Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 01]

by One Wicked Night

  Trying to stop the unfamiliar flutter of her heart, she cleared her throat. “How will you deal with him?”

  “Exculpating Beaumont will hopefully lead to Kane. But since I doubt the bastard will lay on his laurels and not stir up trouble like last night, I intend to keep you close to me at all times.”

  Her face flamed, and Lillian could not keep the pleased smile from her lips. She had a champion, it seemed. Nick might not have been retained to help her, but he seemed to have assumed her cause. With Nick Redford around, she might actually see Kane get his due.

  She bit her lip to keep her smile from splitting her face. “I must confess, I will feel safer with you around. Thank you, Nick.”

  He looked away as if uncomfortable. “It’s the smartest thing to do under the circumstances.” He stood and walked over to the sideboard. Serving himself, he added, “Besides, you’re a sharp lady, you travel in Beaumont’s circles. You can help me speed the investigation along.”

  A loud knock boomed on the door.

  “Come,” Lillian called.

  Hicks stepped inside. “Lady Rece is insisting on seeing you, my—”

  “Lillian?” Lady Rece swept into the room behind Hicks, her burgundy organza gown swooshing with her every stride. “There you are! What on earth is going on? First we make plans, then you postpone them, then your servants do not know where you are to be found.”

  Nick turned, setting his dish down on the sideboard.

  Lillian rose and greeted her friend with extended arms. “Oh, Lady Rece. I am so sorry to have worried you.”

  The matron squeezed Lillian’s hands affectionately, then she noticed Nick and frowned.

  Lillian did not want her to get the wrong idea about having a handsome man joining her for breakfast. “Lady Rece, may I present Mr. Redford.” She motioned to Nick. “Mr. Redford is investigating Lady Langham’s murder. He also, thankfully, came to my aid last night when I was attacked at Litchfield Park.”

  “Attacked?” Lady Rece flicked open her fan, waving it wildly. “I believe that I need to sit down.”

  Nick leaped forward and yanked out a chair. Lady Rece fairly fell into it, her feathered turban sliding over her eyes.

  “Oh, give me my vinaigrette,” she begged. “In my purse.”

  Lillian grabbed her bag and yanked opened the drawstrings. Lady Rece might be a stalwart friend, but she was fainthearted when it came to violence of any kind. Moreover, she tended to succumb to the vapors quite easily, hence keeping a revitalizing vinaigrette always on hand.

  Snatching out the tiny silver box, Lillian opened the hinged container and set it under Lady Rece’s nose. The scent of vinegar filled the air.

  “What the devil is going on in here?” a loud voice boomed from the doorway.

  The owl-haired, wiry Viscount Rece stood in the threshold. A look of aversion lined his features, and he held his walking stick before him like a weapon. “Dorothea!” Dropping his cane, he rushed to her side, and Lillian quickly backed away.

  “I’m fine, Donald,” Lady Rece huffed. “A foul wind overcame me.”

  “Unsurprising in this place.” His lips pinched.

  Lillian was surprised at the strength of his animosity. But this was her home, and she did not have to suffer his antagonism. She opened her mouth to protest, but Lady Rece shot her a quelling look.

  “Behave yourself, Donald.” Lady Rece adjusted her turban and straightened. “You are a guest here.”

  “Not for long, I trust.” Nick stepped forward warningly.

  Rece rose. Even at his full height he was a hand span shorter than Nick. He glared at him. “I will be out of here as soon as I collect my wife.” He turned to her. “I told you not to come here, Dorothea—”

  “I needed to see that Lillian was all right. She was attacked in the park last night.”

  Rece turned to her, his bushy gray brows raised mockingly. “In Mayfair? Unlikely.”

  “It’s true,” Nick supplied. “By my own hand I saw the attack undone. Lady Janus was only there in anticipation of seeing your wife. Which begs the question why Lady Rece did not show.”

  “I received a note postponing our appointment until today.”

  “Do you still have it?” Nick asked.

  “I suppose I must.”

  “Will you bring it here, so that we may see it?”

  Lady Rece turned to Lillian. “You did not send it?”

  Lillian shook her head.

  “This makes positively no sense whatsoever,” Rece declared. His azure eyes filled with contempt. “Who would go to such great lengths to attack Lady Janus?”

  “It is not your concern, Lord Rece,” Nick stated coolly. “Suffice it to say that there will be no more meetings in the park.”

  “You can bet money on it!”

  “I’ve had about enough of your unwarranted hostility toward Lillian,” the matron scowled at her husband. “She is my friend.”

  “Lady Rece.” Lillian stepped forward. “Your friendship means a lot to me. And I would not wish anything untoward to happen to you. So perhaps it is not such a terrible idea for you to stay away from me for a time.”

  “But—” Lady Rece pushed her slipping turban out of her eyes.

  “Last night,” Lillian continued, “when I thought that something had happened to you…. well, it made it so much worse.” Guilt overwhelmed her. “I would not ever wish to see ill befall you, but for me to be the cause…”

  Silence enveloped the room.

  Even Rece had the decency to look away.

  Lady Rece’s lower lip quivered. “I don’t like this. Not one bit. Do something, Donald.”

  “What do you wish for me to do, darling?” His tone was clipped. “The lady is obviously entangled in a dilemma, and I have to agree with her. You should not be involved.”

  “Friends do not desert each other at the first sign of trouble.”

  Lillian took her hand. “You are not deserting me. I have Mr. Redford to help me, the greatest investigator in London.”

  Nick coughed into his fist, embarrassed.

  “This shall not do.” The matron rose on unsteady feet with Lillian providing support in the front, her husband from behind. Nick pulled back her chair.

  Lady Rece sniffed. “I will call upon you in three days’ time, Lillian. And to ensure that all is well, my husband will accompany me.”

  Rece looked as if he had swallowed a sour grape.

  “Friends rally at trouble; they do not shy from it. I will see you in three days, my dear.” With that and a final squeeze of her hand, Lady Rece swept out the door.

  Lord Rece watched her go but did not leave. “I will not have anything adverse happen to my Dorothea.”

  “Neither would I,” Lillian concurred. “If she changes her mind, I will understand.”

  “Dorothea does not change her mind, once settled.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” Nick muttered.

  Lillian set her hands on her hips. “If she calls, Lord Rece, I will not turn her away.”

  Rece frowned. “Of course not. She would be devastated.” Lifting his cane from the floor where he had dropped it, he added, “I suppose she feels a sense of responsibility toward you.”

  Lillian’s brow furrowed.

  “We have…never been able to have children,” he explained haltingly. “Dorothea has always wanted a daughter.”

  Lillian was touched but disagreed. She did not see their relationship in this light. Perhaps it made the man feel better about his wife’s choice in friends if there was some reason. For why else would Lady Rece associate with such a disreputable light skirt? If it weren’t for her regard for Lady Rece, Lillian would have demanded that the man leave.

  They stood awkwardly in the dining room and still Rece did not depart. Lillian wondered what he wanted from her. A promise that she would not pursue the friendship with his wife? Well, she was not about to give it. Especially after Lady Rece’s staunch support this morning.

&n
bsp; “I knew your family,” Rece finally broke the quiet. “Years ago. We had a…falling out.”

  “Kane tends to have that effect on people,” Lillian replied, crossing her arms.

  He looked at her oddly.

  She shrugged. “Kane is not a kind man, by any stretch.”

  He tapped the cane against his leg. “I suppose I may have allowed that anger to color me against you.”

  That was probably the closest thing to an apology the man was able to muster. “Well, since I adore Lady Rece, I suppose I will have to let that color me toward you.”

  His brows lifted, and she could almost discern a twinkle in his blue eyes. “I can see why Dorothea likes you.”

  Lillian raised a brow but did not reply.

  After a moment, the man nodded curtly. “Have a care, Lady Janus. My Dorothea will be most upset if anything happened to you.” Swinging his cane, he strode from the room.

  Lillian dropped into a vacant chair. “I do not like drama with my breakfast,” she muttered.

  Nick recovered his plate from the sideboard and sat. “Do you usually face such animosity in higher circles?”

  “The younger set tends to favor my company. I am deemed somewhat of a novelty. Yet I am not received in most of the homes where I was welcomed when I was with my grandparents. The majority of the matrons in polite Society will not speak to me.” Her shoulder rose in a nonchalant shrug. “But I do not care. Rece was always particularly hostile toward me. Now I know why. Kane is like a poison to everything he touches.”

  “He did not say that his quarrel was with Kane,” he replied, lifting his goblet.

  “Who else could it have been with? My grandparents were some of the most admirable people to ever live. And my mother could not clash with a flea.” Toying with a fork, she remarked, “If only she’d had more of a backbone, then perhaps she would have refused to marry Kane. I know she did not want to. Then I wouldn’t be in this fine kettle of fish.”

  “No, you’d likely be in a kettle of a different variety.”

  “You are probably right. Being an unmarried woman with a child would have been inordinately hard for her. And she was not the strongest of women to begin with.”

  “Lord Rece has the reputation for being reasonable, not quick to anger. So it must have been a serious quarrel for him to have carried the grudge for so long.” Nick slipped a piece of bacon into his mouth.

  “I do not care to know anything about it. I have a bellyful of strife; I need not hear more.”

  She had been feeling so good, and now she felt as if she had been ripped through briars. Why? She should be feeling glad for Lady Rece’s support. Her husband did not account.

  “I expect that I don’t wish to be the reason that a husband and wife are at odds,” she stated slowly. “A friendship should not have unwarranted costs.”

  “Every relationship carries a price—not financially, of course.”

  “Even marriage?”

  “Especially marriage. It’s like pouring everything into one unstable connection.”

  “Why unstable?”

  “Because it has to end.”

  “Not all marriages fail.”

  “Of course they do; someone dies. In the end, one spouse is left behind. Alone. Until death do us part.”

  She felt a pain tear at her heart for the scars he carried. No wonder he did not want to marry, did not wish for children. He could not bear loss; he had had his fill of it.

  “Fanny says that love is the fruit of life’s feast, the cream in the pudding.”

  He shrugged. “Then that’s one meal I’ll just have to miss.”

  “Perhaps that’s not a terrible approach,” she murmured, not quite believing it. “If there is no love, there can be no love lost.” Yet, her grandparents had embraced her in a loving family. They had taught her that life was a struggle to be enjoyed for its sweet and bittersweet moments. She knew that if they could voice it, they would say that any heartache was worth it, to have experienced the joy. She had her own reasons for not bringing a child into her life, but fear of heartache was not one of them. In fact, her reasoning was the opposite. No matter her own selfish desires for a child, since she would not marry, she would not burden an innocent babe with the life of a scandal-ridden unwed mother.

  He watched her a long moment. “You seem sad.”

  “I was just thinking about my grandparents. They’d always hoped that I would marry. Preferably to Dillon.” She shook off her melancholy and tried for a smile, but it was slight. “Perhaps I should have the carriage brought around? We can go visit Dillon this morning.” She sighed. “It seems that Newgate Prison has become my new haunt these days.”

  “That reminds me. Can we get any more of that Cognac from the other night?” He grimaced. “Untainted, of course.”

  Abashed, she felt her cheeks heat.

  “I need it for bribes,” he explained. “At Newgate things move more smoothly if the wheels are greased.”

  “You mean the palms.”

  “Those too. Besides the usual state of affairs, John Newman is a font of information if you dig enough. Digging at Newgate can only mean two things, bones or bribes.”

  “Believe it or not, Fanny sent a few bottles over to your residence. An apology of sorts, for drugging you, and all.”

  “Is she sorry?”

  “Actually, she’s quite pleased with herself.”

  He snorted and then ate his eggs. After a moment, he wiped his napkin on his lips. “Was it her plan or yours?”

  “Her idea, my execution.”

  His face darkened.

  She had not meant it the way it sounded. Mortified, Lillian rose. He moved to stand, but she motioned for him to remain seated.

  “I will go call the carriage.” Turning, she left him to his meal.

  Chapter 18

  “You are very quiet,” Nick opined as the carriage rocked on its way from Newgate Prison.

  “Dillon was not very happy with me,” Lillian replied softly. “And who could blame him?”

  Nick’s gaze softened. “He did not take it too badly, once you had explained your reasons.”

  “Thank you for not letting on about how I imparted the intelligence to you.”

  “Of course not.” He waved a dismissive hand. “The important thing is that he seemed to understand that I would not breach his confidence. You are obviously very dear to him, and he trusts you well.” Tilting his head, he inquired, “But that is not the only thing bothering you?”

  Lillian bit her lip. “I just…well, I had no idea that such places existed.”

  “Where there is a demand for such services, there will always be someone willing to meet it.”

  “I suppose I am just naïve, but a brothel just of men…for men…” Looking out the window, she tried to thrust the disquieting images from her mind.

  “It answers the question of why no one stepped forward to claim that Beaumont was with them on the night of Lady Langham’s murder.”

  “So it was not helpful in the least?”

  “No. I’m sorry.”

  She sighed, adjusting her skirts. “You had to try.”

  They rode along, the sounds of carriage wheels, horses’ hooves clattering on stone, and street vendors hawking their wares filtering through the cabin.

  “Halt!” a loud voice boomed from outside the carriage. “Halt, by order of the queen!”

  Nick stuck his head out the window just as the coach rolled to a stop.

  “What is happening?” Lillian asked, peering over his shoulder.

  A rider wearing a scarlet coat trimmed with gold braid sat atop a gray charger, trying to keep the mount under control in the congested street.

  “What does a royal servant want with me?” she asked.

  “I suspect he’s more interested in me,” Nick remarked, swinging the door open and stepping down to greet the man.

  Lillian tried not to ogle as she watched the men converse, the servant on his steed and Nick on
the ground. If only the street noise would tone down, then she might be able to hear the discussion. She did not dare attempt to get out and join them, but she listened carefully for any stray bits of conversation.

  The man in the ornate royal livery was scowling and seemed upset, and Nick was arguing with him. Dear heavens! She marveled at Nick’s gall. Nick raised his voice, and even from her perch, Lillian could see the liveried servant’s cheeks blanch. After a moment, the man nodded curtly. Nick spun on his heel and marched back to the carriage.

  Yanking open the door, he looked up at her. “There is an emergency regarding the queen. Would you do me the favor of taking me to Windsor Castle?”

  “An emergency? The queen?” she sputtered, aghast. “Of course.”

  “Follow that servant to Windsor Castle posthaste!” he ordered the coachman. Then he stepped inside and slammed the door shut.

  Through the window Lillian saw the servant wheel his horse around and charge through the crowded streets, making way.

  Jon Driver shouted, “H’yah!” and the wheels of the carriage rolled into motion.

  Lillian blinked and turned to Nick. “Windsor?”

  “I am on retainer to the queen.”

  Lillian was flabbergasted, impressed and alarmed. “Is Her Majesty unwell?”

  “I have no idea, but I doubt it,” he remarked, staring out the window, his face etched with tension. “I’m no doctor, just an investigator.”

  “But how did he find us?”

  “Warden John Newman sent the royal servant after us. Apparently the man had been dashing about Town looking for me.”

  “You.” She shifted in her seat. “So I was not requested at Windsor?”

  His nod was terse.

  “Nick?”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t think that it’s such a good idea for me to come with you.”

  He shifted his shoulders. “No matter.”

  “You were called upon, Nick. I was not. One does not simply ‘drop in’ on Queen Charlotte.”

  “They need me, I’m with you. They will be appreciative of your help.”

  “Appreciative? I am not welcome in most homes of the ton, I am certainly not received by royalty. My very presence will cause you a devilishly awkward situation.”