London Temptations: Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Joyce Alec

  “So, they have threatened you also?”

  The gentleness in his voice overwhelmed her. There was no anger, no recrimination. Instead, there appeared to be nothing but understanding and tenderness. Tears pricked at her eyes and she looked up at him, overcome by the kindness in his face.

  “They threatened you as they have threatened me,” Lord Knightsbridge said with a gentle understanding in his eyes. “Is that not so?”

  “Yes,” Susanna whispered, her voice too weak with emotion to speak with any strength. “I cannot tell you just how sorry I am.”

  The gentleman said nothing for a moment, then shook his head. “So you have been sending the notes to me, but under duress,” he said slowly. “My dear Miss Millerton.” He shook his head again, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Good gracious. I would never have expected…” Trailing off, he looked at her steadily again, as though deciding whether or not he would pass judgment upon her.

  Susanna held her breath, her body still shaking with the strength of emotion that had rushed through her.

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” he said eventually, although his expression remained grave. “Indeed, you have nothing to apologize for. There is more for us to discuss, more for you to explain, and yet I am grateful that you have told me the truth. For now, we shall be able to face this together, in the hope that perhaps we might both be able to free ourselves from this terrible nightmare.”

  It was more than Susanna had ever expected and for a moment, she could not speak. And when she did, her voice shook, her hands trembling as she pressed them together.

  “I thank you, Lord Knightsbridge,” she began, only for him to cut her off with a shake of his head.

  “No,” he said firmly, looking at her steadily. “Thank you for having the bravery to speak honestly, Miss Millerton.” One side of his mouth lifted as he looked at her, a sense of admiration spreading out from his words. “Finally, there is a chink of light in the midst of my confusion and it is only because you have been brave enough to tell me what you have endured. Thank you, Miss Millerton. Thank you.”

  8

  The revelation that Miss Millerton had been the one sending him the notes had come as a great shock. He had never imagined that she could be involved in such a way. Even now, as he watched her seated to his left at the dining table, Benedict could feel his astonishment still running through him. It had taken him some moments to gain his composure, finding himself furiously angry and then, in the next breath, filled with compassion.

  The way she had looked into his face with those tear-filled eyes of hers had begun to soften his heart toward her, even in the midst of his shock. When she had told him the truth, her voice hoarse and broken by emotion, he had found himself unable to hold onto his anger any longer. Of course, he recognized her struggle. He understood her fear, knew full well why she had given in without any ability to refuse. And finally, he had found himself filled with something akin to relief. Relief in knowing that he was no longer alone in his difficulty. That he finally had someone to whom he might speak. That was not to say, of course, that he was in any way glad that she had to deal with such adversity, but rather that he now felt able to speak to her in the full knowledge that she knew precisely how he felt.

  Perhaps, together, they would be able to find their way out of this dire situation.

  “Your shoulder, Lord Knightsbridge?”

  Mr. Easthill looked at him from where he sat, one eyebrow lifted in question.

  “My shoulder?” Benedict repeated, before recalling that the man was referring to the injury he had sustained earlier that day. “Yes, it is healing very nicely.”

  “No doubt your jacket is quite ruined,” Miss Longleat chimed in, her face turning a very light shade of pink as he turned his gaze toward her. “Are you in a good deal of pain?”

  He grimaced. “I feel more pain over the knowledge that my very fine jacket will now have to become nothing more than rags,” he said as the others in the room began to laugh. “Indeed, I feel almost entirely as normal, Miss Longleat, although I thank you for your concern.”

  “I am very glad to hear it,” said another young lady of the group, clearly eager to have him notice her just as he had noticed Miss Longleat. “We should be very disappointed indeed if our host was no longer able to continue the house party.”

  A few rumbled murmurings came at this remark and Benedict waved a hand in order to settle them.

  “I can assure you, there is not even a single thought of that,” he assured everyone as the assembled guests all began to smile at him, evidently relieved. “We shall continue on as planned—although perhaps I myself will avoid any further shooting for the rest of the week!”

  This brought a round of laughter to the group and Benedict allowed himself a small smile, only to notice that Miss Millerton did not permit her own lips to curve. Had she perhaps surmised that the shot to his shoulder had not been an accident? Benedict had to admit that he had thought that the shot to his shoulder might well have come from someone else. Someone who perhaps had known that he had left the cellar and had gone down to the shore. The shot, he feared, had been a warning. A warning that, should he do anything more than he had been asked, the consequences would be severe. They would not kill him, of course, for they needed his house and his grounds, but they could easily injure or maim him, if they chose. Or they could do so to his mother, if that was what they wished to do. Anything to punish him for his lack of obedience.

  “What shall we do this evening?” a Miss Jennings piped up, her cheeks warm and her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Lord Knightsbridge, I do hope that you have some wonderful entertainments planned?”

  He smiled at her, fully aware that, no doubt, Miss Millerton would be watching him. “Indeed I do,” he told her, catching the attention of everyone in the room. “I have hired a small band of musicians to come and play for us.”

  This brought a good many exclamations of delight, which in turn, made Benedict smile broadly.

  “And mayhap we shall have space to dance?” someone asked, and Benedict nodded and assured them that there would be more than enough space to do so. This brought even more excited conversations from the ladies in particular, although Benedict was quite certain that many of the gentlemen—the eligible ones, at least—were looking at the ladies with a curious eye, wondering which ones might be willing to dance with them. Benedict had no such eagerness. He could, thankfully, claim that his shoulder was much too painful to do so and that he would merely watch. His mother would not be particularly pleased, perhaps, but given the fright that had overcome her at his accident, her words might not be as sharp as usual.

  “Ladies, shall we perhaps leave the gentlemen to their port?”

  His mother rose gracefully from the table and the other ladies followed suit. With a smile, Lady Knightsbridge led them from the room and Benedict could not help but allow his gaze to follow Miss Millerton. She was not looking at him, but walked with her eyes straight ahead, her shoulders set. Benedict found himself longing for her to glance at him, for her eyes to turn to his for just a moment, but it was not to be so.

  “I think you have taken a certain interest in one particular lady, Lord Knightsbridge,” Lord Hemsley commented, his brows lifting as Benedict cleared his throat abruptly, not at all inclined to listen to the gentleman’s remarks.

  “I have no interest in anyone,” he stated with what he hoped was the right amount of terseness in his voice so as to discourage Lord Hemsley from continuing to speak. “You are quite mistaken.”

  Lord Hemsley chuckled. “I do not think your protests do much other than encourage the idea,” he said, and Benedict frowned hard, disliking the fact that others were listening. “I think that—”

  “Did anyone see who shot me today?”

  The question brought a swift end to any discussion as to who had caught Benedict’s eye. He had not meant to sound as harsh as he had done, but he certainly had not wanted Lord Hemsley to cont
inue speaking.

  “N-no, Lord Knightsbridge,” stammered one Lord Huntingwood, looking around the table with a questioning glance at each gentleman. “None of us did.” Closing his eyes, he shook his head. “What I mean to say is that I do not think any one of us did so. And certainly none of us saw what occurred.”

  “It was as though there was someone very far away indeed,” Lord Pettigrew interrupted, picking up his port and swirling the glass in a very casual manner. “Whilst we were all spread out, none were close enough to you to have seen anything.”

  Benedict, who had already suspected as much, gave nothing more than a frown.

  “I am only glad you were not as injured as you might have been,” muttered a third gentleman. “Although that is not to say that what you have sustained is not serious.”

  Shrugging and then immediately regretting doing so given the pain that ran through him, Benedict reached to pour himself a little more port. “I think we must consider it nothing more than an accident,” he said with a small sigh. “Now, shall we join the ladies? Or do we wish to linger a little longer over the port?” Seeing the gleam that immediately came into Lord Hemsley’s eye, Benedict grimaced before saying, “I would be glad to finish my port first, however. It is quite excellent.”

  The gentlemen decided that they should not like to linger too long over their port, making it quite clear to Benedict that he was not the only one who was, perhaps, eager to see a particular young lady again. Thankfully, Lord Hemsley decided not to say anything more about what he suspected and the rest of their conversation passed without further issue.

  “You are not dancing this evening, Lord Knightsbridge?”

  Benedict smiled as Miss Millerton came slowly toward him, her eyes appearing a little red-rimmed but only if he looked closely.

  “I have begged off,” he told her, gesturing to his shoulder. “Thankfully, the ladies have quite understood, and the gentlemen seem all the more eager to take my place.” He smiled at her again, but she did not return it, searching his face as though she sought to know whether or not he had truly no anger held against her. “You do not dance yourself, Miss Millerton?”

  She shook her head. “I have claimed fatigue,” she answered with a glance toward the dancers. “But, my lord, there is something I must speak to you about.” Looking around her carefully, she then returned her gaze to his face and the seriousness of what was in her eyes sent a chill running down Benedict’s spine.

  “You—you have received another instruction?” he asked, realizing that he had not yet asked Miss Millerton how she had been given the information about the notes she was to write. “Is that it?”

  Miss Millerton closed her eyes and nodded. “It is difficult to make out,” she said, confusing him a little, “but I must write it out in my usual hand and leave it for you come the morning.”

  Benedict let out a long breath, his hands curling into fists as tension began to grow within him.

  “I am sorry,” Miss Millerton continued hoarsely. “I do not mean to—”

  “It is not your doing,” he said tersely. “Please, Miss Millerton. Please stop apologizing when there is nothing within this situation that merits your contrition.” Looking at her again, he saw the color hit her cheeks and the way that her clear blue eyes dropped to the floor. Her blonde curls twirled forward, hiding her features even more, and Benedict cursed his sharp words.

  “Pray, forgive me,” he said, trying to inject a good deal more gentleness into his manner. “This matter has been on my mind for a good many months and I find myself growing angry with every new instruction that comes. I find myself irate that I can do nothing to prevent what they are doing, to loosen their tight grasp on my life. But I should not have allowed such an emotion to push out toward you.”

  Miss Millerton slowly lifted her eyes to his. “Please, do not apologize,” she said softly. “I am only sorry that I have no choice but to do so.”

  He sighed heavily. “We must talk further, Miss Millerton,” he said firmly, looking around the room. “I do not know how we shall accomplish this, but it must be done. There is more than I must tell you about, more that I must explain.”

  Her eyes rounded just a little as she watched him, perhaps expecting him to say more.

  “I—I believe that there is someone within this house who is working with those who are threatening us both,” he found himself saying, seeing the color pull from her cheeks. “I do not know who. But I have a man looking at the servants and I must somehow attempt to ascertain if any of my guests are involved.”

  Miss Millerton said nothing for a few moments but then let out a long, slow breath, her eyes turning to the guests that were now dancing and laughing together. It seemed to Benedict that there was sense of disbelief emanating from her, the astonishment in her expression making her thoughts all the more apparent.

  “I do not know what else to do but to find this person,” he said heavily. “Only when I have done so might I then be able to find a way to bring this difficulty to an end.”

  Slowly, Miss Millerton turned back to face him, her coloring still rather pale. “How do you know such a thing, Lord Knightsbridge?”

  Quickly, he told her about how he had followed the path down to the sea from the cellar and what he had overheard. Her eyes grew wider and wider with each word he said, as though she could barely believe what he was telling her.

  “I have another man below stairs, who is studying the servants,” he finished. “Taylor. He was badly beaten by the men involved and was told to find new employment elsewhere.” He shook his head. “I have insisted that he remain indoors until he recovers, although he is suspicious that his leg will never be the same again.” A streak of hot anger ran through him, but he controlled it with an effort. “There are three of us now, Miss Millerton. We are no longer alone.” Reaching out, he quickly pressed her hand but only for a moment. “I am certain that, together, we will find a way to bring this all to an end.”

  “I must hope so,” Miss Millerton answered sadly. “I do not want to have to keep doing this, Lord Knightsbridge, especially when I know that it brings you so much distress.”

  “Then we feel the same way,” he told her, seeing how she flushed and looked away. “But we must be careful. I am sure now that the shot to my shoulder was a warning and not merely an accident.”

  “A warning?” She caught her breath, one hand pressed against her heart. “Did you refuse to do as the note said?”

  He shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed. “I told you that I went to the cellar and thereafter, to the tunnel that led toward the sea. When I returned, in both haste and a little apprehension, I think I failed to close the door again.” The thought had struck him hard as he had been considering matters in the library earlier that day. Had he, in fact, remembered to close the cellar door tightly, to make everything appear just as normal? Or had he forgotten?

  “You did not leave it as you had found it,” Miss Millerton said, a trifle breathlessly. “And thus, they knew that you had been down the path toward the shore.”

  “That is my suspicion, yes,” he told her, both embarrassed and angry. “And therefore, I was given a stern warning not to do so again.”

  She did not say anything for some moments but shook her head mutely, as if she could not bring herself to believe it. Benedict fought for something to say, something that would continue their conversation, but found himself entirely at a loss, looking at Miss Millerton and wondering what comment she might pass.

  “Then their threats are real,” she said hoarsely, her eyes now beginning to glisten with tears. “They will not hesitate.”

  It was not what Benedict had expected to hear from her, but the truth of the matter was staring him directly in the face.

  “Yes,” he answered slowly, aware that she was still staring at him with wide eyes filled with fear. “Yes, Miss Millerton, I believe they are.”

  “Come now!”

  The loud, overeager voice of his mothe
r suddenly reached Benedict’s ears and he was forced to turn away from Miss Millerton, pasting a smile on his face that he certainly did not feel.

  “You cannot both stand there conversing without stepping out to dance!” she exclaimed, looking at them both. “I insist that you take this dear young lady to the dance floor, Benedict.”

  Miss Millerton’s eyes widened and she immediately began to stammer, telling Lady Knightsbridge that she was very kind but that she herself was much too tired, much too fatigued to do so.

  “But a waltz is not at all difficult,” Lady Knightsbridge exclaimed, gesturing toward the musicians who were ready to begin. “Come now, I insist.”

  Benedict closed his eyes and let out a groan, only to open them and see his mother glaring at him. Clearly, she believed him to have now behaved very rudely toward Miss Millerton by making such a noise, but Benedict knew all too well that Miss Millerton did not want to dance either.

  But it seemed they were to have no choice.

  “Shall we, Miss Millerton?” he asked, holding his hand out to her and seeing the way she blushed, reaching out her hand toward his.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, no sign of unwillingness in her voice or in her eyes. In fact, she even smiled as she took his hand and, Benedict noted, his mother appeared to be very relieved indeed.

  “I am sorry,” he murmured as he bowed toward her, before stepping forward to pull her into the waltz hold. “I know you did not wish to dance, Miss Millerton.”

  She looked up at him and Benedict was surprised to see a smile gracing her features. “I would rather dance than allow your mother to feel any sort of embarrassment,” she said as the music began. “I must hope that I do not stumble, however.” Her smile began to fade and Benedict found himself eager for it to remain, wondering what he could do.

  “I am sure you are an excellent dancer,” he told her, beginning to move about the floor and marveling at how well she followed him. “In fact, I am certain that you are quite wonderful.”