Regency Engagements Box Set

by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  He nodded, reluctantly letting go of her hands. “Of course.”

  “You will be safe?”

  The worry in her voice betrayed the anxiety she must be feeling even though she gave every appearance of confidence.

  “I have been in Lord Hollander’s house before,” he reassured her. “I know where I must go.”

  “Then go.” Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek and pressed her hand to the place where her lips had been for a moment. “Remember that Lady Landerbelt will be waiting within half an hour of our arrival.”

  He nodded. “I will not be late.” Pushing open the hackney door, he quickly jumped to the ground and strode towards the house, attempting to appear as confident as he could.

  Knocking on the door loudly, just as he had already done earlier that day, Anthony waited with bated breath as the door was slowly pulled open. The butler stepped forward, his expression the same, dull, staid face as he always wore.

  “Good evening,” Anthony said, quickly. “I have come to speak to Lord Hollander.”

  The butler inclined his head. “The master has gone out this evening, Lord Fitzpatrick.”

  “I see.” Knowing that this was the case – and knowing that it had been done deliberately so that Lord Hollander would not be at home at the time of Anthony’s visit, Anthony attempted to appear quite put out.

  “I was here this afternoon, if you recall,” he said, seeing the butler nod. “I left a small note of vital importance in Lord Hollander’s study, which was where we met. I must retrieve it at once.”

  The butler inclined his head again and gestured for Anthony to step inside, closing the door smartly behind him. “I shall go to fetch it for you, my lord.”

  Anthony shook his head and held up one hand. “No, indeed you shall not,” he said, forcing authority into his voice. “It deals with particularly sensitive information, and I cannot have anyone reading it but myself.” He held the butler’s gaze steadily, not certain about just how much the man knew about his master’s dealings within the rest of society.

  “I am afraid that Lord Hollander would not allow me to simply allow you entry into his study in order to search for this item,” the butler said firmly, after a few moments. “I would be—”

  “There may be consequences for you, if it were discovered, yes,” Anthony interrupted, waving a hand. “I quite understand. However, I will make it quite clear to you that there will also be consequences for myself if I do not retrieve that note and discover what it is that is required of me this evening.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if the butler knew of what he was talking about. “Do you understand?”

  A minute ticked by with an agonizing slowness. Anthony could see that the butler did, in fact, have some understanding of what Anthony meant but was still quite reluctant to disobey his master and allow Anthony inside.

  “I shall not speak a word of this to anyone,” Anthony reassured him, breaking the dead silence. “The rest of the staff are, I presume, below stairs?”

  The butler nodded slowly, his expression unchanged.

  “Then nothing needs to be shared by either myself or by you,” Anthony finished, praying that this would influence the butler’s decision. “It would be very much appreciated if you could allow me just a few minutes to search for that particular note.”

  Eventually, the butler sighed and nodded, although his eyes still held a good deal of mistrust. “I shall remain with you, of course,” he said, bowing low and then indicating that Anthony should precede him along the hallway. “In fact, I shall aid you with your search, although I shall make every attempt not to read what I find.”

  Anthony nodded, his tension mounting with every step he took. There was always the chance that the butler would, in fact, simply inform Lord Hollander of Anthony’s presence within the house the moment he returned, which would mean that he would be prepared for what was to come. He had to hope that the butler’s fear of Lord Hollander was quite real and that he would, in fact, remain quite silent as to the fact that Anthony had been present.

  This had all been Arabella’s idea, of course. She had suggested that Anthony come to Lord Hollander’s home the afternoon before the ball was to take place, to try and speak to him again about Lord Thompson. He would plead to be allowed to be free of this particular request and, no doubt, Lord Hollander would refuse. It had gone precisely as Arabella had suggested. Lord Hollander had laughed harshly at Anthony’s request, shaking his head as though Anthony was nothing more than a fool. Thereafter had come the continual mocking and the reminder that he was nothing more than a pawn to be used in whatever way Lord Hollander required. Anthony had felt sick to his stomach at the cruelty that had shone through Lord Hollander’s eyes, hating that he had been forced to come back and stand before the gentleman again, as though he were less than a servant.

  But, of course, it had all been a means to an end. Anthony was to return to the study now to find this note which, of course, was not there at all. He had to pray that Arabella would be able to do all that she had suggested, and that Lady Landerbelt would not be tardy when she came by with the carriage. There was still the chance that Lord Hollander could return home unexpectedly also, which sent yet more tension running down Anthony’s back.

  “If you would be as quick as possible, Lord Fitzpatrick, I would be most grateful,” the butler murmured, turning the door handle and allowing Anthony entry into the study. “This is a little untoward, you understand.”

  “I quite understand,” Anthony replied, looking about the room carefully and wondering to himself where he ought to search first when the time came. “The note is small and might easily have been picked up and discarded. I can only pray that it was not put on the fire.”

  “We did not have a fire lit this morning, my lord,” the butler replied, in a somewhat bored voice. “It will not be burned up, have no fear of that.”

  Anthony made a murmur of relief and began to pretend to search. He bent down to look at the floor whilst the butler cast a cursory glance over the desk itself and then some of the other surfaces. Sighing heavily and shaking his head—which was solely for the benefit of the butler—Anthony continued to pretend to search.

  And then, the door knocker sounded.

  The butler stiffened at once.

  Anthony hid a smile.

  “I…do excuse me for a moment,” the butler said stiffly, as the knocker sounded again. “I was not expecting anyone else this evening, but I shall be as quick to return to you as I can.”

  Anthony nodded, making sure his smile was well hidden. “I thank you,” he said, turning away from the butler and wandering around to the fireplace as though to look there. “I may have found it by the time you return.”

  The butler hesitated for a moment, obviously torn between leaving Anthony in the study alone and in answering the front door’s knocks. Glad that the rest of the staff was below stairs and clearly distracted, Anthony waited until the butler had left the room – although he left the door wide open – and until he heard the footsteps echoing away from the study to do what he planned to do next.

  Frantically, he threw himself into searching for what he needed to find. No doubt Lord Hollander was very careful with his correspondence and, perhaps, might have burnt everything. There was always that chance—although Anthony prayed that there might be something incriminating that he could use as leverage to remove Lord Hollander from his back.

  Tugging out the small note from his pocket – the one he had written himself only a few hours before, Anthony thrust it under the desk and then turned his attention back to the room.

  He had to make sure that this place lay as undisturbed as it now appeared. That was one thing he was particularly good at, however, given that he had needed to do such a thing on more than one occasion previously. Often, Lord Hollander had sent him to search for something of note in a gentleman’s study or amongst his private things. Anthony had become rather good at finding the requested item without so much as l
eaving a single thing out of place.

  He used that skill now, putting everything he had into finding the thing that could free him from his torment. Books were pushed aside, papers were lifted. He could hear the quiet murmurs of the butler and Arabella’s voice wafting towards him from the front of the house, smiling to himself that Arabella had managed to distract the butler for so long.

  His mind grew frantic as he continued to search. He could find nothing. Nothing of note, nothing of particular interest. Desperately, Anthony stood in the center of the room, his hands on his hips, as he slowly tuned around and looked at every single thing in the room as though something might suddenly reveal itself to be the answer he was searching for.

  Nothing came to mind.

  Hanging his head, Anthony let out a long breath and felt himself fill with desperation. If he could find nothing of worth now, then what was he to do? There would be no way out. He would have to continue doing as Lord Hollander requested, until the gentleman grew weary of him or until he had done enough to free himself from his demands.

  Shaking his head, Anthony passed one hand over his eyes and let out a long breath. Lord Hollander must have rid himself of all correspondence for fear that it would incriminate him in some way.

  And then, his eyes fell upon a large picture hanging on the wall. The gilding around the frame caught the light – all save for one side near the bottom. The part that a gentleman’s fingers might have touched when it came to pulling the picture aside.

  The voices in the hall were still drifting towards him, leaving Anthony with a fresh hope. Hurrying towards it, he tugged at the corner of the picture and, to his great delight, saw it swing open at once. His mind screamed with joy as he saw a hole cut neatly into the wall and, within it, a stack of carefully bound letters.

  The clang of the front door closing sent a shiver of anxiety down his spine, his fingers clammy as he reached for the sheaf of letters. Pulling the ribbon, he thrust it back inside and then closed the picture back into place. The letters he then pushed into his breast pocket, with the other half being pushed into whatever other pocket he could find. It was with hurried fingers that he ran over his frame, making certain that not a single letter could be found.

  “A-hah!”

  The moment the butler entered the room, Anthony reached down and plucked the small note from the floor beneath Lord Hollander’s desk. “I have found it, it seems.”

  The butler appeared quite harassed now, his expression taut. “You have discovered your note, my lord?” he asked, his tone a little harder than before. “I am glad.”

  “I have indeed,” Anthony replied, holding it up triumphantly and praying that the butler would be so eager to have him gone from the house and that he would not give Anthony a careful look over for fear that a piece of paper would be sticking out from one of his pockets. “I thank you for your willingness and understanding.”

  The butler cleared his throat and stepped aside, stretching out one hand towards the door. “If you are quite ready then, my lord?”

  Anthony went at once, hurrying towards the door without even a moment of hesitation. His heart was thumping so furiously that he feared the butler might hear it and realize that something was amiss. Holding his head high and thankful that he, as a gentleman, was expected to walk in front of the servant rather than behind, Anthony made his way back to where he had first come, his stomach tightening as he reached the door.

  “Again, my very grateful thanks,” he said, as the butler quickly handed him back his hat and gloves. “You have been of a very great help.”

  The butler inclined his head but made no comment, opening the door as though he were just as eager to have Anthony gone from the house as he was to leave it.

  “Good evening,” Anthony said, walking out of the door and into the cool night air. His heart thundering with relief, he strode along the street, looking neither to the left or the right but rather straight ahead. He forced himself to walk at a steady pace, not hurrying so that there could be no suspicion laid on him from anyone who might be watching.

  Rounding the corner, Anthony almost doubled over with relief at the sight of Lady Landerbelt’s carriage. Such was his tension that he was forced to stop for a moment, leaning forward to put his hands on his knees and drag in three long breaths in an attempt to steady himself. The papers in his pocket seemed to burn a hole in his shirt, searing his skin and reminding him of just how valuable they were. Drawing himself up, he let out a long breath and hurried towards the carriage. The door opened for him at once, and he clambered inside.

  Not a moment after he was seated, Lady Landerbelt reached up and rapped on the roof and, immediately, the carriage began to make its way down the cobbled streets.

  “You did wonderfully, Arabella,” Anthony gasped, pressing one hand to his chest in an attempt to slow his swift heartbeat. “Very well done.”

  Arabella, who was seated next to him, reached to take his hand. “I was able to talk to the butler for a good few minutes,” she said lightly, although her lips did not curve into a smile as she spoke. “I told him that I had expected to meet Lord Hollander at his home for he was to accompany me to the ball this evening and ensured I made a very great complaint for some minutes.”

  “You did not give him your name?”

  “No, I did not,” Arabella replied, with a quick smile in Lady Landerbelt’s direction before returning her gaze to Anthony. “How did you fare, Fitzpatrick?”

  With a flourish, Anthony pulled open his coat and tugged out the sheaf of papers, which he promptly placed on Arabella’s lap. He then did the same with the other pockets into which he had placed the letters, until the stack sat entirely on Arabella’s lap.

  “Good gracious,” Arabella breathed, turning to him with shining eyes. “Were they well hidden?”

  “Fairly well,” he replied, settling back against the squabs and looking at her with a smile. “I think there must be something within those letters that we might be able to use.” His smile began to fade. “Else I do not know what else we shall do.”

  “Courage, Lord Fitzpatrick,” Lady Landerbelt said, her eyes holding a good deal more confidence than he felt. “There will be something within these letters, I am quite sure of it. You have both done very well.”

  This brought Anthony a sense of peace and, as he allowed his gaze to rest on his wife once more, found his heart quickening again with the same passion and affection that he had felt before. “I must hope it brings us the happiness we have both long been searching for,” he said, feeling her hand tighten on his as he spoke.

  “I am certain we have found a modicum of it already,” Arabella replied, her voice filled with tenderness. “And I look forward to what is yet to come.”

  Chapter 10

  “You look quite parched!”

  Arabella laughed as she rejoined her sister. “I confess, Lord Fitzpatrick does dance extraordinarily well,” she replied, with a slight twinkle in her eye. “And look, there are already a great number of eyes settling on me.”

  Cecelia rolled her eyes. “That is to be expected, given the rumors that are already circulating about you both,” she replied with a shrug. “But I presume that once this matter is at an end, he will declare the truth about your identity?”

  A slight swirl of anxiety rose in Arabella’s chest. “He will, I am sure of it,” she replied, walking beside her sister to the side of the ballroom so that she could keep a close watch over her husband without making herself too obvious. “I am looking forward to such a time, I confess it.” Without intending to, Arabella felt herself blush furiously, betraying how she was beginning to feel about her husband.

  “I can see that,” Cecelia commented gently, her face wreathed with smiles that seemed to light up her entire expression. “You care for him then?”

  Arabella nodded, seeing no reason to hide the truth from her sister. “I confess that, when I first came to London, I thought that I should never think such a thing. I was so caught up wit
h my anger and loneliness that I never once considered that I would feel anything other than betrayal and sadness. Now, however, I understand why he was forced to say away from my side, and in understanding that, I have found a new sense of happiness and contentment in being in his company.”

  Cecelia pressed her hand. “I am truly happy for you,” she said. “I am glad that it appears to have worked out well, despite the challenges that you have both faced.”

  Arabella caught her sister’s hand before she could let her go. “And you?” she asked, aware of how Cecelia immediately looked away. “You can no longer pretend that there is nothing in your heart for Lord Thompson, Cecelia. I have seen it in your expression when you look at him.”

  Cecelia closed her eyes and sighed heavily, as though admitting such a thing was truly painful. “I have never wanted to feel anything for another gentleman,” she explained, with regret filling her voice. “I have tried my utmost to pretend that I do not feel any affection for Lord Thompson and have told myself, over and over, that it should not be that I am so drawn to him. I did not love my first husband and, as you know, felt forced and coerced into a marriage by our own father—who does not seem to care about either of us now that we are widowed.” She shook her head, her expression tight. “And yet, I cannot pretend that my heart is not pulled towards his.”

  “That is not something to be ashamed of,” Arabella stated, squeezing her sister’s fingers. “I believe that Lord Thompson truly cares for you, Cecelia. He will not be like your first husband, who was old and staid and cared only for your dowry and for your presence on his arm whilst out in public.” Letting go of Cecelia’s hand, she saw the understanding flickering in her eyes. “Give way to what you feel, Cecelia. It may bring you more happiness than you know.”

  Cecelia nodded slowly, appearing quite thoughtful. “I shall think on it,” she said slowly, her expression now a good deal less forlorn. “I think that I have been so scarred by both our father and my late husband that I have decided never to give a gentleman my trust again.”