My Darling, My Disaster (Lords of Essex)

by Morgan, Angie

  Brynn, Archer, Gray, Lana, and Colton had all been interviewed, but Mr. Thomson, the Bow Street inquiry agent, had felt he could press Lana and Colton, as servants, more than once with questions where he could not with the others.

  “That atrocious man,” Brynn grumbled, sitting in her chair before the vanity mirror. “When Gray heard he’d been in the kitchens asking you more questions, he nearly boiled over.”

  Gray. Lana had seen him in passing, but they had not been given the opportunity to be alone or talk.

  “Did he?” she asked. Then, with a forced shrug, added, “I suppose Lord Northridge only wanted to be sure I didn’t stray from the story.”

  Brynn peered at Lana in the mirror’s reflection. “I feel terrible about asking you to lie, Lana.”

  “Do not be silly,” she replied. “It was necessary to protect Lady Eloise’s reputation.”

  In the rushed moments between Archer and Gray extinguishing the flames in the mews and the arrival of the constable, the four of them had concocted a timeline of events that would shield Eloise’s memory from being stained.

  As it now stood, the Masked Marauder had set upon the carriage taking Gray, Brynn, and Lana to the Kensington Ball. Archer had chanced upon the attack, and they had all been forced back to the Hadley Gardens mews. There, they’d been bound and gagged while the bandit scoured the main home for the loot he’d had to leave behind on his last visit—the visit where he had shot and killed the Duke of Bradburne.

  Eloise, they all agreed to say, had interrupted the bandit in the mews. She had been shot, while Gray had wrestled free of his restraints, gotten a hold of the bandit’s second pistol, and then shot the bandit. A lit candle, they agreed, had set the stable on fire.

  Lana was nearly finished with Brynn’s hair. She was leaving to call upon Lady Cordelia, though Lana knew she would rather stay in and brood.

  “You are wonderful, Lana. Truly. We are so lucky to have you with us.”

  She smiled, though it was shaky. “I am the lucky one, my lady.”

  “Are you disappointed to be leaving London so soon?” Brynn asked as Lana released a lock of her mistress’s hair from its coil around the hot iron. It bounced free and perfect next to Brynn’s ear.

  “Not at all, my lady,” Lana replied, hoping her anxiousness to be gone from town had not sounded as apparent to her as it did to Lana. She wanted to be anywhere Viktor was not. It had been well over a week since she’d last heard from Lord Langlevit, and she’d started to seriously consider that something might have happened to him. It was all her fault. If he’d been harmed in any way in his attempts to clear her name and protect her and Irina, she would never forgive herself.

  Adding to her frazzled worry was the fact that Gray’s man had not yet sent word, or returned, from his trip up to Cumbria to protect Irina from the Frenchman her uncle had deployed. It would have taken four days, five at the most, to reach the Langlevit estate. Not knowing what was happening was maddening. At the very least, Essex would be closer to Cumbria.

  “The funeral service is tomorrow,” Brynn said, though needlessly, as Lana tied her stays and helped her into a pale green muslin day dress. The entire household had been riding the swell of a black wave toward the event all week. “Mama wishes to depart for Ferndale immediately after.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Brynn sighed. “I don’t know why Mama thinks both you and Mary need to be attached to me every single second. I’m perfectly fine. I’m not going to faint at the funeral or expire at the sight of His Grace.” Her voice shook slightly on the last, but she tossed her head. “It’s all well and good that the farce is over with. Now the duke can move on with his life, and me with mine.”

  Lana didn’t answer, but she knew exactly why Lady Dinsmore wanted her at her daughter’s side. Despite the fetching hairstyle and lovely gown, the gauntness of Brynn’s face spoke volumes, as did the broken heart she tried so valiantly to conceal. Lana’s heart wept when she saw Brynn’s red-rimmed eyes each morning, but there was little she could do other than be there for whatever Brynn needed, which, at the moment, she insisted was nothing.

  Lana couldn’t imagine what Brynn had gone through—not knowing whether she was going to live or die, losing everything she loved in one fell swoop. It made her stomach clench painfully, because all she could think about was Irina, and what would happen if she ever lost her. The horrific events last week had been an epiphany. She had to make sure her sister was safe, no matter what. Irina had to come first, above all else.

  “After the funeral, I should like you to go to Ferndale with the rest of the staff beforehand,” Brynn was saying. “There is no need for you to ride with me to Essex, and I would hate to have you perched on the driver’s seat with Beckett the whole time. Mary will do in your stead, and I think she would not mind a little time with Beckett.”

  Lana set the iron down in a porcelain bowl to cool. She hadn’t expected the sensation of relief that filled her just then. Not for the fact that she would be able to ride inside a carriage with other servants, but that she would be escaping London one day sooner than anticipated.

  “Thank you, my lady,” she said, but Brynn touched Lana’s arm as she drew away to remove the bowl and iron.

  “All will be well, Lana, you’ll see,” she said earnestly. “I know you worry for me, but it’s better this way. Truly.”

  Her heart aching, Lana curtsied. “If you say so, my lady.”

  Brynn departed a few moments later, and Lana made her way belowstairs. The kitchens were being scoured and the perishables put on ice and crated for the journey back to Essex. As much as Mrs. Braxton liked to complain about the unexpected departure back to Ferndale, Lana knew she was happy to be rushing around, clucking like a hen. Mrs. Frommer, on the other hand, wore her usual pinched expression as she barked orders to the scullery maids.

  Avoiding the housekeeper, Lana slipped through the commotion, wanting only to sit and not think. Not worry.

  It wasn’t to be.

  She sought a brief respite on the bottom step of the servants’ staircase. She couldn’t stop thinking about Irina. And about Gray. About what she wanted to do, and what she had to do. As much as she cared for him, Lana knew they had no future together. He needed to be with his daughter and his family, and she needed to be with hers. She had to end it with him…and the sooner she did so, the better it would be for everyone.

  Suddenly, Lana understood why Brynn insisted on being so strong through the cancellation of the banns. The duke needed to move on with his life, just as Gray did. And as it stood, Lana was in the way. Gray had a future—he was the heir to an earldom. People would depend on him. Whatever misguided sense of honor he felt for her was simply that…misguided. She would not take him away from his family and all that he loved. Lana rested her head on the paneled wall of the narrow staircase and stifled a gut-wrenching sob.

  The church for Lady Eloise’s funeral service was not overly full, Lana noted. From the little Brynn had told her about the duke’s reclusive sister, she did not have many acquaintances so it was mostly family in attendance. A handful of people, if that, filled only the first three pews.

  Curious, Lana glanced around from where she sat, farther back, near the end of the sixth pew. She recognized Lady Cordelia as well as a few familiar faces she’d seen in and around Bishop House, including Lord Thorndale with a petite woman Lana expected must be his wife. It was certainly not the number of people who had turned out en masse for the late Duke of Bradburne’s funeral. Then again, he’d been well loved. Lady Eloise had been tolerated as his eccentric by-blow.

  Lady Dinsmore had requested Lana stay close at hand during the service, in case Brynn took a turn for the worse. Lana had seen no reason why Viktor would attend the funeral services, so she had gone without much worry. However, Brynn seemed fine, if quieter than usual. But Lana suspected that had to do with seeing His Grace, the Duke of Bradburne. Lana couldn’t help noticing the duke’s hard, implacable expression, t
hough it had softened imperceptibly when he’d greeted Brynn. Even now, he sent her surreptitious glances from time to time. Despite what Brynn had said about her betrothal being a farce, it was obvious that the duke cared about her. Perhaps when everything settled, they could still have a chance together. Lana wished very much for her mistress to be happy.

  Her gaze slid to the man sitting at the end of the second pew, and her heart stuttered. Gray had not wanted to attend the service, which was no surprise given the truth of what Lady Eloise had done. He had only come under duress from Lady Dinsmore and to support his sister in her hour of need. His opinion of Bradburne had changed, too, but Lana suspected that had to do with what had happened in the mews when the duke had risked his life in order to protect Brynn.

  She had missed seeing Gray these past few days. He’d accompanied the Coopers from Kentish Town back to Essex to see Sofia safely returned to Breckenham. Lana did not fault him at all for wanting to see his daughter after the ordeal in the Hadley Garden mews. It was the heart of why she needed to focus all her energy on Irina. Lord Bradburne had lost his sister so unexpectedly. So violently. The fear of losing Irina the way the duke had was entirely mind-numbing.

  And it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.

  With the threat of Viktor on their heels, and Langlevit gone now for well over a week, Lana felt powerless. She couldn’t help feeling that a noose was cinching tighter and tighter about both their necks, urging them into a looming trap that they would not be able to escape. She had to do something. She had to get to her sister.

  If Langlevit’s cryptographer contact had fallen through, or, heaven forbid, if something had happened to the earl himself, then she and Irina would have to run. There would be no hope for deciphering the letters and no one to be their ally. She and Irina would always have to stay one step ahead of the baron and their uncle. Perhaps she would take Irina to Egypt or India. Or even the Americas. It would be a new start for both of them. And far enough away that they would be safe.

  The only problem would be Gray. He wouldn’t let her go, not willingly. If he followed, if he tried to come with her and Irina, she would be putting him in danger. And she would never want him to leave his family for her. She swallowed past the boulder-sized lump in her throat.

  She had but one course of action: she would have to make him let her go.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lana drank in the sight of him, committing the shape of his face to memory. She devoured the image of his proud brow, graced with pale blond eyebrows. Her breath caught at his full lips, so perfect in profile, as were his straight nose and the strong jaw that framed them. She’d dreamed of that face for a thousand nights, and she’d savor it now for the nights to come.

  In that same moment, as if sensing her stare, Gray shifted his head a fraction to the left. His blue gaze drilled into hers. She felt that look to the tips of her toes. It mirrored everything she was feeling and more. Tearing her eyes away with a harsh breath, Lana focused on the closing moments of the service, folding her trembling hands in her lap. The blatant yearning on Gray’s face would do nothing to change her course. She couldn’t afford to let it. For Irina’s sake. For his, too.

  Steeling herself, Lana vowed to tell him her decision as soon as she could.

  It turned out that soon came far sooner than she’d expected.

  As Lady and Lord Dinsmore ushered Brynn through the church and out the door, to their waiting carriage, Lana stayed near her pew. Once the rest of the lords and ladies had left, she would follow in a coach with Lady Dinsmore’s maid, who had also accompanied the family. Lady Dinsmore was nothing if not prepared. As Lana approached the church doors, however, a hand shot out from a shadowed alcove and wrapped around her elbow. She was drawn forcibly into the alcove, where carved stone steps led up to a turret.

  Warm fingers clamped over her lips, trapping the scream billowing there. “Hush, Lana, it’s only me.”

  Gray.

  “My lord! What are you doing?”

  He buried his face in her hair, his arms going around her. “God, it was torture sitting there watching you, not being beside you. You have no idea.”

  Conscious of the people just on the other side of the archway, Lana tried to push them both deeper into the alcove, behind the twisting stone stairs. “Stop, someone will see.”

  “I don’t care.” His lips caressed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose while his scent spiraled around her like another, less tangible, embrace. Her body thrummed at his touch, wanting to fold into his, to take strength from him, but Lana knew that if she gave in, all would be lost. She would be lost.

  “Gray, please.” Lana’s fingers curled into fists against his jacket, and she shoved away from him with all her waning strength. It was futile. He didn’t budge.

  “I don’t care who sees us, Lana.” His warm lips grazed her ear, making her knees weaken as they traced a path down her jaw. “Let them look. Let them stare. It’s you I want.”

  “I care,” Lana said, turning her face away from his meandering lips. If he kissed her, she would not be able to think, much less do what she meant to. And if she had to do it here, so be it. “Please, Lord Northridge.”

  A frown puckered his brow, but the formal address made him pause. “Lord Northridge?”

  “You must stop. This can’t go on.”

  Gray finally took a step in reverse, though he was still touching her. He looked at her with a pointed, uncertain expression. Lana forced herself to hold his gaze, though she longed to look away. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she felt something closing in on her. An inescapable truth. One that she had been ignoring every single time she saw Gray, spoke to him, kissed him. Given herself to him. She had been living a lie for the last eight months, and everyone she’d met during that time had been caught up in the tangles of it. Even him. Especially him.

  Their entire relationship had been built on lies and half-truths. Because of her.

  Lana fought the flush creeping up into her cheeks, but he still saw it.

  “It is too late to stop, Lana,” he said evenly, and just like that, she was picturing him above her on that velvet couch, his body joining hers, claiming her in every way.

  She shook her head. “You know as well as I that there is no future for us.”

  And if Lord Langlevit did not return from his meeting with the cryptographer…if things took a turn for the worse, she had to be prepared to leave England with Irina. Leave without the threat of Gray coming after her. Inhaling deeply, she took a half step back, until her shoulders were pressed into the stone wall, but it was enough for his hands to fall away. Silence hummed between them, heavy and fraught.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” she said.

  “What, exactly?” His voice was guarded, but Lana heard the thread of hurt beneath it. She pressed forward, strengthening her resolve.

  “Us. We do not belong together. You are a lord, and I am a maid.”

  He eyed her, a muscle along his jaw tensing. “We have already been through this. Let the rest of the blasted ton think what they will. I don’t care. All I care about is you, Lana.”

  “That’s just the problem. You should care,” she said gently. “You should care for Sofia’s sake, and for your family’s. For Brynn’s.”

  Gray shook his head, his resolve showing in the rigid line of his shoulders, but he leaned forward to gently grasp her elbows. “I will not allow other people’s opinions to rule my heart. Or my decisions. I allowed it once—”

  “With Sofia, yes. Because you knew there was no other way. You would have been skewered. Your family, scandalized. You thought of them first then, and you should think of them now.”

  “I am,” he muttered. “I do think of them.”

  Lana steeled herself for what had to come, for the pain she would cause him. But it had to be done. “Do you, Gray?” she asked pointedly. “When you leave Sofia in the care of strangers, are you truly thinking of her well-being? When you try to protect
yourself at her expense, are you thinking of her? Or are you just hiding from responsibility?”

  His mouth parted on a soundless exhale, as if she’d just knocked the wind out of him. “That’s not fair.”

  “Sadly, my lord, life isn’t fair, but we cope as well as we are able. My sister needs me, and your daughter needs her father. Your family needs you.”

  “And you don’t?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head, her heart breaking into tiny pieces at the betrayed look in his eyes. “You don’t even know me, Gray. I have a sister, and a family in Russia. That is where I belong. Not here. And not with you. I was a passing flirtation, nothing more. You have to marry to your station, and I have to…return to my life. We must say good-bye.”

  “Lana, why are you doing this?” he asked softly. “Is it because you’re afraid? I’m afraid too, but we can make this work. You’re right. I need to take responsibility, to be a better man. I can make this work. With Sofia. With you. With my family. Just let me try, please, that’s all I am asking. One chance.”

  Oh, God. He was begging. Pleading. Gray’s hands stroked hers, sliding up her arms and pulling her toward him. She could barely steel herself against the look in his eyes as it was. Lana grew desperate, swallowing the battered joy rising like a geyser in her chest. She should have known he would never give up that easily. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but Lana held on to her fading composure with every shred of strength she had left.

  Irina, she reminded herself. Irina was the only person who mattered.

  She had to make him hate her.

  Lana’s heart would mend and so would Gray’s. The horrendous lie she was about to speak nearly choked her, but she forced it out. “I can’t. I have to tell you something. Before we left Russia, my uncle arranged for my hand in marriage to a local boy.”