She did not know what to do, what to say, or what to believe. It was all too overwhelming, too horrific. Lord Islington, the gentleman in whose arms she had danced only an hour before, was gone. For whatever reason, his life had been taken, and she did not know by whom.
“I should return now,” Lord Bastien murmured, his voice low as he pulled back from her, his hands now on her shoulders as he continued to support her as she stood. “What will you do, Miss Truwin? Should I return you to Lady Landerbelt? Or your mother?”
Andrea blinked rapidly, feeling the strength in his arms as he held her tightly. “I think Lady Landerbelt,” she whispered, aware that her mother would know at once that there was something amiss should she go to her. “Might you help me walk to her?” She did not want to ask him for his help but knew full well that she could not find her way to Lady Landerbelt alone. Her legs would buckle, her minute strength fading in a moment.
“But of course,” he said, with a good deal more gentleness to his tone, as though he realized just how shocked she had been by all of this. “Perhaps a sip of brandy first, however, Miss Truwin. It may help revive you.” His head lowered, his eyes searching her face. “What say you, Miss Truwin?”
Barely able to do anything other than nod, Andrea let him lead her to a chair and gratefully sank down into it. Her world was still spinning, her mind filled with all manner of questions and her heart aching terribly within her.
“Did you care much for him, Miss Truwin?”
She looked up as he handed her a small measure of brandy in a clear glass, seeing now the lines etched into his face and the evident pain that ran about the tight lines of his mouth.
“I know you have been acquainted for almost three weeks, and I must wonder if–”
“Nothing of significance was ever said,” she told him, uncertain as to why this might bring him a little relief. “And had he asked me, Lord Bastien, I do not know what I would have said.” Her voice broke, and she brought the glass to her mouth, drinking a larger gulp than she had intended. A gasp left her as the amber gold ran through her, seeming to light her whole body and chasing away some of the weakness that held her captive.
Lord Bastien did not smile. “Another sip, and then I shall return you,” he said, with a small gesture towards the door. “Your color is already returning, Miss Truwin.”
Not even giving him so much as a nod, Andrea took another sip – smaller this time – and let the brandy warm her again. The room seemed to grow clearer, seemed to sharpen as she took her final sip, feeling a good deal stronger now. Rising carefully, she lifted her chin and made to walk to the door alone, only to stumble and have Lord Bastien catch her arm.
“Mayhap we should walk together,” he said gently, looking down at her as she raised his face to his. “Miss Truwin, I am truly sorry for all that you have endured. I–”
Just as he finished speaking, the door flew open and none other than Lady Hawthorn swept inside. Her face was triumphant, one long finger jutting out towards them and a look of great satisfaction creeping into her expression as she came to a stop only a few steps away from them.
“I have been looking everywhere for you, Andrea!” she exclaimed, as Andrea closed her eyes tightly, feeling a knot tie itself tightly in her stomach as she realized what was coming. “And someone said they saw you walk from the ballroom with Lord Bastien by your side!”
There was a short silence. Andrea felt her face growing hot, her hand tightening on Lord Bastien’s arm as she tried to communicate silently with him that he need not do anything rash, that he need not find himself forced into a corner. Her mother would be easily convinced otherwise, should it be required.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Lord Bastien did not hear nor understand her silent communications, for he cleared his throat, inclined his head – and then put his other hand on top of Andrea’s.
Her world shifted.
“Lady Hawthorn, I am your humble servant and must beg your forgiveness,” Lord Bastien began, with a quick smile in Andrea’s direction; a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “I sought to speak to your daughter alone for a few minutes.”
Lady Hawthorn’s eyes flickered, her smile remaining fixed in place whilst Lord Bastien continued to speak. Andrea wanted him to remain silent, to say nothing and to do nothing, for it was much too difficult to consider a matter such as this when there was a matter of even greater importance to think on.
“I am aware that I should have spoken to Lord Hawthorn first, but my desire has become much too great of late, Lady Hawthorn,” Lord Bastien continued, after taking in a long breath and trying to put a smile on his face. “I have found myself deeply in love with Miss Truwin and could not wait another moment.”
Lady Hawthorn lifted her chin, her eyes filled with evident delight. Andrea’s stomach churned all over again, her head lowering and her eyes dropping from her mother’s face. She knew what was coming, knew that had such a thing occurred only yesterday or even earlier this evening, then she herself would have been overjoyed, but now, after what had happened to Lord Islington, she felt nothing at all.
“I have asked for your daughter to marry me, Lady Hawthorn,” Lord Bastien continued quickly, the words now coming out in a rush as though he was either eager to have them spoken aloud or desperate to force himself to do what he knew was both expected and right. “I cannot have her merely as an acquaintance, Lady Hawthorn, I must have her as my bride.”
“I see,” Lady Hawthorn answered, clasping her hands together as she looked at Andrea. “And has my daughter given you an answer?”
Lord Bastien turned towards Andrea, his eyes searching hers and a slightly serious tone coming into his voice. “Not as yet, Lady Hawthorn,” he answered softly, his hand releasing from where it had sat over hers. “I was just waiting for such a thing when you arrived.”
He is giving you the final decision. Andrea looked up into Lord Bastien’s face and realized what he was doing. He was giving her the final say, giving her the freedom to either accept his hand or refuse it. She was not to be forced into accepting him, for even though her mother was present, she would not gossip about what she had seen. When Lady Hawthorn had stepped inside, Lord Bastien had known precisely what was expected of him and had done so, regardless of what he had felt. Having done so, he now waited for her to either agree with him or refuse him, depending on what she herself felt.
Andrea looked at her mother, seeing how Lady Hawthorn began to frown, the smile fading away. She knew that her mother expected her to accept Lord Bastien but, then again, Lady Hawthorn did not know what had just occurred. Lord Bastien, despite his innocent pleas, might have more to do with Lord Islington’s death than he had said.
And yet…there was something still flickering within her that wanted her to accept him, that wanted her to do all she could to make herself his. He was offering her marriage, the one thing that would tie her to him forever, and Andrea did not think she could refuse him.
Unless, of course, he turned out to be responsible for Lord Islington’s death in which case, she would have every right to break off their engagement.
“Of-of course I have agreed,” she stammered, her throat burning as dust seemed to fill her mouth, making her speech dry and brittle. “Yes, Mama, of course I accept him.”
Lady Hawthorn gasped, clapped her hands together and beamed in delight. “Oh, how wonderful!” she exclaimed, hurrying forward and embracing Andrea, even though she still had her hand under Lord Bastien’s arm. “How truly wonderful, my dear girl! I cannot quite believe that you are to marry an earl!” Letting Andrea go, she stepped back and shook her head, again appearing to struggle against disbelief. “I must tell Lord Hawthorn at once! You are to make an announcement this evening, I hope?”
Andrea was forced to look up a Lord Bastien, who had an uneasy smile on his face. “We do not want to draw everyone’s attention, Lady Hawthorn,” he said carefully, perhaps thinking of the matter with Lord Islington. “But we shall tell a few of
our friends, of course.”
Lady Hawthorn let out a small squeal of evident delight and then hurried to the door. “Only a moment or two more,” she said firmly, although her eyes twinkled like the brightest of stars. “And then you must return to the ball.”
“Where, no doubt, almost everyone will be aware of what has occurred,” Andrea muttered, as the door closed behind her mother. “Lord Bastien, I am truly sorry.” She looked up, seeing him shake his head. “You did not have to do such a thing.”
“But I did,” Lord Bastien replied firmly. “That was precisely what was expected of me, Miss Truwin, and I did as I ought. I have no sense of regret nor do I wish to remove myself from you now.” He placed both hands on her shoulders and looked keenly into her eyes, his face paling just a little. “And now that we are to be wed, there is much I must tell you,” he murmured, making her heart slam into her chest with a sudden sense of fright. “I will be honest with you, Miss Truwin, about everything, and no doubt you will think me either cruel or a very great fool indeed, but I shall not keep anything from you.”
“Do you mean as regards Lord Islington?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Is that what you speak of, Lord Bastien?”
Lord Bastien’s jaw worked furiously, his head dropped, and a small groan issued from his mouth. “I did not lay one finger on Lord Islington, but you will, I fear, believe that I did so once you know all, Miss Truwin.”
Andrea shudder violently, looking into Lord Bastien’s eyes and seeing how he slowly dragged his gaze towards hers.
“I pray that you will find even the smallest flicker of trust within your heart for me,” Lord Bastien whispered, each word an evident agony. “For otherwise I do not know how we can go on.”
Andrea let out her breath slowly, fighting back the horror that threatened to overwhelm her again. This evening had been one shock after another, one terrible moment followed by what should have been a moment of overwhelming joy. Her emotions seemed to war within her, forcing her to put her hand on Lord Bastien’s arm again.
He was beside her in a moment, both needed and not wanted at the very same time. She had no other choice but to give into his strength and take from it what she needed. Walking with her to the door, Lord Bastien remained utterly silent, as though he knew that she needed nothing but quiet in order to arrange the thoughts in her head.
“We must speak tomorrow, Lord Bastien,” Andrea managed to say, just as he opened the door. “So much has occurred that I confess that I cannot seem to think clearly.” Shaking her head, she pressed one hand against her forehead, closing her eyes and dragging in air.
“I will take you to Lady Landerbelt now,” he said, as gently as he could. “And I thank you for not rejecting me at the first, Miss Truwin. Perhaps, through this darkness and fog, we might yet find a contentedness that, at this very moment, seems to elude us entirely.”
“Mayhap,” she whispered, dropping her hand and opening her eyes. “I suppose I can only hope that such a thing might occur, Lord Bastien.” And without so much as giving him a single glance, Andrea lifted her chin, drew in her breath, and walked back out into the passageway, as ready as she could be for all that would come next.
6
“They have arrived, Lord Bastien.”
Jasper closed his eyes and let the air rattle out of him. This was to be the second time he would see Miss Truwin today, but this visit would take a good deal more from him than the first.
Early that morning, Jasper had sent a note to Lord Hawthorn, requesting a few minutes of his time. Of course, Lord Hawthorn had responded at once, telling Jasper to visit just before afternoon calls began. Jasper had gone obediently and had both apologized to Lord Hawthorn for not seeking his permission to propose to Miss Truwin, and then to ask him for his blessing on their marriage.
Lord Hawthorn had been nothing but smiles, evidently delighted that his daughter had managed to make so eligible a match. Jasper had accepted Lord Hawthorn’s congratulations with evident contentment and happiness, even though inwardly, he was alive with despair and distress. Of Miss Truwin, he had seen no sign, for Lord Hawthorn had told him that both his wife and his daughter were resting due to all the excitement of last evening. He had been encouraged to stay, however, until they arose and being required to show both delight and joy at the thought of seeing his betrothed again, Jasper had been given no other choice but to remain at the house for over an hour until Miss Truwin and Lady Hawthorn had been presented. The visit had then been of a short duration, given that Lord Hawthorn had matters of business to consider and that the ladies were required to prepare for this afternoons calls, and that, at least, had brought Jasper some relief. It was only the reminder that Miss Truwin would be calling alongside Lady Landerbelt that had sunk his spirits all over again.
And now he was to see them both. Now he had to hear what had happened to Lord Islington, to relate his part in the matter and to express to them the truth about what he himself had felt as regarded the gentleman. Jasper did not think that either Lady Landerbelt or Miss Truwin herself would be glad to hear what he had to say. Most likely, they would be quite horrified, with Miss Truwin especially stepping back from him. His heart ached as he nodded to his butler, gesturing that the ladies should be welcomed in. This was going to take a good deal of explanation, and he could not be certain of their reactions thereafter.
“Lord Bastien.” Lady Landerbelt’s face was paler than he had ever seen it, her smile not reaching her eyes as it normally did. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Lady Landerbelt,” he murmured, his gaze turning to Miss Truwin as she walked into the room behind her friend. “Thank you both for calling on me this afternoon.”
“But of course,” Miss Truwin murmured, not lifting her eyes to his but keeping them fixed to the floor instead. “You are very kind, Lord Bastien.”
Jasper winced, recalling how almost everyone at the ball last evening had fawned over them both. It had been as he had feared – Lady Hawthorn had not kept the news of her daughter’s sudden engagement to herself. After speaking to her husband, she had told almost everyone she knew, which meant that the ballroom had been abuzz with the news even before they had set foot back into the ballroom. How the beau monde had flattered them! Almost everyone, it seemed, wanted to speak to both himself and his betrothed, almost crushing them in their eagerness to be heard.
Jasper’s cynical mind thought that they wished only for a wedding invitation and nothing more, even though he had been forced to smile as brightly as he could and to thank everyone in the most gracious of terms.
“Please, do be seated,” he said quickly, gesturing to the chairs situated around a small table near the hearth. “I have a small fire going as it is rather cold today.”
“Indeed,” Lady Landerbelt replied, with a small smile. “It certainly does not feel like the height of summer with the cold, dark clouds and the plentiful rain!” She smiled at him, and Jasper struggled to smile back. There were so many questions on his lips, so many wonderings about Lord Islington, that to be speaking of the weather felt incongruous.
“And you, Miss Truwin?” he asked, ringing the bell and then turning to face his bride. “How have you fared since last we spoke?”
Miss Truwin looked back at him steadily, her eyes lifting to his without hesitation. There was a calmness in her gaze that he had not expected, seeing how she looked at him without fright or fear. Her beauty was not diminished, but the vivacity that he had long enjoyed was entirely absent – and Jasper knew that he was the cause of it.
“I am managing very well,” she told him, her voice quiet but still perfectly audible. “My mother is, as you know, utterly delighted.” Her lips tugged into a thin line, her eyes drifting away from his. “She is to call upon some friends this afternoon to begin to discuss the wedding itself.”
“I see,” he murmured, feeling as though someone had kicked him hard in the stomach. This was to be his wedding, he realized, as though it had n
ot quite made sense before. This was to be the day when he would marry Miss Truwin, when she would become Lady Bastien. The thought did not bring any sort of dismay or regret with it, but rather a swift stab of happiness, which was quickly pushed aside. There would be no happiness once Miss Truwin knew the truth. Swallowing hard, he resisted the urge to shove his hands through his hair, searching instead for a little relief by trying to think of what else to say.
“I am glad for this engagement,” Lady Landerbelt interrupted. “But I can tell that there is a great deal of sorrow and struggle and I can well understand that.”
“You said that there were some things you had to explain to me, Lord Bastien,” Miss Truwin said suddenly, sitting forward in her chair and pinning him with a sharp gaze. “I would know of it all now.”
The weight of his anger against Lord Islington began to burn as it rolled onto his shoulders, his eyes closing for a moment as he fought the urge to refrain from doing such a thing.
“And I must inform you of what occurred last evening,” Lady Landerbelt added, as Jasper opened his eyes. “I have told Miss Truwin, of course, but you must also become aware of it.”
Jasper nodded but was interrupted by the arrival of the tea tray. Waiting until the maid had departed, he looked towards Miss Truwin, who had nothing but a stony gaze for him. Was this because of what Lady Landerbelt had told her? Did she now believe him to be just as guilty as ever? His heart sank to his toes, leaving him feeling entirely inadequate when it came to explaining what had occurred.
“Miss Truwin, might I beg of you to pour the tea?” he asked, a little hoarsely. He held her gaze, praying that she would not refuse him, that she would not turn from him when he had not yet had the chance to explain everything.
Thankfully, after a few moments, Miss Truwin’s eyes softened just a touch and she nodded, leaving Lady Landerbelt to speak to Jasper openly.
Regency Engagements Box Set Page 42