Lord Margrave's Secret Desire

by Samantha Grace

  “I do not know. That Farrin fellow does not strike me as a friend to England.”

  “You are not the only one questioning his loyalties, which is how I became involved with investigating the Stanhurst murders.”

  He briefly told her about Farrin’s rank among the spies and how his disappearance had raised an alarm, especially after witnesses placed him outside the Pulteney Hotel in the company of old man Stanhurst and Lord Geoffrey the night they were murdered.

  “I cannot tell you more, even though I would like to confide in you,” he said. “I beg your understanding.”

  “Say no more.” Mothers rising from the dead, spies, murderers... She didn’t know if she could digest anything else now.

  “What does Uncle Charles have to do with any of this? Farrin was set on possessing one of Uncle Charles’s old maps, or perhaps it was a new map leading to his next dig. My sisters and I were never quite certain, but we believe the map has something to do with a fabled group called the Black Death.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, no. Farrin never told Xavier what was on the map, but Evangeline found writings about the warriors in Uncle Charles’s journal. He had locked it away in a desk drawer, so we surmised he wished to protect his research.”

  Crispin smiled. “Evangeline is back to picking locks, is she?”

  “You must know she is very stubborn about giving up such skills. Evangeline believes Uncle Charles is searching for the ruins of their civilization to prove the group actually existed. Farrin did indicate someone hired him to steal the map—probably a competing antiquarian. His interest was certainly piqued when Xavier lied about finding the map and mentioned the Black Death.”

  “A plausible deduction on your sister’s part.”

  Sophia narrowed her eyes. “Why does your tone indicate it is implausible? What are you not telling me?”

  “Farrin is lying about the reason he wants the map.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Intuition,” he said and shrugged. “And something I overheard at the Griffin. I cannot say more, because I do not know how the pieces fit together.”

  “I see.” She yawned. The excitement of the day was catching up to her. “Perhaps I will sleep in the carriage tomorrow, too.”

  “I expect Beatrice will become suspicious if neither of us can keep our eyes open. You should return to bed before she wakes and realizes you are gone.”

  “Soon.”

  Sophia snuggled closer to his side and closed her eyes to savor this rare moment of shared intimacy. It felt as if he had finally opened a door between them, and allowed her access to his thoughts and feelings. What if she surrendered to sleep only to wake and realize this had all been a dream?

  “I want to be with you a little longer,” she murmured.

  “A little longer,” he agreed and placed a kiss on her hair.

  Nineteen

  As Crispin’s coach passed through the gates to approach the Georgian style home where his mother resided, he was struck by how practical and plain the structure was compared to the manor home she had forfeited when she left his father. This realization caused an odd stirring beneath his breastbone.

  “How quaint,” Sophia’s aunt mused when her feet touched the drive. “It appears your mother married beneath her station.” Beatrice had always spoken her mind but rarely did so with rancor. He took her comment as an observation rather than an insult.

  Crispin extended his hand to Sophia to steady her descent from the carriage.

  He smiled as he caught her eye. “Perhaps my mother married for love.”

  Both women linked arms with him, and they approached the front door.

  “It is clear Mr. Ness did,” Beatrice said. “It is a fine enough estate to wish for an heir, and he married a woman unlikely to produce one.”

  Crispin was saved from having to consider her remark when the front door swung open. An older woman in gray fustian, keys at her waist, and a snowy white cap peered at them, wide-eyed and mouth agape as if she had never seen another human.

  He cleared his throat. “Lord Margrave and Misses Allred and Darlington to see Lieutenant Locke.”

  She blinked but otherwise didn’t move.

  “Mrs. Poindexter”—a male voice came from inside—“move aside and allow my brother entrance.”

  “Oh!” The housekeeper scampered out of the way. Alexander was standing behind her, grinning like a fool.

  “You answered my invitation. How marvelous. Please, come inside.”

  Crispin couldn’t help smiling in return. He hadn’t expected an enthusiastic welcome after the way they had parted at Christmas, even though they had exchanged letters recently.

  “Mrs. Poindexter, prepare a plate of sandwiches and tea for our guests. I will show them to the drawing room myself.”

  “Yes, sir.” The servant curtsied before bustling from the foyer.

  Alexander looked expectantly, awaiting introductions. Crispin’s chest puffed out when he presented Beatrice and Sophia. “My betrothed.”

  Those two words were pleasing to say aloud. He expected the strangeness would disappear once the fantasy of making Sophia his wife became reconciled with reality. His brother offered his congratulations and requested the honor of escorting Beatrice to the drawing room. “You must be tired from your journey, Miss Allred.”

  “It was no hardship, sir.”

  “Either way, I will have Mrs. Poindexter prepare rooms for you so you may retire at your leisure.” Alexander looked over his shoulder. “You are staying, brother?”

  “If you are able to accommodate us.”

  “Of course.” Alexander continued toward the drawing room with Sophia and Crispin trailing behind. “We’ve no lack of rooms, although I have been told guests are rare. Mrs. Poindexter will carry word of your arrival to Mother. She is tending Father.”

  Crispin stiffened at the mention of seeing his mother. Sophia placed her free hand on his forearm and squeezed gently, reassuringly. He thawed under her touch.

  In the drawing room, Sophia and her aunt were encouraged to sit on the plump velvet sofa where they would be most comfortable while Crispin and Alexander were left with two hard-backed chairs opposite them.

  Alexander proved to be a gracious host—engaging and solicitous of the ladies. It took no time to win Beatrice’s approval.

  “Have you set your heart on marrying any particular lady, Lieutenant Locke?” she asked. “I would like to introduce you to my niece Evangeline when she returns from her trip abroad, unless you are expected to return to your regiment. I cannot have my darling girl carted off to the wilds of Canada.”

  Alexander smiled. “I am in England to stay, miss. I have sold my commission to care for my mother and father.”

  “How splendid! You must visit us at Hartland Manor when it is convenient.”

  Sophia took her aunt’s hands between hers. “Auntie, Evangeline would not approve of your ambush on Lieutenant Locke.”

  “Your aunt does me great honor, Miss Darlington.” Alexander smiled at Beatrice. “I should be pleased to make your niece’s acquaintance. If she is half as charming as you, I expect we would become fast friends.”

  The conversation flowed effortlessly until refreshment arrived. Alexander requested the housekeeper notify his mother of their guests’ arrival before addressing Sophia. “Miss Darlington, would you pour for us?”

  “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

  Crispin appreciated how well his brother was getting on with Sophia and Beatrice. He only hoped his mother would be as pleasant when she joined them for tea. He needn’t have given her reception a thought. Half an hour later, the housekeeper returned with his mother’s regrets.

  “Mistress Ness is unable to leave Master Ness’s bedside, but she sends a message.” The servant passed a folded piece of paper to Alexander.

  Alexander frowned, took the unsealed message, and unfolded it. “Thank you. Have rooms been prepared for our guests?”


  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very good. See to it their belongings are carried to their chambers.”

  The housekeeper bobbed her head and scuttled away.

  As Crispin’s brother stared at the paper, his smile returned. He dropped the letter on the side table between them. “Mother requests an audience in her sitting room after she has seen to Father. She will be prepared to receive you in an hour.”

  Her invitation was met with mixed feelings on Crispin’s part. If she intended to express her displeasure at his unannounced arrival, he preferred not to have an audience. However, a pull from somewhere deep inside of him wished to have Sophia by his side when he faced his mother. Perhaps it was his innate desire to protect Sophia that made him stronger when she was near, or perhaps it was something more. He felt capable of any task when she looked at him in faith. He never wished to disappoint her.

  After everyone took refreshment, Mrs. Poindexter was summoned to show Sophia, Beatrice, and Crispin to the rooms that had been prepared for them. Sophia’s aunt looked like fruit wilting on the vine after their long journey, and she leaned on Crispin as they ascended the stairs.

  “If I must make this climb again tonight,” she said, “I will need to be carried like a bride on her wedding day. Will I be forgiven for taking dinner in my chambers this evening?”

  “My brother will understand.” Crispin couldn’t be sure his mother would join them at the table either.

  “I will carry word to the cook, Miss Allred,” the housekeeper said.

  Crispin was placed in a chamber across the corridor from Sophia, and Beatrice was given the larger room next to her niece.

  The housekeeper left them to get settled and promised once more to arrange for a dinner tray to be carried to Beatrice that evening.

  Crispin escorted Sophia’s aunt into her chamber and found a comfortable chair for her by the hearth. Despite the warmer weather, Sophia’s aunt had been complaining of the cold most of their journey. He set about building a fire to keep her comfortable while Sophia unpacked her aunt’s valise and turned down the counterpane.

  “Shall we put you to bed, Auntie?”

  “Will you sing me a lullaby, too?” Beatrice chortled. “What attentive parents you and Lord Margrave will be someday. I hope it will be sooner rather than later. I am not growing any younger.”

  Sophia ducked her head as a crimson blush rushed into her cheeks. “Enough of that sort of talk, please.”

  Crispin pretended he hadn’t heard Beatrice to save his betrothed further embarrassment. Offspring were not his priority. Sophia would expect him to give her a child at some point, but until he hunted the men trying to kill her and found a way to be released of his obligation to the King, he was not eager to bring an innocent into the world.

  “I can manage on my own, dearest,” Beatrice said. “Run along and have a lie down yourself. You’ve been yawning all day.”

  “I believe I will.” Sophia approached her aunt to place a kiss on her cheek. “The bell pull is next to the right side of the bed, and your sewing basket is on top of the chest of drawers. I will look in on you later, but ring for a servant if you need me sooner.”

  “Leave me.” Beatrice made a shooing motion with her hands, but tenderness shone in her watery eyes.

  Crispin and Sophia exited the chamber together; Crispin pulled the door closed.

  Sophia tipped her head and smiled coyly. “May I receive an escort to my chambers?”

  “By all means, Miss Darlington. I cannot have you becoming lost along the way, now can I?”

  He crooked his elbow, and she lightly placed her hand on his arm. Once inside her chamber, he walked to the window to check the lock and view. There were no trees close enough to allow someone to enter through a window, and the side of the house appeared to be free of trellises to climb or other means of stealing inside. He would walk the perimeter after the appointment with his mother to be certain.

  Sophia moved to the high dresser and began removing pins from her hair while checking her reflection in the looking glass. He abandoned his inspection to allow himself a brief moment of indulgence. Her slender fingers worked deftly, assuredly, as if she had dressed her own hair many times. Champagne colored locks tumbled down her back with the release of each pin. She caught him staring at her in the looking glass and smiled.

  “Your brother did not seem the least bit agitated by our unannounced arrival.”

  “His military training would have taught him to hide his surprise, but I believe his pleasure in receiving us is genuine.”

  She released the last pin and turned away from the looking glass as she combed her fingers through her hair. “I hope he feels the same once he learns the reason we have come. You will tell him, will you not?”

  “Yes. I am certain no one followed us from London, but he should know what circumstances have brought us to his door.”

  If Alexander turned them out after the revelation, Crispin would take the ladies to one of his father’s smaller properties and summon Kane to watch over them.

  “How long must we hide?” she asked.

  “I do not know. Not long.” He opened his arms, and she slipped into his embrace.

  Yawning, she sagged into him and rested her cheek against his chest.

  He brushed a kiss to the crown of her head and inhaled her sweet scent. How she still smelled like camellias after two days of travel was a mystery. “You should try to sleep while I speak with my mother.”

  “I wish I could accompany you. Is it strange that I want to see a woman I have never met groveling? I assume that must be the reason she has requested an audience with you.”

  “My mother is not the groveling type.”

  “I am holding out hope she has seen the error of her ways,” she said. “Otherwise, dinner will be very awkward with me staring daggers through her.”

  “Perhaps she will take supper in her chambers, too.”

  She huffed. “Well, that could only be seen as an insult. You have brought your betrothed to present to her.”

  “Sophia, I am afraid you might not enjoy a relationship with my mother like other ladies share with their mothers-in-law. Is that a possibility you are willing to accept?”

  She tipped her face toward him. An attractive pink flush painted her cheeks. “Am I allowed to keep you even if I cannot earn your mother’s admiration?”

  He smiled. “I am yours, darling, whether you keep me or not.”

  “A day will never come when I will not want you.” She lifted to her toes and pecked a kiss on his lips. “If there is time, please come back. I would like to hear about your tête-à-tête, so I know what to expect at supper.”

  “I promise to prepare you, even if we are late to the table.”

  “Splendid.”

  When she kissed him like she had at the inn, his desire flared to life. He would much rather lay her on the small bed behind her and explore all the ways he could make her sigh with pleasure. Unfortunately, he had already agreed to the meeting.

  He reluctantly released her. “I should go.”

  “I know, and as much as I would like to entice you to stay, I am tossing you out.” She turned him around and gave his back a gentle push. “Hurry, before I change my mind.”

  Crispin encouraged her to crawl into bed like her aunt had suggested and left the room to face his mother. Over the years, the hurt had faded and had been replaced by apathy. He would not invest any hope on his mother. The tone of her letters over the past two years hadn’t suggested she felt any regret. They were filled with excuses and references to Alexander’s wishes for reconciliation between them. She had never indicated she wanted it for herself.

  He followed the housekeeper’s directions to his mother’s sitting room located in a smaller area of the house, away from the bedchambers. The door was ajar, and he glimpsed his mother perched stiff-backed on a floral patterned Queen Anne chair. It had been thirteen years since he had last laid eyes on her. Her golden hair had become a litt
le darker, and her face gaunter, but little else about her appearance had changed. She was still a handsome woman, slender, with mercury eyes and a severe slash of a mouth that made her appear perpetually displeased.

  Her expression remained impenetrable as he entered the room; she gestured toward a chair opposite her own. “Please, have a seat.” Her voice was restrained, almost brittle.

  “Good afternoon, Mother.” He lowered into the chair she indicated. “Alexander informed me your husband is ill and has been for some time. I am sorry for both of you. It must be difficult to witness his decline.”

  The lines at the corners of her mouth soften marginally. “Thank you. It has been trying. I do not like to leave Mr. Ness’s side for long. Perhaps you will allow me to come to the point of this meeting sooner rather than later.”

  As expected, there would be no pleasantries exchanged. “By all means, speak freely. I am not one to come between a husband and wife.”

  “Mr. Ness’s illness will take his life eventually, and I find myself in a precarious position.” She patted and smoothed her skirts; her frigid facade showed signs of cracks. “Regretfully, I was unable to gift my husband with an heir. Mr. Ness has always treated Alexander as a son, but an entail on the estate prohibits Alexander from inheriting. The estate will go to Mr. Ness’s distant cousin, and I find myself fretting over my future.”

  Of course, she needs something from me. Sophia would be disappointed his mother hadn’t initiated a reconciliation, but Crispin was not surprised. “Am I to assume your husband spent the settlement you received upon Father’s death?”

  “Mr. Ness would never be so cruel as to leave me penniless.”

  “Unlike my father, who you claimed abandoned you and forced you to live in squalor. Odd that you were the one to abscond to Scotland, and he was accused of abandonment.”

  “You know nothing,” she snapped. Her cheeks bore scarlet stains. “You were a child. You were never privy to the truth.”

  “Very well, enlighten me.” He crossed his ankle over his knee and willed himself to maintain his calm. “I am no longer a child, and I am capable of understanding many situations. Tell me what occurred between you and Father.”