by Joyce Alec
“But that is to be expected, is it not?” Mary murmured, a little surprised at Lady Moore’s fervency. “Not every gentleman is seeking such a lady. I am not at all offended if a gentleman does not seek out my attentions.”
“We are very different in that way, I think,” Lady Moore said and laughed, her dark glare immediately dissipating. “But I am only teasing for I must say that I am more than content with the wonderful attentions I receive from so many of the gentlemen who come to call upon me. It is just a shame that I have no intention of marrying any of them!”
Mary, who was not certain what to say at this and was rather surprised at the turn of conversation, managed a smile, putting on a brightness to her voice that she did not feel. “That I can understand, Lady Moore.”
As Lady Moore began to talk about all the gentlemen who had showered lavish gifts upon her, Mary let herself reflect on the lady in front of her. Lady Moore was not a kind creature, it appeared. It was not how Mary remembered her. For when they had been debutantes together, Lady Moore – or Miss Henry, as she had been then – had been grateful for any gentleman’s attention, rather than expecting or demanding such a thing. There was none of that shy appreciation now, it seemed. Instead, Lady Moore expected almost every gentleman in London to be showering her with attention and gifts, which, in a way, Mary could understand. Lady Moore was rich, young, and eligible, which meant she could take her time in choosing her next husband – if she wanted one at all, that was.
“It is such a sadness to hear of Lord Johnston, however,” Lady Moore continued, her eyes now flickering back to Mary with an almost coy look. “I know you were well acquainted with him, my dear, and you must not feel too sorry for him.”
Mary blinked rapidly. “Lord Johnston, Lady Moore?”
“Yes, indeed,” Lady Moore replied heavily. “I was informed this morning that a dead man was found in his study. Do you think he will hang for it?”
A cold hand wrapped over Mary’s throat, making her shudder violently. “Lady Moore,” she said firmly, more than aware that from what Lady Moore had said, she believed Lord Johnston to be the guilty party in this affair. “You have been misinformed, I fear. Lord Johnston is not guilty of any crime.” She dropped her eyes and shook her head, letting out a long, sad breath. “It is just as well that I followed after him to ensure that he was not ill after his sudden weakness at the ball.”
She watched carefully as Lady Moore’s mouth quivered, her eyes narrowing into cold orbs of fury. This was not, she realized, what Lady Moore had expected to hear. As much as she wanted to press the lady, Mary felt herself becoming increasingly aware that she was, perhaps, in a little danger by prolonging her visit here. She had been right to think that Lady Moore was somehow involved with what had happened to Lord Johnston, but just what part she had played in the setup and why she had played any role at all was still unclear.
“My staff must be misinformed then,” Lady Moore murmured, sitting back in her chair whilst her hands gripped the arms of it tightly, her knuckles white with the effort. “I am relieved to hear that he is not in any way involved. I am aware that you both have been in one another’s company very often this last week.”
“Indeed,” Mary replied, trying to put a smile into her voice. “In fact, you will see a notice in the paper tomorrow announcing our engagement.”
Lady Moore blinked rapidly, her eyes glinting with a sudden hint of steel. “My many congratulations,” she replied slowly, without even a hint of delight in her words. “I am sure you will both be very happy together.”
“Thank you,” Mary replied, getting up from her chair and smoothing down her skirts carefully. “You are very kind, and the first to know. I cannot tell you how glad I am that I went to find him after I left the ball last evening, else he might be in something of a difficulty at this present time. It is a blessing that a widow can do such a thing without being seen as quite improper, is it not? I cannot express my joy at knowing Lord Johnston’s innocence is without doubt.”
Lady Moore’s throat worked for a moment, but then she rose to her feet also, a small smile on her face that did not even reach her eyes. “And there is no knowledge of who murdered the man found dead?” she asked softly. “The knife has not been identified? Nor how they managed to enter into Lord Johnston’s house when his staff was all about?”
“I am afraid that I have chosen to leave that sort of thing to Mr. Martin and his associate,” Mary said quickly, feeling her heart thunder in her chest as the urge to leave Lady Moore’s drawing room grew steadily. “After what I saw, I cannot imagine–”
“You saw the dead man?” Lady Moore interrupted, taking a step closer to Mary. “Good gracious, how did you bear it? If it were me, I would have fainted in a moment. I am sure of it.”
Mary smiled, feeling herself stilling completely. “I have a little more gumption than that, it seems,” she replied, without even a hint of malice. “Although thank you for your concern, Lady Moore. I am all right. I assure you that my happiness with Lord Johnston brought a good deal of light into what was a very dark evening. Now, I must leave. I am rather tired and will have to rest if I am to make it to the card party this evening.”
Lady Moore smiled again, although a thoughtful expression now rested in her features. “Card party?”
“Oh, some trifle or other,” Mary replied, with just a wave of her hand. “I am not in any way looking forward to attending, but one must! Thank you again for your kind forgiveness of my rude behavior last evening, Lady Moore, and for your concern for Lord Johnston. I will pass on your congratulations to him. Good day.”
The urge to run from the room was growing with almost every moment and Mary had to force herself to walk slowly and carefully from Lady Moore’s drawing room, as though she had not a care in the world. Her heart hammered in her chest as she did so, her fingers tightening as she clasped them together in front of her. It was if she expected Lady Moore to fly at her, to press a knife into her back as poor old Thomas Copper had been inflicted. Of course, that idea was ridiculous, but Mary could not shake the thought from her mind.
Hurrying out of the door and into the warm summer air gave Mary a chance to catch her breath. Drawing in three long breaths, one after the other, she forced the trembling from her limbs and turned to walk along the street towards the London shops. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she might indulge in a new novel of some kind to take her mind from the horror of last night – as well as what had occurred with Lady Moore only a few moments ago.
Glad that she had only hailed a hackney and had not taken her carriage to visit Lady Moore, Mary continued on her way quietly, letting her spirits lift and her anxiety settle. She had been silly to fear that she might never leave Lady Moore’s drawing room, but as her visit had drawn to a close, Mary knew for certain that the lady was involved in Lord Johnston’s situation. There was very little else to explain her sudden knowledge of what had occurred with Lord Johnston and the dead man. However, Mary had delighted in informing Lady Moore that Lord Johnston was not, as she had believed, to soon be found guilty of murder. That had been the moment she had known the truth for certain—for Lady Moore’s shock had been unmistakable.
Not that this meant she could do anything with that knowledge. She could not speak to Lady Moore directly, not when there might be a potential danger in mind, and certainly not when she could not be sure of what precisely Lady Moore had done. No, she would speak to Lord Johnston and explain what had occurred so that they might work out what to do next, together.
Her lips curved into a smile as she thought of Lord Johnston. He had been so courageous the previous evening, so steady and firm in the face of both horror and distress. He had battled the effects of the laudanum so that he would not give in to it—and that had done him more good than he had realized at the time. When she had offered to stay by his side, to confirm to the Bow Street Runners that he was not at all guilty and could not be guilty of the crime that had taken place in his study, his fir
st thought had been for her. And yet, now that she was to marry him, now that she was to become his wife – something she had always thought she would not like to occur so soon after her first husband’s death – she found herself almost joyful with the idea of it. Lord Johnston was kind, he was strong, and he was caring. What more could one ask for in a husband? He was respectful of her, careful in his speech, and disinclined towards the other nonsensical behaviors of so many of the ton. Truly, she thought to herself, Lord Johnston was going to be a wonderful husband.
She was glad too that she had not told Lady Moore about the dinner party she was to attend that night. Lord Rafael was an acquaintance of Lord Johnston and had subsequently invited them both, although Mary did not think that Lady Moore was also one of the guests. Had she informed Lady Moore of her true intentions that evening, Mary was certain that the lady would have managed to appear alongside them both, invitation or not. Of course, she was not sure of the reason for the lady doing so, but to tell a half-truth had seemed, at the time, to be the right course of action.
Entering a bookshop, Mary let out a long sigh of relief, feeling the coziness and quietness of the shop wrap itself around her, granting her peace of mind for a time. She let herself peruse the books at her leisure, hearing no others come into the shop. The stillness was a boon to her soul, letting her mind clear of all that she had been afraid of.
“Lady Ashton?”
Her stomach dropped to her toes, making her stumble.
“Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you.”
“Lord Masters,” she murmured, a little astonished to see the gentleman who so often was desirous of her company and yet whom she had not heard come into the shop. “Forgive my fright; I did not see you come in.”
He smiled, his small, narrow eyes flickering with a dull light. “I was already within,” he said softly. “It is as though our meeting has been arranged by a higher power, is it not?”
“No, Lord Masters,” she said firmly. “No, it is not arranged by anyone, and certainly not by me. I was simply looking for a new novel to read. Given what has occurred the last few hours, I found myself quite giddy with it all, and hoped that something to read might take my mind from it.”
Lord Masters looked vaguely interested, his hands clasped in front of his prominent stomach. “What news, my dear lady?”
This was the moment to speak the truth, the moment where she had never felt more glorious with the joy of it. “I am to be wed, Lord Masters,” she declared, her voice ringing through the bookshop. “To Lord Johnston. He proposed last evening, and I have accepted. The news will be in the papers tomorrow afternoon.” She felt her heart swell with contentedness and satisfaction, watching Lord Masters’ reaction with a close eye. Her smile was genuine, her hands pressed to her heart as though she were captured by adoration for the man she was to marry.
“Marry?” Lord Masters spluttered, suddenly going a very deep shade of red. “No, Lady Ashton, you cannot do such a thing! I need your—! I mean, I want to–”
“I cannot understand what you mean, Lord Masters,” Mary said, putting on a slightly upset expression. “Are you not truly glad for me? Are you not going to offer me your congratulations?”
For a long moment, Lord Masters looked as though he were about to explode in frustration and anger, right there in the middle of the bookshop. He went first bright red and then puce, his small eyes narrowing all the more as he looked at her. Mary’s stomach began to swirl, her body tightening with a sudden, fierce tension that betrayed a small fear – although a fear of what exactly, she could not say.
“Lady Ashton, I–”
Lord Masters came to a dead stop, taking a single step closer to her. Forcing herself to remain where she was, Mary looked at him directly, thinking that to move back or to show any sort of fright would only give the gentleman a sense of power over her. A power that she had so often rebuffed in the past, when he had been more than desperate to dance with her, to court her, to walk with her. No, she would not accept any more from him, not now. Not when she was no longer alone in this world, not when she had Lord Johnston in her life and in her future.
“I think, Lord Masters, that I will have to wait for your congratulations,” Mary said sternly, as Lord Masters opened his mouth to speak again. “For it seems you are unable to give them to me at this present time, which I must confess disheartens me terribly.” Lord Masters’ gaze flickered, but he lost none of his wrathful look. “Should you wish to apologize to me for your lack of congratulations, then you may do so by letter.” Lifting her chin, she made to walk past him and, for a moment, thought that Lord Masters might remain directly in her path, but to her immense relief, he stepped aside for her to move out of his way.
“Thank you,” she murmured, turning her head away from him and walking straight towards the door of the bookshop, desperate to remove herself from Lord Masters cloying presence.
“Good afternoon, Lady Ashton,” she heard Lord Masters say, his voice floating behind her. “And you say it is Lord Johnston you are engaged to?”
She turned, frustrated. “Yes, Lord Masters, that is correct.” Lifting one eyebrow, she waited for a second or so, expecting him to either apologize or thank her, only for him to remain entirely silent. Irritated with herself, she spun around in a flurry of skirts and pulled open the bookshop door.
“Interesting.”
Lord Masters voice was following her as she left, but Mary was determined not to give him even another moment of her time.
“Very interesting indeed,” he murmured, just as the door closed behind her.
9
“My dear Lady Ashton.”
Mary found herself blushing as Lord Johnston bent over her hand, knowing that the rest of the dinner guests were watching them with knowing glances.
“Good evening, Lord Johnston,” she murmured, as the conversation began to buzz around them again. “I do hope you had a restful morning.”
Lord Johnston chuckled. “Not particularly restful, no, but I was glad to receive your note telling me that you were safely back at home. If only you would have let me go with you.”
The tenderness in his eyes and the concern in his voice had her almost glowing with pleasure. “You are very kind, Lord Johnston, but I was…safe…” She frowned, her words trailing off slowly as her gaze drifted away from him. She suddenly recalled Lady Moore and the uncomfortable way the lady had looked at her. Her morning had not been particularly enjoyable and certainly had not left her feeling safe in any way whatsoever, and she could not hide that truth from Lord Johnston.
“What is it?” he asked, grasping her arm gently and drawing her away from where the rest of the guests stood talking. “Did something frighten you? What did Lady Moore say?”
Closing her eyes for a moment, Mary drew in a steadying breath and forced herself to become calm, her confidence still a little shaken from this morning’s interactions.
“Might we take a short walk about?” she asked, suddenly captured by a sudden fear that she might be overheard, even though Lady Moore was not and could not be present. “Did not Lord Rafael state that the library itself was open to us, should we wish to linger there to await the dinner gong?”
Lord Johnston nodded and offered her his arm at once, immediately understanding her need to find a little more privacy. Of that, she was more than grateful, walking alongside him and finding her strength increasing with almost every moment they walked together.
The hallway itself was quiet, and the open door of the library even quieter, for there was not another living soul within the room whereas, in the hallway, Mary had been able to hear the conversations from the other guests floating from the drawing room down towards her. She let herself relax all the more, trusting that here they would be able to talk in peace.
“Are you quite all right, Lady Ashton?”
Lord Johnston was peering at her with concern, his eyes searching her face – and Mary felt her heart swell within her chest at the tendernes
s and concern in his expression. Her husband, God rest him, had always been kind to her but had never displayed any sort of concern such as this, and she herself had certainly not felt any sort of excitement or anticipation over something as simple as a look, not until this very moment.
“I am all right; thank you, Lord Johnston,” she stammered, turning away from him. “It is just that I wanted to talk of Lady Moore without being overheard. Lady Moore, it seems, was well aware that you were to be found guilty of the death of Thomas Copper, the man dead in your study. How she knew that, I could not tell, although she stated that it was from her staff’s gossip.”
Lord Johnston frowned. “I warned my staff, on pain of terminating their employment, that they were not to speak a word of it to anyone.”
“And that is what I believe has happened,” Mary said firmly. “I do not think that any of your staff have displeased you or disobeyed you in any way, but I rather think that Lady Moore herself might have either been involved with the murder in some way or have simply known that this was about to take place. Either way, she was completely dumbstruck when I told her that all was not as she had heard – that you were not to be found guilty in any sense and that, furthermore, we were engaged.”
Lord Johnston’s expression remained dark. “We must both be wary of her, it seems.”
“I told her that this evening’s entertainment was some card party or other,” Mary admitted, with only the smallest twinge of guilt. “I did not want her to appear at Lord Rafael’s dinner simply to watch us and attempt to attract everyone’s attention. That felt almost dangerous to me. Therefore, I told her that we were to attend some card party or other, although I am sure she will be angry when she discovers that I did not tell her the truth.” She shuddered slightly. “The way she sat there, so poised and elegant and yet with such darkness in her expression frightened me.”
