by Lucy Adams
“Lord Watt.”
Daisy’s attention was caught suddenly by the mention of a name she had not given much consideration to these last two years. Her heart wrenched from her chest as she looked to her sister, who was watching her closely. “What did you say?” she asked, a touch breathless.
“I said,” Susanna answered, gently, “that Northgate met Lord Watt yesterday here in town. He was present last Season I believe, but only seen very little, which is why I made no mention of him before.”
Daisy cleared her throat and smiled up at the maid who, thankfully, interrupted the conversation by bringing in the tea tray. She did not want her sister to know of her suddenly racing heart, of her sweaty palms, and the thousand memories that threatened to swamp her. Lord Watt was not someone she had given much thought to these last few months. Her mourning for her father and the shock of what had occurred had dogged her mind, making her quite unable to even recollect any of the warm feelings that had once filled her heart.
Until this moment.
“I am sure you will see him again, should you decide to rejoin society,” Susanna said slowly, as the maid closed the door behind herself. “He has not married.”
An exclamation lodged itself in Daisy’s throat, but she did not allow herself to say a single thing. It did not matter to her whether or not Lord Watt had married, she told herself. The only thing she needed to concentrate on was speaking to Lord Templeton and discovering the truth about her father’s death. To allow her mind to become caught up with an old beau was nothing more than a distraction.
And yet, he was almost your betrothed.
“I do not think I wish to see him again,” Daisy said carefully, making sure she chose her words with great deliberation. “You know of my intentions this Season. They are the same as before.”
Susanna said nothing but eyed Daisy with a look of suspicion that had Daisy’s eagerness to defend herself growing steadily. She opened her mouth to say something more, only to close it again. There was no need to express herself further. Lord Watt was nothing more than a distant memory, even if he had once almost become her betrothed, even if she had once held a deep affection for him.
“He might think the rumors about you are true,” Susanna said softly, breaking through the silence with a sharpness to her words that tore at Daisy’s heart. “What then?”
Daisy shook her head. “It does not matter what he thinks,” she answered, firmly. “There is nothing between us any longer. He did not once write to me after the news of my father’s death became known. I did not see him nor hear from him. Therefore, I can only conclude that anything that was once between us is now at an end.” She could, of course, tell her sister that she believed Lord Watt had been waiting to hear from her, wondering if there was still to be that courtship between them, but instead, she chose to remain silent on the matter. Forgetting about Lord Watt, as she had done before, was the best thing for her to do.
“I wish you would find some happiness,” Susanna sighed, leaning forward to pour the tea. “I know you are singularly determined to find the truth about our father’s death, but in doing so, you are missing so much, Daisy. You might be courting if not betrothed by now!”
“And our father’s death remaining as nothing more than a heavy question that sits on our minds for the rest of our days?” Daisy retorted, a spike of anger burying into her heart. “I do not think I can do such a thing, Susanna.”
Her sister gave her a small yet sympathetic smile. “I have accepted what my husband believes,” she answered, pushing the teacup and saucer towards Daisy. “Our father was killed by someone who broke into the house.”
Daisy wanted to shake her head fervently and to remind her sister that nothing had been stolen, nothing had been taken to suggest that the murderer had been seeking to steal from Lord Harrogate, but instead she forced herself to keep her mouth closed and to pick up her teacup instead.
“But I can see that even the mention of Lord Watt is not about to change your mind,” Susanna finished, with a sadness to her voice that nipped at Daisy’s conscience. “Very well, Daisy. Do what you must. I only hope it will bring you relief in the end.”
“I am sure it will,” Daisy answered, firmly. “For no matter what happens, I am determined to get to the truth.”
Susanna looked at her. “Even if it demands a great deal from you?” she queried, sounding a little alarmed.
“Even if it demands everything from me,” Daisy answered, without hesitation. “I shall go on and push forward, until I finally have the answers I seek.”
Chapter Two
Matthew groaned inwardly as Lord Trentworth ambled towards him, a large brandy in his hand. He had only been back in London for a short while and already some of his less-than-favored acquaintances were seeking him out.
Most likely to try and encourage Matthew to be a little generous with his vast wealth that almost every member of the ton knew he had. Whilst only a viscount, Matthew had been left a vast fortune, which was much more than he ever really required, and with it came the knowledge that many of his friends and acquaintances only sought him out because of his money and not for himself. It was a rather unfortunate consequence of having so much.
His wealth was also the reason he had been brought into The King’s League. There were a good many who looked up to him, admired him, and wanted to be close to him, and thus, he was an excellent candidate for a spy for the Crown. Having been introduced to it some years ago, Matthew had accepted the position and, over the last few years, had slowly increased his standing within the group. Now he was one of the leaders of the League, which involved organizing, planning, and discussing what would happen and when.
Unfortunately, it had not distracted him from his own grief.
“Lord Watt!” Lord Trentworth exclaimed, weaving this way and that as he grinned at him. “You have returned to London!”
“I have,” Matthew muttered wearily. “And Whites is just the same as ever.”
Lord Trentworth laughed and shook his head, his brandy sloshing violently in the glass. “You are quite mistaken!” he exclaimed, staggering slightly. “Much has changed. There are new debutantes, new diamonds of the first water and a few new widows who are looking for warm company.” He waggled his eyebrows and leaned closer to Matthew, who forced himself not to recoil. “And of course, there are all the usual pastimes, such as cards and the like.”
“A pastime which I fear I cannot enjoy at the present,” Matthew said firmly, seeing the disappointment jump into Lord Trentworth’s eyes. “I have made it my intention not to gamble at all this Season in fact!” He could not help but smile to himself as Lord Trentworth, clearly disappointed, sighed heavily and muttered something under his breath before turning around and wandering away, leaving Matthew to watch him go with a growing sense of satisfaction. Lord Trentworth was clearly hoping that Matthew might play a few hands of cards, where he might have an opportunity to defeat him entirely. Given Lord Trentworth’s current state, he did not think that the man would have done anything other than fail, but still, it was a little amusing.
“Lord Watt.”
The grave voice behind him had him spinning around, only to see Lord Templeton, one of the most senior members of The King’s League, standing waiting for him.
“Templeton,” he breathed, hurrying forward and shaking the man’s hand firmly. “It is very good to see you.”
Lord Templeton nodded but did not smile. “And you,” he answered. “Come, let us sit down. A quieter corner, perhaps.” He sent a sharp glance towards Lord Trentworth, rolling his eyes in Matthew’s direction.
“Indeed,” Matthew agreed quickly, snapping his fingers at the nearby footman and asking for a drink to be brought for them both. “Tell me, what have you discovered?”
Lord Templeton hesitated, folding himself carefully into a chair and eyeing Matthew carefully. He had a full head of white hair, sharp blue eyes that felt as though they could cut through glass, and a spark within h
is soul that spoke of youthfulness and vigor despite his years.
“It has been a difficult year,” he said slowly, looking at Matthew in the knowledge that he understood. “There has been a good deal going on within the League, and we have had to undertake a good deal of investigation.”
Matthew nodded slowly. Last Season, he had been in London in order to help the League with a very difficult situation. It had been resolved, of course, but not before a good deal of trouble had been uncovered within the League itself. He had done his best to ensure it was entirely rooted out, whilst maintaining a calm and steadfast façade throughout. Of course, his heart and mind had been troubled with not only what was going on, but also with the knowledge that Lord Harrogate, one of the League’s men, had been killed in his own townhouse in the middle of London. On top of which, he had been desperately waiting to hear from Daisy, Lord Harrogate’s daughter with whom he had been in love but had heard nothing from her whatsoever.
It had been, as Lord Templeton had said, a very difficult year.
“Therefore,” Lord Templeton finished, with a regretful look, “I confess that I have not managed to achieve very much at all. Lord Harrogate was trying to infiltrate himself within a small group of high society gentlemen, in the knowledge that one of them, we were sure, was working with the French. I believe that he knew which of them it was, and that this gentleman, in turn, chose to silence Lord Harrogate in the only way he could.”
“And do you know the names of these men?” Matthew asked, feeling a fierce spirit begin to burn in his heart. “Surely you have sent others to investigate them?”
Lord Templeton drew in a long breath. “I have done so,” he said slowly, “only to discover that they have all gone from England to another part of the world. One has gone to inspect his holdings on the continent, whilst two others are gone to America. And the final one decided to undertake the Grand Tour and has been away for some time. I have sent two men from the League to America in search of them, of course, but have not heard anything as yet.”
Matthew rubbed one hand over his eyes, feeling a good deal of frustration. He had wanted to involve himself in the investigation into Lord Harrogate’s death, but had been unable to, given the ongoing situation that had taken over every part of his life last Season. And now to discover that very little had been done only added to his irritation.
“You may have the investigation now, if you wish,” Lord Templeton continued, evidently aware of Matthew’s frustration. “I am getting a little too old to continue with the League at any rate.” He sighed and accepted the glass of brandy from the footman’s tray. “I can still advise, of course, but I do not think that I am up to much else.”
Matthew’s frustrations died away at once. Lord Templeton was an excellent ally and had done a great deal for the League. He did not want the gentleman to think that just because this investigation had not gone particularly well thus far that Matthew laid the blame at his feet!
“Surely not!” he exclaimed at once. “You must not think so little of your own abilities, Lord Templeton. You have worked for the King for many years, and there are many of us who look up to you in that regard. Please, do not feel as though this failure is anything to do with you.” He spoke eagerly, leaning a little forward in his chair but saw the older man shake his head.
“I am tired,” Lord Templeton said quietly. “I think I shall see this investigation through – and by that, I mean, I shall give you whatever help you require so long as I can give it – but thereafter, I think I shall retire.” He smiled, and Matthew saw the glimmer of relief in the older man’s eyes. It was, it seemed, the right time for Lord Templeton to step back. “Besides which, I am quite certain that there are a good many others to take my place.”
“None as good as you,” Matthew answered firmly. “I shall be sorry to see you go from amongst us, Lord Templeton.”
Lord Templeton waved a hand at this remark, then sat up a little straighter. “Now, I must inform you that I have heard a rumor that the daughter of Lord Harrogate has also passed away.”
Matthew swallowed hard, his whole body seeming to freeze with cold for a moment or two. No one had mentioned Miss Williams to him for some time, and even those within the League knew not to speak of her to him. He had tried his best to put her from his mind, believing that she needed time and space to come to terms with what had occurred, but now — two years after the death of Lord Harrogate — he feared that she would never return to him.
“I do not know if such a rumor is true,” Lord Templeton continued, clearly unaware of just how this was affecting Matthew, “but it is important that you are aware of it.”
“I-I do not understand why,” Matthew stammered, trying not to believe that such a rumor held any truth whatsoever. “Why should such a thing matter?”
Lord Templeton looked at him in surprise then frowned hard. “I would have thought such a thing was obvious,” he muttered, running one hand over his thinning hair. “If the girl has died, then is there not the suggestion that she also has been killed by whoever took her father?”
It felt as though a hand had clasped tight around Matthew’s throat and was slowly squeezing the breath from his body. “Why?” he said hoarsely, trying not to allow an image of Miss Williams lying prone on the floor into his mind. “Why should such a thing happen?”
Lord Templeton sighed heavily. “Because she came to me a few days after her father’s death and then again last Season. She is determined to find out the truth about her father’s death and who is behind it. I had very little to tell her but it seems that her father mentioned the League to her the very night he died. Therefore, she knows a little of it but does not fully understand everything.”
“And you think that she might have come to some sort of understanding as to those who killed her father, and therefore she too has been silenced,” Matthew murmured, leaning his head back against the chair and trying not to panic. “That is an understandable conclusion.”
“I would suggest that you confirm whether or not such a story is the truth, just as soon as you can,” Lord Templeton said firmly. “It is gravely important. If it is that she has been killed over something she has discovered, then we must know what it was.”
Matthew took in a long breath, before blowing it out slowly. “Of course,” he answered, as steadily as he could. “I understand.”
“And I, meanwhile, will locate the whereabouts of the four men that Lord Harrogate had befriended,” Lord Templeton continued, as though he were merely speaking of the weather rather than four men who might be working for the French. “We can meet together again soon in order to share what we have uncovered.”
Matthew said nothing but threw back his brandy and drank the rest in three large gulps. He waited until the brandy had begun to spread warmth through his veins before he answered, hoping that the liquor would take away some of the shock that now poured through him. “Very good, Lord Templeton,” he muttered, as the older man clicked his fingers at a nearby footman, gesturing to his empty glass. “That sounds very good to me.”
“And you shall have to make something of an appearance within society, of course,” Lord Templeton continued calmly. “For if any of these four gentlemen have returned, then you will need to acquaint yourself with them, and it is best that you have been already seen within society rather than simply appearing at the very time they also choose to return.”
Seeing the wisdom in this, Matthew nodded in agreement and gestured for the footman to bring him another brandy also. “Of course.”
“And the League is due to meet soon also, is it not?” Lord Templeton finished, getting to his feet and picking up his newly filled brandy glass from the table. “In a few days’ time, I think.”
“Yes, that is so,” Matthew replied, somewhat relieved that he would now be left alone for a time. “I will tell everyone there what our plans are.”
“I thank you,” Lord Templeton said, putting one hand on Matthew’s shoulder as he passed
. “Until then, Lord Watt.”
“Until then,” Matthew echoed, waiting for a moment or two before slumping back down into his chair, his heart aching with a deep and terrible misery that he did not think would ever let him go. Closing his eyes, he drew in air, trying to calm his frantic heart and yet still, all he wanted to do was shout aloud with both fear and despair.
If his dear love was gone from this world, without him ever having the chance to see her or even speak to her again, then what hope was there for him? He had waited far too long, confused by her silence and telling himself that he was doing the right thing in stepping away from her. Perhaps he had, in fact, left her for far too long. He had been a little afraid that if he had written to her, had called upon her, that she might tell him that their courtship, their regard for each other, was to come to an end. It had been easier for his heavy mind to pretend that things were still just as they had been, but with a space between them for the present so that she might be able to mourn her father’s death in her own time.
He had been a coward.
Leaning forward, Matthew put a hand over his eyes and groaned quietly. What a fool he had been! And now, perhaps, it would be too late. Too late for him to tell her that he had never stopped thinking of her, that not a day had passed without her being in his thoughts. His heart had still ached for her, his arms feeling empty without her by his side. And yet, he had done nothing. He had told himself that it was for the best; he had allowed himself to become entirely distracted by all the difficulties that had gone on in the League last Season and had not done as he ought. If he had done so, then mayhap she might have told him all that she was struggling with, and she might have been honest with him about what she had learned about her father’s actions in the few weeks before his death.
Instead, he had done nothing—and now it felt as though he would be without her forever. He would never have the chance to make amends, to tell her just how sorry he was for all that had occurred. For the rest of his days, he would bear this burden on his soul—and it had been all his own fault.
