by Jane Goodger
“Indeed,” Henderson said.
“I insisted Mr. Southwell accompany me,” Lord Berkley said. “I do hope you do not mind my bringing along a guest.”
“Of course not,” Richard said warmly. “Mr. Southwell is always welcome here.”
Moments later, their butler announced luncheon was served, and as the group headed to the dining room, Alice trailed slightly behind. She wasn’t certain what was going on, why Henderson was here or why Lord Berkley seemed to have taken an immediate dislike to Northrup. For his part, Northrup appeared to be out of sorts, as if the world had tilted a bit on its axis, leaving him out of balance.
During luncheon, Berkley regaled them with stories of America, much to Christina’s delight, and Alice noticed how many times the earl brought Henderson into the conversation whilst completely ignoring Lord Northrup. Her father appeared almost smitten with Berkley and her mother was looking at the earl as if she’d never seen such a paragon of manhood in her life. This all would have boded ill, thought Alice, if it hadn’t been so very apparent—at least to her—why Berkley was here and why he’d brought Henderson along with him. It appeared to her that Henderson had gained himself a powerful and charming ally.
After they’d finished dining, Lord Northrup, who was seated next to her, leaned over and quietly asked Alice if she might like to take a turn in the garden.
“Why don’t we all go?” Lord Berkley said, and Alice nearly laughed aloud, for it was clear to her that Northrup had lowered his voice so that no one else could hear the request. What fine hearing the man had. “It’s a lovely day and I have heard your grounds are well-maintained. I’m going to be making some changes at Costille, and I would like to hear your thoughts, my lady.”
With that, Alice’s mother was completely won over and Alice had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. If Berkley had heard a single syllable about their garden, she would be fully shocked. Northrup, on the other hand, was having a difficult time hiding his annoyance, and Alice gave him a look of understanding. “Another time,” she whispered.
* * *
As the group headed en masse to the garden, Alice on Northrup’s arm, she was intensely aware of Henderson following just behind them. Lord Berkley was completely engaging her parents, and Alice could see Northrup was nearly in fits trying to hear what they were talking about. Every time either of her parents laughed, he would stiffen and let out a small puff of air.
“I fear I cannot have Lord Berkley monopolize your parents so thoroughly, my dear. If you’ll forgive me.” And with that, he dropped her hand and picked up his pace so that he was part of the group containing her parents. Berkley welcomed him with such enthusiasm, Alice’s suspicions were only confirmed. She was left standing alone for approximately three seconds before she found herself next to Henderson, her face red from embarrassment. Or pleasure. Just, she was certain, as Berkley had intended.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered. “And do not tell me it was to have luncheon or I shall strangle you.”
“I came to win your heart,” he said lightly.
“You already have my heart,” she said grumpily.
“Then I am here to win your mother and father’s hearts.”
Alice stopped abruptly, her eyes on the small group in front of them being so entertained by Lord Berkley, they were unaware the two of them were lagging behind. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want to court you. I don’t want you to marry Lord Northrup. I want you to marry me, instead.”
The way he said it, as if he were telling her he was planning to order beef for supper, was quite maddening. “Do you.”
“Indeed I do. And someday I will be able to tell you precisely why marrying anyone other than me would be a colossal mistake.”
She snorted. “Then it’s a good thing you told me now, after three failed weddings. Goodness sakes, Henny, are you mad? When did this grand revelation occur to you? After…” She couldn’t finish the sentence; it was too mortifying. “My God, is that what this about? You feel guilty about the other evening?”
He looked affronted, which made Alice even angrier. What else was she to think? In all their lives he’d never looked at her with anything but brotherly affection. All those hours in the library, when she was dreaming about him falling in love, he’d remained the perfect gentleman. Never had she had one inkling that he saw her as anything but a little girl. Yes, they had gotten carried away the other night, and yes, Henderson had seemed to enjoy the moment, but she had practically thrown herself at him. She had gone into his room half naked. What healthy man would have turned away a woman who acted like such a wanton?
He took a few steps away, then jerked his head for her to follow him. The party in front of them laughed at something Lord Berkley said, and Alice ground her teeth together. It was clear to her that Henderson had somehow recruited his lordship into helping his cause and she prayed Berkley didn’t know the entire sordid story.
“I want to court you because I love you. I have loved you, as a matter of fact, for years.”
Alice narrowed her eyes, but her heart gave a painful twist. “I don’t believe you. You left.”
His eyes flickered briefly, darkly. “I know. I shouldn’t have. I have so much to explain to you.” He darted a look to the others. “I fear I shall never have the opportunity. But I want you to know that I am not giving up.” He grinned and her heart sang. “Fair warning.”
Alice wanted nothing more than to kiss that grin off his face. She looked over to where Lord Berkley was still entertaining his audience. “He is your partner in crime, isn’t he?”
“I haven’t a clue what you mean,” he said, but it was obvious that he did. “Shall we join the others? Your father has already given me two scathing looks and I am treading in dangerous waters as it is after being thrown out of your house.”
“You were not thrown out.” He lifted a brow. “It was strongly hinted that you should leave only because it was clear Lord Northrup was upset. But I daresay, with Lord Berkley suddenly expressing interest in me, poor Northrup will soon fall out of favor. He’s not really interested, is he?”
“No.” And then he said the sweetest thing. “That…doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“Would you step aside if I was interested in him?”
“Not in a million years.” And just before they reached the other group, he said, “I really did come to stop the wedding, you know.” Then he turned and jogged ahead, leaving her to stare in disbelief at his retreating back.
* * *
Now that Henderson had made his declaration, the sense of panic he felt at the thought of losing Alice forever only grew, until it felt like a living thing inside his gut. Every time she looked at Lord Northrup, laughed at something he said, or gave him a look of understanding, Henderson wanted to carry her away like some primitive man. Instead, he had to suffer their looks, Northrup’s proprietary manner, as if it were a forgone conclusion that they were to be married.
It did not escape his attention that the Hubbards were assessing Berkley as a possible son-in-law. They never looked at him in that light, never gave him the assessing look Lord Hubbard was now giving the earl as Berkley commented on a particularly good example of Lady Hubbard’s prized roses. Alice’s hand was now firmly tucked in the crook of Northrup’s arm and Henderson had a feeling he would not be able to drag her away from the determined man. What made it almost worse was that Northrup had dismissed him as a rival and was completely centering his attention on Berkley, who had absolutely no interest in Alice. Thank God. For if he had, Henderson was quite certain he would never have Alice for himself. The Hubbards were just that smitten. Berkley had an ease about him, a confidence that he was likely born with.
For her part, Alice was pointedly ignoring him, and Henderson did not know if this was a good thing or bad.
“Mr. Southwell.” Henderson looked down to see Christina standing next to him and wondered how
long she’d been there and if she’d noticed how intensely he’d been staring at her sister. “Is it true you saw Mr. Turner just before he died?” She’d lowered her voice so no one but he could hear her question.
“I don’t know that it was directly prior, but I saw him that night, yes.”
Christina chewed her lip a bit. “When I was very little, before you were Joseph’s friend, my brother had a group of friends. We would all go to the beach and they would ride the waves in. I used to wish I were a boy and older so I could play with them. Boys seemed to have so much more fun than girls.” She looked over to where her parents were, still engaged in conversation with Lord Berkley. “They’re all dead.”
Henderson looked sharply at Christina. “What do you mean?”
“All of them. Joseph, Tristan Cummings, and now Sebastian. And Peter before that. He was the first.”
“Peter?”
“Peter Jeffreys. He died before you met Joseph, I believe. Don’t you think that’s odd? That all of them who were friends are dead? I was thinking about that last night, and it occurred to me that it seems an unlikely coincidence.”
“Indeed,” Henderson said, his brow furrowed.
Christina gave him a small smile, as if glad he was taking her seriously. “Once I realized that, I started wondering why. Why would someone kill them all, if indeed they were all murdered? Joseph’s death was an accident so perhaps I’m just being silly. Still…”
“You are not being silly,” Henderson said, his voice low. “I came to very much the same conclusion not long ago, but I couldn’t make sense of it either. And Joseph’s death doesn’t seem to fit. He did fall from the roof.” Henderson turned away from the group, and dipped his head. “Was Mr. Grant part of that group of boys, Christina?”
“Gerald Grant? No, not that I recall. Why do you ask?”
Henderson shrugged. “No reason. Only that he was one of the lads there the night Joseph died. He’s the one who told me what happened. And everyone else who was there that night is dead.”
Christina’s eyes grew wide. “Do you think he’s the murderer?” she whispered, clearly excited by the prospect.
Henderson chuckled, but felt a twinge of unease.
“That means he could have killed four people. Four.” Her eyes were wide with the excitement of it all.
“Highly unlikely. And what possible reason would he have for killing even one of them? I think it’s important not to start spreading such rumors, my girl. Every single one of those men died in an accident. Only Mr. Turner, if what you say is true about his being stabbed, appears to have met his demise through foul means.”
“True,” Christina said reluctantly, and Henderson let out a small chuckle at her disappointment. Alice’s younger sister was quite bloodthirsty. Suddenly she grasped his arm. “You’re the only one left,” she said. “Oh, Mr. Southwell, what if you are in danger?”
That very thought had crossed Henderson’s mind, but he had no intention of sharing it with this young woman. “If what you say is true, and Peter Jeffreys was the first victim of our murderer, then I would not be part of that group.”
“But you became part of it,” she pointed out.
That thought had crossed Henderson’s mind as well. Perhaps, he thought, he should visit Gerald Grant and see if he could sense any madness in the man. For only a madman could systematically kill four men.
“Mr. Southwell.” It was Lord Berkley calling him over to join their group. Was that a look of annoyance in Lord Hubbard’s eye? Such slights, small as they were, hurt. He’d always thought of Richard as a sort of surrogate father, and when he’d been younger, he’d actually daydreamed about what it would be like to be part of Joseph’s family. To think all those years Richard had only been indulging his elder son was like a punch to his gut—that painful and that nauseating.
Henderson had no idea what Berkley’s plan was, but it was becoming more obvious by the moment. He was making certain Lord Hubbard was aware they were friends (which they were) and that Berkley thought of him as an equal (which they were most decidedly not). Henderson didn’t have the first idea why Berkley was taking him under his aristocratic wing. Joseph had always said Henderson had a way about him that put others at ease, and Henderson had accumulated quite a few highly placed friends over the years. When he’d sailed from India, he’d left behind a large group of men who were as passionate as he about famine relief. The fact they’d elected him to return to England to garner support for their efforts had been as humbling as it had been precipitous, given the timing of Alice’s ill-fated wedding.
Alice laughed at something Northrup said, and Henderson again felt that sense of panic, that he was too late, mingling with the growing realization that he was not enough. Her former fiancés had all been titled (or at least the family had believed this to be the case), all from well-respected and prestigious families. He was the bastard of a country girl, a man who’d been lucky enough to have kind and well-to-do grandparents. Many others like him had ended up in orphanages or worse.
Henderson stepped into the circle, wishing he felt more that he belonged. Glancing briefly at the proprietary grasp Northrup had on Alice’s gloved hand, Henderson forced himself to smile as if he hadn’t a care in the world, as if he hadn’t just proclaimed his love for a woman who was standing with another man.
“You beckoned,” Henderson said, giving Berkley an easy and mocking bow.
“I did. I’ve been telling the Hubbards about my adventures in America and the opportunity there. I would be remiss if I didn’t include you in the conversation, given your superior negotiating skills.” Henderson suppressed the temptation to roll his eyes at what he deemed an obvious attempt to build him up in the eyes of the Hubbards. Berkley knew nothing of his negotiating skills, nor any other skill, truth be told. “Mine are woefully inadequate and it occurred to me that you and Lord Hubbard could assist me in gaining more investors. Rails, you know. Steel. The very things titled gentlemen like ourselves are not allowed to discuss but are allowed to benefit from.”
Northrup, who must have noticed his name had been omitted, perked up and darted a look at the Hubbards before saying, “As gauche as it is, I have some experience in investing.”
Berkley gave him what could only be described as an indulgent smile, the type a parent gives a child who has just boasted about some unfounded talent. “I’m happy to hear your thoughts as well, Northrup. Of course.” Then he turned back to Henderson and proceeded to pepper him with questions, which thankfully Henderson, who actually did have a talent for investing, easily answered. It didn’t escape Henderson, as the three men, with Northrup hovering in the periphery, got deep into the discussion, that Lord Hubbard began to give him a series of thoughtful looks.
“I hadn’t realized you were so well-schooled in investment,” Lord Hubbard said finally. “I suppose I assumed you were in India working solely on the famine relief.”
“While I have become involved in relief, my lord, I fear business is what initially sent me to India. It was those very investments that have made me so concerned about the famine. India is an excellent education, I assure you, in both the good and the ills that come from progress.”
“Enough about business,” Lord Northrup announced. “I fear the ladies are growing bored with all our talk of numbers and such.” The ladies in question were not even within range of hearing, and Henderson guessed it was actually Northrup who was bored.
“I would expect, Northrup, that you would be particularly interested in such a discussion, given your financial state,” Lord Berkley said without inflection. It was an unforgivable thing to say in public, particularly in front of the father of the woman a man hoped to marry, but Berkley held his bland smile even when Lord Hubbard gave him an outraged look. My God, Henderson hadn’t known he’d had such a brilliant ally in Berkley until that very moment. Why he’d decided to help him, Henderson couldn’t say. He only knew he planned to make certain Lord Berkley
was aware of his gratitude.
“I say, Berkley, that was not well done,” Lord Hubbard said.
Lord Berkley looked slightly shocked to be called out on his rudeness. “I do apologize, Northrup. I had no idea it wasn’t common knowledge. I fear I’ve spent far too much time in America. Such discussions of financial failures are quite common over there. Why, men brag about how much money they’ve lost gambling. It’s almost a badge of honor.”
“Sir!” Hubbard said, clearly appalled.
To which Berkley gave another confused look. “I was apologizing,” he said, sounding contrite and slightly perplexed at Lord Hubbard’s continued censure.
“I can assure you, my lord,” Northrup hastened to say, “I have incurred no debt.”
“Not recently,” Lord Berkley said silkily, and Northrup’s cheeks turned ruddy.
And that was when Lord Hubbard seemed to realize that Berkley wasn’t being uncouth, but rather crafty in his revelation of Northrup’s financial state. Henderson saw the moment irritation became begrudging respect for Berkley’s behavior, as Lord Hubbard narrowed his eyes and gave Berkley an assessing look. Henderson could almost see Lord Hubbard’s thoughts forming, that Lord Berkley was actually helping to save his daughter from a man who was in financial difficulty, that he should be grateful for the information even if it had been delivered a bit discourteously.
Northrup turned to Lord Hubbard, his expression slightly panicked. “Lord Hubbard, I can assure you—”
“No need,” Hubbard said, holding up his hand to stop Northrup’s entreaty. “There’s not a man among us who hasn’t incurred some sort of debt.” He smiled at the younger man, but Henderson noted the smile could only be described as grim, and for the first time, Henderson believed he might actually have a shot at marrying Alice.
