“Different? In what way?”
Lady Camille seated herself in the chair beside Bethany, her gaze intent. “You look ... happy!”
“Are you saying I’ve always looked unhappy?”
“No. I’d say you look terrific.” She grinned, her bottom lip again caught between her teeth. “I think my closest friend and only cousin has found love at last.”
Bethany opened her mouth to deny it but her flaming cheeks gave her away. “You’re incorrigible, you know. Am I not allowed to keep anything private?”
“No. You must tell me all about it, Love.”
Bethany’s smile faded. She’d very much like sharing her deepest hopes and darkest secrets with Lady Camille, but there were some things she still really preferred to keep to herself.
CHAPTER 22
“We broke the rules coming to you first,” Lord Matthew muttered, drawing something from his pocket and setting it on Locke’s desk. “We should have taken it straight to the Iron Duke. We just thought we owed you first, considering.”
The earl eyed Bethany’s bracelet, inhaling deep against what he did not doubt was the worst of news. “You broke the code?”
“Yes,” Mr. Nicolas replied. “It was one of the most convoluted we’ve seen in ages, combining a portion of the code you did recognize with a mixture of letters, symbols and a numbering system none of us did. It led from the front to the back of each charm, in a clockwise circle half a dozen times around the bracelet. Took our best men night and day for six days to unravel it. Lady Bethany certainly couldn’t have made sense of it.”
“Incredible,” Locke said, taking his seat behind his desk. He opened the clasp on the charm bracelet, laid it out before him, and fingered the charms until they all lay with the pictures face up. Mr. Nicolas set a slip of paper on the desk, bearing the key to the code on the front, the answers on the back.
Locke toyed with the code until impatience got the best of him. Flipping the sheet over, he felt gut-punched when he read the message’s details and the list of five names written in Lord Matthew’s curling script. The sixth, couched within the inscribed crown, was that of the Prince Regent.
“Good law,” he muttered, digging his knuckles into his throbbing temples. “I’d prayed this wasn’t true.”
“You suspected him, though?” Lord Matthew pressed his finger to the man whose name topped the list.
“Yes. I only prayed I was wrong. This is too hard to bear.”
Lord Matthew and Mr. Nicolas shared one of their bookend looks, an exchange that went beyond words.
“In all due respect, it will come harder to some than to others,” Lord Matthew murmured. “In truth, I’m not sure which is worse, having been played as fools, or having to ruin people’s lives fixing it.”
“I don’t want to know the truth,” Locke said, lifting the bracelet. “Not if it means this.”
“A bit late for that,” Mr. Nicolas said sadly. “And we still have to tell the higher powers what we’ve discovered, what we plan to do about it, and face whatever comes of it.”
Locke saw the pain on his cousins-in-law’s faces and sighed. “You must run our plan past Wellesley, of course, but I have a feeling, under the circumstances, he’ll approve.”
“In all likelihood,” Lord Matthew said, returning the offending jewelry to his pocket. “We should leave immediately.”
“Not so fast. I have some questions for you boys, and you’re not leaving this time until you’ve given me the answers.”
Apprehension marred their countenances, but they took a seat at his request and listened as the earl painted a picture for them of the night Lady Bethany had been kidnapped—not as they knew it, but as she had lived it.
“You have no idea how much I want to hurt you both for deceiving me the way you did,” he warned them. “The least you owe me is your side of the story.”
Abashed, they offered muttered apologies and then took turns revealing the whole tale and what the twins had now finally pieced together with the key to the bracelet’s code.
Only three of the men on the list had been at Almack’s that night. The other two, Baron Gladwell and Sir Shreeves, close friends, spent the night at White’s. Locke was familiar with both of them and agreed with the twins that, without the acumen to orchestrate a conspiracy, they were a part of it but not in charge. Elderly Lord Perry died from a weak heart only two weeks following the assault on Lady Bethany. He certainly wasn’t in charge now. The cultured gentleman whom they believed had taken Lady Bethany onto Almack’s veranda was one Viscount Beckwood, a second cousin by marriage to one of the Grand Dukes. Naturally Lady Bethany would have trusted him. He was a powerful man and no one would suspect him. She was probably honored he invited her to walk with him.
Which meant, without question, that the first name on the list, the second gentleman at Almack’s, the man Lady Bethany saw in the shadows, was most certainly their ringleader.
“We received an urgent message at Almack’s near ten-thirty that night, just before Almack’s patrons served supper,” Lord Matthew explained, “from the groundskeeper at Lord Whitton’s townhouse. He insisted one of us come posthaste but to not let on something terrible had happened. Nicolas pretended a headache and left.”
“Seems the stable dog’s barking led the groundskeeper to the stable,” Mr. Nicolas said, “where he found Beth, injured and unconscious. He was quite fond of our cousin and thankfully forswore his silence in honor of her, otherwise her reputation would have been ruined. She was in a bad way, but I dared not trust anyone outside the family to care for her, not even either of our townhouse’s servants. Thankfully, our parents were on another trip to meet with doctors and we had our townhouse to ourselves. So, I sent a note posthaste to Matthew hinting what was afoot.”
“Supper had just been announced,” Lord Matthew said, “but I hadn’t yet gone inside when I received Nicolas’s message. I pulled my sister aside and whispered what I could of the trouble at Whitton. Lady Camille was most dutiful, managed to keep her composure as she approached Lady Katherine and claimed not feeling well either, said I was taking her to our townhouse, and that Lady Bethany had agreed to accompany her and stay the night with her.”
“While our aunt—who later told us she enjoyed herself ’til early morning—was kept busy, we rushed Lady Bethany to a favorite inn out of town, one we use on assignment, where we pretended we’d had too much to drink and needed lodgings for us and our ‘lady friends’. The next morning we left Lady Bethany in Lady Camille’s care, reporting to the innkeeper that my ‘sweetheart’ had taken ill—the only one of us who truly was ill. We hired a doctor for her whom we knew would keep his mouth shut, and then returned to London, to look for clues as to her assault. Later we learned the extent of her injuries and were bowled over by it. Broken ribs, multitudes of cuts and bruises, dozens of burns large and small, shallow knife wounds, and....” He left the rest unspoken.
“The next afternoon, while Nicolas was trying to find out anything he could, I reported to Aunt Katherine that Lady Bethany had tired of the ton, and on the spur of the moment she and Lady Camille had decided to head for our country estate—another deception, of course. Lady Katherine was miffed, but to our relief said she’d planned another week’s stay in London in the company of friends and had no intentions of following Lady Bethany home so soon. It meant we could return Beth to health and get her home with no one the wiser.”
“Then four days after Almack’s, the news arrived of Mr. Collin’s death, in Portugal, followed two days later by word of the accident that took Lord Whitton and Lord Christian’s lives, supposedly in Belgium. We know this was fabricated now, but we didn’t then. Our aunt took it so hard she was too distraught even to write and unable to travel for weeks after. As far as she knew, Lady Bethany was dealing with the loss at home, with Lady Camille as her comfort. They were still at the inn, of course, but Beth was recovered enough, we had to break the news to her.”
“I think she reacted worse
to the deaths than what happened to her,” Mr. Nicolas took up the story. “Everything was in shambles for a while. Her sorrow. Getting her home before Aunt Katherine arrived. Fending off visitors. Refusing them audience because she was too grief-stricken.
“For whatever reason, the blokes left our cousin’s face untouched, which did make things easier for her on the surface. But her heart was wounded, and holding the atrocity so deep inside made it worse for her in some ways. We tried to find clues to her abduction, but when she forbade us telling anyone else about it, not even the authorities, our hands were tied.
“It was heartbreaking to see her coming unhinged anytime she found herself in tight spaces, or if someone touched her unexpectedly. Of course, her deepest fear was marrying. She couldn’t hide the truth from her husband. If he rejected her or resorted to public humiliation, her reputation would be in shreds. She withdrew from the world of courtship and announced to the three of us she’d prefer to remain a spinster the rest of her life than take that risk.”
“Do you blame her?” Locke muttered.
“Never,” Lord Matthew replied. “But we did the best we could under the circumstances.”
“It may be small consolation, but at least they did not get her with child,” Mr. Nicolas murmured. “You have no idea how greatly she feared that, and how relieved she was when it didn’t happen.”
“You’re sure no one else knows?”
“We told our father,” Lord Matthew admitted. “Before Lady Bethany forbade us telling anyone. We needed his help to find the culprits—and to keep another eye on her in case they ever tried again. Neither Lady Katherine nor our mother knows the truth, and they mustn’t ever. It’s too late.
“Marc, mourning kept Lady Bethany’s suitors at arm’s length, but afterward, when the estate began to fail, Lady Katherine pushed her hard to marry. It’s been a dark time for her. We suspect you two have feelings for each other. If so, we applaud it. But. You must be more cautious than ever around her. You know you’re forbidden to tell her who you are.”
“That presents a problem. I do need to warn you that my indomitable wife admitted to eavesdropping on more than one of our conversations.”
“What?” The twins chimed together.
He related what she had confessed, watching a blend of guilt and shock mar their countenances.
“She still doesn’t know everything, especially regarding the mastermind of the plot against the Prince Regent, but she knows enough. If we keep anything from her, it must be because it is better for her not to know.
“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love Lady Bethany, and she returns my feelings, and that’s all I’ll say for now. But I’m not sure how long it will take me to forgive the two of you for the imbroglio you tossed me into with her. Knowing the truth would have changed everything.”
“But you might not have—“
“I would have. I swore to protect her in her father’s place—and in his memory. You sold me short in not allowing me to make the decision fully informed. It would have spared me confusion and protected her from my mistakes. Please believe me when I tell you that if either of you ever withholds important information like that from me again, you may or may not live to regret it.”
The twins nodded, properly chastened and convinced of his sincerity.
* * *
Lady Camille hardly heeded her brothers’ leaving, but Bethany sensed the edge of melancholy that went with them. One glance at Locke, whose mask had slipped, told her that something troublesome had passed between the three men, something he wouldn’t—couldn’t?—share. Locke gave her a tenuous smile when he again excused himself to his study to prepare for another trip he would soon need to make to London. He again took his noon meal locked up there.
Thus, Lady Camille’s raptures over her wedding plans engulfed the bulk of Bethany’s attention.
“Mum insists we take our time, wants the finest wedding imaginable next spring. I expected Scarbreigh to protest. He’s old enough I’m sure he’d like to see the birth of his first child before he grows long in the tooth, but he agreed with her. Said he didn’t want me to regret a single detail. You ought to hear what he says regarding the gossip around town, now that we’ve announced our engagement. I empathize even more with what you endured, Lady Bethany. Kind wishes and sage advice notwithstanding, the daggers and cat’s claws could pierce the most stalwart heart.”
Bethany chuckled her understanding. She still worried about Lord Scarbreigh’s loyalty, but there was nothing to do except to pray for them and hope for the best, and that she did fervently.
The next day, Lady Camille received a note from her father, informing her that he’d learned of another physician in Harrogate whose excellence was all the rage. He was taking Lady Eva there immediately for another hopeful consultation. After that, a note came from Scarbreigh, stating he had pressing matters with a fishing fleet he owned near the Thames docks and from there would travel to Scotland to oversee his ancestral property’s preparations for harvest. The twins and Lord Locke made a number of trips to and from London and exchanged several posts over the next two weeks, Bethany relieved when the earl came home to her quickly each time—unlike going to the Continent or who knew what other destinations he might have chosen.
With Scarbreigh and her family away, and having no particular plans for the remainder of August and into September, Lady Camille offered to remain at Moorewood indefinitely. Bethany happily accepted. Then, a post came from Lady Katherine, announcing her plans to come for a three day stay the second week of September.
Excited by the prospect, Bethany proposed arranging a small party to welcome her. Lady Camille suggested they make it a surprise. Locke teased Bethany that he’d been on the verge of planning some sort of route if she hadn’t and gave his hearty stamp of approval, along with a handful of sealed invitations for Bethany to send off with her own.
* * *
The dowager countess arrived in complete awe of Moorewood and beyond delighted to greet a few old friends who insisted on dropping by during the day—although thankfully none of them let slip tomorrow night’s surprise festivities. To Bethany, Lady Katherine seemed more herself than she had since the loss of the Lord Whitton and her sons. She pricked her ears at local rumors, gasped at scandals, and teased Lady Camille about her transports over Scarbreigh. The countess also cheerfully joined in their games, their walks, and a ride across the meadows.
The next day, the day of the surprise party, Mr. Treadwell delivered another missive to Bethany before Lady Katherine came down for breakfast.
“Just delivered by post, my lady,” the butler said.
“Thank you, Mr. Treadwell. Oh, it’s from Scarbreigh.”
“What?” Lady Camille objected. “Why would he send you a post? He’s aware I’m here. Why wouldn’t he address me?”
Bethany chuckled. “You’re wearing the wrong shade of green, cousin. I’m Moorewood’s mistress. He’s merely following convention and accepted my invitation to the party. He’ll arrive this afternoon.”
Lady Camille squealed with delight and began chattering—as if she’d lost her senses—about so many notions at once Bethany could make neither heads or nor tails of it, other than for understanding that her cousin was thrilled to be able to show off her fiancé to Moorewood’s guests.
Locke joined the three women at luncheon, where Bethany informed him of Scarbreigh’s visit.
“I’m glad he accepted the invitation. Will he stay the night?”
“The next two nights, unless you object.”
“Of course not. He’s always welcome. Please forgive me for not offering you the best of company today, ladies. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I promise not to carry a long face to our evening’s entertainments.”
Bethany nodded, concerned for him. That long face had grown even longer the last few days, his mask seemingly forgotten.
* * *
Locke returned upstairs, leaving the women to greet Scarbreigh when he a
rrived. The marquess was as animated and jovial as ever, his wit and good mood quickly putting the three women to the blush and entertaining them throughout the day.
Lady Katherine was astounded when her guests arrived at once that evening for the party. At first embarrassed and then thrilled, she quickly became the belle of her own party.
When Locke joined them, the scowls and brooding meditations had disappeared. He’d apparently found his mask again.
“Would you be wounded if I gave your mother the first dance?” Locke whispered in Bethany’s ear, daring to nuzzle her shoulder and send a shiver trailing towards her toes.
She craned her neck back to look up at him. “It would mean a great deal to her for the first dance to be with her esteemed son-in-law.”
Locke grinned and winked at her, ambling off to intercept the countess as the music began.
“Love becomes you, Lady Locke.”
Bethany turned around to see Scarbreigh, whose smug grin was meant to annoy her, standing there. She smiled back, refusing to let him get under her skin. “Good evening, my lord. My cousin outshines me, you know.”
He leveled his gaze on Lady Camille, dressed in a silk gown a shade darker than her fetching blonde curls, being whirled around the dance floor in the arms of a giddy youth with bright red cheeks.
“She’s a lovely, gentle creature. A man couldn’t ask for a truer woman.” He then watched Locke, whose elegant dancing had the Dowager Lady Whitton’s face all aglow. “Locke’s natural magnetism puzzles me. He’s never had to work at getting or keeping the ladies’ interest as I have. And yet, he avoids his admirers. Rather like you, my lady. You get on so famously. Care to share the secret? I want only the best for Lady Camille. She deserves it.”
“Scarbreigh, you sound so unsure of yourself. You’ve been one of the most sought after men within the peerage for years.”
His smile faded. “Have I? Seems to me people want little more of me than my money or my title. I adore Lady Camille for loving me for myself. It’s hard to find such a woman. You were her only rival, my dear. I’ve been fond of you for a long time, even if I wasn’t good enough for you.”
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