"I understand. Sometimes the social world can be overwhelming to…" Roundtree paused and looked Laurence up and down with a sneer. "You academic types."
Not taking umbrage because the man underestimating him was in Laurence's best interests, Laurence merely nodded as if he agreed as Mr. Roundtree reintroduced himself.
“What brings you to London then? Aren’t you usually tied to your post in Oxford?” Roundtree asked.
“They do let me wander about loose on occasion.”
“And you have business with the government?”
“Oh, no. I’m merely out for a stroll. I came from visiting a friend and always like to take a walk near the Thames when I’m lucky enough to be in town.”
“Whoever heard of such a thing? Walking Thames-side for recreation? I say, are you daft? The place reeks.” As if to illustrate his point, Roundtree stuck his nose in the air and sniffed.
“I confess. I’m one of those eccentric academics. You may ignore me and go on about your business, Mr. Roundtree and I promise I’ll recall your name when next we happen to meet.”
Roundtree bowed and turned. As he walked away, Laurence heard him mumble something about people with no common sense.
That the man had such an opinion of Laurence served the purposes of the War Department since the Member of Parliament wouldn’t be on alert when Laurence was around. He could thus observe Roundtree without fear of being exposed.
Laurence walked toward his rendezvous point, hoping Roundtree was truly gone and wasn’t watching to see where he went.
Moving slowly to put off the inevitable confession that he’d missed out on gathering any intelligence at Vauxhall due to Miss Hale’s dilemma, Laurence hoped his superior would understand the decision he’d made to abandon his assigned duty. He didn’t regret what he did, but wasn’t sure how Jones would react.
Chapter Eleven
That evening, Hetty dressed with care again since Laurence was expected. She had Mary work on arranging her hair again to make the best of covering the bruise on her face.
Her family gathered in the drawing room before their dinner guests arrived. Hetty’s father sat by the fireplace. When she entered the room, he said, “Good evening, daughter. I’ve made a decision and wanted to tell you about it before our company arrives.”
Her stomach threatened to expel whatever contents it had. What kind of decision had he made and how would it affect her?
“No need in looking at me as if I’m Henry VIII and you’re Anne Boleyn. I haven’t arranged for you to lose your head.”
“James, don’t tease Hester.” Her mother waved her over. “Come on in, this decision should please you.”
John, on the settee, snorted. “I see this as a mistake, Father. I’m sorry, but I have to say it.”
“What do you know about it already?” Hetty couldn’t believe her parents would discuss something about her life with her brother before telling her. What was this decision?
“Since Mr. Fortescue was so helpful last night and I think he’s trustworthy, I’m going to allow you to spend time at the laboratory with him in Oxford with Mary as your chaperone if I’m unable to be there.”
“What?” Hetty couldn’t believe it. Why would Father suddenly trust there would be no societal censure if she were alone with a young man? What did this mean? Did he think Laurence was going to offer for her?
“Father, this is a mistake, I promise. Not only will people talk and Hetty’s reputation be ruined, but she will probably do something to hasten her own downfall.”
“Why don’t you think I can behave with decorum?” Hetty turned on her brother.
“Because I know you. You’ve never been one to follow conventions and now you’ve been given permission to be alone with a man. This cannot come to anything but a disastrous end.” John stood and paced the area behind the settee. “Can’t you see what a mistake this is, Father?”
“Sit down, John. I’m not giving your sister free rein to run amok. I’m merely stating that she can meet in the laboratory if some experiment Mr. Fortescue is working on interests her and I’m not able to be present.”
Her father rose from his seat as well. Walking over to where John was, he towered over his son. “The last time I looked, I’m the head of his household and I make the rules. If you want to contradict me in a polite manner, I’ll entertain that conversation. If you continue to make demands and act as if you’re the one in charge, you’re welcome to find your own quarters.”
With those words, Hetty’s father turned on his heel, held his arm out to his wife and said, “Are you ready to see if our guest has arrived and move to the dining room?”
“I know you’re angry, James but shouldn’t we wait here for our guest to be shown in?” Her mother asked.
Hetty couldn’t say a word. She still hadn’t really recovered from the events of the evening before and now her father and brother were at odds. Not that she wasn’t a tiny bit happy about her father finally having an argument with John rather than her. It seemed she was always the one the older man was always having to lecture. This was a welcome change.
Before her father could answer, the door opened and Laurence was announced.
He looked so handsome in his dark breeches and coat. The whiteness of his shirt almost glowed in the low light of the room. His cravat was tied perfectly and his hair fell over his forehead, the edges coming to rest on the rims of his spectacles. Needing a haircut made him even more attractive than Hetty thought possible.
Her friend Jane didn’t believe men with spectacles could be inviting, but Hetty disagreed. There was something mysterious about them and getting behind the glass to see the real man was something that intrigued her.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Hale. I’m sorry if I’m a little late. I had a difficult time getting a hackney this evening.”
“You’re right on time,” Hetty’s mother said as she led Laurence out to the corridor.
Leave it to her mother to make their guest feel comfortable and even if he was late, to ignore it. Hetty hoped she could someday be as good a hostess as her mother. If she ever had a chance to have her own household.
While the footmen were serving the first course, the conversation turned to the scientific experiment Laurence and Hetty's father were going to collaborate on.
John scowled at his plate and ate without making eye contact with anyone. Hetty shook her head. He was behaving like a petulant child. She was surprised her father didn't take him to task for it.
Recalled to the conversation when she heard her name, Hetty turned to face her mother.
"So you see, Mr. Fortescue, my husband is now amenable to allowing Hester to visit the laboratory with a chaperone. You've shown by ably coming to our aid last night that we can trust you with our daughter's reputation."
Laurence darted a glance at Hetty and raised his eyebrows.
She interpreted his action as a question of whether she'd told them the truth about the events in the gardens. Giving him a slight shake of the head, she spoke before he could. "I promise not to abuse the privilege, Mr. Fortescue. I'll only come when you're working on something that interests me."
Hoping he took her meaning that she was coming as soon as they returned to Oxford since she wanted him to assist her with the abnormal heat she still emanated, she ended her statement with a smile.
"I'm sure you would never take advantage and come too often. You'll be welcome any time." Laurence returned the smile then addressed her father. "I appreciate the confidence you've shown me, sir. I assure you I will live up to it."
A loud snort came from John's direction followed by the sound of someone taking a big gulp of wine.
"Did you have something you wanted to say, son?" Hetty's father asked.
"I think I made my position clear earlier, sir, so no."
"Perhaps you'd like to be excused from the table then?"
John seemed to take the hint and stood. He tossed his serviette on the table and strode to the
door. "This is a disaster and scandal in the making."
As soon as the words left John's mouth, Hetty's father flung his wineglass at him. It arced in one direction as the contents flew in the other. The crystal shattered as it hit the door John slammed behind him.
Hetty gaped at her father in horror. This behavior was reminiscent of the time after her real mother's death and before he met the woman who was now her mother. Was he going back to those days? When she and John lived in terror? And spirits were her father's only companion?
Her mother placed a hand on her father's forearm. "Please don't allow your anger at John to ruin the evening. Mr. Fortescue will certainly not want to visit us again."
"It's quite all right, Mrs. Hale. I come from a family of three sons and we've all disagreed on occasion and even in front of dinner guests." Laurence took a sip of his wine and appeared to be calm.
Hetty wasn't. She could scarce take in what had just happened. How could her father forget himself so utterly? He was always aware of his station and how he needed to present himself. This was disconcerting as well as frightening. She wished their guest would leave so she could talk to her mother in private about her concerns.
She almost laughed then. Almost. Who would've thought she would ever want Laurence to leave her presence?
"I do apologize, Fortescue, but sometimes my heir oversteps himself and makes me lose my temper."
Her father glanced over at her mother and some signal passed between them causing her mother to rise and say, "I believe it's time for us ladies to retire and leave you to your port."
Hetty followed her mother out of the room.
When they were back in the small drawing room decorated in the pale rose and lilac colors her mother loved, she patted the seat beside her. "Come and sit down next to me, Hester. You look ill."
"I'm not. I'm worried about Father. You know how he was when you met him. Is he returning to those ways? I couldn't bear it if he did."
"No dear, I'm quite sure he's not beginning to rely too heavily on drink. He and John merely have some things to resolve between them." She ran a hand across her chest as if she some morsel of dinner had dropped there. "I confess though, he has me a bit worried over some project he has been enlisted to assist Mr. Hammond in."
"What project is that? And doesn't he have enough to do to complete the notes to do the paper on Mr. Fortescue's findings?"
"I should say so, but you know your father. He can't seem to rest unless he has too much to do."
Hetty laughed. Her mother's words were so true. It made no sense, but it was her father's way. "How odd that sounds, doesn't it?"
"It does indeed." Her mother joined her in laughter.
"Do you know what the project with Mr. Hammond is?" Hetty asked, wondering if it was something that might interest her. Of course she didn't think the odious Mr. Hammond liked science, but one never knew.
"I'm afraid I have no idea. Your father says it's a secret. Something he cannot tell even me." She patted her curls. "That's what concerns me. James doesn't keep anything from me and he adamantly refuses to discuss this venture."
Now Hetty was concerned as well. She didn't like or trust Mr. Hammond and her father being involved in some kind of scheme with him did not bode well.
"So what do you think it might be, Mother?"
"What might what be?" her father asked upon his entry into the drawing room after allowing Laurence to precede him.
Her mother rose and kissed her husband on the cheek. "Nothing, my dear. Just girl's chatter.
“You ladies always like your gossip, don’t you, Hester?” Her father smiled at Hetty.
She ducked her head, not wanting to respond since they were actually discussing him and his activities. Hetty wasn’t good at not telling the truth and worried her father would see it in her eyes.
Laurence sat in the chair nearest to Hetty. “As soon as I return to Oxford, I’m going to work on recreating my experiment you saw before. Would you like to come along with your father and watch?”
“I would love to. When will you be back in Oxford? I think we are returning in the middle of the week.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, daughter, but I’m going to have to stay in town longer than anticipated. I have some business to transact with Mr. Hammond.” Her father turned to Laurence. “Perhaps I can send the ladies back with you in my carriage. They would then have male protection and could return to their regular routine sooner.”
A shadow passed over Laurence’s face and he didn’t answer for a few moments. Finally, he said, “I wasn’t returning myself until a week from tomorrow.”
“Don’t you have lectures to give?” Hetty asked. “The students are still expecting to attend tutorials, aren’t they?”
Laurence coughed into his handkerchief and turned red. “Yes, yes, of course. I’ve taken a bit of a leave of absence. Someone will cover my lectures.”
He wasn’t being honest about something, but Hetty couldn’t quite tell what or why. He was evasive and uncertain. It was decidedly odd.
“I hope there’s no serious family concern that causes this leave of absence,” Hetty’s mother said.
“No, madam. Merely some things I need to see to.”
Was it Hetty’s imagination or did Laurence’s face get even more flush? What was he hiding?
Determined to get the answer, Hetty said, “What kind of things do you need to tend to?”
At the gasp her mother let out, Hetty smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry. That was impertinent. Forgive me.”
“I’m sure you didn’t mean to be impertinent and I forgive you.” Laurence stood. “And now, I better take my leave.”
“No need to rush off, Fortescue,” Hetty’s father said.
“I have an early appointment tomorrow as I’m sure you do. It seems when we come to town we have so many obligations, it’s difficult to enjoy time with friends and family, isn’t it?”
“Actually, our social life is more abundant in town, especially during the season.” Hetty’s father opened the door to the hallway. “But if you insist upon leaving, who are we to require you to linger?”
“When you put it that way, sir, how can I possibly go?” Laurence laughed.
“Good man, good man.” Her father turned toward the bell-pull to ring the butler. “How about a game of cards? Hester here will surprise you with her skill.”
Laurence pushed his spectacles up. “I’m not very adept, but will do my best.”
The butler came in with two footmen and set up the card table. Hetty watched Laurence’s face while they worked. He didn’t seem to want to be there. It was curious that he’d even accepted the invitation to dinner if he was going to be in a hurry to quit the premises. It made her wonder exactly what he was about.
Laurence stood in indecision. He needed to leave since he’d planned another trip to Vauxhall in his quest for information to take to Jones. Accepting the dinner invitation to the Hale home had been a calculated risk. He’d hoped some of the men he suspected of conspiring with Mr. Hale to bring information to the French to aid them in the war against his homeland would be at the meal.
When they weren’t, Laurence decided to make his excuses as soon as was proper to give himself time to get to the gardens. But then Miss Hale questioned what he needed to do in town after asking how he could miss his lectures in Oxford. He couldn’t very well tell her he was employed by the War Office and so stammered and choked his way through a semblance of an explanation that he had no doubt she didn’t believe.
Then his host made him feel guilty and he couldn’t make good on his escape. Now here he was, playing cards with two women along with a man he suspected of treason.
All he really wanted to do was make his way out of this house and to the gardens. He needed to bring the conspirators to justice and if the other men were moving toward fulfilling whatever their goal was while he himself was distracted here by another of the co-conspirators, all might be lost.
Laurence k
new there was no possible way that Hammond and Roundtree knew the War Office was aware of their true loyalties and that he was assigned to bring about the end to their plans. But it did seem as if Mr. Hale knew something since he was so determined to keep him there at his home. And what part did Talbot play in all this? That had been nagging at him for a while.
But how would Hale be involved? What could be his motive? Surely the man had plenty of money already and didn’t need to commit treason.
“Oh, Mr. Fortescue. That was a bad play.” Miss Hale laughed as she picked up the card he’d just abandoned. “Our guest does seem to be distracted.”
Mr. Hale leaned across the table and peered at Laurence. “Are you feeling well?”
Seeing this as his chance to escape, Laurence said, “I’m sorry. I must confess, I’ve a bit of indigestion. It seems to be worsening as the evening progresses.”
“Then you must have a remedy. I’ll call for Cook to bring you a posset,” Mrs. Hale said.
Laurence pushed his chair back. “No, no thank you. My mother’s cook has a remedy that always seems to work well for me. I’m afraid I must excuse myself and return there so she may help me feel more like myself.”
“Then you need to make haste.” Mr. Hale stood. “I note you don’t have your own conveyance. May I send you home in my carriage?”
Laurence didn’t see how he could refuse even though he needed to go in the opposite direction. If he wanted to keep up the ruse of not feeling well, he had no choice but to take the carriage. He couldn’t ask the coachman to reroute them either as the man would more than likely let his employer know.
Determined to see it through and make his way to Vauxhall after being let off near his parents’ home, Laurence rose from his seat slowly. “Yes, sir. I would be grateful for the use of your carriage and coachman.”
“Very well.”
Following his host into the hall, Laurence waited for the man’s wife to catch up to him. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hale. Please don’t think the meal you served me was to blame. I’m afraid I sometimes have a weak stomach.”
Lightning Strikes Twice (The Heart of a Hero Book 4) Page 10
