by Rose Pearson
“There’s a lady, is that it?”
Drawn back into conversation, Andrew looked over at Lord Watson, seeing the man grinning almost manically.
“A lady?” he repeated, snorting with distain. “I have no intentions as regards any ladies, Watson. You’d be best to close your mouth before you get yourself into trouble.
Lord Watson chuckled loudly, which to Andrew’s relief was drowned out by the many other conversations that were going on all around them. He wanted to curl up into a ball so that no one else could see him, desperate for Lord Watson to be silent.
“Then why do you wish to give up all of this?!” Lord Watson exclaimed, gesturing to the crowd of gentlemen now gathered there. “You do not play cards any longer, you will not gamble. You are not willing to walk with the rest of us when we need to visit a less than proper establishment, those ‘ladies of the night’ as we call them. Instead, you either sit at home or go to some event or other where you might behave as jovially as the rest of them before going back to your own bed! My goodness, man! Whatever has become of you? It’s like I do not know you anymore.”
Much to Lord Watson’s confusion, his last comment brought Andrew a great deal of delight, pushing away his irritation. If his friend did not know him any longer, then that could only mean that his change in character had been a genuine one. Neither did it bring Andrew any frustration that he was no longer the man Lord Watson knew, finding himself growing more and more delighted with that notion.
“You are a lost cause, old boy,” Lord Watson muttered, throwing back his drink. “And you are gone from town in three days’ time?”
“Indeed, I am,” Andrew replied, still wondering if Miss Blakely would come with him or remain in his townhouse until he had found her a new position. “Responsibilities, and all that.”
Lord Watson groaned. “And now you are leaving just when things are starting to get interesting around here.”
“Interesting?” Andrew repeated, with a note of curiosity in his voice. “What’s happened, Watson? Do not tell me some cock and bull story that is nothing but made up nonsense in an attempt to keep me here for I do not wish to hear it!”
Lord Watson muttered something under his breath before sighing heavily. “No, it appears I will not be able to keep you here regardless.”
“Then what is it that was so interesting?” Andrew asked, laughing. “Not something to catch my attention, I presume?”
Lord Watson sighed heavily and passed a hand over his eyes, as though Andrew were wearying him terribly. “No, not too interesting, I suppose. It was only that I remembered you said that you went to that Smithfield House for Girls recently.”
The smile was wiped from Andrew’s face at once and he sat a little more upright in his chair. “Yes, I did,” he murmured, frowning. “Why? Has something happened?”
Lord Watson shrugged. “Nothing terrible, but I did hear that a Duke had gone visiting.”
Andrew stared at him. “A Duke?”
“From what I know, yes,” Lord Watson replied, with a small smile. “See now, you are interested in such a thing! Why would you leave London when –”
“Stay on track, Watson,” Andrew interrupted, firmly. “This Duke. Who was he?”
Lord Watson shrugged, hiding a wide yawn with the back of his hand. “Not quite sure. The only reason I know about this was because the lady who runs the place got into a terrible screaming match with the Duke inside the House for Girls. Apparently, someone called the constable to make sure she was all right, I think they thought someone was attacking her.”
A peculiar sensation of urgency began to settle over Andrew as he listened, somehow believing that this was to do with Miss Blakely in some way, although he could not say where such a thought had come from.
“A Miss Skelton, I think the man said,” Lord Watson finished, looking at Andrew with a slightly concerned expression. “Are you all right, man? You look quite done in all of a sudden.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Andrew muttered, sitting back in his chair and trying to think clearly. “A Duke, you say? Are you quite sure?”
“I’m sure I know what that old friend of mine said, and he watched the whole thing!” Lord Watson exclaimed. “Duke of Bartonshire or something, I can’t be certain what.”
“A shouting match with Miss Skelton,” Andrew murmured, a knot of unease settling in him. “And that lady is not one to take anything lying down.”
Lord Watson chuckled darkly. “So I’ve heard.”
“And you really very little idea as to what went on?”
“None!” Lord Watson exclaimed, his eyes lit with a flickering hope. “Does this mean, by any chance, that you might consider lingering in London for a time? I do hope so, old boy. I’m sure I can tempt you back into your old ways given time.”
Shaking his head, Andrew got up from the table and patted Lord Watson on the shoulder. “Afraid not, Lord Watson. I am even more determined to leave this place in a few days’ time. Although, do me a favor, would you? If you do hear any more, would you be able to write to me the details of whatever it is you have found out? I could make it worth your while since I know you find such labors terribly difficult.” He made sure to add a note of mockery to his final words, making Lord Watson grimace.
“Yes, yes, you may laugh at my unwillingness when it comes to writing letters and the like but when it comes to you, of course I will do as you ask. Although, what did you have in mind by way of making it ‘worth my while’?”
Andrew shrugged. “I could pay off your tab here?”
Lord Watson’s eyes lit up. “Capital, Lord Radford, absolutely capital! For that, I should send you one letter a week!”
Chuckling, Andrew put on his hat and pulled on his gloves. “A letter a week then, Lord Watson. Make sure to have Whites send the bill to me and I will pay it directly, before I return home. Good evening.”
“Good evening,” Lord Watson replied, now seeming to be much less dejected than he had been before. The prospect of having his tab paid off seemed to have done him the world of good.
Still chuckling to himself at how easily Lord Watson had been placated, Andrew hailed a hackney and headed home, feeling rather in fine spirits. The prospect of leaving London had never felt so joyous and he found that he was rather looking forward to returning to his estate. Perhaps it was because he had finally seen himself for who he truly was and was now willing to set all his vices aside for the sake of becoming a dutiful, responsible viscount. He had to hope it was that, although he was quite sure that his mother, the Dowager Radford, would be delighted at the sudden change in him.
Once home, Andrew made his way to the library, intent on having a final drink before he retired. The butler and the rest of the staff had already gone to bed, which he was glad of, feeling as though he wanted to be entirely alone with his thoughts. What Lord Watson had said about the House for Girls, the mysterious Duke and Miss Skelton had rather unnerved him, for to hear that such a terrible commotion had gone on in the house had left him with a conclusion that, whilst shaky, was something he could not let go of.
This was all to do, somehow, with Miss Blakely. He could not say why or for what reason, but the strange way Miss Skelton had treated her had always given him pause, even when he had not cared about her other than something to satisfy his desires. Miss Blakely herself had talked about how Miss Skelton had pushed her away, done all she could to rid her from the House for Girls, but had never found out any explanation as to why that might have been.
Perhaps the Duke had something to do with it all.
Frowning to himself, Andrew poured himself a measure of brandy and sat down by the fire, seeing the small tray with two letters on it. The butler must have set it here for him, knowing that he usually spent a short time in the library on his return from whatever social occasion he had been at.
Picking them up, he saw that one was a letter and the other a small handwritten note. Opening the note, he scanned the few short lines, a
broad smile spreading across his face.
‘Lord Radford, I would be glad to join you at the Radford Estate and to teach Miss Amy. I do hope I have not left it too late. Miss Blakely.’
It was short and to the point and yet left Andrew with such a feeling of overwhelming delight that, for a long moment, he could not so much as drag his eyes away from it. Miss Blakely was going to come to take up her role as governess in his house. She had trusted him enough to accept. That brought him such a profound sense of relief that he did not quite know what to do with himself, his throat aching with a sudden sharp emotion.
Why do I feel this way?
The question had him stop dead, his smile fading and fingers gripping the paper tightly. Why did he care so much about Miss Blakely’s presence at his Estate? After all, he had sworn to her that he would not go near her again, would not urge her to come to his bed as he had once planned, so why keep her so near to him when he knew that his desire for her, his interest in her, had not yet waned?
Even that in itself was cause for confusion. She had rebuffed him at every turn until he had seen himself in such a poor light that he had been forced to take stock – but still, his eyes still sought her out, his lips still curved into a smile whenever she drew near. He still found her intriguing, wondering about where she had come from, wondering about her life in the House for Girls. It no longer entered his mind that she was of much lower class than he, for he found her to be more than his equal. After all, none of his equals had ever spoken to him in the way she had done! She had more strength, more courage and sense of respect in her than any of his acquaintances. She knew what was merited her and she had stood up for it, casting his rank and status aside until he had been forced to fall to his knees and try to pick up the pieces of his life.
So what was he to do with these strange, tangling emotions that threaded through his heart whenever he saw her, or even thought of her? Was he to believe himself truly fond of the lady, even though they had only just set aside the past with the hopes of moving forward?
Groaning aloud, Andrew put his head in his hands, the paper crinkling as he did so. This was all much too confusing. He would simply be glad that Miss Blakely had decided to come to his Estate and teach Miss Amy. The rest, he would work out later.
Setting the crumpled note aside, Andrew picked up the letter and broke the seal, not quite sure where it had come from since he did not recognize it. To his surprise, he saw the address for the Smithfield House for Girls at the top, his stomach tightening with a sudden, fierce tension.
‘My Lord Radford, I regret to inform you that Miss Blakely’s presence is required back at the House for Girls with immediate effect. Please ensure that she is returned without delay. We will be, of course, recompensing you for any loss of income or the like. Sincerely, Miss A. Skelton, Smithfield House for Girls.’
His jaw clenched. His instincts had been quite right. Something was wrong at Smithfield house and it all centered around Miss Blakely, although he was quite sure she would be as at much of a loss as he.
He did not want to send her back, an urge to protect her growing steadily deeper as he re-read the letter. Of course, he should allow her to read the letter and make her choice, but what if she chose to return? It was not all that likely, of course, since he knew that she had been rather angry about how Miss Skelton had treated her, but regardless, there was still the chance that she would capitulate. Miss Skelton had manipulated her once and he was certain she could do it again.
How ashamed he was to remember that he had been a party to all of that.
He was not quite sure what to do with the letter, toying between throwing it in the flames and ignoring it altogether or finding Miss Blakely first thing in the morning and telling her everything about what he had heard from Lord Watson and then what he had read.
And then, before he could decide, the door opened and Miss Blakely, dressed in her night things, stepped into the room.
Chapter Nine
An involuntary shriek left Elsbeth’s mouth as a figure in front of the fire moved, just as she stepped into the room. Grasping the door handle to steady herself, she held on tightly, only to hear Lord Radford’s voice coming towards her.
“I do apologize, Miss Blakely, I did not mean to scare you.”
Pulling the top of her dressing gown tightly against her throat, Elsbeth tried to calm her frantically beating heart, her eyes wide. “I do apologize, Lord Radford,” she gasped, making to leave him alone again. “It was quite my mistake. I did not think you had returned and I could not sleep and so –”
“It is, in fact, rather fortuitous that you have arrived as you did,” he said, calmly. “Might you step inside for a moment? I have something of importance to tell you.”
She hesitated, her mind screaming at her to run away from him, particularly when she was dressed in her night things – although they covered her just as well as any governess’ gown.
“I do not think –”
“I will not rise from my chair,” he promised, evidently aware of what she was going to say. “I swear it to you, my dear lady. Come now, you have trusted me thus far, can you not trust me just a little more?”
It was on the tip of Elsbeth’s tongue to say that she did not trust him very much at all but, calming herself, she let go of the door handle with an effort and stepped inside.
“It is to do with the Smithfield House for Girls, Miss Blakely,” Lord Radford said, as she sat down. “I am not quite sure what to make of it all but my instincts tell me that all is not well there.”
Hearing the worry in his voice, Elsbeth frowned as he held out a letter to her, taking it from him at once. Her fingers jerked away from his as they brushed but, with a small sigh of relief, she saw that he had not noticed.
No, she certainly was not entirely comfortable around this gentleman as yet.
“Read it and then I shall tell you more,” Lord Radford said, encouragingly. “There is not a lot there but there is enough to make it highly significant.”
A trifle confused, Elsbeth let her eyes turn to the letter in her hand, reading the few short lines with increasing concern. She had no idea as to why her presence would be required back at the Smithfield House, feeling as though she was, once again, simply a toy to be used by those who required her.
“It is very odd, is it not?” came Lord Radford’s murmur. “I cannot imagine what Miss Skelton means to achieve in demanding such a thing.”
Caught with a sudden fear, Elsbeth looked up at him in fright. “Do you mean to....?”
He leaned forward, his eyes warm in the firelight. “Do not concern yourself in that regard, my dear lady. I have no thought of returning you there. In fact, I was battling between throwing it in the fire and ignoring it altogether or allowing it to be your decision.” He gave her a small smile, which calmed her frantic nerves. “It appears that you are to make the choice yourself.”
The thought of returning to the Smithfield House for Girls made her almost queasy, her stomach tightening as she clung to the arm of the chair with one hand as though to steady herself.
“My offer to have you as governess to Miss Amy still stands, Miss Blakely,” Lord Radford murmured. “You have no requirement to do as they ask since you are no longer their charge. The moment you left the premises, you became your own person.”
It did not feel like that, however, and Elsbeth was forced to battle her doubts, suddenly worried that there was something wrong with Mrs. Banks or the like.
“I should also tell you that one of my friends, Lord Watson, had heard some news about your House for Girls.”
She looked up at him, seeing his concern.
“There is more?”
Shrugging, he let his eyes drift to the letter. “Perhaps I should have told you this first. My friend, Lord Watson, told me that he heard a Duke had visited Smithfield House. I’m afraid he could not quite remember the name – one of the consequences of too much brandy, I’m afraid – but he did remember that t
here had been a constable called to the House.”
Gripped by terror, she leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Do tell me that nothing is wrong with Mrs. Banks?”
He frowned, reaching forward to take her hand in his warm one. “No, my dear Miss Blakely, there is nothing about her as far as I know.”
She let out a long, shaky breath, feeling tears prick at the corner of her eyes. For a moment, she had been convinced that something dreadful had happened to Mrs. Banks, her one steadfast friend, and given Miss Skelton’s threats as regarded her, it was nothing but sheer relief to know that she was not involved in anything.
“No, Miss Blakely, you need not worry about her,” Lord Radford continued, gently. “My friend, Lord Watson, said that a constable had been called due to all the screaming that was coming from the place. There was no one hurt, you understand, but it was, in fact, a shouting match between this Duke and Miss Skelton.”
“An argument?” Elsbeth repeated, blinking in confusion. “They were shouting so loudly that someone thought there was a beating or the like?”
“Something like that, yes,” Lord Radford replied, with a rueful smile. “The constable did not say what the argument was about, but truth be told, Miss Blakely, I am concerned that this letter arriving so soon after this incident means that the two are tied together.”
