Love, Lies and Murder

by Catherine Winchester

  Love, Lies & Murder

  by

  Catherine Winchester

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Catherine Winchester

  About the Author

  Love, Lies & Murder

  by

  Catherine Winchester

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, other than those clearly in the public domain, are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments or events is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © Catherine Winchester 2013. All rights reserved.

  British English Version

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover photograph copyright © HotDamnStock.com

  Cover design © Catherine Winchester.

  All rights reserved

  Chapter One

  October 1796

  Alexander Cavendish had a lot on his mind as he walked down Dover Street, so he didn’t notice the disruption up ahead until he was a few feet away. There was a cart in the road that seemed to have lost some of its load but what really caught his eye, was the argument between a man, who he assumed to be the cart driver, a boy of perhaps six years old and a young woman. The driver had a whip raised to strike the boy, who cowered in the gutter, clinging to the skirts of the woman. She stood between them both, seemingly undaunted by the threat of the whip.

  “Can’t you see that he’s just a boy! He meant no harm!” she implored.

  “I’ve lost ‘alf a load because o’ that boy and I’ll see ‘im get the thrashing ‘e deserves.”

  “He does not deserve it and besides, your load is cotton; hardly a breakable substance.”

  Her accent was refined and her clothes expensive, although also quite worn and not in keeping with this year’s fashions. The back of her skirt was now covered in the boy’s bloody handprints but if she had noticed, she didn’t seem to care.

  Her red hair was swept back into a bun but a few tendrils had escaped, which framed her face in a most pleasing manner. He wondered what her hair would look like loose, flowing over her shoulders and down her back, and he had the odd thought that he would enjoy running his fingers through it.

  He pushed the peculiar thought aside for now and stepped into the fray, none too soon as the man brought the whip down to strike the woman. Alex caught it and held on, despite the vicious sting it delivered to his palm. He noticed that the woman had flinched as the driver brought the lash down, but she hadn’t moved from protecting the boy.

  “What’s going on here?” Alex demanded of the man as, after a few attempts, he was able to pull the whip from his grasp.

  “That brat caused my ‘orse to rear and ruined my stock!” the driver answered, full of righteous indignation.

  “He didn’t mean to cause your horse to rear!” the woman argued, then she turned to Alexander. “I saw it, Sir, and the boy was knocked, causing him to trip on the kerb and fall. It was an accident, and this oaf wants to beat him for something that could happen to anyone!” Her speech was impassioned and her chest heaved as she spoke.

  Alexander looked from the boy to the man, to the woman, then finally back to the boy. He looked terrified.

  “She’s right, that could happen to anyone,” Alexander finally chose a side and looked to the driver. “You should not bring a flighty horse into town, and you should be grateful that your horse didn’t kill the lad, rather than trying to whip him.” Alex looked to the boy. “Go on now, get home and get those bloody hands seen to.”

  The boy didn’t need telling twice and was sprinting off down the road before anyone could object.

  “Wot about my load! ‘Oo’s gonna pay for that, hey?”

  Alex looked at the tradesman.

  “After striking me and attempting to strike an unarmed woman, I should have you arrested but since I don’t have time for all that…” He fished a pound note out of his pocket and handed it to the man. “That will more than cover any damages.”

  The driver’s eyes widened as he took the money and Alexander turned to the woman, just in time to see her heading off, now that the boy was safe.

  Alex watched her as she walked off down the street, an insane idea occurring to him. On impulse, he followed her.

  “Miss! I say, Miss!”

  She stopped and looked back, her brow furrowing as she saw him jogging to catch up with her. When he drew near, he saw that she had a questioning look on her face.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked.

  “I had little choice. The boy had done nothing wrong, and I couldn’t stand by while that brute whipped him.”

  “Are you always so unfazed by men wielding whips?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a small smile. “That was the first and I hope, the last time.”

  Alex was silent for a moment as he considered the woman before him.

  “I wonder if I might interest you in an early luncheon,” he said.

  “Thank you, but I have errands to perform so I must get on.”

  “Please, Miss, I have a matter I would like to discuss with you and there is a hotel just over the road, where we can get some refreshments and talk like civilised people.”

  She hesitated, looking at the hotel then glancing down at her dress, noting the bloody handprints on the skirt where the boy had clung to her.

  “Your attire is perfectly suitable,” he assured her and she gave him a startled look.

  Finally she nodded. “Very well, but not too long; I really do have errands to run.”

  “Of course.” He offered her his elbow like a gentleman should, and as her hand took a light hold of his arm, he felt as if he had received an electric shock, only far more pleasant. He found himself looking into her eyes and was pleased to note that she seemed just as affected by the touch as he.

  He felt the silly impulse to reach out and brush the back of his index finger over the freckles on her cheeks, wondering if her skin would be as smooth as it looked. As strong as that urge was, only a fool would try and find out whilst standing in the middle of Piccadilly.

  “Shall we?” he asked, breaking the spell, and they navigated across the busy road and entered the hotel.

  He noticed many people give her dress and especially the bloodstains a sneering look but while she had surely noticed, she gave the appearance of being completely oblivious.

  “So,” she said once they had been seated and had ordered tea and cake. “What is this matter you wish to discuss?”

  “First, I have a few questions, if I may?”


  She studied him for a moment so he took the opportunity to observe her also. Her hair was a light shade of red, almost like rose gold and it glistened in the light from the window. Her features were unusual and she would not be considered beautiful, however her sharp and strong features gave her a pleasing countenance.

  “You may ask, Sir but I may not answer.”

  “That sounds fair enough.” He smiled, enjoying her reply. “First, I would ask if you are of gentle birth?”

  She regarded him with a cool eye before finally replying, “I am, although I am not gentry.”

  “You are well educated though and from a good family; I can tell by your speech and accent.”

  “I was the ward of Sir Geoffrey, Baronet Gardiner.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Do I take it that he no longer supports you?”

  “Sir Geoffrey died but you are correct, his son, the current Baronet, will not support me.”

  That explained her fine but worn gown, he thought. “Why did he withdraw his support?”

  “I never had his support. While Sir Geoffrey was alive, he had to tolerate my presence but once he died, that pretence died with him.”

  “So you are not a fallen woman?”

  “No,” she shook her head sadly. “Only the daughter of one.”

  “So Sir Geoffrey…”

  “Was my father, yes. My mother died in childbirth, so he took me in and raised me with the rest of his children.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “Almost twenty.”

  “And the boy in the street?”

  “He needed help, Sir. My circumstances may be reduced but I hope that I will never turn a blind eye to injustices.”

  “So how do you support yourself now?”

  He saw a blush rise in her cheeks and she folded her hands in her lap, as if to hide them. “I am employed by a dressmaker; I do the detailed work on the bodices of her more expensive gowns.”

  He nodded, realising that she hid her hands because they were probably calloused from doing so much needlework.

  “Do you know how to run a household?”

  “I honestly do not see how it is any of your concern, Sir, but can assure you that I received the same education that all young aristocratic ladies receive, including instruction on how to correctly run a household.”

  Alex sipped his tea as he considered the implications of what he was about to ask.

  “Might I ask the reason for these questions?”

  “I would like for you to marry me,” he said without preamble.

  “Pardon?”

  “I said, I want you to become my wife.”

  “Sir, I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Alex.”

  “And I don’t know your character.”

  “That is true enough but clearly you have fallen on hard times. For my part, my wife died two years ago and I have two sons who are desperately in need of a mother.”

  “Forgive me for my impertinence, but with clothes as expertly tailored as yours, surely you can find a Society wife?”

  “True enough but I don’t want just a wife, I want a mother for my boys.”

  “Still-”

  “Most women of my acquaintance are too flighty or superficial to properly raise a child. The few that persuaded me otherwise, I took to meet my boys. Despite their professed interest when I was around, when I left them alone with my boys, both ladies showed them either great indifference or a sharp tongue.”

  “And you want someone who will love them?” she asked, her expression softening.

  “Yes, as a mother should. You defended that child out there even although you didn’t know him, which shows me that you do have the temperament to care for my sons.”

  “And what of… well…” Her embarrassment brought a rosy hue to her freckled cheeks, and it was quite pretty.

  “Marital relations?” he asked kindly, putting her out of her misery.

  “Well, yes.”

  “At some point that will have to happen. I would like more heirs but for the moment, caring for my sons is paramount. I will not force my attentions on you, if that is your worry.”

  “I…” she swallowed. “I really don’t know what to say, you have quite flummoxed me.”

  “Yes,” he chuckled. “I do realise that my request is unusual.”

  She risked a look at him and ventured a returning smile. “You could say that,” she agreed.

  Smiling seemed to change the features of her face, he noticed. Her stern and strong countenance became open and her blue eyes twinkled.

  “I know that this is an odd thing to ask of a stranger but I believe this could be a blessing for both of us; you would not have to worry about money and would be under my care and protection; and I can come and go on business, safe in the knowledge that Julian and Joseph are well cared for.”

  “They are your sons?”

  “Yes, although we usually call them Jules and Joe.”

  “Tell me about them,” she asked, which pleased him.

  “Joe is the eldest, he’s seven. He likes nature and reading. He, uh,” his warm expression faded. “He’s become a little introverted since his mother died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Jules is only four so he doesn’t remember his mother. He’s quite a rambunctious child, always running about, seemingly incapable of sitting still but he has a good heart.”

  She nodded. “All right, I will consider your proposal, Sir, but I will need some time to think it over.”

  That could be deadly.

  “I’m afraid that I cannot grant you that luxury, Miss. I am to return to my estate tomorrow and it will be quite some time before I will return, so I wish to be married before we leave London. That way we can travel together, without any impropriety.”

  “But no one can be married in a day!”

  “I can obtain a special licence, then all we have to do is find a willing priest.”

  “But my job, my room-”

  “Can be easily quit. You are paid up in advance, are you not? You will need a new wardrobe, so your clothes can all be left, and I will compensate your employer for any hardship she may suffer.”

  “Money does not solve all problems, Sir.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” His expression darkened. “However, a lack of money can be the cause of many problems.”

  She nodded and stood. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re refusing?” he asked, getting to his feet. He had expected some trepidation on her part but not an outright refusal.

  “Not immediately,” she answered. “However I do believe that I shall take a turn around the block to clear my head and think about your offer. I shall return here, one way or another.”

  As much as he wanted her to stay so that he could continue to convince her, he knew that he had already made his best arguments. If he pressed her to remain with him, he would look desperate and she could begin to question his motives.

  “Very well. I will remain here and await your return.”

  She curtseyed and left him, holding herself like a queen, despite her old gown and the bloody handprints. He felt the fact that a woman with so little money seemed not to care that her dress had been ruined, spoke volumes for her character. His money would be a tool to her but not her reason for marrying him, as he had felt was the case with so many other young ladies.

  He realised that he had been impulsive in asking her but he had to ask someone.

  His father's will had stated that in order to inherit the bulk of his father’s estate from the trust, he must be married by his 30 birthday. Having married when he was 23, he had assumed that the clause was satisfied. When his lawyer had written to him two months ago, informing him that after studying the will again since the trust was about to be released to him, he had discovered that the wording said that Alex must be married on his 30 birthday, rather than by it.

  It didn’t seem to matter that he had been married or tha
t he already had heirs, if he wasn’t still married when he turned 30, his estate would remain in trust, and he wouldn’t allow his uncle to waste another penny of his inheritance. His uncle was such a disagreeable man that Alex hated having to ask for money. So much so that he had built himself a thriving shipping business and therefore didn’t need money from the trust, but it galled him that his uncle had more say over his inheritance than Alex himself did. He was determined that he would fulfil that clause and then cut his uncle from his life completely.

  That was why he had spent most of the past two months in London, attending dinner parties and dances, searching for a wife.

  As he had explained to the girl, a wife wasn’t enough though, for his children needed a mother. He couldn’t bring a woman into their lives who might be neglectful or worse still, favour her own children over Julian and Joseph. Of the few women he had met who did seem to have a genuinely kind and caring nature, and probably would be good mothers to his boys, their families forbade his attentions, protecting their daughters from him and the scandal that surrounded him.

  He couldn’t blame them.

  This woman, and he was surprised to realise that he hadn’t even asked her name yet, she had the breeding, the courage and the love necessary join his family.

  It would cause gossip, no doubt, but he was used to that. His position and wealth assured that he and his family weren’t banished from society but that did little to stop them from talking behind his back.

  ***

  Helen was glad to leave the hotel and step into the cool autumnal air. Although the hotel had been kept at a pleasant temperature, she felt stifled in there, as if the walls were closing in.

  It wasn’t Alex per se, more the pressure of making such an important decision so quickly. Plus, she couldn’t deny that something about his presence drew her in. When she had lain her hand on his elbow earlier, as they crossed the street, the sensation had been completely new to her but very pleasant.

  Which is why she felt that it was far better to make this decision away from him, where he and his strong presence couldn’t influence her or confuse her emotions.

  She had been alone for a little over three years now, trying to make her way in the world but only succeeding in keeping her head above water. Her job paid a fair wage but not enough to live well. Her room and board took most of her wage, and then it was just one room in a widow’s home. She saved what she could each month but she knew that should something terrible happen, that should she be unable to work, or perhaps require a doctor, her meagre savings would be wiped out. She had tried applying for positions as a governess or companion, but it seemed her siblings had put the word about that she was not to be hired, for everyone had refused her.