by Lucy Adams
“Thank you,” she murmured, her fingers pressing his again. He allowed his hand to press hers in return and saw the flickering in her eyes.
“Then, if we are to go ahead with such an arrangement, might I suggest a dinner party?”
Miss Williams dropped Matthew’s hand as he turned his head to see Lord Templeton looking at them both with a small smile on his face.
“A dinner party?” Matthew repeated. “You mean, as the cover for our interrogation of Lord Stevenson?”
“Yes,” Lord Templeton answered, with a wave of his hand. “Yes, precisely that. You should host it, Lord Watt, given that you are acquainted with Lord Stevenson. He will be more likely to attend if he knows that Miss Williams will be present also, I think.” He gave Miss Williams a broad smile, and Matthew had to force himself not to turn his head and look at her again. He needed to keep his thoughts focused.
“Very well, I shall have the invitations sent out today,” he stated, as quickly as he could. “Although I shall have to invite a few ladies and not all of the gentlemen will be from the League.”
Lord Templeton waved a hand. “Do not fret, Lord Watt. Have at least five present – not including yourself – and thereafter find a way to set up a meeting of sorts with Miss Williams, yourself, and the gentlemen of the League being the only ones present.”
Matthew nodded slowly, his mind beginning to race. There was a good deal to think about and very little time in which to do it.
“And you might wish to set up another occasion thereafter,” Lord Templeton continued, his voice catching Matthew’s attention again. “But this time to ensure for Lord Fitzherbert.”
Miss Williams caught her breath. “I could ask Lord Northgate and my sister to have some sort of soiree,” she said quickly. “I am sure that they would invite anyone I wished.”
Matthew held up one hand, his expression tight as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Very well,” he said, knowing that there was no need to argue over Miss Williams’ involvement. “Do as you wish, Miss Williams. I will give you the names of some of the gentlemen in the League – gentlemen you are already acquainted with, of course – so that you might have your sister invite them.” He saw her smile, saw the hard glint in her eye, and felt his spirits buoyed. Miss Williams was more than capable, he knew. He could rely on her. He could trust her. This matter might be over very soon and then…then, mayhap, he could begin to think about her in an entirely new light.
“Capital!” Lord Templeton boomed, startling Matthew. “Then it seems we have a plan. I look forward to being at your dinner party, Lord Watt.” He grinned, and Matthew could not help but smile back. “I am sure it will be very interesting indeed.”
Chapter Eleven
Daisy did not know when she had last been this nervous. The dinner was going very well as far as she could see, even though Lord Stevenson was saying very little. That was not a peculiar thing, of course, for she knew him to be a fairly quiet gentleman, who watched everything but kept most of his thoughts to himself.
“Perhaps we should leave the gentlemen to their port?”
Daisy jerked with a sudden awareness of what she was expected to do now. The ladies were all rising steadily from the table, one after the other, and Daisy quickly followed suit. She could not help but glance at Lord Watt, seeing him sitting at the head of the table with an easy smile on his face, his eyes roving around the room until, finally, they landed on her.
His gaze locked on hers for just a moment, sending her strength, courage, and determination. She took a breath, feeling the butterflies beginning to flutter in her stomach and lifted her chin. She could do this. It was of vital importance that she spoke to Lord Stevenson as she passed to make her way out of the room, but without attracting the attention of the other guests.
Lord Watt had told her that she would have the opportunity to do so and that he would make all the arrangements. As it was, she had to trust him.
Stepping back from her chair, Daisy turned and began to make her way slowly towards the door, walking behind the chairs of the other guests. Lord Stevenson was near the end, and she let her gaze fix on him, seeing how he turned his head to glance at her and feeling the immediate flush of heat to her cheeks. Heat that came from her nervousness, from the knowledge of the part she had to play—and certainly not from any feelings she might have for the man.
“Goodness!”
There came a loud crash from behind her and, despite herself, Daisy turned around to look. A large glass decanter had been dropped to the floor by one of the other gentlemen, where it had shattered. Port was spilling out all over the floor, and most of the other gentlemen were now on their feet, trying to move their chairs out of the way of the glass and the port.
“Lord Stevenson.”
Quickly, Daisy realized that this was, most likely, what Lord Watt had planned so that she might speak privately to Lord Stevenson. Lord Stevenson had been craning his neck to see what had occurred and only now turned his head to look at her, a curiosity still flickering in his eyes.
“Miss Williams?” It was a question more than a greeting, and Daisy seized her opportunity.
“I must speak to you,” she said, in a low voice. “I will be in the library.” She said nothing more but lifted her head and continued on her way, hurrying towards the door whilst footmen, maids, and other staff all rushed to the scene of the shattered decanter, clearly ready to tidy things up. She did not dare glance back at Lord Stevenson for fear that he would see the worry in her face, the anxiety that plagued her. Had she said exactly what she had been told to say? Her heart began to hammer furiously as she moved along the corridor. Most likely, one of the ladies would begin to talk about what had happened with the decanter, and the ladies would discuss it at length until the gentlemen appeared. She did not think that anyone would notice her absence other than her sister, who had been invited along with her. But Lord Watt had assured her that Lady Westbrook, who was due to go into her confinement next week, would keep Susanna distracted and, therefore, entirely unaware that Daisy was absent from the party. All she had to do now was go to the library and wait.
The library was well lit, which was a relief. However, it did not prevent Daisy from feeling practically sick with nerves. This had been a plan of her own making, of course, but she had not given much thought to how she would be feeling about such a responsibility. If Lord Stevenson was the man responsible for her father’s death, then she knew she might be in very great danger. Lord Stevenson could be a spy, could be loyal to another country’s power rather than to the Crown, and she could easily be removed from his sphere if he so wished.
“They will come soon,” she told herself firmly. “You need not worry.” Her breathing quickened regardless, even though she reminded herself constantly that she was not going to be alone, that she was not going to face Lord Stevenson by herself. Closing her eyes as she began to pace up and down in front of the hearth, Daisy let her mind fill with thoughts of Lord Watt.
Her heart began to ache with a renewed desire that she knew, as yet, could not be satisfied. She had tried hard to set her feelings for Lord Watt aside, to force herself to focus on the task at hand rather than what strange emotions his very presence drew up within her, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore. When she pressed his hand, when their fingers had touched, such a fire had roared up within her that she had felt herself burn up completely. How she had longed to step into his arms, to have herself surrounded by his strength! The thought of being close to him again, even though it had been years since she had last done so, was a thought that kept her entrapped and that would not let her go. And yet she had forced herself to push those thoughts away, to keep them from her mind. She could not become distracted, not now, not when there was such severity of circumstance upon them. Once matters had come to an end, once the culprits had been brought to justice, then she might allow herself to think of what might be between them. There was something in his heart for her still, she though
t, her pace slowly decreasing as a small smile caught her lips. She could tell it was so when she looked into his eyes.
“Miss Williams.”
Her breath caught, as she heard her name being whispered from the shadows. Turning, she pressed one hand to her heart to try and calm herself, only to see Lord Watt beckoning to her from the corner of the room.
She had not even heard him enter.
“Lord Watt,” she murmured, her skirts rustling as she hurried towards him. “Is everything quite all right?”
He nodded, his face half hidden in shadow. “The others are to make their way here within the next few minutes,” he told her quietly, his eyes filled with the very same determination that she felt. “I wanted to ensure that you were all right, however.”
A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I am very well,” she told him, not allowing him to see the anxiety that she felt. “I am sure all will go very well indeed.”
Lord Watt smiled briefly, reaching out one hand only to drop it back to his side, as if he had been wanting to take her hand but had quite forgotten how to do so.
Her heart began to ache all over again. “Lord Watt, I—”
“We will have much to discuss later, I am sure,” he interrupted, as though he had not heard her speak. “Speak well and with confidence, knowing that myself and the others are listening to every word.” He sighed softly, looking deeply into her eyes as if there was more that he wanted to say but could not quite bring himself to do it. Instead, he put one hand out and ran his fingers down her cheek delicately.
Her face bloomed with color.
“Extraordinary,” he murmured, so quietly that she struggled to hear him. “Quite extraordinary.”
And then, he was gone, moving back into the shadows and leaving her feeling more alone than before. Forcing herself to put a smile on her lips that she did not feel, Daisy turned to make her way back towards the fireplace, not even hearing the door opening softly and certainly not seeing the other gentlemen who stepped inside. They all found places to hide and shadows to cover them before Daisy had even made her way to the fireplace, and had it not been for her belief that the men of the League did as they promised, Daisy would have felt entirely alone.
“Lord Stevenson.”
The moment the door opened, every single part of Daisy burst to life. She saw him hesitate, then step inside but left the door ajar.
“Miss Williams,” he said gruffly. “This is a little unorthodox.”
She tried to smile but could not quite manage to do so. “I am fully aware that it is not quite within the bounds of propriety,” she answered, trying to inject a sense of lightheartedness into her voice, “but there are some questions I must ask you before I can give you my answer.”
He came closer to her, ambling slowly with his gaze locked upon her own, giving her no chance to look away. “Your answer?”
“To your question of courtship and marriage,” she answered, seeing how he ducked his head at once as she spoke. Had he forgotten he had asked her such a thing? “I have a thought to accept you, Lord Stevenson, but I have one or two questions I must ask you at the first.”
Lord Stevenson cleared his throat gruffly, then wandered to the small table to his right, where he poured himself a large whiskey. The smell of it filled the room almost at once, mingling with the heat and the smoke of the fire. “What is it you wish to ask me, Miss Williams?” he asked, sitting down heavily in a chair and gesturing for her to do the same. “I am a gentleman of wealth, with a good title and excellent family. I have told you that I require a wife and that I find you a suitable candidate. What else is there for you to know?” He appeared almost angry that she had asked him such a thing, but Daisy did not permit his demeanor to affect her in any way.
“It is only that it is very sudden indeed,” she stated, quite calmly. “And given that you do not know me very well at all, I must wonder what it is that you see in me that makes you believe that I am a suitable lady?” She did not sit down as he had asked but took a step closer to him. “Or is it to do with Lord Fitzherbert?”
She heard the slight shake in her voice but held her gaze steady, looking at him and seeing how the glass in his hand began to shake. His eyes widened; his mouth opened, but no sound came from him.
And then, he slammed the glass down hard on the table, sat forward in his chair, and shook one finger at her. “You do not wish to accept me, Miss Williams? Then that is all you need say! There is no need to try and find some sort of explanation, some sort of excuse! All you need do is tell me the truth.” He threw up his hands and made to get out of his chair. “Thinking that I should care a jot about Lord Fitzherbert and what he does.”
Daisy did not move an inch, holding her ground and refusing to allow him to bat away her question so easily. “You know Lord Fitzherbert.”
“What of it?” he exclaimed, now standing up in front of her. “He is a fool and I— ”
“And you are not a fool,” she answered quietly. “Nor am I, Lord Stevenson. I will tell you the truth if you are prepared to listen. And you need only then confirm whether I speak the truth or not.” Watching Lord Stevenson closely, she studied every inch of his features, seeing the slight flicker in his eyes, the tightness of his frame and the angry workings of his jaw. The gentleman was more upset than he was willing to show.
“What is it you believe you know, Miss Williams?” he asked, a slight sneer to his voice. “Do you think that I have fallen in love with you and that is why I wish to steal you from Lord Fitzherbert’s attentions?”
Her chin lifted, and she looked at him until the smirk left his face and until his eyes grew a little downcast. “No,” she answered quietly. “No, I do not think that you are in love with me, Lord Stevenson. Rather, I think you are afraid of Lord Fitzherbert.” She saw him jerk his head up, an angry look in his eyes but held up one hand, ready to calm him again. “I do not mean to say that you are afraid of him out of some sort of weakness in your character but rather that there is a fear in what he might do.” Moving a little closer to him, she saw the suspicion in his eyes. “Lord Stevenson, I am fully aware that my father knew both you, Lord Fitzherbert, and two other gentlemen whom, it seems, are now dead and gone.”
Lord Stevenson stared at her as though she had told him something truly horrific. His mouth opened and closed again, his cheeks a little pale and the anger seeming to leave his eyes.
“He did it then,” he muttered, turning a little away from her and rubbing his forehead. “I did not think he would.”
Daisy’s stomach began to churn as she saw the tormented expression on his face. “Lord Fitzherbert, you mean?” she asked softly. “Was he the one to kill my father?”
Lord Stevenson swallowed hard and sank back down in his chair, his elbows on his knees and his hands in front of his face. He said nothing for some minutes, filling the air with such tension that Daisy could hardly stand it. She wanted to shout at him, to pull him from his thoughts and to force him to answer her but knew she could not do anything of the sort. This was evidently a shock to him, and she had to allow him the time to think through what she had said.
“I am trying to keep you from a gentleman so cruel and calculating that he would do nothing but bring you harm,” Lord Stevenson muttered eventually, his face in his hands. “That is all, Miss Williams.”
“You know I cannot believe that,” Daisy answered swiftly. “There is too much written on your face for it to be so.”
Lord Stevenson let out a loud groan, and Daisy sat back down in her own chair, half wishing that she had poured herself a small whisky before Lord Stevenson had arrived, given how she was now feeling. “Tell me the truth, Lord Stevenson,” she begged, keeping her voice soft. “I must know it.”
Lord Stevenson shook his head, dropping his hands and looking at her with such a tormented expression that Daisy caught her breath.
“You will think me the worst sort of gentleman,” he stated, making Daisy’s heart shudder with a s
udden fright. “But if it will keep you from Lord Fitzherbert then…” He shook his head, letting out another small groan. “Lord Fitzherbert is not the fop or the fool that he appears. It is a game. A ploy. A mask. He likes to keep his true self hidden.”
Daisy nodded, knowing full well that every gentlemen of the League present in the room would be listening carefully too. “He is calculating.”
“Indeed.” A distant look came into Lord Stevenson’s eyes, as though he were remembering the past in great detail. “I thought him once to be a very amiable fellow. There were the four of us then, you see. Lord Greyson, Lord Mallick, Lord Fitzherbert, and myself. We were all foolish then, Miss Williams. We did as we pleased and thought nothing of it. Your father…well, I still remember the day I was introduced to him. Lord Fitzherbert did not take kindly to him for whatever reason, but the rest of us did not mind in the least. We thought him highly respectable and were glad of his company.”
Daisy swallowed hard, feeling tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I see.”
“I do not mean to upset you,” Lord Stevenson said, hastily, looking at her. “I—”
“Please,” Daisy interrupted, waving a hand. “Please, continue, Lord Stevenson.”
He shook his head, running one hand through his hair and making it entirely askew. “One evening, the three of us were to call on Lord Fitzherbert. We arrived and, given that we were such fast friends, felt no need to be announced. We walked into the drawing room to find Lord Fitzherbert with another gentleman.”
“Who was he?” Daisy asked, unable to help herself, but Lord Stevenson merely shrugged.
“I do not know his name,” he said glumly. “I just knew that both he and Lord Fitzherbert were not speaking English when we three arrived.”
Daisy caught her breath, realizing what Lord Stevenson meant. She saw the ashen color in his cheeks, the agony in his eyes.
“He tried to brush it aside,” Lord Stevenson continued, his expression tormented. “But we did not believe him. There was more to this than Lord Fitzherbert wanted to tell us.”
