by Lucy Adams
“And so you led me a merry chase,” Robert interrupted, seeing the knife slip a little lower on Miss Hemmingway’s neck as the man lost his concentration as he focused all of his attention onto Robert. “You have involved others, so that you could step back and watch it all from a distance.”
The man grinned horribly. “The emblem was meant to distract you and it did precisely that,” he said, slowly. “That gave me such satisfaction that I –”
“You had Taylor shoot through Lord Watt’s window,” Robert interrupted, seeing the man start visibly at the mention of Taylor’s name. “Why did you do so? Because you had seen me enter?” He watched the fellow frown but continued to ask his questions. “What if I had not been the one to look into what had occurred?”
The man shrugged, although his brows still remained furrowed. “Then I would have done something else, or something more, until you were involved in some way,” he answered, his words spiked with hatred. “It had to be you, Lord Franks. I had to see you chasing this, pursuing this, so that I might be the one to watch you fail time and again.” He chuckled and Robert felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “And you did fail, did you not?”
Robert did not answer, his jaw working furiously.
“You failed in protecting Lord Millerton,” the man continued, with a smirk. “You left him in the carriage, thinking that I was there to help you. What a fool you were!” He laughed harshly and it was all Robert could do to keep himself in his seat, seeing how Miss Hemmingway closed her eyes, clearly trying to keep her composure. “I took the box that you had stolen from Lord Hamilton. I removed the contents.” His lip curled. “Lord Hamilton made a grievous mistake in leaving both the notes and the handkerchief in that box. Thankfully, Taylor’s loyalty is easily bought. He acted swiftly, else my plans might have been thrown into disarray.” Tilting his head, he returned his gaze to Robert. “But they have gone rather smoothly, I would say. And now I have you precisely where I intended you to be, from the very first moment that I planned my revenge.”
“Why?”
Miss Hemmingway’s eyes remained closed, her voice a little wispy but her hands tight on the arms of the chair. Robert saw the man’s gaze dart down to her face, feeling his chest tighten with a fresh anxiety that he might harm Miss Hemmingway without warning.
“Why have you targeted Lord Franks?” Miss Hemmingway asked, softly. “You have had my brother involved in ensuring that Lord Franks saw the emblem on his handkerchief, and then setting the fire at the ball.” Her eyes opened and she looked directly at Robert, her cheeks still pale but a small flicker of determination burning in her eyes. “You have had my brother keep Taylor in his study, so that he is safe from Lord Franks’ investigations. You have kept yourself hidden whilst ensuring that your plans go ahead without difficulty, although you were forced to step in to prevent the box from being discovered. And I presume that you have been the one to bring about Lord Caravel’s death.”
The man said nothing, his jaw working furiously for a moment, his gaze fixed on Robert.
“But you have never once said why you have been so fixed on Lord Franks,” Miss Hemmingway finished, pressing her lips tightly together as she let out a long breath. “What is it he has done to deserve such fury?”
Robert lifted his chin as the man looked back at him directly.
“Put the knife down,” he said, softly. “Miss Hemmingway will not move, I assure you, and I will remain precisely as I am at present.” He held the man’s gaze, willing him to do as he had asked. “I will listen to all that you have to say.”
The man’s lip curled but, much to Robert’s relief, he dropped the knife from Miss Hemmingway’s throat and grabbed her by the arm instead. Miss Hemmingway shuddered and closed her eyes but Robert felt a swell of relief crash over him.
“You do not remember my brother.”
Everything around Robert seemed to still as he took in the man’s face again and remembered how, when he had seen him first at the scene of the carriage accident, there had been a flicker of familiarity in his mind. A familiarity that he had not even thought about since then.
“My brother was Baronet Lyford.”
In that one moment, everything became clear. Robert saw the face of the man in front of him begin to merge with a memory from earlier in the summer. A summer where he had discovered that a baronet had been doing all that he could to draw close to a nephew of the King, only to give any information that he learned to those who were less than trustworthy. In fact, they had found out that Baronet Lyford had been given a good deal of money in order to do so, and that he had been more than willing to do whatever was required simply to gain more wealth.
“He is dead. The emblem you struggled to understand, the one that I threw into your path time and again, was the emblem of the Lyford family. My brother’s ring that now rests on my finger holds the very same.”
Nodding slowly, Robert let his gaze flick towards the man’s hand, seeing the ring that he held out to him and seeing the clear emblem there “You are the newly titled Baronet Lyford, then.”
“That does not matter!” the man shouted, his voice filling the room as he suddenly left Miss Hemmingway’s side and began to move towards Robert, his knife held out towards him. “I care nothing for his title, for his wealth or his houses. I care only that you were the one to kill him.”
Robert saw Miss Hemmingway put her hands to her mouth as Lyford stood in front of her, his blade pointed close to Robert’s heart. He felt no fear, however, only a sense of relief that now, everything was finally beginning to fall into place. It all made sense now. Lyford had not come to London to break The King’s League into pieces but rather to find revenge for the death of his brother. A brother who had worked against the Crown and thus had suffered the consequences of his treason.
“If you mean that I did as I have been instructed by the King,” he said, quietly, “then yes, I will admit to finding your brother, discovering the truth of his actions and thereafter bringing him to justice. I did not walk him to the gallows myself.”
Lyford shook his head, his eyes narrowed and angry, his lips in a cruel smile. “He was a fool,” he said, harshly, “but he did not deserve to die. He needed money, he did not have a true hatred for the King.”
Robert shook his head. “That may be the case, but he chose to do what was treasonous,” he said, quietly. “In passing on information about the King’s nephew to those who sought to harm the Crown, he chose treason rather than allegiance.”
Lyford shook his head, air hissing from between his clenched teeth. “You did not know him as I did,” he said, harshly, taking another step forward, the knife clutched in his hand. “I have enjoyed every moment of your suffering. I have watched you fail, watched you make mistakes and enjoyed your struggles.”
Looking up at Lyford, Robert felt his anger begin to burn in the pit of his stomach. “And what of Lord Caravel?” he asked, remembering the horror of seeing Lord Caravel lying in a bed from which he would never rise again. “What happened to him?”
Lyford smiled slowly, as though he knew that this truly broke Robert’s spirit. “Lord Caravel was something of an oversight,” he said, taking his time with each word. “It was not until a few days ago that I discovered he was working alongside you to discover the meaning of the emblem.” He shook his head. “Astor was sent to follow him. It turned out that Lord Caravel had many acquaintances and friends and one of them was able to tell him the meaning of the emblem.”
Robert closed his eyes. “And you knew he could not be permitted to inform me of the meaning of it, for fear that you would be revealed before your plan could be completed.”
“Astor was very swift in how he brought it all to an end,” Lyford said, with a small shrug. “And now, because of his actions, I can finally do as I have intended from the beginning. I will end your life, Lord Franks, just as you ended the life of my brother.”
Robert clamped his hands onto the arms of the chair, his eyes fl
aring wide just as Lyford pulled his arm back, ready to strike. There was nowhere for him to go. He did not have enough time to thrown himself from his chair, for then he would crash into Lyford’s arm and, no doubt, have the blade thrust into his chest. Lifting his legs, he made to kick out at the fellow, hearing Miss Hemmingway scream—only for Lyford to stumble backwards.
Miss Hemmingway had not screamed out of fear but rather, it seemed, out of sheer fury. She had leapt from her chair and was now hanging onto Lyford’s arm, the blade flashing wildly. Lord Monteforte, Lord Millerton and Lord Rushton poured into the room almost at once, just as Robert shot out of his chair and added his strength to that of Miss Hemmingway. Within moments, Lyford was under their complete control, the knife pulled from his hand by Lord Rushton as Miss Hemmingway remained clamped onto his arm, her eyes flashing and her chest heaving with exertion. Screams of fury ripped from Lyford’s mouth but he no longer held any sort of threat.
“We will take him,” Lord Rushton said, as Lord Millerton nodded, pulling Lyford’s arm behind his back. “We heard it all.” A look of admiration was sent towards Miss Hemmingway. “Well done, Miss Hemmingway. Well done indeed.”
Miss Hemmingway slowly let go of Lyford’s arm, stepping back and looking towards Robert with such a look of relief in her eyes that he could not help but go to her, his arms going about her waist as the three gentlemen led a vengeful, bitter Lyford from the room.
“Miss Hemmingway,” he breathed, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes tightly, feeling how she trembled, her hands pressed against his chest. “You are remarkable.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “I was very afraid for you,” she whispered, remaining precisely where she was. “I am so terribly sorry for all that my brother has done.”
Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes and smiled. There was such a feeling of relief, of overwhelming joy that it was all at an end and that both of them were safe and unharmed, that he could barely contain it. “There is nothing for you to apologize for, Miss Hemmingway,” he told her, gently. “Your brother has made some foolish choices and for that, he will have to face the consequences, but there is nothing for you to feel guilty about.”
Miss Hemmingway sniffed but when she looked up at him, her eyes were clear. “What will happen to him?”
Robert shook his head. “I cannot say precisely,” he said, honestly. “There will be consequences but it will not require the worst of punishments.” He felt her sag in relief and reached up to brush his fingers across her cheek. “You are a loving sister but loyal to the King and the Prince Regent. I have never had even a moment of regret when it came to putting my trust in you, Miss Hemmingway.”
“Please.” Her hand reached up and touched his, holding it fast against her cheek. “Will you not call me ‘Carolyn’?”
There was such a look in her eyes that it was all Robert could do not to reach down and kiss her as they stood together in the library. His throat constricted with all that he felt and he opened his mouth to tell her that it would be the greatest delight of his life to be able to call her so, only for the door to open and Lord Monteforte to stride in.
“Do excuse me,” he said, somewhat brusquely, as Miss Hemmingway stepped back out of Robert’s arms, flushing red. “But you are required, Miss Hemmingway. Your brother is desperately afraid for you and I have assured him that I will bring him to you at once so that he can see you are unharmed.”
Miss Hemmingway nodded, throwing a small, wry smile towards Robert, who felt very much as though Lord Monteforte had interrupted what could have been a life-changing moment.
“And my mother?” Miss Hemmingway asked, moving towards Lord Monteforte. “What of her?”
Lord Monteforte chuckled. “She is as entirely unaware of it all, just as she was before,” he said, as Robert began to follow after them both. “And Lady Callander has been searching all over for you—she went to find the powder room and when she returned, she found you absent.”
Miss Hemmingway sighed and shook her head. “I was just returning from the powder room when Lyford caught me,” she said, tightly. “I know that my brother would never have agreed to me being harmed.”
“And I am sorry that we did not watch you as closely as we ought,” Robert added, only for Miss Hemmingway to turn and catch his hand, standing close to him and looking up into his face with bright, shining eyes.
“You did not fail, Lord Franks,” she said firmly, as though she could see into his heart and see the guilt that already lingered there. “This was expected. We knew something was to happen and now all that matters is that it has been brought to a conclusion. Lyford no longer presents a threat, the League is safe and my brother is free from his difficulties—as foolish as he has been.” She smiled and Robert felt his heart lift with happiness. “And that, my dear Lord Franks, is all that matters.”
Epilogue
Carolyn had endured her brother’s profuse apologies multiple times over the last few days, until she had finally managed to explain to him that she was relieved he was unharmed and that, whilst she was still troubled over his actions, she was not about to hold it against him. Lady Hamilton had been in excellent spirits, entirely unaware of all that was going on about her but seemingly delighted that Lord Franks had been evidently very fervent in his regular visits to Carolyn. Carolyn herself found her own heart filling with all manner of affections whenever she even thought of him, which was why, when he asked if she would like to take a carriage ride one sunny afternoon some days after the soiree, she accepted with both pleasure and excited anticipation.
“How are you, Carolyn?”
Just hearing her name on his lips brought her a rush of pleasure, looking into his face and finding her heart quickening at the tender look in his eyes. They were sitting alone in the carriage, for whilst Lady Hamilton had attended with her daughter, she had asked them to stop for a time so that she could speak to a dear friend whom she had seen sitting on a wooden bench a short distance away. Given the time of day—a time when most of the ton would be making calls and taking tea together—Carolyn had wondered if her mother had arranged for such a thing to happen precisely so that Carolyn and Lord Franks could sit alone together for a short while.
“I am contented indeed,” she said, honestly. “My brother has sought my forgiveness on numerous occasions and whilst he will not speak to me about the consequences that have befallen him, I understand that he is willing to accept them without complaint.”
Lord Franks nodded, his gaze honest. “That is true,” he told her. “Your brother has admitted all and eagerly wishes to make amends. Although, I have told him that there is no need to make any particular amends to me.”
“No?” Carolyn’s breath caught as Lord Franks leaned closer, his hand stretching out to take hers. “You mean to say that Miss Swift….?”
“Miss Swift was to be my bride, yes,” he answered, when she could not quite bring herself to finish the sentence. “But I felt nothing particular for her. I was fond of her, perhaps, but that was all. And that in itself is nothing compared to what I have in my heart presently, Carolyn.” His voice had deepened a touch, his hands now holding both of hers tightly. “There has been so much confusion and trouble these last few days but I confess to you now that through it all, my heart has clung to you. It has built up such an affection that I must presume this to be a deep and abiding love for you, Carolyn. I have never experienced such a thing before and yet it has taken such a hold of me that I cannot bear to be without you.”
Carolyn looked into his eyes and saw the love that he spoke of resting in his expression. Her heart swelled and she let out a small, joyous laugh that had her entire countenance practically glowing with happiness.
“Your heart speaks to mine,” she told him, seeing how his lips curved, how his eyes began to rove across her features. “You gave me your trust, Lord Franks, but in doing so, I fear that you have stolen my heart. I do not think it will ever return to me and the truth is,
that I do not wish it to do so.” She moved a little closer, her fingers pressing his. “Lord Franks, you are the only gentleman I have ever known who both knows and values the person that I am,” she said, honestly. “And I have seen the way that you press forward, refusing to give in, unwilling to do anything other than chase the conclusion until you have it captured. Your dedication, your courage and your strength are truly to be admired.” Pulling her hand from his, she reached up to press her hand against his face. “And I cannot help but love you.”
“Then you will marry me, will you not?” The words came from him in a burst, as though he had been waiting for her to finish, desperate to ask her the most profound of questions. There was a slight look of astonishment in his eyes, which was then replaced by a look of desperate longing, which she could not help but satisfy.
“I will,” she told him, leaning forward to press her lips to his in what was their very first kiss.
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Also by Lucy Adams
THE KING’S LEAGUE SERIES
Protecting Lady Esther, Book One
The Viscount’s First Love, Book Two
The Captured Lord, Book Three
Trusting Lady Hemmingway, Book Four
