Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection

by Mary Lancaster

  “I will not stay in this establishment with her,” Lilly said. “And I’m not angry and I’m not even hurt. I just can’t. I can’t take it all in.”

  Val sighed. “Come on then. We’ll get you into a cab and you can wait there while I see to this other business.”

  “You know him?” Lilly asked.

  “I wouldn’t say know is precisely the right term… there is a man of somewhat questionable morals and ethics whose assistance I enlisted in finding out who had made an attempt on your life—whether it was Elsworth, someone hired by Elsworth or if Elsworth was even involved. That man is a representative, if you will.”

  Val watched her look through the window at the burly and dour-faced man and then back at him.

  “I don’t think I like you doing business with these sorts of people,” she said.

  “This is the last job I am to do,” he said. Until the Hound called in his favor. “Once all of this is behind us, you and I will retreat to the countryside, if you wish, and we will become the most boring people in all the world.”

  She heaved a heavy sigh of relief. “That sounds like heaven. I don’t think I can bear any more dead relatives who aren’t and dying relatives who aren’t.”

  Val grinned as he led her outside and hailed a hansom cab. Seeing her into the back of it, he pulled yet another coin from his pocket. “I have to talk to someone just across the way. You will wait here with my wife until I return. Is that understood?”

  The driver accepted the coin, lifted it to his mouth and tested the metal of it with the few teeth that remained in his skull. When it proved to be real, he offered up a gap-toothed grin. “Aye, m’lord. ’Appy to wait, I am!”

  Val dashed across the street, dodging carts, pedestrians and horses alike. As he neared the doorway where Stavers lurked, the man stepped back and opened the door that he’d been guarding. So he was to meet with the Hound himself rather than just the lackey. He glanced over his shoulder at the still waiting cab, and then followed the butler inside.

  The building itself was under construction. White cloth draped most of the surfaces, and plasterers had scattered in the middle of their shift. Their work was only half-completed, leaving intricately carved panels interspersed with exposed brick and wood. In the center of the room, impeccably dressed and sitting on a crate as if it were a throne at the palace was the Hound.

  “Hardly your typically luxurious surroundings,” Val remarked.

  “You came to me about attempted murder and I find myself in the midst of a treasonous plot,” the Hound said.

  Val arched one eyebrow. “Your diction has improved.”

  “My mastery of diction and the English language is unchanged. What has changed is my willingness to let you see something beyond the underworld thug most people believe me to be,” the Hound said in a supercilious fashion that sounded far more like a duke than Val himself would ever be capable of.

  “I see. Go on. You have my attention.”

  The Hound’s lips quirked in amusement. “Careful, puppy. I’ve paved the bed of the Thames with bodies for less. Elsworth Somers did not carry out the attempt himself, but he did pay someone to do so. A man by the name of Foster. Not to worry. He won’t be completing that job or any other. As to your cousin’s involvement in this other scheme, he’s in well over his head. But I think you know that, don’t you?”

  “I’m aware. What I don’t know is the name of the ship they mean to transport the weapons and who’ll be in on the attack. I don’t suppose this is something you’d consider handling, would you?”

  The Hound drummed his fingers on his thigh for a moment. “I could be persuaded to see this thing through for you… for a cost naturally.”

  “Not simply out of the goodness of your patriotic heart?” Val asked with a grin.

  “I’d help for that, but I wouldn’t spearhead the operation. You, Viscount Seaburn, are interfering with my ability to retain my anonymity and my low social profile. Why should I do this for you?”

  Val considered. “Well, I’d owe you two favors instead of one.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. I don’t need favors to end traitorous plots. That’s a matter of duty for any Englishman, no matter his profession or standing. I’m not even certain you owe me the first favor as it all seems to be part and parcel of the same plot. Lillian Burkhart, I beg your pardon, Lillian Somers, is a by-blow of Alfred Hazleton’s cousin… the one that died all those years ago. Isn’t she?”

  The status of Elizabeth Burkhart as being very much amongst the living was not his secret to tell, so Val simply concurred, “She is.”

  “And Hazleton, who recently got the Marchebanks title and all the Marchebanks debt, is front and center in this plot. Did you know his mother was French? Oddly enough, they escaped France with a great deal of their wealth intact. Her skirts were so laden with jewels it was a wonder the bloody ship didn’t sink,” the Hound said. “Unfortunately, they had less success keeping their wealth. Spendthrifts and gamblers.”

  “You really should consider going to work as an agent,” Val offered. “You’d be very good at it.”

  “Contract basis only. I’m not good at working for other people outside of a limited capacity,” he answered. “I’ll get you the name of the ship. Then I’m out of it. Who you choose to pass it on to is at your discretion.”

  “Send word when you have it. It’ll be dealt with. Now, I need to get my wife home. It’s been a difficult morning,” Val stated.

  “Delicate, is she? Hardly seems like one of Miss Darrow’s girls!”

  Val laughed. “No. I wouldn’t call her delicate. But since you know so much about Marchebanks, you ought to know this, too. I’d considered not bringing it up, but I think it has bearing. My wife’s mother is very much alive and has been living under an assumed name for all these years because Lord Marchebanks wanted her dead. His treasonous plots go back quite a ways, it would seem.”

  The Hound sighed. “Now you’re just goading me. You want me to hate him so badly that I will agree to take it all off your hands.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Yes, damn you, it did.”

  Val smiled. “Any information can be sent directly to Lord Highcliff.”

  The Hound’s expression of ennui transformed into one of shock. “That popinjay?”

  Val grinned as he turned to head for the door. “You’re not the only one who knows how to disguise his true nature, my good man!”

  Leaving the building, Val had just stepped outside when the driver of the hansom cab across the street, the very one that housed Lilly, fell off the box and landed with a thud on the pavement. Another man jumped up and grabbed the reins. Val didn’t have to ask for Stavers’ assistance. The unlikely butler had already broken into a run, heading for the end of the block. Val cut across the street, and managed to reach the cab first. Traffic was too heavy and the street too congested for the driver to make a hasty getaway. But rather than be caught, the man simply abandoned his post, jumping down from the box and rolling away from the clashing hooves.

  The coach lurched and swayed alarmingly, the horses now given their heads with no one on the box to control them. Trying to balance on a moving coach, climbing up toward the now vacant box, Val lost his balance and slipped, saving himself at the last moment by grabbing the railing along the top of the coach. By some miracle, he managed to avoid getting his legs crushed under the wheels. The second time, when he reached for the box to hoist himself onto it, he made it. But the reins were lost beneath the carriage itself and he’d have to grab hold of the bridle itself to slow the horses down. The only way to achieve that would involve climbing out onto the back of one of the beasts who likely would not take kindly to it.

  His heart was pounding the entire time. If he failed, it wasn’t just his neck on the line. A runaway carriage in London’s busy streets was no laughing matter and it was just as likely that Lilly would be killed along with him and whatever poor, hapless bystanders were in their path. It was tha
t thought which spurred him on, which allowed him to leap from the box and onto the horse’s back.

  He had to grab the breast collar, pulling it tight, until the horse finally began to slow. The carriage finally halted near the intersection ahead of them. It was a busy one, and had they not managed to stop in that spot, it was likely that one or all of them would have been injured or killed. His heart was still racing as he climbed down. From the street behind them, he could see the hansom driver limping toward them. Stavers was still in pursuit of the man who’d carried out the abduction attempt. And he could see the back of the Hound’s elegantly tailored coat as he disappeared into the throng of London’s well-to-do shoppers.

  When the driver reached them and took over the calming of the horses and there was no threat of the cab once more running away with them, Val opened the door and found Lilly sitting on the banquette, ashen faced, and her long-lost mother laid out on the seat beside her, her head bleeding and completely unconscious.

  “What happened?”

  Lilly shook her head. “There was a commotion outside and she jumped into the carriage. Then it took off and I heard the driver shouting and then saw him fall. You know better than I did what occurred.”

  Val grimaced. “It appears that someone attempted to abduct you and that your mother, forgive me, Miss Hartnett, was attempting to save you or at the very least assist you.”

  “Pardon me, guv’nah, but there’s a hackney here for you,” came the call of the hansom driver.

  Val turned around and found a large hackney carriage pulling up near them. He eyed the driver suspiciously. The man tipped his hat.

  “The Hound sent me to carry you home, m’lord,” the driver offered. “You and the lady.”

  “Ladies. And one is injured,” Val said.

  The driver nodded. “I’ll be quick and careful in seeing you back to your house, m’lord.”

  It was good enough for Val. He helped Lilly down and then lifted Miss Hartnett into his arms, just as Stavers rounded the corner.

  “He got away, my lord,” the butler said. “I’ll be sending some fellows I know around to keep watch for you. My employer would be most displeased if anything else were to happen to the ladies.”

  Val would happily take all the help he could get. “Are they as inconspicuous as you?”

  For the first time in their acquaintance, the butler cracked an actual smile. It revealed enough missing teeth that Val was certain his earlier estimation of Stavers as a pugilist was likely correct.

  “More so, my lord. More so,” the man said, still grinning as he walked away.

  Gently lifting Miss Hartnett into the carriage, he climbed in after her and settled down on the seat opposite. Lilly was glaring at him.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “The Hound… The Hound of Whitehall, the very man you warned me against, and yet you are familiar enough with him that he is arranging transportation for us?” she demanded.

  He sighed. “Let us get home, get Miss Hartnett settled in and the physician summoned, then we will discuss it.”

  “Yes, we most assuredly will,” she agreed, her tone chilling.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lillian had never been more furious in her life. He had lied to her. He’d told her that he would not have any dealings with that man and she would avoid him as well. Now there she was, with the woman claiming to be her mother ensconced in a guest suite down the hall, and everything was spinning out of control. Pacing the small sitting room that connected to their bedchamber, she was trying to control her temper. But it was not a good day. There had been too many upsets, too many unknowns, and too many lies from everyone around her.

  A knock on the door prompted her to bark an order for the person to enter. As the door swung inward and she saw the Dowager Duchess of Templeton standing there, her brow arched in the same imperious manner that was so often on her grandson’s face, Lilly felt slightly ashamed of herself. “Forgive me for being short. It’s been a trying day, your grace.”

  “So it has,” the dowager duchess said, and let herself into the room. She closed the door behind her with a quiet snick and then moved to the small settee. “I’d have a word with you, if I may, Lillian?”

  “Certainly,” she agreed. They both knew that however it had been phrased, it had not been a request.

  “Sit, my dear. It makes my neck ache to look up at you,” the older woman said.

  Capitulating, Lilly moved to the chair opposite the settee and faced her former employer. “What did you wish to discuss, Madam?”

  “Are you well?” the dowager duchess asked. “You have been through quite a bit in the last few days and I imagine that the shock of last night, accompanied by the shock and scare you had this morning is quite trying to you.”

  “I am quite well.” It was a lie. She wasn’t well at all. Her insides were roiling and it felt as if the ground were pitching beneath her feet. The whole world was upside down for her in that moment.

  “Well, I am certainly happy to hear it. What I have come to say to you is not something I’ve said to anyone else in all of my years. So you must take it for all that it is worth and to me that is a great deal,” the woman said. “I am sorry, Lillian, for the lies I told and the manner in which I meddled in your life. Mind you, I do not apologize for putting you in a position where marrying my grandson seemed a favorable thing to you, only for the way in which I went about it. I didn’t think of how it might hurt you. I was careless with your feelings and, for that, I truly apologize.”

  Lilly blinked at her for several seconds, the silence growing between them. The very idea of the Dowager Duchess of Templeton apologizing to anyone was beyond her ken. Yet it had just happened. To say that it would take some getting used to was putting it mildly.

  “Well, say something, girl,” the dowager duchess finally snapped.

  Shaking off her stunned stupor, Lilly nodded. “I thank you for your apology and I accept it.”

  “But we are not as we once were,” the dowager duchess surmised.

  “It is not an easy thing to learn your trust has been violated, your grace. I think, in time, we will be as we once were. But not today, or even tomorrow.”

  The dowager duchess nodded. “I see. Will you be taking him away then?”

  “Taking who away?”

  The old woman sniffed. “My grandson, of course. I did all of this to see him settled with a wife before I pass on from this world. No doubt, you will want to be well rid of me. If you prefer the house here in London, I suppose I can take myself back to the country… where I will die, alone, rattling about in that big old house like some sort of phantom creature.”

  Lillian rolled her eyes. “You really don’t know how to stop manipulating people, do you? No, I’m not taking him away. We’re not going to the country, at least not yet, and neither are you. For heaven’s sake, this house is quite large enough for all of us!”

  “No, it isn’t,” the dowager duchess answered. “Not if every time you leave it, you come back with another long-lost relative!”

  “That wasn’t my doing,” Lilly answered sullenly. “I should not have brought her back here regardless. We could just as easily have obtained some other lodging for her and hired someone to see to her care!”

  The dowager duchess fixed her with a piercing stare. “And is that really what you want to do?”

  “No,” Lilly replied. “I don’t know what I want to do. I want to not have all this turmoil and danger at every blasted turn!”

  “Watch your language, dear. It has been difficult, but that’s no reason to be common,” the dowager duchess said. “Avoiding one’s problems and one’s turmoil does not make them go away. Sometimes, my dear, there is no way over and no way around. Sometimes the only way is simply to go through. I very much think that is where you are now. You must confront your feelings and you must, when she is well enough, confront your mother. And I think the two of you, and Valentine, when the time is right, should confr
ont the entirety of your family. This clandestine business has to stop and there’s only one way to manage that… drag it all into the open.”

  Lilly gaped at her. “The scandal would be disastrous for the family!”

  “Pish posh. If the family name has survived all that Valentine has done to it over the years, it can survive this. We will not live in fear and we will not be cowed by traitors. Elsworth will be facing the music, as well. I had thought to send him to Jamaica but I have reconsidered. He must, no matter how it pains me, pay the price for his actions,” the dowager duchess insisted. “It is something we must all do.”

  Lilly eyed the old woman speculatively then, noting the tremor in her hand, the slight quivering of her lip. Rising from her chair, she moved to the settee next to her and took her hand. “You love him.”

  “He is my grandson, foolish as he may be. Of course, I love him. But that doesn’t mean I can’t also be furious with him and even ashamed of him. He let himself be blinded by envy and greed and, in so doing, turned his back on those who cared for him. Even Valentine, in his own way, cares for Elsworth. They might snipe at one another, but when they were boys they were closer than brothers, I thought.”

  Lilly thought back to the story Val had told her of the local girl he’d fancied. “Did Elsworth run with Marchebanks even then? When they were boys together?”

  “Yes, he did,” the dowager duchess answered. “I never liked him, you know? Always thought he was a bit too puffed up for someone we knew even then hadn’t a sovereign to his name. And, of course, back then, there was still a possibility that he might not become Marchebanks. Your mother’s aunt is actually only a year or two older than her. Born from the father’s second marriage, you see. Then, it was still possible she’d present the old lord with an heir.”

  Lillian filed that information away. She wasn’t certain why, but it seemed as if it might be important.

  *

  “Why do you keep summoning me to this house for injured females?” the physician demanded. “Viscount Seaburn, this borders on unseemly.”