by Amanda Davis
“Are you quite sure, Madam? You seem…out of sorts.”
He stared at her with warm, intelligent eyes and Lydia felt a hot flush form beneath his intense stare. Despite his flawless English, Lydia wondered if he was perhaps of some foreign heritage, perhaps intertwined with the blood of moors.
What does he know about me? She wondered silently but she could not bring herself to look away from the concerned expression on his face.
“If I were out of sorts,” she breathed, attempting to muster some of her mother’s arrogance. “I would certainly not be discussing it with a stranger.”
He did not falter in the least, a fact which made Lydia respect him more somehow. Had he shied away, the illusion she was forming about this man would have evaporated into nothingness and in that moment, he was the only thing giving her an iota of strength.
“I am Samuel, Madam, the head maître d’. If there is anything you require, do not hesitate to ring for me—day or night.”
His eyes lingered on her in such a way that made Lydia wonder if his meaning was not more subversive than they should be.
My word. You are looking to everyone with suspicion and hostility. This is not common of your character, Lydia. You must stop this at once.
“Thank you, Samuel,” she murmured, breaking the eye contact between them. It was only then that she realized why the encounter made her so uncomfortable. A servant should not be meeting her eyes at all, least of all with such peculiar interest.
Perhaps they do things differently in Luton, she tried to tell herself as she nodded and moved away, careful to avoid his eyes. Lydia knew there was more to the seemingly casual encounter than she wished to admit.
As she stole back up the stairs in the shadows of darkness, she wished she had thought to light a candle but the encounter with Samuel had flustered her beyond logic.
You have taken complete leave of your senses, she determined when she arrived at her chambers. On the morrow, you will discuss returning to Pinehaven with Mother and leave this place behind. Nothing good can come of being here. I should have had the good sense to foresee that.
Yet, as she undressed to retire for the night, she could not get the image of Samuel’s dashing face from her mind and the idea of leaving seemed less appealing than it had at supper.
Ridiculous! Lydia chided herself furiously. Off to bed with you.
But sleep did not come easily to Lydia that night and she spent several hours awake in the darkness, idly comparing Samuel to James, and wondering if she was losing her mind.
6
James was not proud of the way he had spoken to his wife but he did nothing to remedy the situation. He was far too consumed with finding his mother and making matters right with her before Elenora’s words did the damage she had intended them to do. There would be time enough to speak with Lydia later.
Unfortunately, he was unable to locate Patience anywhere in the hotel, his unfamiliarity with the grounds much greater than his mother’s. He did chance upon Emmeline Compton at one point, wandering the halls with her sleeping baby.
“Shh!” Emmeline begged. “I only just managed to get her to sleep.”
“Of course,” James whispered, drawing nearer to inadvertently steal a glance at the precious child. He was touched with a pang of wistfulness as he stared longingly at the small girl.
“Catherine,” he heard himself say. “A strong name.”
“Indeed,” Emmeline agreed but James could sense she was uncomfortable being in his presence at that hour of the night.
“Forgive me,” he said, quickly collecting himself and drawing away with some embarrassment. “I am merely looking for Her Grace, my mother.”
Emmeline studied his face closely, a shadow falling over her hazel eyes.
“Is that truly why you have come here?” she asked quietly. “To see your own mother hanged for the murder of your father?”
James was taken aback by the boldness of the question. It was enough that he was made to endure Elenora’s shrewd tongue but to be questioned by a woman he barely knew was another matter entirely.
He was a Duke, not a servant. He commanded respect, not inquiries.
“Our family affairs are ours, Mrs. Compton,” he snapped irritably. “I do not appreciate outsiders intervening.”
To his complete surprise, Emmeline did not blink as she continued to rock her sleeping child.
“In which case, Your Grace, might I suggest you not air your affairs so publicly.”
James gaped in shock, unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a blunt manner but as the proprietor’s daughter held his gaze, he realized that her point was quite valid.
Elenora did bring this upon us, he thought angrily. She is the only one worthy of my annoyance.
He nodded in concession and dropped his eyes humbly.
“I daresay you speak soundly,” he agreed. “Forgive me.”
Emmeline’s face relaxed some and she also nodded, albeit curtly.
“If your mother did have something to do with your father’s passing, I would hope you will not pursue it,” she said and James’ head jerked upward, stunned again at her gall.
Does she know something about what happened?
“Despite what the Countess has to say on the matter, I did not come here to accuse my mother of anything,” James replied tersely.
“Then Lady Blackwell speaks only for herself?”
“Mrs. Compton, you will forgive me if I would rather not discuss the sordid details of family matters in the corridor. I only wish to see my mother. Have you any idea where I might find her?”
Emmeline pursed her lips together as though she was considering whether to tell him.
“Her Grace, the dowager duchess and my mother have become quite close over these past months,” she finally offered. “I imagine that Her Grace has likely gone to my mother’s chambers.”
“Where might they be?”
It was Emmeline’s opportunity to appear shocked.
“You cannot simply storm into my mother’s chambers at this hour of the night,” she said firmly and humiliation flooded James’ face.
“Of course not!” he scoffed like the idea had not even crossed his mind. “I-I merely wished to know for the future.”
“May I suggest you return to your quarters, Your Grace and rest. Matters might not seem so dramatic on the morrow.”
James resented the advice but he wisely held his tongue.
“What of my sister?” he asked, unwilling to release the matter until he had spoken at least to one of his kin. “Would she be with them?”
“I imagine, given Lady Elizabeth’s condition, she would be sound asleep now.”
James again felt a twinge of shame.
Coming here has only disrupted everyone. I should not have made this journey. On the morrow, we will leave.
“Of course,” he rasped again, lowering his head further. “I believe I will heed your advisement, Mrs. Compton and retire for the night.”
She cast him a half-smile which was full of an unspoken wisdom.
“Having unanswered questions about ones family can be daunting, Your Grace.”
Slowly, James met her eyes again. Her words carried a deep wisdom.
“Yet, I have found,” Emmeline continued in a low voice. “That the truth always prevails in the end. You must simply have faith.”
James felt his guard slowly drop as he absorbed her comments.
She speaks from experience, I gather. I wonder what secrets the Balfours have.
Quickly, he dismissed the idle thoughts. He had more than enough with which to occupy his time without delving into the affairs of other households.
“Thank you, Mrs. Compton. I bid you—and baby Catherine—a good night.”
He bowed slightly as he spun on his heel and sauntered toward his own chambers, pausing outside of Lydia’s door.
Briefly, he considered knocking but he was once more confronted with the hour and decided to forsake the notion
.
I will see her on the morrow, he thought.
* * *
A manservant appeared to help him dress the following morning and James took advantage of it. He intended to make a good impression on the family after Elenora’s gaffe the prior evening.
“Have you seen my wife, the Duchess?” James asked the manservant who held open a waistcoat for James to wear.
“Yes, Your Grace. She has already gone down for breakfast.”
“With her mother?” James guessed but Nicholas shook his head.
“No, Sir. Or rather, she was alone when I last saw her.”
James sighed, remembering the last words they had spoken. He had hoped to find her alone before Elenora ruined yet another gathering.
Perhaps if I hurry, I may still have a moment to have to speak privately with Lydia.
“Will there be anything else, Sir?”
“That will do.”
James cast himself one final look in the mirror before hurrying toward the door where he paused to peer around the doorjamb and look down the hall.
Ridiculous. I am in hiding from Elenora.
Yet his own chiding did not stop him from checking a second time to ensure his mother-in-law was nowhere near.
With an long exhale, he scurried from his rooms and down the stairs toward the lobby, where he paused. His wife stood speaking closely with a waiter, oblivious to his arrival.
He watched, a peculiar sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach as they continued their conversation. James could not say why the scene bothered him but something inherent troubled him Before he could make his presence known, Elenora arrived at her daughter’s side.
Lydia whirled as though she had been struck, her face blushing pink at the sight of her mother and James stifled a groan, his hesitation over the previous scene forgotten.
So much for approaching Lydia alone.
“Good morning, Your Grace.”
He spun his head to see Xavier Balfour strolling down the stairs, a glint of anger in his emerald eyes.
“I trust your accommodations were adequate?”
“Yes. They were charming,” James replied, hurrying after Xavier who did not pause at his side but strode quickly past. It was clear the man was still upset about the night before and James was determined to make matters right.
“Mr. Balfour, where might I find my sister this morning?” he asked and Xavier paused. Even without turning, James could tell he sported a scowl but it was gone when Xavier turned to face him.
“She is resting in her room.”
James’ eyes widened.
“Is she unwell?” he demanded.
“She is with child,” Xavier reminded him coldly. “And subject to the ailments of her condition such as fatigue.”
“Of course.”
He looked toward the stairs and then back to where his wife had stood moments. Lydia was gone, along with the waiter.
“Is there a matter with which I might assist you?” Xavier demanded.
“No,” James said quickly. “Thank you.”
“As you wish.”
Xavier retreated toward the office and James turned toward the concierge desk where the young receptionist stood, pretending not to notice the friction happening in front of him.
“Where is the other man who mans this desk?” James asked, remembering the odd encounter he had shared with Byron.
“Sir?”
“The night guardsman,” James said impatiently. “Has he retired then?”
“He has. Shall I send for him?” Matthew asked, his brow raised. James shook his head.
“No need,” he muttered. “I will find him later if I must.”
“Very good, Your Grace. Is there another matter?”
“No,” James replied as he decided what to do next. He very much needed to explain to his sister and mother that Elenora’s words did not reflect his beliefs. Then, they would be on their way.
Yet, he worried about what else Elenora might say in the dining room this morning if he was not there to keep her proper.
“Your Grace, do you need direction?” Matthew asked tentatively and James considered that he needed more than merely direction.
“No,” he said, realizing how conspicuous he must seem standing alone in the lobby, staring at nothing in particular.
I will speak with Lise and Mother before collecting Lydia and her blasted mother so we might return to Pinehaven this afternoon.
It was as good a plan as any and he moved up the stairs toward the suite which Lise shared with her husband.
He knocked gently, feeling slightly guilty as he realized she might be asleep but her voice called out for him to enter.
“Good morning, Lise.”
She eyed him through the reflection of the glass with wary eyes as he entered the room and closed the door. She sat stroking her luxurious mane of dark hair with a silver brush, the handle gleaming almost as elegantly as her tresses.
She is radiant in her condition. I wonder if Lydia will be as beautiful.
He was somewhat surprised by the unexpected thought but when he considered it, he realized that his wife had been weighing quite heavily on his mind.
“What is it, Jamie? Have you come accuse me of killing father also?” Lise rasped at him, shattering his reverie.
“Do not speak nonsense,” he grumbled at her. “Of course not. Lady Blackwell is a busybody who does not have the good sense to shut her impertinent mouth.”
“She always was a bit brash,” Lise conceded but she did not manage a smile. “However, you must think me a fool to believe you came here merely as a social call without word or invitation.”
“You are correct,” James admitted. “I did come to speak with you and mother about what happened to father but I realize now that it was a grave mistake. I will be on my way this afternoon.”
A glimmer of irritation shone in Lise’s expression and her mouth tucked in at the corners.
“How could you suspect she would have anything to do with Father?” Lise demanded indignantly. “Why would we go through all we did to escape him if she had intended murder all along?”
“I…I am sorry, Lise,” James offered lamely. “There are so many unanswered queries about that night—”
“Well ask someone else about them!” Lise interrupted, her eyes flashing. “Mother could not have harmed him. We were leagues away, struggling for survival as mere peasants. I assure you, she had neither the means nor the opportunity to return to Holden. Not that she had any desire to do so. It took me an entire day to convince her to return after I told her of Father’s death, James. She did not believe it.”
Contrition filled him at Lise’s impassioned speech.
“Of course,” he sighed. “Mother could not. She does not possess a modicum of immorality.”
“Any yet here you are,” Lise retorted. “Upsetting our lives after we had finally managed to put the unpleasantness of Holden in the past.”
“I assure you, my dear sister, I will not pursue this matter again. Please, be well and write me when the child arrives.”
I will go home now and focus only on my own, living family, Elenora Blackwell be damned.
Lise’s mouth parted to respond but as she rose to address him, her face contorted in a terrible expression of pain.
“Lise? Lise!” he cried as she stumbled forward, clutching her belly. Her face turned ghastly pale and James’ heart began to race.
“Come along,” he insisted, supporting her quivering body as she moaned. “I will send for the midwife.”
As they took their first step, Lise screamed out, the sound sending gooseflesh to prickle his arms.
“N-no!” Lise choked, tears of terror flooding her eyes as she clung to him. James embraced her tightly and peered at her in confusion. “Not the midwife!”
“Why?” he demanded. “Is it the baby…”
The sound of water caused his eyes to travel down along the lines of her gown and his alarm grew
into disturbed panic.
Blood stained her clothes and James knew something was terribly amiss.
“N-not the midwife,” she repeated, her voice growing weaker. “T-t-he surgeon…”
James stared in horror as his beloved sister went limp in his arms.
7
Samuel stood inconspicuously near the entryway and Lydia could not stop herself from casting him several furtive glances when she was certain her mother was not looking.
She had been surprised to find him waiting for her in the lobby that morning, even if his presence caused her heart to patter dangerously.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” he said, humbly bowing. “I hope you will not deem me insolent but I did wish to ensure you had a pleasant night after your rather unpleasant evening.”
Lydia knew she should not encourage his unwarranted attention but she could not help but feel flattered that he had taken a moment to inquire about how she fared. Of course, she did not mention that her thoughts had wandered to him as she tried to fall asleep.
“I am well, Samuel. Thank you for your concern.”
“I am pleased to hear it.”
Their eyes met and Lydia was sure she had never been as warm as she was in that moment. If not for her mother’s arrival, she might have spent the entire morning in that very spot, melting beneath the maître d’s gaze.
“My word, Lydia, at what are you gawking?” Elenora snapped, bringing Lydia abruptly back to the present and she quickly, guiltily, wrenched her stare back to her mother.
“Pardon? Oh, nothing,” she babbled, fixing her eyes on the table. They were the only two at the family table to arrive and she wondered if that had been by design.
We have only just arrived and we are already outcasts here.
Even as she thought it, the Comptons appeared at the threshold and they ambled, arm-in-arm, toward Lydia and her mother.
“Good morning, Your Grace, Lady Blackwell,” Emmeline called sweetly. “I trust you are well rested?”
“Indeed,” Lydia agreed, casting her mother a warning glance. She hoped that Elenora had learned her lesson from the previous night but who could possibly know what might spring from the Countess’ mouth.
