The Mystery of Miss Mason (The Lost Lords Book 5)
Page 16
Albie had wanted her to reunite with Alexander, she thought, seizing upon the seeds of a plan. Now that she’d seen her poor, aggrieved husband so clearly smitten with someone else, she rather fancied a reconciliation herself. It wasn’t that she wanted him, or even that she wanted him to want her. She simply couldn’t abide the thought that he might find someone to be happy with. That, she would not stand for.
As if with the snap of the fingers, Helena’s mood and plans changed. A cold smile curved her lips beneath the heavy, black veil. Albie would be furious if she acted without him, but it had been his suggestion, after all. And it wouldn’t hurt him to suffer a little, too.
“Turn around,” she instructed the chairmen. “I need to be at home. There is much to be done.”
The chairmen shared a glance with one another as they turned the conveyance. It wasn’t the first time they had been summoned to carry the madwoman to whatever destination she chose. She was always a bit wild and unpredictable, not to mention incredibly moody. But if home was what she wanted that was where they’d take her. They got their coin just the same.
*
Alex had not expected that Mary’s return would go without some degree of difficulty. He was a widower, regardless of the circumstances which created that status, and she had been alone in his home with him for many days. Part of him wished they would force the issue, that they would demand without quarter that he do the honorable thing and marry her. Then she would be his and he would be able to stop fighting the damnable desire he felt for her. But whatever they thought of him, he knew what the truly honorable thing to do was. He had to let her go. To tie her to him, with the black cloud hanging over him and the scandal that dogged his every step—how long would it take for her to grow to hate him when she lived a life of penury in a crumbling estate?
“My late wife, prior to our marriage, was Helena Hamilton.”
It wasn’t Lady Vale who gasped at that admission, but Miss Masters. He glanced at her in surprise. “You knew her?” Alex asked.
“We moved in the same circles when I was younger… before my turn of fortune,” she answered. To Lord Vale, she said softly, “She was Freddy’s sister.”
Vale seemed to consider that carefully, before finally allowing his clenched fists to relax and once more taking a seat. “Go on.”
“Helena is, by law, half-sister to Freddy and to Albert Hamilton. By blood, she is no relation to them at all,” Alex asserted.
Miss Masters nodded. “It’s true. Freddy’s mother, Lady Samford, was a terrible flirt… and much worse if rumors are to be believed.”
“And Lady Samford is the younger sister of Lord Harrelson,” Alex explained. “I was approached about a match with Helena. I had not been much to town with my father’s illness. The estates needed tending and, frankly, navigating society to find a bride seemed a poor use of my time. I was reluctant, at first. There were rumors about her, that she was a bit wild and fast. But it was a good match with a favorable contract and the promise of land adjoining my estate.”
“And Helena Hamilton was a remarkably beautiful woman. One who might make any man take a foolish course of action,” Middlethorp said.
“True enough, though my marriage to Helena was never imagined to be anything other than a business arrangement,” Alex replied. “I had reason to believe, prior to the marriage and as it continued, that Helena was actually involved in a romantic way with her stepbrother, Albert. We had argued about it… not about her faithlessness, so much as her recklessness. My only concern at that point was that she should be discreet. I had given up hope of anything else with her.”
“And yet you claim that it was Harrelson who killed her?” Benedict demanded. “You have just announced your rather convincing motive.”
“I don’t know that it was Harrelson. I think the more probable scenario is that Albert Hamilton killed her and then Harrelson helped him to direct suspicion at me. And as to what will likely be your next question, I believe that Hamilton was assisting him in a rather unscrupulous enterprise of blackmail and slavery.”
Middlethorp nodded. “I don’t discount what you say. Harrelson is certainly capable of it and we have reason to believe that Fredrick Hamilton is also involved in the mess, though perhaps not in the same manner that his brother is… or was. But how does that account for your conviction in civil trial?”
It was a question that he’d known they would ask. “That is where the blackmail enters the equation. My trial was rushed, completed before the House of Lords was in session. There were the very minimum number of lords present to serve as a jury and the vast majority of them were being blackmailed into submission by Harrelson. I’ve amassed proof in many of those cases, but not all. Certainly enough that I can take that information, along with what I have recently learned, and begin the process of appeal.”
“Lord Wolverton has obtained some journals, ledgers really, as well as some letters from Lord Harrelson’s study that corroborate most of what he’d suspected all along,” Mary said. “Those ledgers detail all of the women and children that he had abducted throughout the years… including me. It appears he was not keeping such adequate records when you were taken, Benedict.”
Lord Vale rose and crossed to the desk where he retrieved a book. “We have something similar from Madame Zula. Perhaps if we compare them we shall have enough information to locate some of these people and possibly improve their situations… as for my abduction, it appears that mine was the starting point for Harrelson in this particular enterprise. It was through the unfortunate events of that night that he realized people would pay for children… for any number of reasons.”
“There are mentions in the journal of someone whose initials are FH. Do you know who that is?” Alex demanded.
“Fenton Hardwick,” Miss Masters answered. “He was a lackey, a brute really, who worked for Harrelson and conducted most of the abductions, including my own.”
“That rough-looking man who followed you!” Mary said. As if realizing what she’d given away, she flushed with embarrassment, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. “When I was trying to determine whether or not it was possible that Benedict might, in fact, be Lord Vale, I was doing rather shady things myself, Lady Vale, including following you and Miss Masters. That was how I was led to Madame Zula. But while following you, I observed a man who kept close watch on you and he talked rather familiarly with Madame Zula’s manservant.”
“That would be him,” Vale agreed.
“I know you all have more questions, but Miss Mason is still recovering. The bandages on her feet will need to be changed and she needs to rest. Any questions can wait, I think,” Alex said. If his tone was more forceful than necessary, no one, save for Miss Masters, paid it any heed.
“What is wrong with her feet?” Vale demanded.
“I ran barefoot through the woods for miles, Benedict, over stones and twigs and heaven knows what else. Cuts and bruises. Nothing more,” she said dismissively.
“I will help you upstairs,” he said.
“I think Lord Wolverton should stay, if possible!” Mary blurted out.
Everyone in the room looked at her as if she’d gone mad, himself included. Alex shook his head. “Miss Mason, while I appreciate the gesture, that would be impossible—”
“Nonsense,” Miss Masters said. “We have room. And since we clearly have much to discuss if we are ever to solve all of these ridiculous mysteries, it only makes sense you would stay close at hand. Don’t you agree, Lady Vale?”
Lady Vale, put thoroughly on the spot, blustered but failed to produce an intelligible reply.
“I agree completely,” Middlethorp said. “I’ll send a man to your estate to fetch clothing for you, as it appears you did not come equipped for a lengthy visit.”
Alex was stuck. “Very well, though I daresay my aging and rebellious housekeeper would rather burn my things than pack them.”
“Then I shall send my valet. He will know just what to do. I�
��m assuming the stairs would be too difficult for Miss Mason alone. If you will both come with me, I will show you to your rooms,” Middlethorp continued, completely ignoring the scandalized expression from Lady Vale and the rather mutinous one from her son. It was only Miss Masters, rising from her chair and placing a staying hand on her betrothed’s arm, that prevented another eruption of temper. Whether Vale had some insight into the impure nature of his feelings toward Miss Mason or not, it was clear the man wanted Alex nowhere near his sister. He couldn’t blame the man for that.
Chapter Fourteen
“What the devil are you about, Elizabeth?” Benedict demanded.
“Yes, Miss Masters,” Lady Vale snapped, “What are you about? That man is said to have killed his wife!”
“That man saved Mary’s life. And has cared for her very tenderly it would seem. We have all been victims of Harrelson’s schemes. Is it so shocking to think that he might have engineered Lord Wolverton’s legal and financial difficulties in order to protect his nephew and protégé? Although, I find it likely that there is a more mercenary reason at heart. Freddy married an heiress because the family was terribly in debt. I overheard him once discussing it with Albert, and that debt was owed to Lord Harrelson.”
“I still fail to see the connection between that and Lord Wolverton,” Lady Vale insisted.
It was Benedict who answered. “I recall the trials. Both criminal and civil. It was all anyone talked about in the club. If I recall correctly, there were any number of wagers on it in the betting book. And no one won a single note from it because the outcome was so surprising. Anything that had gone to Lord Wolverton as part of the marriage settlement, and anything that he owned that was not entailed, was stripped from him and given directly to the Hamilton family.”
Lady Vale gasped. “Do you really think he would have seen his niece married off to a man just to see her dead and claim the man’s holdings?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I do think that. I think that there is very little Harrelson would not have done. I do agree with Lord Wolverton’s assessment that it wasn’t planned that way per se, but when the opportunity arose, he would have taken it straightaway.”
“I don’t like it,” Benedict said firmly. “He was very proprietary with her. And she seemed… different.”
“Taken, you mean,” Elizabeth said. “She is rather taken with him. And he with her, I think. And you are both being the worst of hypocrites. Every person in this room is scandal-ridden, and most of us have courted that scandal of our own accord! Lord Wolverton, if what he asserts is, in fact, the truth, has been an innocent victim all along. We owe it to him and we owe it to your sister to help him prove his case.”
“I still don’t like it,” Benedict repeated. “I’m not disagreeing with you, but I don’t like it.”
“She’s your sister. Of course you don’t. But she’s only just returned to you, Benedict,” Elizabeth added. “Don’t be so wrong-headed that you drive her away!”
Lady Vale let out a long-suffering sigh. “We’ll never be accepted in society. Ever.”
“And you have shunned society yourself for the past twenty years,” Benedict pointed out. “What’s a few more?”
“Very well, but if we’re all murdered in our beds, it’ll be entirely upon your head, Elizabeth Masters,” Lady Vale warned.
“Perhaps, we should start a betting book of our own?” Elizabeth suggested with amusement. “I daresay that the only threats we face at present originate outside of this house.”
*
“These chambers are smaller and typically we would not use them for guests,” Mr. Middlethorp said. “But at present, the house is a bit fuller than it typically has been, so we must make do. Naturally, a man of your station should command better accommodations, Lord Wolverton, and after I return to London, you’ll be able to take my room in the family quarters below.”
“I’ll be quite comfortable here,” Alex said. It was a lie, of course. He had no notion what Middlethorp was thinking in placing him in the room directly across the hall from Miss Mason. To protest the arrangement would make him look like a snobbish prig or would bring into question how honorably he had behaved toward Mary. In short, his only option was to accept the room assignment.
“I knew your father,” Middlethorp said casually. “Years ago. Good man. Very sorely missed, I think.”
“That he is, Mr. Middlethorp,” Alex agreed. Had his father lived, he would never have made the mistake he had of marrying Helena. For one, his father would have advised against it and rightly so; secondly, he would have been in society, likely in London. It was fanciful thinking to believe that he might have innocently crossed paths with Mary Mason, but the thought was there nonetheless. In some ways, he felt they had been destined to meet, even if they were not to be together.
The man nodded again. “It appears that you and Miss Mason have developed quite the rapport during your time together. She’s a lovely girl.”
“She is. And she has been through a terrible ordeal. It would take the worst sort of blackguard to take advantage of a woman in her situation,” Alex said, his words and tone heavily laced with warning.
“So it would. But I’m a military man, Wolverton, or I was. And I learned that sometimes the strongest of bonds are formed under the worst of circumstances. I shall see you at dinner.”
Alex watched Middlethorp walk away. It didn’t matter that the man had just given his not so subtle blessing to Alex’s pursuit of Mary Mason. It wasn’t his place to do so, after all. But it worried him that he’d been so obvious in his feelings for her. If he did not curb his response to her and the transparency of his affections, he could very well ruin her.
Cursing under his breath, he turned and entered the room he’d been given for the duration of his stay. It was small, the bed narrow, and the furniture simple. But it was bright and clean, and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found unless it was one he’d brought with him. How his definition of luxury had transformed, he thought bitterly.
A moment later, a footman knocked softly at the door and entered with fresh water. “Mr. Middlethorp thought you might wish to refresh yourself after your journey, my lord.”
“Put it there,” Alex said, pointing to the simple wash basin. “Thank you.”
The footman nodded and left as quickly as he’d entered. Immediately, Alex removed his cravat and coat, his waistcoat and then stripped his shirt off over his head. He washed away the dust and grime from his face first and was midway through washing his chest when another knock sounded. Expecting another servant, he called out and bade them enter.
At the soft gasp, he looked up and found Mary Mason standing in the doorway, blushing furiously. But she didn’t look away. Instead, it appeared her gaze was locked firmly upon his naked flesh. It was the very antithesis of what he should do, and yet Alex turned to face her fully, allowing her to look her fill.
“Did you need something from me?” he asked. There was a wealth of meaning in that phrase and while he understood it perfectly, he could see that she did not.
Abruptly she cut her gaze to the floor. “I wanted to bring the ledgers back to you. I had packed them in my bag this morning since you did not bring one.”
Alex strode forward, taking the books from her. “You should not be in here. You should not trust me.”
“Why ever not? You have been all that is honorable!” she protested.
“In deed, yes, but not in my thoughts, Mary Mason. In my thoughts, I have been more wicked than you can possibly imagine. Return to your room, and do not seek me out unless we are in the company of others. You have more trust in me than I have in myself at this time,” he said roughly. “Go.”
She did. He watched her turn and flee across the hall, her door closing softly behind her. Alex cursed again and wished for the thousandth time that his life was different, that he was free to pursue her in the way that he ought to, the way he wanted. If she is still free when my properties are returned and my name
is cleared, he vowed to himself, I will come for her and hell itself will not stop me.
*
Mary retreated hastily to her own room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and drew in a deep, shuddering breath. There was a very imprudent and, perhaps, slightly wanton part of her that had longed to challenge him, to demand that he show her just how wicked his thoughts had been. The very idea of it left her trembling and breathless.
He’d lifted and carried her so frequently over the last few days, and with such ease, she’d been left with little doubt of his considerable strength. That was a very different thing when confronted with his bare chest. The breadth of his shoulders, the firm contours of well-defined muscles and the light dusting of crisp, brown hair that bisected his ridged abdomen had been a shock to the senses. It also added an entirely new dimension to her rather abbreviated fantasies of him. While she understood the essential elements of carnal activity, having grown up largely in the countryside and then indulging in many whispered conversations with the girls at school, there was a great deal of it that was a mystery to her. She’d wondered how it would feel to be crushed against a man as he kissed her, how different a man’s body might feel from her own. And while some of those questions had been answered by the brief kisses and sensual interludes they’d shared, only more questions had arisen.
Her curiosity had been piqued by him, as had her desire. But ultimately, she was a coward. Rather than facing him with certainty when he’d told her the truth of his own desires, she’d fled like a scared rabbit. Frustrated by the situation, by her own desires, her fear of consequences, his need to adhere to the mandates of propriety, Mary moved to the bed and slumped down upon it dejectedly.