by Lucy Adams
Her frown deepened. “How can you do so? You do not even know Lord Fitzherbert.”
His smile remained this time. “I do not know him as yet, of course, but I will make sure to do so. Lord Fitzherbert strikes me as the sort of gentleman who is a bit of a fop. He likes the attention of others whilst ensuring that he does not have to commit to anything or anyone in particular.” His smile spread even further as Daisy frowned, seeing no easy way for her to further her acquaintance with Lord Fitzherbert if that was the case. “But he also will have a fondness for wealth, as most gentlemen who like to spend their money do. Therefore, if he discovers that you have a vast dowry, then he will be more inclined to consider you.”
Daisy’s expression darkened. “But I do not have a vast dowry,” she stated, feeling a little irritated by Lord Watt’s understanding of what was a very confusing situation. “So how can I—?”
“Because I will tell him,” Lord Watt interrupted, as though she ought to have expected such a thing. “I will ensure to become acquainted with him, and thereafter, will inform him that I am acquainted with your family and that I have become aware of the vast dowry that you carry with you. That should entice him a little further, Miss Williams.”
The thought turned her stomach, and she grimaced, even though she was forced to admit that there was no flaw to Lord Watt’s plan.
“The only thing that concerns me,” Lord Watt continued, a touch more quietly, “is that if Lord Fitzherbert is the man responsible for your father’s death, then he will be less inclined to court you for fear that you might discover the truth.”
“He has not seemed to do so thus far,” Daisy murmured, seeing the flicker of concern on his face. “But I suppose that such a thing will only be discovered if we attempt it.”
Lord Watt smiled and nodded. “Indeed,” he said, the worry gone from his expression in a moment. “Then it seems we have a plan, Miss Williams.”
“We do.” She looked into his eyes, and in that moment, it felt as though the years had rolled back and left them back where they had once been. As though they were together sharing that same affection and regard for each other, that it had not been forgotten and left behind in the dark.
And then, Lord Watt stood up and moved away from her, dashing the moment to the ground.
“I should depart,” he said, with a small bow in her direction. “You will be able to make your own way back to the ballroom?”
She nodded, feeling there to be too much emotion for her to speak.
“Very good,” he murmured, not quite looking at her now as a slight tension seemed to grow between them. “Then I shall make sure to seek you out at some point so that Lord Fitzherbert sees us together. Do you have any space on your dance card?”
Daisy closed her eyes and nodded. There was one dance remaining that she knew Lord Watt could fill, but the thought of being in his arms again made her feel quite overcome with a vast array of emotion.
“Then I shall take it, if I may.”
His voice was soft, not filled with the exuberance and excitement she had heard from him in a time gone by. She nodded again, still mute, and held out her dance card to him, holding her breath as he took it.
She did not let her breath go until he had written his name and stepped away, leaving her to sit there alone, surrounded by the memories of what had once been.
Chapter Eight
To say that it had been a shock to realize that Miss Williams was the person Lord Templeton had asked him to meet, would be something of an understatement. Matthew was still reeling some three days later, even though he should, by now, have sorted out such feelings of astonishment and surprise. It was as though the floor had gone from under his feet and he had fallen into the stormiest sea, forced now to try and keep his head above water.
It was a very strange feeling indeed to know that the lady he had longed for, the lady he had thought to be dead and gone from his world forever, was now, in fact, involved in the very same work as he. The fact that she knew about the League had come as something of a surprise for him, whilst her father had been heavily involved, there was the secrecy that came with such a position. A secret that most gentlemen kept heavily guarded, for fear of what might occur should they give themselves away.
But Lord Templeton trusted her, and that meant a very great deal. It was wise, in one way, to allow her to become involved in this particular affair, for a lady could indeed become closer to a gentleman than another man might be able to, but at the same time there was a good deal of warning ringing around Matthew’s mind. Miss Williams was determined, yes, but there was a good deal of emotion around the situation. Even she had admitted that to him, had she not? She had stated quite clearly that there was a reluctance and a disinclination to draw close to Lord Fitzherbert when he might very well be the gentleman who had killed her father.
And yet, Matthew knew that he would not be able to dissuade her. Her desire to involve herself in this affair would not be easily put out. They were to work together to find the answers that they both needed.
Matthew sighed and readjusted his hat before stepping out of doors and into his carriage. It rolled along almost at once, taking him to Whites and to where he knew both Lord Stevenson and Lord Fitzherbert were already present. A footman at the establishment had sent word, knowing that he would be rewarded favorably for doing so. Matthew, in turn, had notified one or two other gentlemen of the League who, in time, would also descend upon Whites in an attempt to further acquaint themselves with the two gentlemen in question. It had to be done carefully and without any seeming eagerness on Matthew’s part. They had been introduced at the ball some three nights ago, when Miss Williams had ensured that such a thing occurred, but he had said nothing more than a few words of greeting, before excusing himself and allowing Miss Williams to take her turn about the floor with the fellow. The sight of her dancing in Lord Fitzherbert’s arms did not hurt as much as it had once done, given what he now knew of her intentions. That, at the very least, had been a relief. There was, in its place, a slight flicker of hope. Hope that this might, in some way, bring them back together, to a place where he might begin to consider his future. They had been so close to happiness before. Was there even the smallest chance that they might begin to find it again?
Whites was very busy indeed. It was late in the evening, and whilst some gentlemen were kept away by other social engagements, those who were present were busy enjoying a game of cards, coming up with all manner of outrageous bets to write in the betting book, or partaking of what appeared to be one too many brandies. Matthew allowed himself a wry smile. He had to hope that either Lord Stevenson or Lord Fitzherbert would have drank enough to allow them to be perhaps a little more open with their words than they might otherwise be.
“Lord Watt!” A loud voice called his name, and he turned towards it at once, his face splitting with a smile as he saw Lord Fraser beckoning him over. Lord Fraser was a man able to drink a good deal of liquor without it apparently having any sort of effect on him, which came in particularly useful in a situation such as this.
“Lord Fraser,” he grinned, seeing the empty glasses sitting on the table to Lord Fraser’s right. “You have been enjoying yourself, I see.”
“I have,” Lord Fraser answered, without even a hint of slurring to his words. “Lord Fitzherbert and I have enjoyed quite the drink!”
The smile slid from Matthew’s face as he glanced all around in an attempt to find the gentleman. “Where is he?”
Lord Fraser chuckled, his cheeks a little red. “He has gone to recover himself a little. He will be back momentarily.”
Grimacing with the vision that flooded his mind at such a description, Matthew sat down heavily in a chair opposite Lord Fraser and regarded him closely. “Has he said anything?”
“Lord Fitzherbert?” Lord Fraser asked. “No, he has not. I have asked him about where he has been the last few years, but he only said just as would be expected.”
“That he has bee
n on the Grand Tour and has only just returned.”
“Precisely,” Lord Fraser stated, shrugging. “That is all I have managed to wrangle out of him thus far, although he may say more still.”
Matthew nodded, glancing again at the glasses and wondering just how much liquor it would take for Lord Fraser to become incapacitated. “You might try to ask him why he decided to go on the Grand Tour in the first place,” he suggested, as Lord Fraser nodded in agreement. “It was all very swift.”
“I shall,” Lord Fraser agreed, sagely. “And I will ensure that I repeat every word back to you thereafter.”
Having very little doubt that Lord Fraser would be able to do precisely that, Matthew nodded and thrust himself up from his chair, moving out of the way so that Lord Fitzherbert, when he returned, would not see Matthew and Lord Fraser speaking together. Even if he was in his cups, the man might easily become suspicious. Moving across the room, he found himself in a quieter corner and, much to his surprise – and delight – found Lord Stevenson sitting gazing down into the bottom of a large brandy which, evidently, he had chosen not to drink as yet.
This was his opportunity. His chance to further acquaint himself with Lord Stevenson, should the man be at all amiable.
“Might I join you?” he asked as jovially as he could, sitting down in a chair adjacent to Lord Stevenson but still a little away. “There is something of a ruckus going on in the rest of Whites, and I find that my head is already a little painful.”
Lord Stevenson did not look up from where he was nursing his glass of brandy. “If you wish,” he said, in a tone that was not unpleasant but neither was it welcoming. “Please.”
“I thank you,” Matthew murmured, aware that Lord Stevenson did not seem at all inclined to speak to him but knowing that he needed to do something. “You do not enjoy the commotion either, I think.”
Lord Stevenson looked up sharply, his eyes glinting like steel. “I am not aloof, if that is what you are suggesting.”
A little taken aback by the man’s sharp manner, Matthew spread out his hands. “No, not in the least!” he exclaimed, trying to make certain that Lord Stevenson did not think ill of him. “I was merely stating that—”
“It does not matter.” Lord Stevenson’s head lowered and his gaze rested on his glass of brandy again, his brows furrowing low and his expression almost brooding. Matthew frowned, looking away from the gentleman and wondering what he ought to do or say that might make the fellow more amiable. Little wonder that Miss Williams had found it so difficult to have more than the occasional dance with him and with very little conversation at that! The man had a hardness about him that told Matthew it would be very difficult indeed for them to develop any sort of acquaintance.
Had it not been for the noise of the other gentlemen all about them, an uncomfortable silence would have formed between himself and Lord Stevenson. Matthew began to understand why the fellow sat alone – it was tense and awkward sitting here with a fellow who appeared to be so ill-disposed to conversation.
“Might I order you another brandy?” he asked tentatively, even though he knew that Lord Stevenson’s glass was still quite full. “As an apology for any offense caused.” He put a small smile on his face and spread his hands, hopeful that Lord Stevenson would accept.
The gentleman looked up slowly, his brows low over his eyes and his expression almost angry.
“There is no need,” he grated, in a voice that told Matthew he did not like his thoughts to be interrupted. “I have no inclination towards more liquor, given what it does to a fellow.”
Matthew chuckled wryly, trying to keep the conversation going. “I well understand,” he agreed, “given that I, as yet, have had nothing to drink.” He gestured to a footman and ordered a glass of brandy, looking at Lord Stevenson again to see if he wanted another, only for the man to look away. No, it appeared that Matthew’s gesture was not to be accepted.
Just as the footman returned with the glass of brandy for Matthew, the noise in Whites seemed to redouble. Jerking in surprise, Matthew turned to see what the commotion was, only to spot Lord Fitzherbert banging wildly on the table with one hand, his face red and his eyes wild as he roared about some matter or other, with words that were entirely incomprehensible. Matthew caught Lord Fraser’s eye, seeing the man give a slight shrug. Evidently Lord Fitzherbert had drunk far too much and was now quite overcome.
Matthew sighed and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and blowing out a long breath of exasperation. It seemed that Lord Fitzherbert would not be giving them any sort of information on his Grand Tour this evening. At least he could be grateful that Lord Fraser had struck up some sort of acquaintance with the fellow that could be used to further their cause in later days.
“What a fool.”
A little surprised to hear the gruff voice of Lord Stevenson, Matthew opened his eyes and looked directly back at the man, seeing how his eyes were turned towards Lord Fitzherbert and how his expression was filled with nothing but ire. That was an interesting reaction, at the very least, Matthew considered.
“I do not have a good deal of respect for any gentleman who behaves so,” Lord Stevenson muttered darkly, still glaring at Lord Fitzherbert. “He is making quite the fool of himself.”
“Indeed,” Matthew concurred, rolling his eyes. “Somewhat indiscreet, is it not?”
Lord Stevenson’s eyes swiveled towards Matthew, and he watched him closely, as though trying to discover whether or not there was any falseness in Matthew’s statement. Matthew said nothing, keeping his expression calm and merely waiting to see what Lord Stevenson would say. He prayed silently that the man would continue to speak, to say more about Lord Fitzherbert – or about anything, really, so that he might make some sort of inroad into an acquaintance with the fellow.
“Lord Fitzherbert is not a gentleman known for his restraint,” Lord Stevenson said darkly, after a few moments had passed. “I am not inclined to his company.”
Matthew lifted one eyebrow. “You are acquainted with him then?” he asked, with a slight air of interest. “I confess I do not know him at all. Lord Fitzherbert, did you say?” He watched Lord Stevenson’s expression flatten, as though he had said something he had not meant to express.
“Yes,” Lord Stevenson muttered eventually, taking a large mouthful of brandy before continuing. “Yes, we are acquainted. It was some years ago, of course, before I removed to the continent for a time.”
“And you have only just returned then,” Matthew said, as though he had just learned this from Lord Stevenson himself. “And Lord Fitzherbert has only come back from the Grand Tour, I believe.”
Lord Stevenson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were not acquainted with him.”
“I am not,” Matthew answered, quickly. “But I do know of him. One of my acquaintances is sitting with Lord Fitzherbert at this present moment and informed me of his return only some minutes ago, before I came to sit here.” He gestured carelessly towards Lord Fitzherbert, knowing that there were a few gentlemen now sitting with the fellow so that Lord Stevenson would not be able to guess which of them was acquainted with Matthew. Some of them were clearly enjoying the spectacle that Lord Fitzherbert was making of himself, whilst others watched with a glimmer of concern in their eyes.
“A rather odd thing to do, I must confess,” Lord Stevenson murmured, sending a jolt of surprise up Matthew’s spine which he had to fight to hide from his expression. “To go on the Grand Tour when one is already titled, wealthy, and of an age when one ought to marry? It is most unusual.”
Matthew shrugged. “It appears from this evening that Lord Fitzherbert does whatever he wishes, without consideration for what is expected of him,” he stated rather quietly. “And the Grand Tour is something that one might be able to boast about in years to come.”
Lord Stevenson snorted. “It appears you have the measure of Lord Fitzherbert without being acquainted with him, Lord Watt. Yes, he is a gentleman eager to let others know of his t
riumphs, of his wealth, of his many, many supposed talents.” Lifting his glass to his mouth, he took another sip. “He is a gentleman who has no talents, no great amass of wealth, and very little talent in any regard.”
The harshness of Lord Stevenson’s words gave Matthew a very clear understanding of exactly how he felt about Lord Fitzherbert. There was no love lost between them, it seemed. Did Lord Fitzherbert feel the same way about Lord Stevenson? It was a trifle odd, Matthew considered, given that, from what he understood, both Lord Fitzherbert and Lord Stevenson had been friends some years ago, back when Lord Harrogate had been attempting to work out which one of the four was involved with the French.
Of course, he knew he could not reveal such a thing to Lord Stevenson. The man had only just begun to converse, albeit with a hardness that Matthew had not expected, and he could not dare to do anything that might upset the situation. Lord Stevenson was something of a volatile character it seemed, and Matthew had to be careful.
“You are well acquainted with Lord Fitzherbert, might I surmise?” he asked, beckoning the footman over and setting down his now empty glass and holding up two fingers so as to indicate the fellow was to bring back two fresh glasses of brandy. Lord Stevenson looked to be almost finished with his, and he had to hope that this time, the offer of a drink would not be rejected. “You appear to have a very certain opinion of him.”
There was a moment of silence, a moment where Matthew thought Lord Stevenson might descend back into his solitude and quietness all over again, but then Lord Stevenson let out such a loud snort of apparent derision that Matthew jumped visibly.
“Yes, I have a very solid opinion of the man,” Lord Stevenson said, a little louder now that Lord Fitzherbert’s voice was beginning to rise in intensity again. “I was acquainted with him well once.”
“Yes, I believe you said so,” Matthew commented, accepting one glass from the footman and gesturing for him to give the other to Lord Stevenson. Thankfully, Lord Stevenson accepted it without hesitation, although he did not thank Matthew in any way. Matthew smiled inwardly. Lord Stevenson was beginning to speak with a good deal more openness now, and he wanted to ensure that such a conversation continued.
