by Lucy Adams
“I thank you,” she murmured, as another gentleman — whom Bridgette assumed was to take Lady Madeline to the floor — approached them.
“And,” Lord Millerton continued, his voice a little lower as he looked into her eyes, as Lady Madeline greeted her companion. “I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you that I am truly sorry for how poorly I spoke this afternoon when we met.” He frowned, looking away and rubbed his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “I found myself overcome with surprise and the truth is, Lady Callander, I found the events of last Season to be very difficult indeed.”
She reached out and put one hand on his arm. “You were gravely injured,” she said, softly. “You lost a dear friend. I cannot imagine how difficult that must have been for you to endure.” Attempting to smile, she let go of his arm, aware of how he struggled to look into her eyes. “Mayhap I should not have stopped you with such haste this afternoon. Perhaps then we might have been able to converse without so much difficulty.”
Lord Millerton laughed and then offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation. They walked together out to the dance floor, setting themselves in their positions and ready to begin their dance.
“I think I would have always found our first meeting a little difficult,” he said, bowing as the music began. “But all the same, I am sorry for the awkwardness that was in my manner. Truly, I am….” He trailed off, took a deep breath and then smiled rather tightly. “I am glad to see you.”
“As I am you,” she said, with a quick smile, lifting from her curtsy and accepting his hand as they stepped together into the dance. Nothing was said for some time, as they both enjoyed each other’s company, moving through the dance with graceful steps. There was no anxiety in her steps, she did not fear that he would stand on her toes or trip and knock into her, as she would have done with Lord Cambleton! As the music came to a close, she curtsied deeply, feeling as though there was something of a healing taking place between them, even though she had not felt the wound occur in the first place.
“There was something that you were going to say earlier this afternoon, Lady Callander,” Lord Millerton said, as he offered his arm for the second time, in order to lead her from the floor. “I hope it was not my manner that prevented you from speaking of it?”
Bridgette looked up at him, surprised that he had taken such notice of her. The truth was, when she had seen and spoken to Lord Hazelton earlier that afternoon, as much as she had tried to put the questions about what he had meant from her mind, she had found herself unable to do so. When she had seen Lord Millerton again, the urge to ask him what he thought of it had come to her, but there had been that strange distance between them, rather than the beginnings of a close acquaintance that she had once enjoyed and so, she had decided not to so after all.
“It was my manner,” he said, heavily, shaking his head. “Lady Callander, I am very sorry indeed for that. I beg you, if there is something that you wish to say, then —"
“You are still in the League?” she asked, interrupting him. “I know that I am not meant to know of it but I must confess an interest still.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I am,” he said, speaking of what was known as The King’s League — a group of gentlemen who sought out enemies to the Crown and put a swift end to their ways. “I was given some time away in order to recover from last Season’s events but have returned with the full expectation of being just as involved as before.”
“I see,” Bridgette murmured, her mind returning to all that had occurred last Season. “I confess that I find myself a little jealous, Lord Millerton.”
“Oh?” The music began to slow and Bridgette found herself regretful that the dance was coming to an end.
“Indeed,” she said, curtsying towards him. “I do not know what I shall do to occupy my mind, for last Season I had so much to consider, so much to think over, that it became almost a part of my character.” She blushed a little as he looked at her curiously, seeing the questions in his eyes. “That is not to say that I should like there to be any more danger or threat of death, of course, but rather that I should like the puzzle and the mystery again.”
“I quite understand,” Lord Millerton said, with a small smile as he offered her his arm in order to lead her from the floor. “Then, might I assure you, Lady Callander, that should anything such as you have described come to me, then I shall inform you of it at once.”
This gratified her more than she could express, her heart lifting as she looked up at him and saw the warmth in his eyes. Whatever had been between them before, the awkward tension and confusion, it was now quite gone. All it had taken was one dance.
“That is most considerate of you, Lord Millerton,” she told him as he smiled at her. “I thank you.”
“Not at all,” he replied, with a wry look in his eyes. “It would be to our benefit to have your thoughts and considerations, Lady Callander.”
It was yet another compliment and one that made her flush with pleasure. When they arrived back to find Lady Madeline talking animatedly with another young lady and a gentleman beside her, Bridgette found herself wishing that she could spend a little more time in the sole company of Lord Millerton.
“Whatever it was that you wished to say to me this afternoon, Lady Callander,” Lord Millerton said, a trifle abruptly, “I should like very much to know of it, when you feel able to speak of it.”
She held his gaze and nodded, her expression softening. “It may very well be nothing at all,” she told him, a small shrug lifting one shoulder. “But should it continue to wreak havoc with my thoughts, then I shall, of course, speak to you of it at once.”
He bowed low, his hand holding hers, his breath brushing over the back of her hand as his lips remained an inch above her skin. Bridgette caught her breath, her skin prickling as she looked into his face and wondering if he could tell just how much his nearness affected her. He was a handsome gentleman but it was the understanding and awareness between them that she now appreciated. The way he had come back to her, the way he had closed the gap between them, meant more to her than she could express.
“Until our next dance, Lady Callander,” he said, pressing her hand for another moment before releasing it. “I do hope you enjoy your next dance also.” His eyes flicked towards something — or someone — over her shoulder and she turned to see another gentleman approaching her, his eyes set and his stride purposeful. When she looked back, Lord Millerton had already gone and Bridgette was surprised at just how much her heart sank at his absence. It was nothing short of foolish, given that he would be returning to her later in the evening, but her strange sense of regret could not be quelled.
Fixing a smile to her face, she greeted Lord Thornberry graciously and tried to throw aside all thoughts of Lord Millerton. There was a good deal of time left at the ball and Bridgette wanted to ensure she enjoyed as much of it as she could — with or without Lord Millerton by her side.
Chapter Four
Sebastian could not help but smile to himself when he read the note that had been brought to him only moments ago. It was, of course, from none other than Lady Callander, expressing to him just how glad she was that last evening had been a chance to reacquaint themselves and seeking to call on him at his earliest convenience.
He was glad that last evening had gone so well. It had taken a good deal of inner torment for him to go to her, to speak to her and to force himself to dance with her, but as the moments had gone by, as he had spent more and more time in her company, he had found himself no longer filled with awkwardness. Rather than being continually reminded of all that had taken place before, he had found himself enjoying Lady Callander’s company without any particular difficulty, finding any sort of regret he might have over picking up the acquaintance again disappearing almost at once.
Being in her company did not throw memory after memory at him. Rather, he had found himself simply enjoying being with her, dancing with her and conversing with her
as though they were old friends — which, he supposed, he might now consider himself to be. They had been thrown together last Season, unable to do anything but be in each other’s company, whereas this Season, he had a choice as to whether or not he should continue the acquaintance. There was no doubt in his mind now, however. He wanted very much to continue in her company.
“My lord?” His butler, Merriweather, stood in the doorway, evidently having knocked but heard no response from Sebastian.
“Yes?”
The butler inclined his head. “The carriage is ready, my lord.”
“Ah.” Sebastian rose from his chair, glancing at his reflection in the mirror on the wall, then to the note he set down at his writing desk. He would reply to Lady Callander the moment he returned from his meeting with the other gentlemen in the League. Making his way to the front door, he put on his hat and gloves and hurried to the carriage, feeling himself almost a little nervous as he sat down. There was nothing to be anxious about, of course, for the gentlemen of the League were, for the most part, equal in status and certainly those he would consider to be friends. It was the very same feeling that had come upon him when he had first seen Lady Callander; that tightening of his stomach, the tugging of his heart, the sweat that had formed on his brow. Would he be reminded of all that had gone before? Or would he finally be able to set his mind to what was before him now rather than what was past?
“Good afternoon, Lord Millerton!”
Sebastian let out a long, slow breath as he shook hands firmly with Lord Rushton, seeing the man grin as he did so.
“You look to be well recovered,” Lord Rushton continued, as though he had previously thought Sebastian to look pale and wane. “How long have you been back in London?”
A few trivialities were exchanged, including Sebastian expressing his congratulations at Lord Rushton’s recent nuptials and, as he did so, Sebastian slowly felt himself relax. Looking at each and every gentleman in turn, he allowed himself a moment or two to simply breathe and observe. He was back where he belonged, he told himself. Back where he knew all that was occurring, understood his role in things and accepted such things willingly.
“Ah, Lord Millerton!”
The familiar voice of Lord Franks caught Sebastian’s ears and he turned his head slowly, as if he wanted to give himself a moment or two longer before greeting the gentleman that had been with him last Season, when all had been so difficult and so painful.
“How are you, old boy?” Lord Franks slapped him hard on the arm as he shook his head, his eyes grave as he looked steadily into Sebastian’s eyes. “You are recovered, I hope?”
Sebastian waited for the memories to come back to him, to hit him hard, to pound back into his mind with force, but none came. Instead, all he saw was Lord Franks, hale and hearty, and with that came a sense of relief.
“I am well,” he answered, as Lord Franks nodded in understanding. “Although it has taken some time.”
“As has my recovery,” Lord Franks admitted. “Although marrying Miss Hemmingway helped a great deal.”
Sebastian could not help but smile at this, the last of his angst dying away. “I know that Lady Callander was hoping to see Lady Franks last evening,” he said, as Lord Franks lifted his brows. “But you were not in attendance, I think?”
Lord Franks hesitated, then shook his head. “My dear lady was unwell,” he said, slowly, although there was a glimmer in his eyes that Sebastian understood at once. “I am sure that, once she feels well enough to go out into society again, she will make certain to call upon Lady Callander almost at once. In fact,” he continued, with a small smile, “I know that my wife is very eager indeed to see her dear friend. It simply has not been possible as yet as Lady Franks has been unable to leave the townhouse.”
“And when is to be the momentous occasion?” Sebastian asked, seeing the surprise jump into Lord Franks’ eyes and finding himself laughing. “Come now, Lord Franks!” he chuckled, “I am a gentleman of the League! You cannot surely expect me not to know what it is that you speak of.”
Lord Franks relaxed and grinned back at him in response. “In six months or so,” he said, beaming delightedly. “Lady Franks is just as delighted as I that we shall soon be furnished with a child of our own, although I know she wishes she felt a little better!”
“Most understandable,” Sebastian agreed, shaking Lord Franks’ hand again. “Then might I congratulate you, sir. I am sure you will make an excellent father.”
Lord Franks winced. “One must hope so,” he said, as Lord Watt began to speak, ending their conversation quickly as they drew near to hear what was being said.
“As many of you will now know,” Lord Watt began, as the gentlemen all listened carefully, “we have discovered that there are spies being brought to London by ship.” He shook his head. “The only reason we have found this out is due to a confession by a spy that was captured, given to us in exchange for his life.” He shrugged, his face set and Sebastian felt the weight of responsibility begin to settle down on his soul again. This was why he had returned to London, this was why he had come again to the League. So that he might find purpose in his life, so that he might play a part in protecting the King and the Prince Regent from those who sought to bring them low.
“Needless to say, we do not know anything other than this,” Lord Monteforte added, as Lord Watt nodded. “Those who come on the ship depart from it as crewmen and given the number of ships that arrive on the docks each day, we simply do not have the resources to detain and question everyone that sets foot on land.”
“And our spy could not give us any further details,” Lord Watt added, ruefully. “He himself had not come to England in such a way but rather heard of it from another.”
Sebastian frowned, recalling what had been said of Lord Chesterfield by the two gentlemen in Whites.
“I would look for any suggestions now as to what might be done in order to discover the truth.”
Sebastian bit his lip. He could not very well suggest that they investigate Lord Chesterfield, just because he was involved in shipping and trading. That made no discernible sense, particularly because he had no other reason to suspect Lord Chesterfield.
He cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Might we consider those we know of who are involved in such things?” he asked, speaking slowly as his thoughts quickly set themselves in order. “What I mean to say is, there are gentlemen who are involved in shipping. Might it not be best to look into each one, so that we might then strike their names from any suggestion of involvement?”
Some gentlemen exchanged a glance with another, whilst others frowned or looked away, considering what had been suggested.
“There will be a good number of gentlemen involved in such things, will there not be?” someone asked, sending doubt spiraling through Sebastian. “There might be too many for us to consider!”
“No, I do not think there will be too many,” Lord Franks interjected, looking at Sebastian. “Certainly it would give us somewhere to begin.”
“But it might not be a gentleman of high standing who is involved in this matter!” someone else protested. “In which case, it is nothing more than futile.”
Lord Fitzherbert twisted his lips but gestured towards Sebastian. “I think that it is a wise suggestion,” he stated, as Lord Eldridge, who stood beside him, nodded. “It would take a good deal of influence and wealth in order to set up such a situation as this.”
“And it would require someone to make the arrangements on the gentleman’s behalf,” Lord Lexington added, as Sebastian nodded. “For surely whoever is doing such a thing would not willingly pass on their true identity to our enemies for fear that they might then use that knowledge against him.”
“Then it is settled, I think,” Lord Monteforte said, as the other gentlemen nodded. “We shall each discover the names of those in the beau monde who are involved in such affairs and then seek to discover what we can about their arrangements.” He gav
e Sebastian a tight smile. “It is a start at least.”
“Indeed,” Sebastian murmured, a little relieved that his idea had not been thrust aside.
Lord Watt cleared his throat. “There is also the matter of Lord Hazelton,” he continued, speaking of an affair with a lady of questionable heritage. “Has anyone been able to discover the lady’s connections with France?”
It was not a matter that Sebastian himself was involved with, although he was a little surprised to hear that a gentleman such as Lord Hazelton — whom he was acquainted with but certainly did not know well at all — was so indiscreet as to have the beau monde know of his attentions towards a questionable lady. He rolled his eyes at Lord Hearst, who chuckled.
“You have not heard of this matter, I think,” Lord Hearst said, as Sebastian shook his head. “Lord Hazelton — a gentleman who is a little foolish and quite indiscreet — has seemed to form some sort of attachment to a lady of questionable means.”
“Questionable, in what sense?” Sebastian asked, as Lord Hearst grinned. “She is not a lady with a title?”
“No, indeed she is not!” Lord Hearst replied, with such feeling that Sebastian frowned. “She is a lady of the night, working under Madame Bereford.”
Sebastian’s mouth dropped open and he stared at Lord Hearst in shock, who only chuckled in response. For a gentleman to form any sort of attachment with such a lady was more than a little foolish, especially if he was as indiscreet as to permit others to see him to do so.
“We know very little about this lady, of course,” Lord Hearst replied, with a lift of one eyebrow. “Lord Berkshire and Lord Windsor have been charged with discovering what they can about her, which includes calling upon the lady in question.”
Sebastian could not help but laugh, seeing the way Lord Hearst’ grin broadened. “A difficult task, then?”
