The King's League Box Set: Regency Romance

by Lucy Adams

  Matthew rounded on Lord Templeton at once. “You cannot think that Miss Williams should be the one to speak to Lord Stevenson!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “That is—”

  “Of course I can speak to him!” Miss Williams protested, getting to her feet as Matthew turned back to face her. “Why should I not? I have been involved with this investigation, and I feel as though I have done very little indeed thus far!”

  “You have done a very great deal, Miss Williams,” Lord Templeton said, in a most reassuring manner. “More than you might think. If you had not drawn close to Lord Fitzherbert, then Lord Stevenson would not have acted as he has done.” He smiled at her, but Matthew remained quite ill at ease. This was not at all what he wanted. Lord Stevenson could very easily turn on Miss Williams when she began talking of what she knew.

  “I will be quite all right,” Miss Williams said firmly, coming closer to Matthew and looking at him with those piercing green eyes that had so often lingered in his memory. “It is as Lord Templeton says. If it is set up correctly, then there will be nothing to fear. You will be present, will you not?” She was standing very close to him now, her expression open and her eyes fixed upon his. There was no sense of anger about her now, but rather a gentle reassurance that she wanted to pass on to him. The worry he felt began to fade away, even the very room where he was standing began to fade, leaving him standing alone in the shadows with only one light lingering before him. Miss Williams. Daisy. He wanted to draw nearer to her, to pull her towards him and to promise that he would always do his best to protect her.

  “Of course I will be present,” he said huskily, as she put one hand out towards his, her fingers touching his and sending sparks flurrying up towards his heart. “I would never allow you to be there alone.”

  She smiled at him then, her face lighting up with a contentment that he wanted to keep. “Then I have nothing to fear,” she answered, making him feel as though she had managed to trap him by his own words. “The League will be there with me. You will be there with me. And either we will find the person responsible for the death of my father – and the League will take him and bring about the justice required – or he will tell us more about Lord Fitzherbert and what role he played in the events of two years ago.” When she spoke to him in such practical terms, Matthew knew he could not easily turn her from her plan. As much as he wanted her to stay away from it all, to remain uninvolved and, therefore, safe—Miss Williams was not about to do so. She was singularly determined – and he could not blame her for being so.

  “Lord Watt?”

  Her voice was so quiet that it barely reached his ears. Seeing how she watched him, how she waited for him to respond, Matthew sighed heavily and dropped his head. “I will make the arrangements,” he said quietly. “But you will have to ensure that you do everything that I ask of you, Miss Williams. For the sake of your safety.” Lifting his head, he allowed his eyes to find hers again and saw that she was smiling again. There was such a beauty about her that it took his breath away and made him want to cling to her and tell her that even in the midst of all of this, he wanted to be close to her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, her fingers pressing his again. He allowed his hand to press hers in return and saw the flickering in her eyes.

  “Then, if we are to go ahead with such an arrangement, might I suggest a dinner party?”

  Miss Williams dropped Matthew’s hand as he turned his head to see Lord Templeton looking at them both with a small smile on his face.

  “A dinner party?” Matthew repeated. “You mean, as the cover for our interrogation of Lord Stevenson?”

  “Yes,” Lord Templeton answered, with a wave of his hand. “Yes, precisely that. You should host it, Lord Watt, given that you are acquainted with Lord Stevenson. He will be more likely to attend if he knows that Miss Williams will be present also, I think.” He gave Miss Williams a broad smile, and Matthew had to force himself not to turn his head and look at her again. He needed to keep his thoughts focused.

  “Very well, I shall have the invitations sent out today,” he stated, as quickly as he could. “Although I shall have to invite a few ladies and not all of the gentlemen will be from the League.”

  Lord Templeton waved a hand. “Do not fret, Lord Watt. Have at least five present – not including yourself – and thereafter find a way to set up a meeting of sorts with Miss Williams, yourself, and the gentlemen of the League being the only ones present.”

  Matthew nodded slowly, his mind beginning to race. There was a good deal to think about and very little time in which to do it.

  “And you might wish to set up another occasion thereafter,” Lord Templeton continued, his voice catching Matthew’s attention again. “But this time to ensure for Lord Fitzherbert.”

  Miss Williams caught her breath. “I could ask Lord Northgate and my sister to have some sort of soiree,” she said quickly. “I am sure that they would invite anyone I wished.”

  Matthew held up one hand, his expression tight as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Very well,” he said, knowing that there was no need to argue over Miss Williams’ involvement. “Do as you wish, Miss Williams. I will give you the names of some of the gentlemen in the League – gentlemen you are already acquainted with, of course – so that you might have your sister invite them.” He saw her smile, saw the hard glint in her eye, and felt his spirits buoyed. Miss Williams was more than capable, he knew. He could rely on her. He could trust her. This matter might be over very soon and then…then, mayhap, he could begin to think about her in an entirely new light.

  “Capital!” Lord Templeton boomed, startling Matthew. “Then it seems we have a plan. I look forward to being at your dinner party, Lord Watt.” He grinned, and Matthew could not help but smile back. “I am sure it will be very interesting indeed.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Daisy did not know when she had last been this nervous. The dinner was going very well as far as she could see, even though Lord Stevenson was saying very little. That was not a peculiar thing, of course, for she knew him to be a fairly quiet gentleman, who watched everything but kept most of his thoughts to himself.

  “Perhaps we should leave the gentlemen to their port?”

  Daisy jerked with a sudden awareness of what she was expected to do now. The ladies were all rising steadily from the table, one after the other, and Daisy quickly followed suit. She could not help but glance at Lord Watt, seeing him sitting at the head of the table with an easy smile on his face, his eyes roving around the room until, finally, they landed on her.

  His gaze locked on hers for just a moment, sending her strength, courage, and determination. She took a breath, feeling the butterflies beginning to flutter in her stomach and lifted her chin. She could do this. It was of vital importance that she spoke to Lord Stevenson as she passed to make her way out of the room, but without attracting the attention of the other guests.

  Lord Watt had told her that she would have the opportunity to do so and that he would make all the arrangements. As it was, she had to trust him.

  Stepping back from her chair, Daisy turned and began to make her way slowly towards the door, walking behind the chairs of the other guests. Lord Stevenson was near the end, and she let her gaze fix on him, seeing how he turned his head to glance at her and feeling the immediate flush of heat to her cheeks. Heat that came from her nervousness, from the knowledge of the part she had to play—and certainly not from any feelings she might have for the man.

  “Goodness!”

  There came a loud crash from behind her and, despite herself, Daisy turned around to look. A large glass decanter had been dropped to the floor by one of the other gentlemen, where it had shattered. Port was spilling out all over the floor, and most of the other gentlemen were now on their feet, trying to move their chairs out of the way of the glass and the port.

  “Lord Stevenson.”

  Quickly, Daisy realized that this was, most likely, what Lord Watt had pla
nned so that she might speak privately to Lord Stevenson. Lord Stevenson had been craning his neck to see what had occurred and only now turned his head to look at her, a curiosity still flickering in his eyes.

  “Miss Williams?” It was a question more than a greeting, and Daisy seized her opportunity.

  “I must speak to you,” she said, in a low voice. “I will be in the library.” She said nothing more but lifted her head and continued on her way, hurrying towards the door whilst footmen, maids, and other staff all rushed to the scene of the shattered decanter, clearly ready to tidy things up. She did not dare glance back at Lord Stevenson for fear that he would see the worry in her face, the anxiety that plagued her. Had she said exactly what she had been told to say? Her heart began to hammer furiously as she moved along the corridor. Most likely, one of the ladies would begin to talk about what had happened with the decanter, and the ladies would discuss it at length until the gentlemen appeared. She did not think that anyone would notice her absence other than her sister, who had been invited along with her. But Lord Watt had assured her that Lady Westbrook, who was due to go into her confinement next week, would keep Susanna distracted and, therefore, entirely unaware that Daisy was absent from the party. All she had to do now was go to the library and wait.

  The library was well lit, which was a relief. However, it did not prevent Daisy from feeling practically sick with nerves. This had been a plan of her own making, of course, but she had not given much thought to how she would be feeling about such a responsibility. If Lord Stevenson was the man responsible for her father’s death, then she knew she might be in very great danger. Lord Stevenson could be a spy, could be loyal to another country’s power rather than to the Crown, and she could easily be removed from his sphere if he so wished.

  “They will come soon,” she told herself firmly. “You need not worry.” Her breathing quickened regardless, even though she reminded herself constantly that she was not going to be alone, that she was not going to face Lord Stevenson by herself. Closing her eyes as she began to pace up and down in front of the hearth, Daisy let her mind fill with thoughts of Lord Watt.

  Her heart began to ache with a renewed desire that she knew, as yet, could not be satisfied. She had tried hard to set her feelings for Lord Watt aside, to force herself to focus on the task at hand rather than what strange emotions his very presence drew up within her, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore. When she pressed his hand, when their fingers had touched, such a fire had roared up within her that she had felt herself burn up completely. How she had longed to step into his arms, to have herself surrounded by his strength! The thought of being close to him again, even though it had been years since she had last done so, was a thought that kept her entrapped and that would not let her go. And yet she had forced herself to push those thoughts away, to keep them from her mind. She could not become distracted, not now, not when there was such severity of circumstance upon them. Once matters had come to an end, once the culprits had been brought to justice, then she might allow herself to think of what might be between them. There was something in his heart for her still, she thought, her pace slowly decreasing as a small smile caught her lips. She could tell it was so when she looked into his eyes.

  “Miss Williams.”

  Her breath caught, as she heard her name being whispered from the shadows. Turning, she pressed one hand to her heart to try and calm herself, only to see Lord Watt beckoning to her from the corner of the room.

  She had not even heard him enter.

  “Lord Watt,” she murmured, her skirts rustling as she hurried towards him. “Is everything quite all right?”

  He nodded, his face half hidden in shadow. “The others are to make their way here within the next few minutes,” he told her quietly, his eyes filled with the very same determination that she felt. “I wanted to ensure that you were all right, however.”

  A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I am very well,” she told him, not allowing him to see the anxiety that she felt. “I am sure all will go very well indeed.”

  Lord Watt smiled briefly, reaching out one hand only to drop it back to his side, as if he had been wanting to take her hand but had quite forgotten how to do so.

  Her heart began to ache all over again. “Lord Watt, I—”

  “We will have much to discuss later, I am sure,” he interrupted, as though he had not heard her speak. “Speak well and with confidence, knowing that myself and the others are listening to every word.” He sighed softly, looking deeply into her eyes as if there was more that he wanted to say but could not quite bring himself to do it. Instead, he put one hand out and ran his fingers down her cheek delicately.

  Her face bloomed with color.

  “Extraordinary,” he murmured, so quietly that she struggled to hear him. “Quite extraordinary.”

  And then, he was gone, moving back into the shadows and leaving her feeling more alone than before. Forcing herself to put a smile on her lips that she did not feel, Daisy turned to make her way back towards the fireplace, not even hearing the door opening softly and certainly not seeing the other gentlemen who stepped inside. They all found places to hide and shadows to cover them before Daisy had even made her way to the fireplace, and had it not been for her belief that the men of the League did as they promised, Daisy would have felt entirely alone.

  “Lord Stevenson.”

  The moment the door opened, every single part of Daisy burst to life. She saw him hesitate, then step inside but left the door ajar.

  “Miss Williams,” he said gruffly. “This is a little unorthodox.”

  She tried to smile but could not quite manage to do so. “I am fully aware that it is not quite within the bounds of propriety,” she answered, trying to inject a sense of lightheartedness into her voice, “but there are some questions I must ask you before I can give you my answer.”

  He came closer to her, ambling slowly with his gaze locked upon her own, giving her no chance to look away. “Your answer?”

  “To your question of courtship and marriage,” she answered, seeing how he ducked his head at once as she spoke. Had he forgotten he had asked her such a thing? “I have a thought to accept you, Lord Stevenson, but I have one or two questions I must ask you at the first.”

  Lord Stevenson cleared his throat gruffly, then wandered to the small table to his right, where he poured himself a large whiskey. The smell of it filled the room almost at once, mingling with the heat and the smoke of the fire. “What is it you wish to ask me, Miss Williams?” he asked, sitting down heavily in a chair and gesturing for her to do the same. “I am a gentleman of wealth, with a good title and excellent family. I have told you that I require a wife and that I find you a suitable candidate. What else is there for you to know?” He appeared almost angry that she had asked him such a thing, but Daisy did not permit his demeanor to affect her in any way.

  “It is only that it is very sudden indeed,” she stated, quite calmly. “And given that you do not know me very well at all, I must wonder what it is that you see in me that makes you believe that I am a suitable lady?” She did not sit down as he had asked but took a step closer to him. “Or is it to do with Lord Fitzherbert?”

  She heard the slight shake in her voice but held her gaze steady, looking at him and seeing how the glass in his hand began to shake. His eyes widened; his mouth opened, but no sound came from him.

  And then, he slammed the glass down hard on the table, sat forward in his chair, and shook one finger at her. “You do not wish to accept me, Miss Williams? Then that is all you need say! There is no need to try and find some sort of explanation, some sort of excuse! All you need do is tell me the truth.” He threw up his hands and made to get out of his chair. “Thinking that I should care a jot about Lord Fitzherbert and what he does.”

  Daisy did not move an inch, holding her ground and refusing to allow him to bat away her question so easily. “You know Lord Fitzherbert.”

  “What of
it?” he exclaimed, now standing up in front of her. “He is a fool and I— ”

  “And you are not a fool,” she answered quietly. “Nor am I, Lord Stevenson. I will tell you the truth if you are prepared to listen. And you need only then confirm whether I speak the truth or not.” Watching Lord Stevenson closely, she studied every inch of his features, seeing the slight flicker in his eyes, the tightness of his frame and the angry workings of his jaw. The gentleman was more upset than he was willing to show.

  “What is it you believe you know, Miss Williams?” he asked, a slight sneer to his voice. “Do you think that I have fallen in love with you and that is why I wish to steal you from Lord Fitzherbert’s attentions?”

  Her chin lifted, and she looked at him until the smirk left his face and until his eyes grew a little downcast. “No,” she answered quietly. “No, I do not think that you are in love with me, Lord Stevenson. Rather, I think you are afraid of Lord Fitzherbert.” She saw him jerk his head up, an angry look in his eyes but held up one hand, ready to calm him again. “I do not mean to say that you are afraid of him out of some sort of weakness in your character but rather that there is a fear in what he might do.” Moving a little closer to him, she saw the suspicion in his eyes. “Lord Stevenson, I am fully aware that my father knew both you, Lord Fitzherbert, and two other gentlemen whom, it seems, are now dead and gone.”

  Lord Stevenson stared at her as though she had told him something truly horrific. His mouth opened and closed again, his cheeks a little pale and the anger seeming to leave his eyes.

  “He did it then,” he muttered, turning a little away from her and rubbing his forehead. “I did not think he would.”

  Daisy’s stomach began to churn as she saw the tormented expression on his face. “Lord Fitzherbert, you mean?” she asked softly. “Was he the one to kill my father?”

  Lord Stevenson swallowed hard and sank back down in his chair, his elbows on his knees and his hands in front of his face. He said nothing for some minutes, filling the air with such tension that Daisy could hardly stand it. She wanted to shout at him, to pull him from his thoughts and to force him to answer her but knew she could not do anything of the sort. This was evidently a shock to him, and she had to allow him the time to think through what she had said.