Trusting Lady Hemmingway: Regency Romance (The King's League Book 4)

by Lucy Adams

  “Tomorrow afternoon?” she repeated, as though this was a little too soon for her liking. Catching a look from Lady Callander, Carolyn made sure to speak with enthusiasm. “I suppose…. well, yes, of course, Lord Franks. That would be more than suitable.”

  “Excellent,” he murmured, finally letting go of her hand and bowing towards Lady Callander so that he might take his leave. Carolyn watched as he quit the room, feeling herself both confused and a little concerned over his strange actions.

  “I thank you, Bridgette,” she muttered, heavily, sinking down into nearby chair and looking at her friend. “Thank you for being here with me this afternoon. I confess, I do not think that went very well at all.”

  Lady Callander pressed her hands to her mouth, her eyes shining as she looked back at Carolyn. “You do not understand, do you?” she whispered, her words muffled behind her hands. “You do not even think of what this might mean!”

  Thoroughly confused, Carolyn stared back at her friend, seeing the light in her expression and wondering at it.

  “Do you not see?” Lady Callander asked, her hands back down at her lap now.” Do you not wonder why he is so eager to speak to your brother?”

  “Because of a gambling debt,” Carolyn said, slowly, looking at her friend and seeing her shake her head. “But that must be so for that is what he said!”

  Lady Callander shook her head, holding Carolyn’s gaze. “And tell me, do you always mean everything you say?”

  Carolyn frowned. “No, I do not,” she admitted, without hesitation. “But what does Lord Franks want?”

  Sighing heavily, as though Carolyn were nothing more than a foolish child who did not understand the ways of the world, Lady Callander attempted to explain.

  “Lord Franks came here with the sole intention of seeing your brother,” she said, firmly. “I do not believe he came to call upon you but rather to call upon your brother.”

  “But my brother wasn’t home.”

  Shrugging, Lady Callander’s smile tipped. “But mayhap he expected him to be. This ‘debt’ that he spoke of I believe is quite false. I think instead that he has other intentions.”

  “Intentions?” Carolyn still remained quite at a loss as to what was being spoken of. “I do not understand.”

  Lady Callander let out a small squeal, her hands pressed tightly to her lips for moment. She took in a long breath, set her shoulders and put her hands in her lap. “I believe that Lord Franks might very well be thinking of something of a more enduring nature when it comes to you, my dear friend.”

  Carolyn did not immediately understand what her friend meant by such a remark, frowning hard only for her eyes to flare wide as a gasp of shock caught her frame. Her hands flew to her mouth as her friend laughed gently, but Carolyn found nothing but shock rippling through her.

  “You cannot mean…..” She could not get the words from her lips, could not find a way to speak of what she believed Lady Callander meant.

  “I am sure he intends to seek your hand in marriage, given his eagerness to speak to your brother,” Lady Callander said, getting up and coming over to embrace Carolyn, who sat frozen in her chair. “What else could explain it?”

  Carolyn swallowed hard, a lump in her throat. “It cannot be that,” she said, hoarsely, as Lady Callander laughed and shook her head. “We are only just acquainted.”

  Lady Callander waved a hand and sat back down in her chair. “But that makes no difference to many gentlemen,” she said, as though Carolyn ought to already be aware of this. “They might find a lady that they deem suitable through only one or two meetings, and then decide to propose,” she said calmly. “If you are from a good family and have a decent dowry then that might be all that Lord Franks requires. He might consider your character to suit him quite adequately and, given that he will require an heir, he cannot perhaps afford to take a good deal of time in such matters.”

  Carolyn closed her eyes tightly, not quite sure what to make of all that was being said. This was more than astonishing, it was quite overwhelming. Yes, she had wanted to have gentlemen calling upon her, walking with her, dancing with her, but she had never once expected a gentleman to want to marry her so quickly!

  You cannot refuse him.

  Those words rang around her mind with such force that it brought an ache to Carolyn’s head. Rubbing at her forehead, she let out a long breath, opened her eyes and looked up at her friend.

  “Then I suppose I must prepare myself for traveling to Scotland,” she said, not revealing to Lady Callander just how fearful that made her. “How very odd that I shall be so far away from all that I know and hold dear.”

  Lady Callander’s smile became compassionate. “But you will have your own home and be mistress of it,” she said, quickly. “There will be more for you there than you could ever have here.”

  Carolyn nodded and tried to smile. “Of course,” she said, trying to force herself to appear cheerful. “You are quite correct, Bridgette. I thank you for your wise counsel.”

  Lady Callander got up out of her chair again to embrace Carolyn once more, clearly aware now that Carolyn had been very much surprised to hear what she had said. “You will be very happy indeed, I am sure of it,” she told Carolyn, who nodded quickly, feeling the lump return to her throat. “Lord Franks is known to have a good character. I am sure you will be quite contented as Lady Franks.”

  “Lady Franks,” Carolyn repeated, finding the name bitter on her tongue and wincing inwardly as she smiled at Lady Callander. “Yes, indeed. I am sure I shall be very contented indeed.”

  Chapter Five

  This was now the second visit he had made to Miss Hemmingway in two days. Taking his leave of her, Robert reflected on how different she had appeared today. Rather than being the bold, forward young lady that he had expected, she had been much more reserved, looking at him with large eyes as though she was waiting for him to say something of great importance.

  Shaking his head to himself, he quickly took his leave and walked smartly through the front door. Miss Hemmingway, he found, was something of a mystery. One moment, she was bold and unexpected, whereas the next, she was quiet and reserved. He could not work out what made the difference and found himself rather irritated that he was spending far too much time thinking of her and allowing his thoughts to run towards her.

  “Ah, there you are.”

  He looked up, seeing Lord Millerton coming towards him, but hurried his steps so that he would round the corner, entirely out of sight of Miss Hemmingway’s home. “Millerton,” he said, greeting the fellow. “Are you prepared?”

  Lord Millerton, who had been eager to help Robert with the next stage of his plan, nodded quickly.

  “How is your shoulder?”

  “Almost recovered completely,” Lord Millerton replied, which Robert was quite certain was not at all the truth. “But I am more than able to provide a distraction.” His eyes lifted towards the house where Robert had just come from. “And you are sure Lord Hamilton is not at home?”

  Robert nodded, wincing inwardly as he remembered just how much of a cake he had made of himself the first time he had called upon Miss Hemmingway. Instead of being focused on Miss Hemmingway, he had allowed himself to become entirely distracted by the thoughts about Lord Hamilton’s whereabouts. On top of this, of course, he had found himself almost a little nervous about calling upon a lady, given that he had not needed to do so for some time and thus had been very poorly prepared for it. His recent engagement—the one that had ended without explanation—had not required him to do a good deal of conversing or the like, for the match had been made without too much effort on his part. He had spoken to his betrothed at length, of course, but there had never been that awkward tension that he had felt with Miss Hemmingway. Thankfully, however, Robert felt as though he had managed to bring things to rights in the end of his first visit and his second visit had been better than the first—even if Miss Hemmingway had been rather quiet.

  “You are sur
e?”

  A trifle irritated, Robert sent a sharp look in Lord Millerton’s direction. The young man was a fairly new addition to The King’s League and whilst he could not blame him for being rather overeager, he certainly did not appreciate being questioned in any way. He had thought this out very carefully indeed, and whilst he would have preferred to make his way to Lord Hamilton’s rooms and searched for the handkerchief there, he knew very well he would have far too much difficulty climbing the staircase and stealing inside the bedroom before returning to the front door again. Therefore, he had decided that a quick search of Lord Hamilton’s study would be the most suitable and feasible thing to do.

  “I am sure Lord Hamilton is absent from the house,” he said, rather pointedly. “Now, if you would…..?” He gestured towards the house, waiting until Lord Millerton had begun to walk towards it, before joining him and painting an expression of grave concern on his face.

  Lord Millerton immediately began to sway, his face stating that he was evidently in quite a good deal of pain.

  “Good gracious!” Robert exclaimed loudly, seeing one or two passers by looking at him. “Are you quite well, Lord Millerton?”

  Lord Millerton let out a loud groan, making it plain that he was not at all well. Looking all about him as though in desperation, Robert led Lord Millerton carefully up the stone steps he himself had only just come away from some minutes ago, rapping smartly on the front door.

  “I do hope you can help me,” he said, the moment the butler opened the door. “I left Miss Hemmingway’s company only a short time ago, but happened to meet my acquaintance, Lord Millerton, who has taken quite ill and—”

  Lord Millerton let out a loud groan, interrupting Robert’s explanation. The butler’s eyes flared wide in surprise but he opened the door a little wider and waved them both inside.

  “I thank you,” Robert muttered, half dragging, half pulling Lord Millerton inside. “He has recently suffered an injury and I fear that he might not be as well recovered as he fears.”

  “Please,” the butler said, hurrying them towards a room that Robert knew to be the parlor. A parlor which, if he had been correct in his observations, was adjacent to Lord Hamilton’s study. “Shall I send for a doctor?”

  Lord Millerton shook his head, whilst hanging onto Robert’s arm. “I am sure that I only need to rest and perhaps drink something,” he said, his voice thin and wispy. “Although might you send someone to fetch Lord Millerton’s carriage? I believe it is just outside Landley’s Bookshop a few streets away.” He saw the flash of recognition in the butler’s eyes and knew that the carriage would be brought without any particular difficulty. “I do not think I can manage to make my way to my townhouse without it.”

  Noting that the butler did not even hesitate but rather hurried to the door, with Robert murmuring a word of thanks. The butler paused to promise not only to have the carriage brought at one but also to have the master’s very best brandy brought in order to revive Lord Millerton somewhat.

  “And pray, do not disturb the household on our account,” he said, firmly. “Pray, do not disturb Miss Hemmingway or Lord Hamilton, if he is at home. I am sure they are busy enough already.”

  The butler nodded, wringing his hands as his eyes landed on Lord Millerton before quitting the room in a hurry.

  “You should go quickly,” Lord Millerton hissed, sitting up straight for a moment. “And do not be long.”

  Robert wanted to tell Lord Millerton that he knew very well what he was doing but there was not any time. Slipping from the room, he looked from the right to the left, seeing no-one about. Wondering what sort of excuse he might make to the butler should he appear and find only Lord Millerton present, Robert did not know, but he could not think of it at present. Quickly, he tried the handle of the room he believed to be the study—having discussed the house with Miss Hemmingway on a prior occasion—and, finding it open, pushed it ajar carefully. Looking inside and half expecting Lord Hamilton inside, he was relieved to find it empty. Slipping inside, he shut the door quickly and took in his surroundings.

  The room was lavishly furnished, with a large overstuffed chair by the fire, with a table and brandy next to it. Near to that sat one of the largest oak desks Robert had ever seen, and a comfortable chair behind it. Bookshelves lined the walls on two sides, with grand paintings and other small ornaments decorating the other walls. Careful not to move anything, Robert stole towards the desk, praying silently that the drawers would not be locked.

  They were not.

  Letting out a long, slow breath of relief, Robert pulled open the top drawer carefully, but immediately felt a swell of disappointment in his chest when it bore nothing of significance. Another quick look over the other drawers only added to that disappointment, leaving him looking around the room wondering if there was anything else he might search through.

  A small flicker caught his eye. What appeared to be a long, thin box sat on one of the bookshelves, pressed against some books and practically hidden from his view, had he not caught sight of the gleaming lock. Hurrying towards it, he picked it up and tried to lift the lid, only to find it locked tight. Gritting his teeth, he looked around the room, half expecting to find a key somewhere but fearing that there was nothing he could do but force the lid open. There was not enough time for him to try and break the lock open by other means, meaning that he had to make a choice as to whether or not he ought to break the box open or take it with him in order to look through the contents at his leisure.

  There was no longer any time for him to consider. The box was thin enough for him to hide under his coat, although he was forced to press his arm tightly by his side in order to keep it well concealed. Clearing his throat, he took in one long breath, set his shoulders and hurried towards the door.

  Opening it carefully, he winced at the slight creak that came from it, looking out quickly before stepping outside.

  “Good gracious!”

  A voice filled with surprise caught him and he turned his head, both astonished and horrified to see Miss Hemmingway standing just to his right, staring at him with wide eyes, her cheeks draining of color.

  “Miss Hemmingway!” he stammered, trying quickly to think of some reasonable explanation as to why he had been in her brother’s study. “You must forgive me. I went to see if the carriage had arrived for Lord Millerton and when I returned, I walked into the wrong room. It is the parlor, I think, which is….this next door?” He looked at her enquiringly, but Miss Hemmingway said nothing, her mouth opening and closing in evident surprise.

  “The carriage is here, my lord.”

  A footman hurried towards him from the front door, perhaps not seeing Miss Hemmingway in his haste. “Might I help Lord Millerton from the room? I think he was brought some brandy and –”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Robert said, hastily, trying his best to put on an appearance of urgency. “I must apologize, Miss Hemmingway, for disturbing you so, but I had no other choice but to return with Lord Millerton, who has been taken very ill indeed. Had I chosen to take my carriage, then I would have, of course, taken him back in that, but I chose to walk here given that it was a fine day.” He stepped aside as the footman and Lord Millerton walked slowly from the parlor, with Lord Millerton leaning heavily on the footman’s arm. “As you can see, he is very tired and weak and I must return him to his house. He has only recently received an injury and I believe he has not yet fully recovered from it.”

  “But…but of course,” Miss Hemmingway murmured, clearly still quite taken aback. “You must do as you see fit.” She hurried after Lord Millerton, leaving Robert to chase after her, the box still tight under his arm. It was somewhat difficult to keep it concealed as he bade Miss Hemmingway good afternoon, thanking her profusely and apologizing for what had occurred, whilst bowing at the same time, but he felt he had managed to do so without too much difficulty.

  He was quite sure that Miss Hemmingway was watching him as he climbed into the carriage, quit
e certain that her eyes were fixed on his back as he stepped inside. He could feel a line of sweat run down his back as he sat down in his seat, keeping his expression one of concern as he leaned forward to speak to Lord Millerton, who was continuing his excellent performance as a gentleman in the greatest of pain.

  Lifting his hand in farewell, Robert did not feel able to remove the box from under his jacket until the carriage had rolled away and the house had faded from sight.

  “You have done very well indeed, Lord Millerton,” he muttered, pulling out the box and setting it on his knees. “I congratulate you on an exemplary performance. If I did not know otherwise, I would have thought you very ill indeed.”

  “I think I have convinced myself a little,” Lord Millerton muttered, his face looking a little pasty as he rubbed one hand over his eyes. “Or mayhap my shoulder is not as well recovered as I first thought.”

  “Perhaps you ought to rest,” Robert replied, frowning hard as he looked at his companion. “After all, you—"

  The carriage suddenly lurched to one side, throwing both Robert and Lord Millerton to the left of the carriage, only for them to be thrown to the other side as the carriage veered to the other side.

  “Good gracious!” Robert exclaimed, as the carriage began to slow. “What caused such a thing?” He rapped on the roof, only for the driver to let out a shout that seemed to reverberate all through the carriage itself. There came another shout, the sound of something thudding hard against the roof of carriage and then a shadow fell down across the window.

  It was the driver.

  “Goodness!” Robert shouted, throwing open the door and thrusting the box at Lord Millerton. “Hold this, if you please!”

  The driver was lying on the ground, groaning aloud, his eyes half closed and one hand pressed against his side. Looking all around, his instincts telling him that all was not well, Robert slowly bent town towards the driver, putting one hand on his shoulder.