Regency Scandals and Scoundrels: A Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Scarlett Scott

  “Fine. Get on with it,” he relented.

  Warner rose then, gathered items that he needed and then dragged a small table over to them. On it, he placed a bowl filled with water and various bits of metal and on each corner of the table he placed a magnet. A single candlestick was placed behind the bowl and lit.

  “Take these,” Warner said, holding out two metal rods. “Hold one in each hand, close enough to the table to feel the draw of the magnets, but not enough to let them touch.”

  Graham did as instructed with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes. “I will go on record as stating that all of this is utterly ridiculous.”

  “They are trappings… physical things to distract the body and allow the mind to focus. That is all,” Warner explained. “If you can focus without them, I can remove them.”

  “No. Let’s just get on with it,” Graham relented and followed the instructions he’d been given.

  “Work on keeping the rods equidistant from the magnets… good. Focus on that, but don’t look at them. Instead, look into the flame of the candle. Follow the dancing of it with your eyes.”

  Graham watched the flame, flickering up and down, left and right, all the while keeping the metal rods from touching the magnets. It was more difficult than he’d imagined it would be. The longer he stared into the flame, the heavier his eyes felt.

  Warner took a small instrument and struck the edge of the bowl until it emitted a tone that resonated throughout the room. “Tell me about the day you were rescued by Captain Smith.”

  “I was thirsty,” Graham said. “I’d lain in that boat for days. The nights were so cold I thought I’d freeze and then the sun would beat down during the day until I’d long for the cold… I was surrounded by water and not a drop of it to drink. But it rained… it rained one of those days and I lay there in the boat with my mouth opened, catching all the water I could.”

  “How many days?”

  “Three, I believe… I was going into the fourth when I heard the ship. Tried to call out, to ask for help but I was too weak. Didn’t matter. They’d seen me anyway.” With his body focused, muscles intent on the task he’d been given, and his other senses focused on the flame and the hum that still reverberated around him, Graham felt the reality of the present slipping from him and the past clawing at him.

  “Where you were before that small boat?”

  “A larger ship… in a storm. It pitched and rolled and I was sick from it. We all were. I heard one of the crew say it wasn’t seasickness. They said it was poison.”

  “Who else was with you? Who else was ill?”

  “Mother was ill. Father wasn’t. It never bothered him… no matter how rough the waves or how the boat pitched and rolled, he was unfazed by it.”

  “Your father… what was his name?”

  Graham stared into the flame, but he no longer saw it. Instead, he saw his father leaning over him in the bunk. Tall, strong, his dark hair beginning to silver—Lord Nicholas had scooped him into his arms and made for the deck amid a cacophony of shouting and splintering wood. Cold water had rushed around them.

  The metal rods fell from his hands, crashing onto the small table and sending the other items askew. Abruptly, Graham rose.

  “That’s enough. That’s enough for today,” he said breathlessly.

  “You remembered.”

  “It isn’t proof! I may only be remembering what I wish to,” he said. “I want Lord Nicholas Blakemore to be my father because that memory substantiates my claims.”

  “Then let us ask Lady Agatha about the journey… about the seasickness and the rumors of poisoning! We can verify what you saw!” Warner protested.

  “Later,” Graham agreed. “Later… for now, I need you keeping watch on Eloise. She’s the key to all of this. I’d stake my life on it. I am sending one of the servants into the village with a note for Christopher.”

  “Asking him to return?”

  Graham shook his head. “I need him back here, so the note will instead insist that he remain where he is for the moment. That’ll ensure a speedy return.”

  Graham paused before continuing. “So what next? I need you to keep watch. Eloise will likely make a break for it… and I am headed for the tower room. I’ll have to overpower him.”

  “No. You won’t.” Warner took a small bottle from the work table behind him. “There’s enough laudanum in this bottle to knock out an elephant. I’m assuming he stashes some brandy or wine in his little turret?”

  Graham grinned. “There’s a hefty amount of brandy in there… come. I’ll add it to his stash while you monitor Eloise. She may try to warn him or she may simply try to make a run for it. It’s anyone’s guess with her.” Growing serious again, Graham added, “Thank you, Warner. For everything.”

  “Are we not friends?” Warner countered. “Is this not what friends do, but help one another?”

  “I’ve never had friends,” Graham admitted, “Or if I did, the memory of it is buried.”

  “Even on the ship where you served for so long?”

  “No,” Graham said. “I was mistrusted… my mannerisms and speech set me apart from the others. And I was considered high-handed and difficult.”

  Warner laughed at that. “You still are… you still are.”

  *

  Beatrice frowned at the cards. “You’re making it up as you go along because you are trying to influence my thoughts and feelings!”

  Lady Agatha drew back, affronted. “I would never dream of saying anything that was not an accurate representation of the cards… the Two of Cups has always meant a proposal! Always. Would it be so terrible if he were to ask?”

  “He has already asked! No. Actually, he has not asked. He has informed. He has assumed. He has ordered! And I have said, unequivocally, no. Because, as we both know, I am not the sort of bride he needs.” It was an argument she’d made countless times and, yet, every time she uttered the words she did so with less and less conviction.

  “And what sort of bride is that, Beatrice?”

  “A wealthy one! The castle needs a ridiculous number of repairs, the village is in dire straits, and I haven’t a cent to my name… would you have him marry me only to lose the home that he has only just returned to?”

  Lady Agatha waved her hand dismissively. “Pish posh! This castle has stood for more than five hundred years! It will likely stand a few hundred more… the village will rebound as it always has in the past. And as for his home, I strongly suspect that Graham will view home as any place where you are. I would rather see him happy and loved than miserable in an eligible match.”

  Beatrice looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. “I had not thought to marry… well, I had not thought it in years. I am independently-minded, Lady Agatha, and he is a high-handed and imperious man. What if every day is a battle between us?” Once the words were out, she recognized that every argument she’d made against their marriage had been an excuse. It was fear and nothing more. Not that her reasons lacked validity, but she had to admit she’d been hiding behind them nonetheless.

  Lady Agatha smiled then. “My dear, then every day will be an opportunity to reconcile. Loving someone is not always peaceful or tranquil… in fact, if it were only that, it would be rather boring! There is fire in you to match his and he needs that. And you need it! If you would have ever thought yourself to be content with a peaceful marriage, I daresay you would have married years ago. You have been waiting for him, my girl. Do not let fear hold you in its sway now.”

  The truth of that statement was undeniable. She was a perverse creature, Beatrice realized. She’d denied every suitor she’d had during her seasons because she’d deemed them too staid and boring. Graham was anything but and still she found herself reluctant to commit.

  “What if I am not meant to be a wife? Not every woman is, I think.”

  “You are mistaken if you think that, my dear. Being a wife does not, or should not, mean changing who you are. Rather, when marriage
is undertaken for the right reasons, it’s about finding someone to share your life with who knows your true self and loves you for it… he does love you. And I think, without question, that you love him. Find your courage! Do not let fear deprive you both of the happiness you deserve.”

  Beatrice looked down at the card again, at two lovers drinking from one cup. “I’m not certain that I can.”

  “You will never know if you do not try, my dear. I have never thought you a coward… be brave now and seize all that you desire. Live without regret and take all the joy that life can offer you,” Lady Agatha urged. “You only have to look at poor Edmund to see what happens when one marries for duty and position rather than love.”

  “That’s unfair, Lady Agatha.”

  “I’m fighting for the happiness of the people I love most in this world, Beatrice. If that doesn’t call for a bit of ruthlessness I don’t know what does!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  In her chamber, Eloise was packing. She had no idea where Alain was or if he was even aware that Edmund had lived long enough to identify Christopher as his attacker. Regardless, their plan was now sunk. His recklessness had ruined everything. It would be impossible for them to continue their scheme. Christopher would be hanged publicly for the crime, ending any chance that Alain would be able to simply take his place.

  “Damn his temper,” she whispered, tossing garments willy-nilly into a case.

  If anyone dared stop her she would simply claim that her grief was too great to remain and she needed to return to the bosom of her family for comfort. It was a blatant fabrication, of course. But who could gainsay it?

  Gathering up her bag, she opened the door and peered out into the corridor. Seeing no one, she stepped out and closed the door quickly behind her. She’d taken no more than two steps when someone emerged from a room across the hall.

  “Embarking on a journey, Mrs. Blakemore?”

  Eloise gasped, dropped her bag, and her hand flew to her heart. “Dr. Warner! You frightened me near to death!” she exclaimed.

  “Surely not to such a degree, Mrs. Blakemore! I anticipate that you are made of infinitely sterner stuff than that,” he replied cagily.

  Eloise considered his tone and his words carefully. It was quite obvious that he was suspicious of her. “If you’ve something you wish to say, Dr. Warner, then I suggest you get on with it.”

  “I cannot say precisely what role you’ve played in this fiendish plot, Mrs. Blakemore, but I’m not so foolish as to believe you innocent. You are not leaving this house.”

  “And will you stop me?” she challenged, her words snapping with temper. “You are barely above a tradesman and I am a gentleman’s wife!”

  “In point of fact, Madam, you are a gentleman’s widow… and a widow of your own making,” he chided in a deceptively mild tone. “I’ve no wish to detain you physically or to assault your person in such a manner, but I shall if need be. Return to your rooms, Mrs. Blakemore, and await Lord Blakemore. What is to be done with you is entirely at his discretion now.”

  For a moment, she considered attempting to get past him, to make a run for it. But she had to acknowledge that she would likely not succeed. Her only hope lay in Alain’s return and even that she could not be certain of.

  “You seem quite impressed with your own cleverness, Dr. Warner. I find myself rather fatigued. I will retire and undertake my journey to visit my family on another day… surely you can understand why a woman would wish to be in the bosom of her family after such an ordeal?”

  “Of a certain, Mrs. Blakemore. Rest well,” Dr. Warner said softly, but he made no move to leave. In fact, he leaned nonchalantly against the opposite wall as if he meant to remain there guarding her door throughout the night.

  Retreating into her chamber, Eloise leaned back against the door and let her head fall back. It was all crashing down about them and they would likely both swing for it.

  Eloise began to pace the room, from side to side and back to front. She paced until her feet ached in her sturdy kid boots and a fine sheen of perspiration glistened on her brow. But it wasn’t the exertion that prompted it. It was the cold sweat of fear that dampened her flesh. Prison was not for her and neither was the hangman’s noose.

  Her pacing stopped abruptly as she stood in the center of the room and considered what was, in fact, her very last option. Her only chance of being spared came from making her useful. If she offered information in trade, perhaps Lord Blakemore would be merciful.

  In truth, she reasoned, she had yet to do anything wrong other than to be aware of Alain’s doings and keeping silent. She had reason enough to fear him, did she not? Surely no one would fault her for such.

  Opening the door again, she met Dr. Warner’s speculative gaze. “If you’d be so kind, Dr. Warner, to escort me to the library where I may await his lordship. I find that there is pertinent information that I may need to share with him.”

  In a priest hole tucked into the wall next to the fireplace, Alain La Chance listened to the exchange between his lover and the good doctor. The greedy bitch was hanging him out to dry, he thought.

  “I will not burn for this alone, Eloise… if at all.” He needed leverage and Miss Marlowe would suffice.

  Turning on his heel, he backtracked through the tunnels and corridors to a position just outside Lady Agatha’s chamber. He’d have to wait there for the right moment, but she was his one chance for making a clean escape from Castle Black.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Graham was in the library, having sent off the missive to Christopher. He’d no doubt be home within the hour demanding to know who the hell Graham thought he was to issue such edicts.

  The door opened and Warner entered, Eloise on his arm.

  “Confession is good for the soul, but as hers will no doubt be carefully edited, I cannot say how good,” the doctor stated.

  Eloise jerked her arm free of his. “You may keep your smug comments to yourself, sir!”

  “Enough!” Graham barked. “I’m in no mood to tolerate this foolishness at present. The issues in this house need to be resolved posthaste. For once in your miserable life, Eloise, tell the truth. Who is he and how did he come to be here?”

  “His name is Alain La Chance and he is Christopher’s half-brother, but I’m sure you already knew that,” she said. “I only ever married Edmund because of him. He needed entry into this house and, at the time, Christopher was too young to wed.”

  “And how did he compel you to assist him?” Warner asked, “Because I have little doubt this story will be told to paint you as the victim.”

  She glared at Warner even as her next statement proved him right. “He’s a very violent man, my lord. Threats were made and he was certain that I was made aware of how legitimate they were. He did horrible, unspeakable things.”

  “And yet, you are his lover and his accomplice. Why did you not confess to Edmund and let him assist you? Why did you not confess to any one of the strapping footmen you have apparently been taking to your bed?” The question had come from the doorway, where Christopher stood, drenched from the rain and clearly more than a little drunk. “I’ll tell you why! Because you’re a heartless and evil bitch. You’ve never cared for anyone in your life. You let him kill Edmund. You probably encouraged him to do it!”

  “I did know,” she said softly, “that it was his ultimate plan. I had no idea he meant to do so now! I am as much his victim as anyone else!”

  “Tell that to your husband… via a medium, of course,” Warner added.

  “How did you meet him?” Graham demanded, hoping to get the conversation back on track.

  “In London. He’d learned of his half-brother’s existence when his father attempted to blackmail Lady Agatha. They argued, and I believe that he murdered his father in a rage… He considered taking up the blackmail scheme himself, but he meant to come after Christopher with it rather than Lady Agatha as he believed that Christopher, as the heir, would have access to la
rger sums of money.”

  “And then he discovered their likeness,” Graham surmised. “And where do you fit into all of this?”

  “He demanded that I seduce Christopher, to get information from him that would help him in being able to take Christopher’s place… but it was soon apparent that Christopher knew little enough to help us.”

  “And so you moved on to Edmund,” Christopher summed up. “You left me, made a laughingstock of me and married my cousin to get your hands on money that we don’t even have because he’s been sending it all to Sir Godfrey!”

  “I didn’t have a choice!” she protested. “He would have killed me otherwise. He may still. There is a madness in him that you cannot begin to understand!”

  “What I understand is that you have wittingly assisted him in coming and going from this house, that you fully intended to stay by his side after Christopher became Lord Blakemore and then to eliminate Christopher and take his place,” Graham said. “Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “And if you believe nothing else I have said, believe that. He moves freely in this house because he has learned every inch of the tunnels and passageways. There is nowhere he cannot reach. He could be listening to us even now.”

  “How long have you known about his existence, Christopher?” Graham asked.

  The boy shrugged. “I suspected something when I was sent down from school. There were witnesses who swore I had attacked a schoolmate, beaten him to a bloody pulp and walked away. But I had been with Eloise at the time… much to my shame, I continued my relationship with her even after she left me for Edmund. But I had no proof and I didn’t know of her involvement with him. I thought her only guilty of being mercenary. I didn’t know she was a murderess, as well.”

  “It goes against everything I believe is right… but this man is too dangerous to let live. If you help us capture him, Eloise, I will see to it that you are returned to your family and will face no consequences for your actions in these matters,” Graham offered. “But you will not see a penny from the estate.”