Starling’s eyes and wondering at it. She had done no wrong to the lady in question and certainly had given no impression to the beau monde that she had somehow tricked Lord Ancrum into matrimony.

  “If you recall, Lady Starling,” she replied, a flush of anger beginning to streak up her spine, “I was gone from the room at the first. I believe it was Lord Ancrum who then came after me.” This, she saw, displeased Lady Starling greatly, although Lydia did not hold herself back because of it. “I have never once considered trying to secure a gentleman’s affections by force, Lady Starling, and am greatly upset by the su
ggestion. No, I have done none of what you attempt to lay at my feet.” She turned her head, making to move away from the lady. “If you will excuse me, Lady Starling. I can see no reason to continue this conversation.”

  Much to Lydia’s shock, Lady Starling’s hand shot out and grasped her arm tightly. It was quite painful and Lydia had to force herself not to cry out.

  “You will remove yourself from him, Miss Whitaker,” Lady Starling spat, her face very close to Lydia’s. “You will leave him free to make his own decisions as to whom he seeks for a bride. Do you understand me?”

  Going white, Lydia turned her head away from Lady Starling, not quite certain what to say. The lady was clearly displeased with the news that Lydia and Lord Ancrum were to wed, but to demand something such as this was quite extraordinary. It felt as though she were expected to simply agree and obey, just as she had so often done with her own parents—but this time, Lydia felt her anger continue to burn through her. It did not dissipate but rather began to settle within her, setting her resolve alight.

  “You have no right to demand such a thing from me, Lady Starling,” she replied hotly. “Remove your hand from me this instant.” She kept her face turned away and waited steadily until Lady Starling finally did as she asked, fully aware that there would be some watching this interaction with interest. The last thing she needed was for gossip to begin to spread about her. “Lord Ancrum and I intend to wed, Lady Starling, and I have no intention of doing as you ask.”

  Lady Starling’s face darkened, her expression one of cold fury. “Then it shall be on your own head,” she replied, speaking of consequences that Lydia could not even begin to fathom. “I have warned you, Miss Whitaker, and you cannot hold what follows against me.” She stepped back, mockingly bobbing a curtsy. “Good afternoon.”

  Lydia turned on her heel and stepped away at once, holding her head high despite the furious trembling that overtook her. She wanted to take a few minutes to regain her composure, to remove the shaking from her frame, but could not allow herself to do so. Her heart was beating so furiously that she was certain the sound of it echoed throughout the London streets, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. Waving frantically at a hackney, she swallowed hard as it began to slow, her mind filling with only one person. She had to see him. She had to speak to him about what had just occurred for she could make no sense of it.