The Spinster's Guild : A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  Staring at him for a moment, Beatrice gathered her wits about her and lifted her hand towards him, her dance card dangling from the ribbon that was around her wrist. Lord Greaves nodded his thanks and took it carefully, hastily writing his name down for two dances.

  “I do not want to neglect my duties,” he said, as he let the card go. “I look forward to dancing with you this evening, Lady Beatrice.”

  “You are most kind,” she answered, a little breathlessly, before turning around again and making her way towards Lady Smithton, who had positioned herself nearby but not so close as to overhear what Beatrice and Lord Greaves had been saying. Unable to wait for another moment, Beatrice lifted her dance card and, as surreptitiously as she could, let her eyes drift down towards it.

  Lord Greaves had written his name there against the country dance and…the waltz. Her heart skipped a beat. She had not, as yet, had any other gentlemen come to seek her out in order to sign their name, which meant that Lord Greaves had been able to pick from any of the dances he wished. He might have chosen the cotillion or the quadrille, but instead, he had chosen the waltz, which was one of the more intimate dances. Her heart slammed hard into her chest as a dizzying excitement threatened to take a hold of her completely. Was Lord Greaves simply being kind in choosing to dance so? Did he want other gentlemen to see her dancing the waltz with him so that she might then be approached by some of them also? Or was there more to his choices than she might dare to hope?”

  “You appear to be very happy with whatever conversation you had with Lord Greaves,” Lady Smithton remarked, as Beatrice drew near. “I am glad to see you smile so.”

  Beatrice tried to make light of what had been shared between herself and Lord Greaves, wondering if she ought to share with Lady Smithton the truth of what had been said. “He is to call on me tomorrow afternoon,” she said, as Lady Smithton beamed at her. “But it is not for what you might think.”

  Lady Smithton’s smile began to fade, her eyes now beginning to hold a little concern. “No?”

  “No,” Beatrice confirmed, with a wry smile. “Although there is a little hope, Lady Smithton. He chose not the cotillion or the like to dance with me, but rather the waltz.” She laughed as she saw just how quickly the smile of delight reappeared on Lady Smithton’s face. “But there is much to explain.” Beatrice knew that, whether or not Lord Greaves might come to think of her as more than just an acquaintance, she would need Lady Smithton’s company. Lord Greaves was a man of propriety and respectability. He would not even meet with her had she no companion or the like present with her, which meant that Beatrice needed to tell Lady Smithton everything. “I should like to tell you everything, Lady Smithton, if you are willing?”

  “I shall listen very carefully,” Lady Smithton answered, as Beatrice smiled back at her. “Come now. Start from the beginning and do not hold anything back. I want to know it all.”

  Chapter Seven

  Frederick had not quite known what to make of Lady Beatrice last evening. She had shown more tenacity and determination than he had expected, which meant that he himself had been somewhat thrown when she had demanded he involve her in whatever was to come next.

  And yet, there had been something about her that had drawn him to her all the more. The way that she spoke to him, with such fervor and such strength, had made him almost in awe of her courage. She was, of course, behaving in a manner that most young ladies ought to avoid completely, and had he not been so very desperate to find out more about his brother, he would have removed himself from her company and thought her most improper.

  As things stood, however, Frederick found himself considering Lady Beatrice in a new light. The rumors that swirled around London about her would have crushed the spirit of any other young lady but, somehow, Lady Beatrice had managed to find an excellent companion who, in turn, had aided her in her return to society. The way her eyes had flashed when he had demanded that she give him the note without question had caught him off-guard. When she had explained her reasons for her desire to remain involved with his present situation, he had found himself lost in sympathy and compassion, as well as feeling such a great surge of loneliness that he could not quite explain. This was his own matter to deal with, yes, but the realization that he would be facing this mystery entirely on his own had brought a sense of sadness to his heart. He wanted someone to talk to about his fears, wanted to share with someone just what it was he felt. And that someone, it seemed, was to be Lady Beatrice.

  Clearing his throat, Frederick rapped loudly on the front door of the townhouse, which swung open almost at once. Declaring that he was expected by Lady Beatrice, he handed his hat, gloves, and cane to the butler, and then waited expectantly. His heart was beating a little more quickly with the expectation of seeing Lady Beatrice again, but Frederick ignored it with an effort. He could not allow the nudge of interest to develop into anything more. Lady Beatrice was quite lovely, yes, and he found her tenacity to be quite resplendent, but her character was not the sort of character he would require in a wife. He had told himself as much many times before and yet the interest in Lady Beatrice still remained.

  I must set it aside, he told himself as the butler led him through the house towards the drawing-room. The only thing that matters at present is Adlington and his whereabouts in London.

  “Lady Beatrice.” He bowed just as soon as he stepped into the room, catching sight of Lady Beatrice and a companion standing just in front of their chairs. “I thank you for allowing me to call upon you this fine afternoon.”

  “You are most welcome,” Lady Beatrice answered, her voice soft but warm. “I believe you are acquainted with Lord Havisham and Lady Smithton?”

  Frederick looked up in surprise, only just noting Lord Havisham standing to the left of Lady Beatrice. “I am acquainted, yes,” he said quickly, covering his lack of awareness of their presence with another bow. “Good afternoon.”

  “Lady Smithton is my very dear friend, as you might be aware,” Lady Beatrice said, gesturing for him to sit down. “I asked Lord Havisham to join us also, for he has been – in the course of the last few months – doing his own studies on certain matters.” Her eyes twinkled as Frederick frowned, not quite understanding what she meant. “He might know something of importance.”

  Lord Havisham chuckled, getting up to pour both himself and Frederick a brandy, even though Frederick had not asked for one. “What Lady Beatrice is trying to say is that I have been involved in ensuring that specific gentlemen have nothing untoward about them,” he said, thrusting the glass in Frederick’s direction. “Not for Lady Beatrice herself, I might add, but for a few other young ladies who required a little guidance.”

  “And I could not permit Lady Beatrice to meet with you without having a companion present,” Lady Smithton finished, as the door to the drawing-room opened again to admit two maids who carried trays of tea and honey cakes. “You are a gentleman of distinction. I am sure you expected as much.”

  Frederick nodded fervently, aware of how Lady Beatrice smiled at him. “Of course,” he answered, knowing he could say nothing to the contrary. “And Lady Beatrice, might I ask if you have…..?” He left the question unspoken, seeing how Lady Beatrice nodded.

  “I told Lady Smithton of the note I found and your desire to see it,” she told him, plainly. “But nothing more. That is not my place, Lord Greaves, and should you wish to keep such a matter to yourself, I quite understand.”

  Frederick shook his head, glad that Lady Beatrice had shown such discernment but aware that he could not keep such things to himself. “I suppose it would be best to explain things in their entirety,” he answered, aware of how Lady Beatrice nodded. “If you would permit me to hold your attention for a short time, I will explain all.”

  Lady Smithton nodded. “But of course,” she answered, as Lady Beatrice began to pour the tea. “Continue, please.”

  Frederick took in a deep breath and began to explain. He talked about his brother, Adlington,
and how he had behaved very foolishly in the past. Whilst he had hoped that his brother had reformed himself somewhat, it now appeared that it was not the case. The note, he was sure, was a threat and he now feared just what might have occurred with Adlington.

  “I see,” Lady Beatrice breathed, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Good gracious, Lord Greaves, little wonder that you were so determined to move past us in the bookshop?”

  He flushed. “I am sorry if I appeared rude,” he began, only for Lady Beatrice to wave a hand, dismissing his apology.

  “It is quite understandable,” she assured him, her tone gentle. “I am sorry that I was so determined to involve myself, Lord Greaves.” Her expression became a little regretful. “If I had known the significance of –”

  “I am glad you were so determined, Lady Beatrice.” The words left Frederick’s mouth before he could prevent them, his eyes fixed upon the young lady and his heart opening up so that she might see the truth held there. “I have reflected upon your desire to help, aware of what your own reasons for doing so are and have found that I am almost grateful that you have been so eager.” He shrugged, lifting one shoulder half-heartedly. “I have no-one else to turn to,” he said, looking at Lady Smithton with an embarrassed gaze. “I have acquaintances, yes, but I have found myself to be quite alone in this situation. My fears have multiplied in the night and I find myself to be almost breathless with worry as to what might have happened to my brother.”

  Lord Havisham cleared his throat, throwing a quick glance towards Lady Smithton who, Frederick noted, nodded briefly.

  “If you wish it, Lord Greaves, then the three of us present here would be glad to assist you in any way we can,” Lord Havisham said, firmly. “It would not be the first mystery that we have become involved with.”

  Lady Smithton chuckled a little wryly. “That is quite true,” she agreed, softly. “But Lady Beatrice will also be able to help you, Lord Greaves. She has a sharp mind and is very well-read.”

  “And found the note,” Lady Beatrice added, with a self-conscious smile. “I do not know what sort of assistance I might be, Lord Greaves, but I will do what I can if you would wish it.”

  Frederick nodded fervently, feeling himself a little vulnerable but yet not stepping back from such a sensation. To admit that he would much prefer to have company in this difficult time was not something one ought to be ashamed of and he refused to allow himself to feel such a way.

  “I would be very glad of any help that you might give,” he answered, seeing how Lady Beatrice practically beamed at him. “I am sorry that I spoke to you so harshly last evening, Lady Beatrice. It was not intentional.”

  She spread her hands. “You were – and are – deeply upset and fear for your brother’s safety,” she said, without hesitation. “There is nothing to apologize for.” Smiling at him, she waited until he allowed his lips to curve in an answering smile before turning her head to the table to her left. “Now,” she continued, picking up a small book that Frederick had not noticed resting there until this very moment. “Allow me to give you the note, Lord Greaves. We have made very little out of it ourselves, I am afraid.”

  He had to restrain himself not to grab it from her outstretched hand, steeling himself as he took it gently, their fingers brushing. Sitting back down and with a word of thanks on his lips, he unfolded it carefully.

  “Does it mean anything to you, Lord Greaves?” Lady Beatrice asked, sitting forward in her chair in eagerness. “Do you know who might live there?”

  Frederick shook his head, a little disappointed. He had hoped that what was written here might bring a flash of understanding, might score his heart with a sudden awareness of what he was to do next, but there was nothing. All that he could see was the address and nothing more.

  “No, this means nothing to me,” he muttered, filled with disappointment. “Mayhap this is not the correct note.”

  “But there was no other,” Lady Beatrice said, as he looked up at her. “No other note in any of the books. I presume you looked?”

  He nodded, a little surprised with just how observant she had been. She must have recalled that there had been more than one book on the History of London. “I checked each book thoroughly. There was nothing in any of them.”

  “Then this must be the note,” Lady Beatrice said practically. “And recall the gentleman who knocked me over? He must have been the one to put the note there.”

  Frederick nodded slowly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, his eyes on the floor. “That is what I surmised also,” he said, as Lady Smithton reached to pour herself more tea. “And you did not see him?”

  “No, I did not get a clear look at his face,” Lady Beatrice answered, glancing at Lady Smithton, who also shook her head. “But he was coming from that very part of the bookshop.”

  “Then the only thing I must do is to make my way to this address and discover what lies within it,” he said, getting to his feet with a briskness that spoke of absolute determination. “There is no time to waste.”

  Lady Beatrice was on her feet within a moment. “If you will just permit me to collect my shawl, Lord Greaves, I shall be ready within a few moments.”

  “Is your carriage waiting?” Lady Smithton asked, as Lady Beatrice hurried from the room. “Or would you prefer if we took Lord Havisham’s?”

  Frederick stammered for a moment or two, looking from Lord Havisham’s enquiring face to Lady Smithton’s practical smile and realizing that they all had every intention of joining him on his excursion. For whatever reason, he had not expected them all to come trailing after him, had thought that Lady Beatrice might be contented merely to listen to what he had to say about what he had discovered, but that was not to be, it seemed. A small smile curled the corner of his mouth as he saw Lady Beatrice come hurrying back into the room, a shawl about her shoulders and an excited gleam in her hazel eyes. The color in her cheeks and the brightness of her expression made her light up the room, bringing a surge of contentment to Frederick’s heart. A contentment he had not expected to feel given that he was in such a difficult position as this!

  “My carriage is waiting,” he said, directing his words towards Lady Smithton. “I would be glad if you would all join me. And I thank you for your company.” Smiling, he offered Lady Beatrice his arm and was delighted when she accepted it without hesitation. It was the proper thing to do, of course, but Frederick felt his heart lift at her willingness to walk beside him. Suddenly he felt as though he were being supported on every side, no longer having to face a battle alone.

  But there is no need for any sort of affection, he told himself, sternly. Keep your mind and heart fixed on what is at hand. Everything else is mere distraction.

  “Are you quite sure this is the correct address?”

  Frederick frowned as he saw Lady Beatrice scrutinizing the building in front of them. The address they had been given in the note was not in a poor part of London as he had expected, but was in a rather wealthy area, with only a few dark alleys creeping in between the houses.

  “Yes,” he said, slowly, turning his gaze back towards the house before him again. “Yes, this is quite correct.”

  Lady Beatrice looked up at him. “Are you going to enquire who might be within?”

  Frederick gave her a wry smile, glancing behind her towards Lord Havisham. “I have very little choice but to do so, I think,” he said, seeing Lord Havisham give him a barely perceptible nod. “Lord Havisham and I will approach the door. I think it would be best if you and Lady Smithton would wait here.”

  Lady Beatrice frowned and, for a moment, Frederick thought that she would argue with him but, thankfully, she said nothing but moved to stand closer to Lady Smithton.

  A stream of anxious thoughts began to pervade his mind as he climbed the steps, Lord Havisham at his side. Would he find Adlington within? Would he discover him lying dead somewhere? Or would there be a good deal of blood but nothing more? His tension rising, Frederick knocked sharply on the door thr
ee times, before taking a step back and letting out a long, slow breath.

  For some moments, there came no sound from within. Frederick lifted his hand to rap again, only for there to come a scraping sound as what sounded like a heavy, rusty key was turned in the lock.

  Lord Havisham stepped back, his hands clenched into fists in perhaps preparation for what might now greet them. The door swung open slowly, leaving Frederick searching for something within. There was nothing but darkness, no person appearing at the door and no welcoming greeting.

  “Who’s there?” Frederick said, loudly, as he waited for the person to reveal themselves. “Do you have my brother?”

  A strange shuffling noise caught Frederick’s ears and, as he watched, a wizened old man finally stepped into the light. He moved slowly, taking each step carefully and, as Frederick looked into his face, he saw with shock that the man’s eyes were covered with a thick, black cloth, which stretched across both eyes and tied at the back of his balding head.

  “I apologize for the lateness of my arrival,” said the old man, his voice creaking like a rusty door on its hinges. “It does take me some time to answer these days. Not that very many people come calling.” He lifted his head, thick lines grooved into his cheeks and forehead. “Might I ask who you are?”

  Frederick stared at the man, hardly able to find the words to express himself. This was not at all what he had expected. “I – I am Lord Greaves,” he began, looking at Lord Havisham who was, also, staring at the old man. “And Lord Havisham is present also.” Clearing his throat, he began to bow only to remember that the man could not see him do so. “And you might be?”

  The old man laughed, wheezing as he did so. “I am nothing but an old servant to Lord Stratton,” he answered, not moving away from the door. “Lord Stratton knows I have nowhere else to go and with my eyes as bad as they are, I am destined for the poorhouse otherwise.” He shrugged, lifting one thin shoulder. “One of the footmen, Gordon is my eyes at present, although he is below stairs at the moment. I know the house well enough to be able to make my way from place to place without too much difficulty.”