by Lucy Adams
The blush did not seem to depart from Augusta’s face for some hours, for even when the League met in the library, once all the other guests had retired for the evening, she found a warmth still lingering there that grew all the more once Lord Rushton had entered the room. When she saw his eyes searching the room, when she smiled up into his face as he finally caught sight of her, the awareness of all that Lady Franks had said came back to her in a rush. There was something of great importance between herself and Lord Rushton, but she could not quite work out what it was nor what it would mean. There was too much else going on at present.
“Please,” she began, as the room began to quieten. “The brandy and whisky are in the corner and if anyone would like any other refreshments, I can ring the bell.”
Lord Millerton chuckled and rose to his feet, walking towards the brandy and beginning to pour a few glasses. He moved around the group with a practiced air, handing a glass to each gentleman and, to her surprise, one to Lady Franks, who accepted it with a word of thanks.
“I do not require anything,” Lady Westbrook said, as Augusta looked at her questioningly. “But I thank you for your consideration.”
“As do I,” Lord Rushton added, drawing her attention again. “This house party is an excellent front for what we must accomplish.” Waiting until everyone had seated themselves, he quickly began to explain not only what had happened but what had been discovered of late, in Stayton’s rooms. He quickly told them about his tiger, clearly concerned that nothing had been received from him by the League, with Augusta adding in that some quiet enquiries at the village had led her nowhere. Thereafter, Lord Rushton spoke of what he intended to do, stating that the only plan he had thus far was to find out where Stayton was to go at three o’clock, in two days’ time.
“I see,” Lord Franks murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, his gaze roving casually around the room. “And if he does not go anywhere at all?”
It was a thought that had not occurred to Augusta as yet, her brows drawing closer together as she tried to consider all that had been expressed. Biting her lip, she looked up to Lord Rushton, who was raking one hand through his hair.
“I think,” she found herself saying, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, “that once the truth of his circumstances has been revealed, I should go to speak to him directly.”
For a few moments, there was nothing but silence as the ladies and gentlemen of the League considered this. Augusta held her breath, a little fearful that she had said something foolish or inappropriate, only for Lord Rushton to interrupt.
“That could be a little dangerous,” he said, as Lady Westbrook nodded her agreement. “What if Stayton reacts very badly indeed to what you say?” He spread his hands. “He might ask how you have come to know of such things and what would you say then?”
Augusta returned his gaze with a steady one of her own. She felt a little embarrassed, as though Lord Rushton did not think she could manage to do as she herself had suggested.
“I will say that I have made some inquiries,” she said, with a shrug. “I am sure he will accept that, if he should even ask at all!”
Lord Rushton shook his head, his jaw tight. “There is no need to do so, Lady Augusta,” he said, firmly. “The League is here now. We can do such things without your involvement.”
Augusta’s brows lowered as a sense of anger began to fill her chest. “Lord Rushton,” she said, with more firmness in her voice than ever before. “I find your lack of belief in me to be a little insulting.”
“As do I,” came another voice, as Lady Westbrook tipped her head to one side, watching Lord Rushton carefully. “It is a mere conversation, Lord Rushton. And she does know her cousin better than any of us here. Why should she not speak to him in such a fashion?”
“Because I do not think it wise, given what he has attempted to do before!”
The hardness of Lord Rushton’s words rebounded off the walls and hit Augusta straight in the chest. Shame flared in her heart and she dropped her head, just as Lord Rushton groaned and put a hand over his eyes.
“There can be no danger of that, if one or two of us wait just outside the door or even within it, if there is scope for that,” Lord Millerton said mildly, chasing away the embarrassment and tension that flooded the room with his simple reply. “Lady Augusta is the best one to speak to Stayton, I agree.” He shrugged and smiled at Augusta, who had slowly begun to lift her head, quite unable to look at Lord Rushton. He had always been so very supportive of her before now, encouraging her to help him, building up her courage and her strength with both gentleness and consideration. And yet now he appeared to be doing quite the opposite—pushing her away, as far from the brink of danger as he could. Augusta could not understand it.
“And when will news come?” Lady Franks asked, clearly having decided, despite Lord Rushton’s protests, that Augusta should do as she had suggested. “When did Lord Fitzherbert state that he would have completed his investigations?”
Without warning, the library door opened and Augusta turned at once, her heart in her throat. Had Stayton decided to return, instead of retiring? Her father, mayhap?
“I beg your pardon.”
Her breath rushed out from her as Stayton’s manservant, Knowles, bowed low and stepped into the room.
“What is it you want, Knowles?” she asked, quickly, seeing the rest of the company begin to talk quietly amongst themselves, as though that was precisely what they had been doing before the servant had come in.
“My master wishes to read for a time before he sleeps and has charged me to collect a new book or two,” he explained, as Augusta gestured for him to hurry up. “I thank you, my lady.”
She watched him with sharp eyes, seeing him barely hesitate as he ran his fingers along the line of books before picking one out. He did the same with another row and then, with a murmur of apology, took his leave.
The moment the door closed, Lord Rushton let out a long breath and dropped into a chair, his eyes fixed to the floor and his gaze kept far from Augusta.
“My apologies for the interruption,” Augusta said, a little embarrassed. “Now, what was it we were speaking of?” She saw Lord Franks gesture towards himself and suddenly recalled the matter at hand. “Ah yes. You asked when we might hear from Lord Fitzherbert?”
“We should hear from him within the next day or so,” Lord Westbrook murmured, looking from Augusta to Lord Rushton with thoughtfulness in his eyes. “You should speak to him the very day we hear from Lord Fitzherbert, Lady Augusta. For thereafter, we have that date and time which we must pursue.”
Augusta, trying not to allow her awareness of Lord Rushton’s quietness affect her, nodded quickly to show her agreement. “Of course,” she said, remembering the date and time on the piece of parchment. “Do you intend me to speak to him about the parchment also?”
“No,” Lord Franks said, firmly. “We must simply watch him and wait during that time. Although it will be difficult for him to slip away during the middle of the afternoon, particularly when there is a house party and guests who will garner his attention.” He rubbed his chin again. “I believe the time of ‘three o’clock’ speaks of the hour in the early hours of the morning.”
Augusta pressed her lips together, frowning hard. “But if he is to go to the woods, where Lord Rushton said such notes and the like were exchanged, then he would need to saddle his horse and quit the estate at least an hour earlier.”
“Indeed,” Lord Rushton murmured, shifting slightly in his chair but still not quite managing to lift his gaze to hers. “All of us must keep watch that night.”
She could not resist it, the question coming to her mind immediately. “Even I, Lord Rushton?”
He shot her a sharp look as the others in the room chuckled quietly. Augusta let one of her eyebrows arch, her smile remaining fixed as he narrowed his gaze, although his eyes gleamed with a hint of mirth.
“Yes, Lady Augusta,” he conceded, as the others
in the room allowed their chuckles to turn to laughter. “Yes, of course. We will need everyone we can to help find the truth, and I am grateful for your willingness to do just that.”
“Lady Augusta?”
It was late in the evening and Augusta had already retired to her room. The maids and household staff had been dismissed and Augusta had only just begun to undo the buttons on the back of her dress before there came that knock and whisper at her door.
Her stomach dropped and she grasped a shawl, throwing it about her shoulders so as to hide her undone buttons. “Yes?” she replied, wondering who could be coming to her door at this hour. Was it Stayton? Had something untoward occurred with her father?”
“Lady Augusta, it is I. Lord Rushton.”
Everything changed in that moment, and Augusta found herself turning the key and opening the door with haste, eager to see him. He stood in the doorway but did not attempt to come inside, a sorrowful countenance upon him.
“Lady Augusta,” he said, softly, holding out his hands to her. “I am truly sorry.”
Her eyes flared in surprise and she put one hand out tentatively, the other hand holding onto her shawl tightly. “What means your apology, Lord Rushton?” she asked, confused, realizing just how much she had missed being able to have a quiet conversation between just the two of them. With the house party, Lord Rushton had moved his things into a guest bedchamber and was no longer near to her own rooms and it felt to Augusta as though a gulf had begun to open up between them.
“I was foolish this evening,” Lord Rushton told her, honestly. “I tried to protect you when there was no need for me to do so.”
With a rush of awareness, Augusta held Lord Rushton’s gaze, seeing the swirling emotions in the depths of his eyes and finding her own heart quickening in response. “You did not want me to meet with Stayton alone,” she said, quietly. “I confess I was a little surprised at your vehemence, especially after you have been so eager to have me help with your own investigations thus far.” Hesitating, she dropped her gaze to the floor, her stomach tightening. “Unless, you believe that I do not have the necessary strength or fortitude to do as I have suggested?”
She felt rather than saw him step closer, her breathing quick and fast as his hand touched hers. Her head lifted and she looked into his eyes, seeing him looked down at her with a confusion etched on his face that she herself felt in her own heart. Her emotions were a mass of twisting, tangled waves, all pushing in one direction and then the next as she tried to work out all that was within her heart. The nearness of him seemed to set her very soul alight, her hand burning as he held it in his.
“Lady Augusta,” he said, huskily. “I do not fear that you lack the strength, nor the fortitude to do as you have said. Rather, it is my own desire to protect you from every sense of harm that grasps at my heart.” Looking down at their joined hands, he slowly raised his eyes to hers again, and then smiled gently. “You will think me foolish indeed, no doubt, for I am encouraging you one moment and then pushing you back the next.”
“I am a little confused, I will admit,” she answered, quietly. “But I now see that it is merely a desire to protect me and I cannot reject you for that.”
His eyes glowed as his other hand slipped about her waist, pulling her a little closer. Her lips parted of their own accord as she pressed her free hand lightly against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath. This was such an intimate moment, which, if she were sticking to propriety, ought not to be taking place, but Augusta found she could not step away from him. There was too much going on within her heart, her eagerness to be all the closer to him pushing her further into his arms.
“I must tell you, Lady Augusta, that I have nothing but the most proper of intentions,” Lord Rushton murmured, sending her heart into a frantic dance of joy. “I have found myself quite caught up with you these last few days, for my spirit will not allow me to set myself away from you. My affections have grown steadily to the point that I cannot even permit myself to think of returning to my estate without you by my side.”
Augusta could hardly believe what she was hearing. Happiness burst in her heart and she pulled her hand from his, before throwing her arms about his neck. His mouth found hers in a moment, his arms pulling her tightly into himself as she kissed him with all the passion she felt.
“I presume, then,” he gasped, breaking the kiss before they could linger, “that you would be willing to accept me, should I ask for your hand?”
“I would,” she breathed, allowing her hands to frame his face as she saw him smile. “Oh, Lord Rushton, my own heart is filled with the same affection of which you speak. I can hardly believe that you are offering me something as wonderful as this!”
He chuckled and touched her hair tenderly. “I am as surprised as you that such emotions have taken a hold of me,” he said, with a wry smile. “But I am glad that I have spoken to you of it, for I do not think I would have been able to contain my feelings for much longer otherwise.”
She sighed contentedly and he brushed another kiss across her lips, before looking deeply into her eyes.
“I should bid you goodnight,” he said, reluctantly letting her go as he stepped back into the shadow of her doorway. “Until tomorrow, Lady Augusta.”
She wanted to ask him to stay, to linger so that they might speak longer, be in each other’s company for a little more time, but knew all too well that he was right to depart. “Until tomorrow, Lord Rushton,” she replied, closing the door slowly behind him, before sagging against it, overcome with bliss.
The man she had pulled from the pit, the gentleman who was braver, stronger and more determined than any she had met before, who strived to encourage her in any way he could, now held her heart tightly in his hands, and offered her his in return. She could think of nothing more wonderful, nothing more astonishing than this—that the Earl of Rushton should have an affection for her, and that such an affection would soon lead to marriage.
Augusta did not know when she had ever been so happy.
Chapter Eleven
“We have had news.”
Marcus strode into the room, looking all about him but relieved to see only members of the League present. “Oh?”
Lady Westbrook held out one hand and handed him the note. “It arrived earlier this morning. I have read it, of course, as has Lord Westbrook.” She glanced around the room. “Lady Augusta is not present as yet, however, so has not heard what is contained within.”
Marcus said nothing, a swell of emotion in his chest as he recalled all that had occurred with Lady Augusta last evening. It had been certainly improper to knock on her door at such a late hour and all the more so to then kiss her, but his heart had refused to allow him to do anything other. When he had spoken to her in front of the others of the League, telling her that he did not think she ought to be the one to speak to Stayton, he had seen the hurt and confusion in her eyes and had cursed his own foolishness. He had questioned his motivations for doing so, for speaking to her in such a way and for feeling so protective over her, only to realize that his heart was tied to her with such a strong cord that it would be torturous to try and break it.
And, given that he was not a gentleman used to patiently waiting for the correct time to come about, he had acted as he had felt and had gone to her room, speaking to her with honesty and openness—and what happiness had been his when she had responded with such delight and reciprocation of feeling! His heart swelled as he remembered just how she had thrown her arms about him, the joy in her face lighting her whole being. A small smile captured the corner of his lips as he wandered towards the window, his fingers opening the note carefully. When this was all at an end, he would speak to Lord Berwick and ask for his permission to marry Lady Augusta. Stayton might try to persuade the man that family and responsibility came first but Marcus was quite certain that if Lady Augusta spoke to her father candidly, as she had done once before, then there would be nothing to prevent their marriage
. His smile spread as he considered their future. He would be able to provide her with the life that she had always wanted, always dreamed of. They would go to London, and he would take her to the theatre, to Vauxhall Gardens for their spectacular celebrations. He would show her just how much he cared for her by ensuring her happiness was always at the forefront of his mind.
“You are taking some time reading that note,” came Lord Franks’ voice, snapping Marcus out of his own thoughts. “Are you all right?” There was a hint of teasing there, as though the man knew all too well what Marcus was considering at this present moment.
Clearing his throat, Marcus opened the note completely and began to read it, pushing all thoughts of Lady Augusta aside for the moment. His brows lifted in surprise, although he did not feel as astonished as he might have done, given what he already knew about the fellow.
“So, Fitzherbert has discovered that Stayton, whilst in trade, has not had a very good year,” he said, turning around just as Lady Augusta stepped into the room. His eyes caught hers in an instant, drawn to her without any hope of being freed. “Ah, Lady Augusta,” he said, warmly, aware that Lord Franks was watching him with an amused smile on his face. “There is a note from Lord Fitzherbert. He states that your cousin is in grave financial distress.”
Lady Augusta’s eyes widened and she accepted the note from him, reading it quickly as the color faded from her cheeks. The smile that had been there only moments before now disappeared, quickly replaced with a dark frown that told him just how angry she was.
“Do you mean to say that Stayton has come to live here, because he now has no property of his own?” Lady Augusta exclaimed, reading the note again before lifting her head. “He has found himself in such great financial trouble that he has been forced to sell his property and has now to come to stay here. And he has not said a word about it, not in all the time he has been present with us.” Shaking her head, she thrust the note back at Marcus, her eyes burning with the rage that was deep within her. “I can hardly believe that he would do something so foolish and so despicable. To live on our good will, without saying a word about his own difficulties—well, that is quite beyond all manner of propriety!” Her face was pink now, her hands into tight fists as she turned on her heel to march to the other side of the room, beginning to pace up and down. “My father will be very upset indeed, I am sure of it. And I shall have to be the one to tell him, for I do not think that Stayton himself will be at all eager to do so!”
