by Joyce Alec
“My brother,” Lord Timothy retorted, making to get out of his chair but struggling against bonds that Thomas had not noticed before, “was a selfish, arrogant, insufferable sort who did nothing but lord himself over me! He had no right to keep his wealth—”
Lady Rutherford shook her head, her face pale. “I shall not allow you to speak lies about my late husband,” she said, interrupting him. “Your estate was ruined, your wealth gone, and all by your own hand. Why should he assist you further?”
“Because I am his brother!” Lord Timothy shouted, his hands straining against the bonds that held him. “And then he threw me aside, as though he had no brother at all.”
“He gave you an opportunity,” Thomas interrupted angrily. “Lord Rutherford told me everything. That night at the house party, when I realized what a fool I had been to be manipulated so, Lord Rutherford explained the truth of what was between you. There was a chance for you to recover yourself, but you had thrown it aside long ago.”
Lord Timothy did not say anything to this. Rather, he subsided back into his chair and Thomas turned away, unable to look the man in the face. Lord Timothy had denied nothing but had, in fact, done all he could to blame the man he had killed. Whilst he had not yet admitted to it, Thomas was quite certain that it was as Lady Rutherford had always suspected—her husband had been taken by someone else’s hand, and that person was Lord Timothy. Breathing hard, he let his hands curl into fists before glancing first at Lady Fortescue, who was standing close to Lord Warwick, and then at Lady Rutherford. She was standing still, watching Lord Timothy carefully. Wanting to comfort her as best he could and feeling his own anger begin to fade, Thomas walked toward her and held out his hand.
Lady Rutherford glanced at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears as she reached for him. Her fingers were cold, making him shiver as he held her hand tightly. There was so much in this moment and yet so little proven. Lord Timothy only had to admit to what they knew he had done, and Lady Rutherford would find the conclusion she had been searching for all these years.
Taking a deep breath, Thomas turned back to Lord Timothy, who was now sitting sullenly, his eyes fixed to the floor and his head lowered.
“Lord Morton discovered what you had done, had he not?”
It was something of a gamble, for Thomas had no proof that Lord Morton had not died of a mere accident, but he was quite certain that it was so. In these last days, he had approached Lord Kingston and spoken to him directly and, together, they had come to a dreadful conclusion.
“He was present at the house party, he knew precisely what you were,” Thomas continued as Lord Timothy glowered at him. “I believe I even spoke to him after the event, for he was the only one sympathetic to my own struggles.” Glancing toward Lady Rutherford, he gave her a small shrug. “Mayhap Lord Morton already considered the situation and wondered whether or not Lord Rutherford’s death was all it seemed.” Taking in a deep breath, he returned his gaze to Lord Timothy. “I think that Lord Morton was a wise gentleman. He considered it all and, believing that you had done a great wrong, began to be concerned for Lady Rutherford and her son.” Seeing how Lord Timothy flinched, Thomas felt his hope lift, his determination growing. “Tell me, Lord Timothy. Did he write to you? Tell you what he believed?”
Lord Timothy looked away, his jaw working furiously.
“You began to worry about what he had said,” Thomas continued, his voice now filled with the authority of someone who knew they were correct in all that they had said, even though, as yet, there was no proof of it. “Fearing the worst, you made certain that he could not speak of it to anyone, leaving Lady Morton without a husband and her children without a father.” Taking a step forward, he pointed angrily at Lord Timothy, who still would not look at him. “And that, Lord Timothy, was the second time you had taken another’s life.”
“He should not have become involved.”
The fury in Lord Timothy’s voice as he swung his head around and practically spat his words back at Thomas could be felt by everyone in the room. Lady Rutherford gasped, one hand at her heart as she realized what Lord Timothy had just admitted to. No one spoke, no one moved as the color slowly began to drain from Lord Timothy’s face. He shrank back in his chair, his eyes now fixed to Thomas’ face as he strained against the bonds that held him there, suddenly appearing very afraid indeed.
“So,” Lord Warwick murmured as the shock continued to descend on all of them. “It is true. You killed your brother in the hope of gaining the title, the wealth, and the property that came with it, simply out of sheer jealousy that he would not give you what you asked.”
“And when you heard that Lady Rutherford was with child, your plans were thrown asunder,” Lady Fortescue added, coming to stand next to Lord Warwick. “You have been unable to reach the child, since he has been kept safe with his mother at the estate.”
Thomas nodded, seeing Lord Timothy close his eyes, evidently now fully aware that he could not escape from his own admission.
“You have friends here in London who do not despise you as much as I,” he said darkly, “and they wrote to inform you that Lady Rutherford was present here in London. Thus, you made plans to return, in the hope of discovering where her son might be and returning to the same friendships and acquaintances you had used before in order to secure an acquaintance with her.”
Lady Rutherford’s voice shook. “You were to kill my son this night,” she said hoarsely. “Your intentions were to gain the title, and only my son stood in your way.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “You are despicable.”
“I did what I had to,” Lord Timothy hissed, although he did not raise his eyes to the lady’s. “My brother deserved his death for his cruelty toward me. And any son of his did not deserve the title, given that he will turn out much like his father.”
Shaking her head, Lady Rutherford lifted her chin, glaring at Lord Timothy and exhibiting such strength that Thomas found himself quite in awe of her.
“My son shall be like his father, yes.” Her words were full of conviction and bursting with a mother’s pride. “He shall be wise in his judgments, careful in his considerations, and generous in spirit, just as Lord Rutherford was to you. You have shown nothing but ungratefulness, which, in turn, has led you to the darkest of places.” Her eyes closed for a moment and she drew in a long breath but did not stop. “You poisoned my husband and took Lord Morton’s life also—and now you came to seek my son. But you have failed, Lord Timothy. You have failed utterly, and I swear to you now that you shall never succeed. The title will never be yours. What you have made of this life is entirely of your own doing and the consequences that will come upon you have been brought about by your own hands.” She took a step closer to Lord Timothy and bent her head just a little, looking down at him without flinching. When she spoke, her voice was soft, her frame no longer stiff with tension and no trace of anger in her words.
“I am free of it all now, free of you.” The swell of relief was evident in her voice and Thomas felt his heart aching with both happiness and sorrow. Whilst he was very glad indeed that what Lady Rutherford had been searching for had finally met its conclusion, the pain that must now fill her in knowing what had been done could not be underestimated.
“I shall no longer give you any thought,” she continued quietly. “I shall return to my son. I shall tell him about his father and, when he is old enough, I shall tell him about you. And there will be knowledge of it throughout our family line, for the years and decades to follow. You will not be forgotten, Lord Timothy, but it shall not be for the reasons you might hope.”
Lord Timothy said nothing. His head sank forward, his shoulders slumped as every modicum of strength and determination to prove himself right left him.
“I should return to my guests.” Lady Rutherford turned and took Thomas’ hand in her own, looking into his eyes for a long moment. And then, the corners of her mouth lifted, her eyes sparkling with tears as she leaned forward to
press her lips to his cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered, before departing from the room.
Epilogue
Three Days Later
“What has happened to Lord Timothy?”
Lord Warwick cleared his throat and glanced toward Lord Farrington, who nodded.
“Lord Kingston came forward and sought to accompany Lord Timothy to a place far from England’s shores,” he said as Josephine nodded gravely. “Lord Timothy will not return here again. There is nothing more you need fear from him.”
Letting out a long breath and feeling the final strain depart from her, Josephine closed her eyes and let relief fill her.
“And you are to remain in London for a short time still?”
Josephine smiled at Lord Warwick. “I am,” she said. “My first thought was to rush to Henry, to make my way to his side, but then I forced myself to reconsider. He is quite contented with my aunt and very much enjoying his time with her. I do not want to alarm him in any way and thus, I have decided to remain for a few weeks more.” Her head tilted to one side and she looked at Lord Warwick with a steady gaze. “Besides which, I must be present to support Lady Fortescue in her present circumstances.”
Lord Warwick nodded, no expression of guilt flickering through his features. “She will need you, Lady Rutherford,” he said quietly. “I should like to take this moment to assure you that there has been no impropriety between us, however. Whilst she now has her year of mourning ahead of her, I have every intention of waiting until that is at an end before I propose.” Spreading his hands, he shrugged. “My heart is filled with none but her, Lady Rutherford. I can do nothing else but wait for her.”
“Then I must express my admiration for you, Lord Warwick,” Josephine replied gently. “It is not every gentleman who would behave so.”
“If that is meant to provoke me, then I can assure you that I shall not refute a single word,” Lord Farrington replied with a grin, lifting one eyebrow as he looked at her from where he sat. “But whilst I might not have behaved so in the past, I can assure you that I intend to do all I can to act as a proper gentleman ought, Lady Rutherford.” His grin began to fade as a look of seriousness came into his eyes. “Especially when it comes to you.”
There was a tense silence for a few moments and Josephine felt her heart beginning to pound furiously, unable to pull her eyes away from Lord Farrington and wondering at this strange sensation that had begun to flurry through her heart.
“I think I should depart,” Lord Warwick interrupted, his jolly voice crashing hard against the strange tension that now flooded the room. “Good afternoon, Lady Rutherford. I am glad that all is behind you now.”
Josephine gathered herself quickly, rising to her feet in order to bid Lord Warwick farewell. “I thank you for all you have done,” she said, pressing his hand for a moment. “I am very grateful, truly.”
Smiling, Lord Warwick bent his head. “But of course,” he said, before turning on his heel and making his way from the room without another word.
Josephine swallowed hard, aware of the sudden strain that had taken a hold of her.
“Lady Rutherford?”
Lord Farrington had risen too, she realized, turning to face him with what she hoped was a warm smile.
“Yes?”
He smiled at her, his eyes warm as he held out both hands. On instinct, Josephine took them at once, before she had quite realized what she was doing, and, as their fingers met, heat spiraled up from within her core, making her blush furiously.
“I do hope that your mind is settled now,” Lord Farrington murmured as she dropped her gaze, finding his nearness a little too overpowering. “It has been a great ordeal for you, and I am in awe of your courage and fortitude through it all.”
With an effort, Josephine returned his gaze. “Does this mean that you have forgiven me for what I chose to do?” she asked, and Lord Farrington chuckled. “You know I shall not apologize for it.”
“There is no need for you to do so,” he replied at once, dropping his hand from hers so that he might reach up and brush her cheek. “Whilst I held a great deal of fury within my heart, I realize now that had you not done so, I would have continued along that wretched path and mayhap never put to rest all the demons that snapped at my heels for so long.” His hand lingered at her cheek and Josephine caught her breath, her eyes closing for a moment as she tried to take a hold of all that she was feeling.
And then, Lord Farrington cleared his throat, dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back. Josephine’s eyes flew open.
“You must forgive me, Lady Rutherford,” he said, rather gruffly. “I am taking liberties where I should not. It is only that…” His brow furrowed and, after a moment, he looked away, clearly struggling to find the words he required. “I find that I am very drawn to you,” he said quietly. “I should not like to bring our acquaintance to an end. Rather, I should like to develop it further, if that is something that you would…” Closing his eyes tightly, Lord Farrington shook his head, a look of frustration playing about his mouth. It seemed he had not managed to find the correct words to speak.
“You have proven yourself to me, Lord Farrington,” Josephine replied as Lord Farrington opened his eyes to look at her, a hint of desperation flickering in his grey orbs. “We were very far from each other at the first and now I owe you a great deal indeed.”
“You owe me nothing,” Lord Farrington replied firmly. “And therefore, when I ask you if you wish to continue our acquaintance—no, to further our acquaintance—I do not want you to feel any requirement to accept. But if I am to be truthful, Lady Rutherford, there is an affection for you within my heart. An affection that I have yet to take a full grasp of, for such an emotion has never entered my heart before, but I can promise you that it is growing steadily, to the point that the thought of departing from you, never to be in a close acquaintance with you again, brings me such great and tumultuous pain that I can barely breathe because of it.”
Blinking in surprise at this speech, Josephine took a few moments to allow Lord Farrington’s words to wash over her. “I—I have not had a great deal of time to consider my own heart,” she answered slowly, “but I assure you that I feel no requirement to accept.” In an instant, Lord Farrington’s head lowered and his eyes became downcast, although he made no remark or comment.
“However,” Josephine continued softly, feeling a swell of excitement catch her breath, “that does not mean that I am not inclined to accept, Lord Farrington.” Her heart hammered furiously as Lord Farrington lifted his head and looked at her again, his eyes a little wide as a look of astonishment wrapped over his features.
“I believe I have the very same affection also,” Josephine found herself saying, speaking more openly to him than she had ever intended. “An affection which, if it is nourished and encouraged, will, I am sure, turn into something all the greater.”
Swallowing hard, Lord Farrington looked away for a moment and then came toward her, his hands finding hers again. “It will turn to love,” he said, his eyes searching her face. “You are certain, Josephine? You do not feel an obligation toward me? For I am sure that if I—”
Before she knew what she was doing, Josephine found herself standing on tiptoe, her mouth pressed against Lord Farrington’s for just a moment before she broke the kiss, another blush infusing her cheeks as she did so. She could barely lift her head to look at him, feeling almost embarrassed that she had been so bold, only for Lord Farrington to tip up her chin with a gentle finger. The delight in his eyes made her laugh softly as he pulled her close all over again, sharing with her in this new and wondrous moment.
“I should very much like to introduce you to Henry,” Josephine whispered as Lord Farrington released her. “Should you wish to meet him?”
“Very much,” Lord Farrington replied fervently. “I should like to share every part of your life, Josephine. I am only grateful that you have enough trust in me to permit even this.”
Josephine smiled, her heart finally free of her struggles, her doubts, and her fears and filled instead with a joy and a contentment that seemed to lift her spirits to a greater height than she had ever experienced before.
“You have earned my trust,” she told him, pressing one hand against his heart. “A bond has been formed between us—a bond of strength and of love that, I believe, shall never be broken.”
Lucinda’s Freedom
London Temptations Book Four
Lucinda’s Freedom
Text Copyright © 2020 by Joyce Alec
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2020
Publisher
Love Light Faith, LLC
400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311
1
“Lucinda!”
Closing her eyes, Lucinda put out one hand and rested heavily on the dressing table for a moment. The fact that she could hear her father shouting for her when he was, no doubt, at the bottom of the staircase and she in her bedchamber was testament to the fact that she had upset him in some way.