London Temptations: Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Joyce Alec

  “And there was animosity between the two brothers, then?” the lady asked, sounding a little uncertain. “Had Lord Rutherford made it plain that he did not have any cause to see his brother again?”

  Thomas closed his eyes, hating that, in asking such a question, the lady was forcing him to answer.

  “I did not know it at the time, my lady, but Lord Rutherford had discovered Lord Timothy’s estate to be in such dire straits that he had written to his brother and stated that he would give him no more coin, no more aid of any kind. The staff at the house, and at Lord Timothy’s townhouse, were given notice and references by Lord Rutherford who, I believe, made certain that they found new positions without any particular difficulty. However, as to the rest, Lord Rutherford would do nothing more. He did not put money into the estate, did not even attempt to restore it in any way, for the situation was much worse than he had been told by Lord Timothy.” With a heavy breath, he rubbed at his eyes, feeling them dry and gritty. “As I said, I knew nothing of this at the time and thus, when I saw Lord Timothy in London again, I believed all that he said.”

  The veiled lady picked up her teacup again and poured a little more into it before bringing it to her lips for a tiny sip. Whatever had startled her before, she now seemed to be quite at her leisure, listening carefully but speaking without any intonation in her voice. She was waiting for him, he realized. Waiting for him to speak, to give her more of the story he had been telling her for a few minutes. The worst was to come and Thomas had to steel himself before he began again, taking a large sip of his coffee and wishing desperately that it was brandy.

  “As I have admitted, my lady, I was the one who convinced Lord Stevenson to allow Lord Timothy to join us at the house party. I should say that he was not at all convinced, worrying about what Lord Rutherford would say, but I was determined that it should be so. Even Lord Morton, who was acquainted with Lord Stevenson, Lord Timothy, and me, was not at all certain that it was the best course of action, but I was quite insistent. Lord Kingston—your uncle—also joined our conversation at some point and expressed his own wariness. I should have listened.” Each word was burning on his lips, bringing heat rushing through him as shame spread out within him, his eyes dropping to the floor even though he could not see her face. “And thus, Lord Timothy came to the house party.”

  There was a moment of silence. The lady took another sip of tea and then set down her cup and saucer on the table, leaning forward in her chair and placing her arms on her knees, her hands, palm out, toward him.

  “I presume that things did not go particularly well, then?”

  Thomas closed his eyes. He had not spoken of this to anyone in a long time and had buried it deep within himself. And now to have to speak of it to this lady, to this veritable stranger, so that he might be freed from his prison was almost torturous in its unmasking.

  “Lord Timothy did not arrive until a day or so after the house party had begun,” he said heavily. “I looked to Lord Rutherford in the hope that it would be as I had said, that he would be accepting of his brother’s presence, if not even glad to see him.” Rubbing the back of his head, he stood up and began to make his way toward the window, finding it too difficult to even look in the direction of the veiled lady. “Lord Timothy had told me nothing of what had occurred between himself and his brother in the previous year, so I presumed that everything he had told me was quite truthful.”

  “But it was not.”

  Thomas shook his head, his eyes glazing over as he looked unseeingly out of the window.

  “The moment Lord Rutherford set eyes upon his brother, I knew that I had made a dreadful mistake,” he answered brokenly, his voice low and quiet with grief. “Lord Timothy appeared to be filled with delight upon being welcomed into the house party, but I did not miss the hard look he shot toward Lord Rutherford, and the smirk that played about his lips when he looked at me.” The memory of it stung him hard and he tried not to allow the pain to pierce his heart, but it did so anyway. “Lord Rutherford left the room abruptly and shortly thereafter, told Lord Stevenson that he had no other choice but to depart for he had vowed never again to be in the company of his brother until he had seen evidence that Lord Timothy had changed his foolish ways and had settled into the life of a responsible, titled gentleman. It was more than apparent that he had not done so.”

  The lady let out a long breath but Thomas barely noticed it. “Lord Timothy had used me for his own purposes and had deliberately misled me—but the other gentlemen involved did not see it that way. They believed that I was the one at fault entirely and thus, it was my responsibility to bring the situation to a satisfactory conclusion.”

  The veiled lady rose and came toward him, but Thomas did not look behind him. He could hear the swish of her skirts, could practically feel her nearness to him, but still did not glance at her.

  “The ladies had planned a short excursion to the nearest village to see what they might discover there, leaving the gentlemen behind. Those who were not involved in any way were given the opportunity to hunt and shoot by Lord Stevenson, which, of course, they took without hesitation. Lord Stevenson, who was clearly agitated, was told by Lord Kingston that the matter would be dealt with and that he ought to go with the other gentlemen out shooting.” Recalling how Lord Stevenson had barely been able to look at him, Thomas winced and closed his eyes again. “I swore that I should find a way to either remove Lord Timothy or convince Lord Rutherford to remain, although I told them both expressly that I was not to blame.”

  The lady’s veil shifted as she looked at him. “What do you mean, Lord Farrington?”

  Wishing he could keep such a confession deep within himself, Thomas let out a small groan before he spoke again, finding it more and more difficult to talk openly.

  “Whilst I swore I would do all I could to rectify the situation, with both Lord Morton and Lord Kingston remaining with me to do whatever they could to assist, I never once permitted myself to bear the blame for the situation,” he answered. “I told myself—and I told them—that I had only done what I believed to be best. I told them that Lord Timothy was the one at fault, that I had done nothing wrong. Time and again, I refuted their accusations that I should never have pressed Lord Stevenson, that I should not have allowed Lord Timothy to even have made such a request, but I solidly refused to accept it.”

  The lady came all the nearer so that she stood even closer to him now, closer than she had ever done before. Thomas glanced at her but then turned his head away again, aware of just how much pain was coursing through him in speaking of such events. This had to be what Lord Kingston required, what he had to hear from Thomas’ lips. “I can see now that I was at fault,” he said, those words leaving his lips for the first time, even though he had known it in his heart for some time. “I have never admitted so to anyone and, no doubt, Lord Kingston wishes for me to confess to it now. But yes, he was quite correct. I was wrong to do as I did. I should not have forced a gentleman to add another name to his guest list. I should not have presumed that Lord Farrington would be contented to see his brother. I should have considered why Lord Timothy was so set on attending the house party and perhaps even considered why he had returned from the continent so soon. But,” he finished, “I did not.”

  He had thought that relief would come with all that he had said but there came nothing for some time. The lady remained precisely where she was, her head lifted toward him, and Thomas found himself almost desperate to see her face for himself. Would she be looking back at him as he expected? Would her eyes search his? She had more fire and determination in her than he had ever expected and, despite his frustration and anger at being kept this way and at being forced to express all, he could not help but admire her tenacity, even if she was being compelled by her uncle’s demands.

  “Tell me, Lord Farrington, did you succeed?”

  The lady’s voice was quieter now, softer and with a good deal of curiosity in her voice.

  “Was I
successful?” he asked, not quite certain what she meant. “In what regard?”

  Her hand reached out and touched his arm, but it was not with any gentleness. Instead, her hand was tight on his arm, holding him fast as though she had yet to hear further answers from him before she would permit him to depart from her.

  “Did you succeed in sending Lord Timothy away?” she asked quickly. “What was the resolve in that particular circumstance?”

  Thomas shook his head, his shoulders slumping as her fingers gentled. “I came upon Lord Timothy and Lord Rutherford practically roaring at each other in the library,” he said, remembering the shock that had run through him at the sight of it. “Lord Morton was with me and, within a few minutes, we had managed to calm them both. It was only then that Lord Rutherford told me the truth of it all.”

  “Told you that Lord Timothy had no coin of his own, had ruined his estate, and now expected his brother to come to his aid in some way,” she said slowly. “And that Lord Rutherford had, of course, refused.”

  Waving a hand, Thomas turned away from her and looked back out of the window. “There were a few more details than that, my lady, but that was the crux of the matter.”

  Silence ran through the room again as he stared out of the window. The sun was shining beautifully and the gardens below appeared to be in full bloom. The tree in front of him was covered in green leaves which, in other circumstances, would have filled his heart with joy but today seemed to mock him, showing off its beauty when he himself was so lost in misery and regret. His heart ached, his mind heavy with the sorrow that came with knowing what he had done. Speaking the truth and stating that he was to blame for what had occurred had brought him no relief whatsoever. Instead, it was nothing more than further injury, beating him hard until he could barely breathe.

  Although it was no fault of his own that Lord Timothy was destitute, he should have never forced Lord Stevenson to invite Lord Timothy.

  “And did Lord Timothy remain?” The lady’s voice was higher now, her words more urgent. He turned to her, his fingers itching to pull back the veil, but with an effort, he kept his hands by his sides.

  “Lord Timothy remained at the house party, as did Lord Rutherford,” he said dully. “At the time, I thought it to be quite marvelous, believed that I had achieved something worthy of note. But, of course, Lord Rutherford only remained in order to appear gentlemanly and so as not to embarrass Lord Stevenson in front of his other guests. And Lord Timothy remained because…” Again, his eyes slid closed and he shook his head to himself. “Lord Timothy had never any intention of departing. He would have remained regardless and that is precisely what he did. I believe it gave him some sort of joy to know that his brother despised his company and yet it had been forced upon him regardless. In that moment, my lady, I can assure you that I did not know Lord Timothy. I did not recognize him. I realized that my friend had used me most ill and that I had been nothing more than a useful pawn in his plan, and I despised myself for my own ignorance and my own selfish intentions. But I have never once admitted that I should take the blame. Not until this afternoon.”

  “And that is all you have to say?” The lady moved forward and grasped his arm again, her hand tight and a frantic urgency in her voice that he could not at all understand. “There is nothing more? No harm that you deliberately brought to any other?”

  Staring down at her veil, Thomas blinked in astonishment. “No, I can assure you,” he said, shaking off her hand and beginning to back away from her. “No, I did no harm to anyone, save for what I have expressed to you.” Dread suddenly caught his heart. “If you are speaking of Lord Morton, then I can assure you that I did not even hear of his accident until he had passed away. I was nowhere near his estate at the time—and I have those who can vouch for me.”

  The lady said nothing for some minutes. It was as though she was staring directly into his face in the hope of discerning the truth, whilst she herself remained completely hidden from his eyes. A sudden, lingering fear began to twine itself through his heart, making his breath hitch. What if this lady was not who she stated she was? What if there was no uncle? Had he been mistaken about Lord Kingston and, in doing so, spoken of things that were not required of him to speak?

  Thomas swallowed hard, his stomach tight and his hands slowly curling into fists.

  “Who are you?” he hissed, shaking off her hand for what was the second time. “What is the meaning of all of this?”

  The lady drew in a long breath and released him. “I can only hope that you are speaking the truth, Lord Farrington,” she said, her voice now grave. “I will find whoever is responsible for my husband’s death but, it appears, it was not you. Rather now I begin to suspect something—and someone—entirely different.”

  Thomas’ breathing became ragged as the lady reached up to pull the veil from her face. It was as though he were in some sort of dream, for everything appeared to move very slowly indeed. His mind could barely accept what he was seeing, realizing with horror that he had been duped. Duped by a lady he had been unable to remove from his thoughts for some time, the lady who had rejected him before he had even said more than a few words to her.

  Lady Rutherford.

  11

  Pulling the veil from her face entirely, Josephine flung it away from herself and looked boldly back at Lord Farrington. His face was grey with shock, his mouth ajar, and his eyes staring at her blankly, as though he were quite unable to believe what was before him.

  Josephine tried not to tremble, doing all she could to steel herself so that her anxiety would not show. She had expected Lord Farrington to reveal something, although she had no particular idea as to what that might be. Having been certain that there had been something of great significance in what he would say, Josephine now felt all the more certain that she had been right to hold Lord Farrington here, as she had done. He had told her more than she had ever expected, revealing a great deception on the part of her brother-in-law—a deception she had never once known of.

  Lord Rutherford had spoken to her very little of business matters and certainly had not mentioned his brother in any sort of poor light. Lord Timothy had only been a passing remark, a quiet mention over some matter or other. There had never once been any suggestion that he was inclined toward injuring or hurting Lord Rutherford in any way but now, it seemed, he had fought bitterly with her husband. Lord Rutherford, she considered, had been quite correct in his decision not to allow his brother any further support or help, but Lord Timothy had clearly not believed it to be so.

  “I—I cannot believe it.”

  She caught herself, lost in thought for a few moments as she had been looking back at Lord Farrington. He was grasping onto the windowsill with both hands, his head twisting back and forth to look from her to the garden and back again as if he was struggling to believe what he saw.

  “I am sorry for the deceit,” she said briskly. “And for the painful head. It was necessary, I assure you.”

  “Necessary?” Lord Haddington breathed, turning to look at her again as though she was quite mad. “You stole me away to your townhouse and had me placed here, in the obvious hope that I would speak to you of something that I had already decided to keep entirely to myself.” The color was returning to his face, his eyes burning angrily as he glared at her. “I have been deeply anxious, have struggled to sleep, and have found myself going over and over in my head what it is I am to say. I have been forced to look at myself, at my true character, and have struggled desperately with what I have discovered. The layers I have pressed upon myself to hide the shame and mortification that came to me that day have been ripped apart. All because you would not speak to me honestly and openly about what it was you required from me.”

  Josephine shook her head, taking a small step closer to Lord Farrington and discovering, much to her surprise, that she found a swell of sympathy rising up in her chest for him.

  “I know that you would not have told me a single thing, should I
have done so,” she said quietly, looking directly into his face without flinching. “And I believe that you are well aware of such a thing also, if you are honest with yourself.” A deep groove formed between his brows as he studied her before he dropped his gaze and muttered something under his breath. “Besides which,” she continued steadily, “I do not think that any of what you have described is in any way to be considered in an unfavorable light. Although you should have never forced Lord Stevenson to extend an invitation to my brother-in-law, you cannot be held accountable for what Lord Timothy has done.” Tilting her head, she allowed a small smile to capture the corner of her mouth. “I see why your actions might cause you some embarrassment, but surely you must know that your role in this matter is forgivable. You did not know Lord Timothy’s true character.”

  “I hardly think that will be the case,” he snapped back, although the way his eyes darted away from her the very moment he looked at her seemed to suggest otherwise.

  Josephine kept her smile fixed as she felt the anger pouring out from Lord Farrington toward her but still not even a single trace of guilt entered her heart. She had heard him speak the truth and what she had gleaned from it was of great importance. Her husband, it seemed, had been having great difficulty with his brother, a brother who evidently wanted more than his fair share of wealth. It was something that she had never heard of before and, as Lord Farrington had spoken, a sense of deep foreboding had settled over her soul.