A Lord Undone: The Spinsters Guild (Book 5)

by Pearson, Rose

  Lady Beatrice stared at Frederick for a moment or two, as though transfixed. They could neither move nor speak it seemed, still caught up in what had almost happened between them.

  “Lord Greaves?”

  Lady Smithton’s footsteps were heard hurrying along the corridor and it was this sound that forced them both to react. With her cheeks now burning a fierce scarlet, Lady Beatrice hurried past Frederick towards the door, pulling it open wide, just as Lady Smithton drew near.

  “Ah, there you both are,” Lady Smithton said, sounding relieved. “Goodness, this room is the only one that seems to have been occupied!”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Frederick agreed, clearing his throat gruffly so as to regain a little composure. “I presume by the fellow downstairs.”

  “The fellow who has now regained consciousness,” Lady Smithton said, as Lady Beatrice threw him a quick glance. “Might you wish to come and speak to him? Lord Havisham said he would wait until you returned.”

  Frederick nodded, his feet already moving towards the door as a thrill of urgency ran through him. “I would,” he said, leaving Lady Beatrice and Lady Smithton to follow. “Let us hope he will be willing to give us some answers.”

  Chapter Ten

  Beatrice hurried after Lord Greaves, her heart in her mouth. Lady Smithton walked alongside her with a grim expression etched into her features, her footsteps quickening along the hallway. Beatrice pressed one hand to her stomach, seeing just how quickly Lord Greaves made his way below stairs and knowing just how important this was to him. She could only pray that he would be able to discover all the answers he required.

  Her face was still a little hot but Beatrice hoped that she could blame that on the way they hurried downstairs. Had Lady Smithton not interrupted them, Beatrice was quite certain that Lord Greaves would have either said something of great importance or would have kissed her. She did not know which one she wanted more, feeling a ball of excitement settle in her stomach. If Lord Greaves had kissed her, Beatrice did not know what she would have done. Most likely, she would have melted into him, unable to stop her feelings from overpowering her better judgement. And if he had said something more, something of great seriousness, she would have felt her heart explode into a thousand pieces, overcome with happiness.

  That was, after all, what she wanted. Beatrice did not even think to hide it from herself any longer, knowing that to be close to Lord Greaves was all that she wished. Their regard for each other had grown steadily and now Beatrice felt her heart begin to fill with him in a way it had never done before.

  “Here,” Lady Smithton murmured, holding Beatrice back. “Wait here, Lady Beatrice. We should let Lord Havisham and Lord Greaves speak to the gentleman.”

  Beatrice nodded, coming to seat herself at the roughhewn kitchen table as Lady Smithton stood just in the doorway. The man, who had clearly now regained consciousness and was in some pain due to his damaged nose, was groaning quietly as he sat in his chair, although Lord Havisham and Lord Greaves had untied him from his bonds.

  “You are not blind,” Lord Greaves said, his voice calm but a hint of anger in his expression. “I see now that such a statement was false.”

  The man groaned again, shaking just a little. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, as Lord Greaves snorted in derision. “I just did as I was told.”

  Beatrice looked up quickly towards Lady Smithton, who returned her look with a raised eyebrow. Perhaps this man would be more willing to speak the truth than Beatrice had first thought.

  “You were told to come into Lord Stratton’s house and pretend to be his blind servant?” Lord Havisham asked, gaining the man’s sole attention. “Is that correct?”

  The man closed his eyes tightly, his face a mask of pain. “I just did as I was told. Although I was not told to pretend to be blind. That was my own doing.” A slight flicker of pride crossed his expression. “Wanted to make sure no-one saw my face.”

  “Doing what you were told?” Lord Havisham repeated. “Someone instructed you to do this?”

  The man shrugged. “Yes. Not that I got what I’m due.”

  A flicker of curiosity swept over Lord Greaves’ face and Beatrice knew that he was thinking the very same as she. If this man had not been given what he had been promised for doing as he had done, then what reason was there for him to keep what he knew from Lord Greaves and Lord Havisham?

  “What was it you were promised?” Lord Greaves asked, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “Money?”

  “ A good deal of money,” the man muttered, looking away from Lord Greaves with a hard expression. “But I ain’t got it yet.”

  Beatrice rose to her feet before she even realized what she was doing. “And if someone were to pay you what you were due,” she said, as the man looked up at her in surprise, evidently having been entirely unaware of her presence thus far. “Then would you be willing to tell us everything?” She did not think that the man would be contented to share what he knew without some sort of recompense, and surely Lord Havisham and Lord Greaves were not the kind of men to beat answers out of someone.

  The man considered for a moment, tilting his head this way and that. His face was a bloodied mess, with the injury to his nose clearly causing him discomfort still.

  “I suppose I would, yes,” he said, glancing from Lord Greaves to Beatrice and back again. “That is, so long as it was exactly what I was promised.”

  “And how much was that?” Lady Smithton asked, clearly now unwilling to remain out of the conversation.

  The man cleared his throat. “Twenty-five pounds.”

  Beatrice shot Lord Greaves a look. It was not a significant sum to Lord Greaves or to herself, she knew, but to this man, it would keep him free from poverty for well over a year.

  “I will make it thirty-five, if you tell me everything,” Lord Greaves said, making the man’s eyes widen as he pulled out the money and set it on the table. “Your actions, I think, are not malicious.”

  “I was just doing what I was told,” the man insisted, almost pleading with Lord Greaves as he spoke. “I need money to live, just like everyone else. And all I had to do was pretend to be blind and come to stay here for a short time. When you arrived, I was to say that a friend of Lord Stratton’s had this for you and that I was to deliver it.”

  Beatrice let out her breath slowly and carefully, trying not to allow her excitement to rise too quickly. There were still a good many questions that required answering but here and now, she began to believe that some of those questions would now be answered.

  The man looked around the room at each person in turn. It was evident to him now that he was in a rather good situation, for with the promise of more money than he had initially been promised, it seemed wise for him to tell them as much as he could. “I don’t know the gentleman’s name,” he said, making Beatrice’s heart plunge to the floor. “But he was a gentleman, like you.” He indicated Lord Greaves. “Tall and thin.”

  “Did you see his face?” Lord Havisham asked, unfolding himself from where he had been leaning against the wall and coming towards the man. “Can you describe him?”

  With a small shake of his head, the man’s expression became almost regretful, as though he were sorry that he could not aid them further. “He always had a thick scarf about his face whenever we spoke and a hat low on his head,” he answered, with a small shrug. “He didn’t want me to know him and I didn’t want to pry. Just so long as I got my money.” Again, there came another shrug. “I got five pounds in advance to make sure I would do as I’d been asked.”

  “And you were meant to get the rest of the money once the note had been delivered?” Beatrice asked, seeing how the man nodded fervently as he began to frown. “Would the gentleman have returned here to give it to you?”

  “No,” the man answered, dragging the man out as he tried to remember what had been said. “No, he wasn’t to come himself,” he said, his eyebrows knotted. “Someone would be sent here with it
. I suppose he wanted to make sure he’d never be seen, just in case someone came back here.” Sighing, he spread his hands. “But they never came back.”

  “And you just stayed here, waiting for your money?”

  “I have nowhere else to go!” the man exclaimed, clearly now a little angry at the question Lord Havisham had asked. “The house here isn’t being used, is it? I was told I could stay here until I got my money and so that’s what I did.”

  Beatrice frowned, something beginning to niggle at her. “But why is the house empty?” she said, thinking aloud and seeing how Lord Havisham and Lord Greaves exchanged a look. “Is this not Lord Stratton’s townhouse? We have heard that he is in London and has become rather ill.”

  The man chuckled, making Beatrice look at him sharply.

  “This is not Lord Stratton’s townhouse,” he said, with a shake of his head. “No, it was Lord Stratton’s townhouse but he has sold it so that he might buy a better one. Not that I know where it is.” He shrugged. “It seems like, whoever bought it hasn’t had the chance to even come and look at the place yet.”

  “How do you know that?” Lord Havisham asked, taking a step or two closer to the man and pointing one long finger at him. “Tell us how you know of such a thing?”

  The man stared at Lord Havisham, the smile fading from his face almost immediately. “I asked the gentleman why he was able to give me this house to stay in for a time,” he stammered, holding both hands up in defense. “That’s what he said. That’s how he knew it would be empty.”

  “And whilst the ton may have known of Lord Stratton’s purchase, they have not found it to be of any particular interest and so have passed over such news in favor of other, more interesting gossip,” Lady Smithton finished, as Beatrice flushed with the awareness that she herself was one of those more interesting items of gossip. “That is why we are not aware of it.”

  “But someone was,” Lord Greaves muttered, raking one hand through his hair in evident frustration. “Someone knew of this sale and took the advantage.”

  “Unless it is their house,” Beatrice added, making Lord Greaves look at her quickly. “They may have purchased it for themselves and, in doing so, decided to use it to their advantage.”

  Silence crept across the room for a few moments as everyone, including the man in the chair, turned to look at Beatrice.

  “That would make sense, would it not?” she said, a little unsteadily, out of fear that she might have made a very foolish calculation in some way. “If it is their own but the purchase of it is not yet known to the beau monde, then what better way to hide one’s actions that to pretend that the house still belongs to another?”

  Lord Greaves slapped one hand down hard on the table, startling her. “Good gracious, Lady Beatrice, you are quite correct!” he exclaimed, making her smile a little self-consciously. “Therefore, all we must do is to discover who has purchased the house and, thereafter, we shall have the name of the person responsible!”

  Lady Smithton shook her head, holding up one hand. “We may have the name,” she said cautiously. “It might be that the person who has bought this house is known to the perpetrator, who is then aware that their acquaintance has no intention of coming to reside here for the Season.”

  Beatrice could hardly bear the crestfallen look that came over Lord Greaves’ expression, seeing the hope in his eyes already beginning to fade. “But it is still worth seeking out the name of the person, is it not?” she said, willing Lord Greaves not to let go of all hope. “And even if we discover they are entirely innocent of all that has gone on, we would then be able to look at their close acquaintances and, from that, perhaps determine which one might have your brother, Lord Greaves.”

  Lord Greaves took in a steadying breath, nodding slowly as he looked at her. Beatrice tried to smile, wanting to see that same burst of hope that had been there only moments before. Instead, Lord Greaves only sighed.

  “I was foolish to jump to conclusions,” he said, ignoring the man in the chair completely. “But you are quite right, Lady Smithton. As are you, Lady Beatrice. We should seek out this man, whoever he may be, in the hope that we can find out whether or not he is the man involved or, if not, which of his close acquaintances might be using the house.”

  Lord Havisham cleared his throat, looking pointedly at the man in the chair. “How did you manage to come into the house in the first place?” he asked, making Beatrice realize that they had not even thought to ask and recalling how the man had opened the front door for them. “Were you given keys?”

  The man nodded. “I came in the servant's entrance. The place was already open and the key to the front door sitting on the kitchen table. I didn’t think nothing of it. In my sort of work, a man doesn’t often care how he comes about such things, only glad that he’s managed to get a roof over his head and money in his pocket.” He grimaced, glancing at the money Lord Greaves had placed down for him. “Money I’d like to take now, if I might. I haven’t anything else to tell you.”

  Beatrice saw how Lord Greaves and Lord Havisham looked at each other, each quietly assessing whether or not the other had anything further to ask. She herself could think of nothing more, thinking that the man had told him almost everything he could.

  “Count your blessings that Lord Greaves here hasn’t thought to throw you to the Runners,” Lord Havisham grated, as the man got up slowly, reaching for the money as though he expected it to be pulled away from him at the last moment. “And if you go telling this gentleman or anyone else what you told us, I’ll make sure there’ll be consequences.”

  The man smirked. “Is that so?” he said, jauntily, despite the blood now drying to his face. “You don’t so much as know my name.”

  “It would be very easy indeed for a gentleman such as myself to go into the quieter, darker parts of London and ask for the whereabouts of a man with a bloodied and damaged nose,” Lord Havisham grated. “A man whose only just come back to London. A man whose been living in Lord Stratton’s home for a sennight or so.” Beatrice saw the smile fade from the man’s face and knew that the point had hit its mark.

  “I’m sure you must have told someone your good fortune,” Lord Greaves added, with a small smile. “And as you yourself have demonstrated, it only takes a little bit of coin for a man to bare his soul.”

  Beatrice was not in the least surprised when the fellow glared at Lord Greaves and then at Lord Havisham, before snatching up the money and practically running towards the door. The two gentlemen had made it very clear that there was nothing he could do that would prevent one or both of them from discovering his whereabouts should they need to do so. Beatrice was quite certain that the man would say nothing at all, not now that he had been threatened.

  Lord Greaves blew out a long breath, reaching to lean heavily on the back of the chair where the man had been sitting. Beatrice watched him as his head lowered for a moment or two, knowing full well that the fear over the whereabouts of his brother was eating away at him.

  “Well done,” she said softly, his head lifting to look at her. “You did very well, Lord Greaves.” A slight flush of embarrassment hit her cheeks as Lord Havisham cleared his throat in a very obvious manner. “As did you, Lord Havisham.”

  “Do not tease her so,” Lady Smithton said, moving towards Lord Havisham who merely grinned. “We have made some progress and that, I think, should be cause for celebration.”

  “We have,” Lord Greaves agreed, standing up straight and extending one hand towards Beatrice. “Thank you, Lady Beatrice. You were a great deal of help.”

  Beatrice, aware that Lady Smithton and Lord Havisham were present, blushed furiously but took Lord Greaves’ hand regardless. He squeezed her fingers gently, his eyes holding a good deal more than he was able to express. For a moment, she was transported back to that quiet room where he had stood in front of her, looking as though he were about to kiss her, and a rush of heat swept through her.

  “What do you intend to do next?” L
ady Smithton asked, shattering the moment that had grown between Beatrice and Lord Greaves. “Will you go in search of whoever has bought this house?”

  Lord Greaves nodded, but he did not let go of Beatrice’s hand. “That is exactly what I intend,” he said, firmly. “In fact, I intend to do so this very moment.”

  “Would that I could go with you,” Beatrice murmured, her spirits sinking. “But we are due to attend Viscount Millerton’s ball this evening, and I cannot spare any more time.”

  Lady Smithton nodded approvingly, even though she knew just how difficult Beatrice found it to step away from Lord Greaves. “As must I,” she said, softly. “Lord Havisham?”

  Lord Havisham let out a long breath. “I can attend with you for a short time, Lord Greaves, if you would wish it,” he said, slowly, clearly thinking about how much time he would need to prepare for this evening. “But then I will need to return home to prepare. I am to accompany both Lady Smithton and Lady Beatrice to the ball this evening.”

  Lord Greaves let go of Beatrice’s hand with a regretful sigh. “Would that I could accompany you this evening, Lady Beatrice,” he said, softly. “But I must pursue this. I must discover the name if I am to have any hope.”

  She smiled at him and ignored the swift kick of disappointment. “I quite understand, Lord Greaves,” she told him. “The day for you to deliver your money to the address given is not so very far away. Every minute is valuable for your search, is it not?”

  Lord Greaves held her gaze for a long moment, saying nothing but merely looking into her eyes. Beatrice felt everything fade, forgetting that Lady Smithton and Lord Havisham were both present and only seeing the presence of Lord Greaves. His presence seemed to fill the room, urging her draw nearer, almost pushing her forward so that she might be all the closer to him.

  “Let me say this,” Lord Greaves murmured, his eyes almost glowing as he looked at her. “I may not be able to accompany you, Lady Beatrice, but I shall certainly dance with you.” A small flicker in his eyes betrayed a sudden uncertainty. “That is, if you would be willing to accept me?”