by Lucy Adams
“No, I think he will be less than inclined,” Marcus agreed, quietly, finding her reaction to be both understandable but also, if he was honest, rather interesting. He had never seen her so caught up, so filled with passionate ire that it filled every part of her being. There was a fire deep within her soul, he was sure of it, and it only had to be encouraged before it would burn hot and burn strong.
“I must speak to him at once!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands and turning to stride from the room. “He is, at this very moment, enjoying a pleasant conversation with Lady Sinclair, who is a wealthy widow known to our family.” She stopped suddenly, turning around slowly to face him again. “And now I can understand precisely why he is doing so! If there is a better prospect in front of him than to marry me, then he is clearly eager to pursue it!”
“Indeed,” Marcus agreed, just as Lady Franks got to her feet, hurrying over to Lady Augusta before she could leave the room.
“I understand that you are deeply upset,” Lady Franks said, catching Lady Augusta’s arm. “But you must not go off in a rage and a roar, for otherwise you might forget to ask Mr. Stayton all that is required.” She took both of Lady Augusta’s hands in her own and smiled. “Take a few minutes at the very least, to consider what needs to be done and what needs to be said. I am certain that once you have recovered yourself a little, things will be much clearer.”
Much to Marcus’ relief, Lady Augusta said nothing against this, walking back into the room with Lady Franks, even though her color remained high and her eyes held a good deal of anger. He smiled at her but she did not return it, watching him with sharp eyes, clearly still too upset to speak to him.
“Here is what you must discover, Lady Augusta,” Lord Westbrook said, as she sat down next to Lady Franks. “You must ask him about his intentions to return home and, if he is vague and unclear, press him all the more.” A wry smile caught the side of his mouth as Lord Westbrook shrugged. “We must give him every opportunity to tell us the truth, as it stands.”
“And if he does not?”
Marcus shifted from one foot to the other, clearing his throat. “I do not think that he will say anything at all,” he told Lady Augusta, who nodded but then returned her gaze to Lord Westbrook. “You need to be prepared for him to lie to you. And then, you can inform him that you know the truth.”
“But you must watch for his reactions with great closeness,” Lady Westbrook added, as Lady Augusta nodded again, pressing her lips together in evident anxiety. “He will attempt to brush the truth away from you but be firm with him and do not permit him to do so.”
“I quite understand,” Lady Augusta said firmly, getting to her feet again but appearing, outwardly at least, to be a good deal calmer. “I will do precisely that.”
Marcus smiled at her and, much to his relief, her lips curved upwards in response. “And then return as soon as you can to us, so we know what he has said to you.”
“I shall.” Marcus watched her as she quit the room, glad to see that her steps were a little less hurried. With a long breath of contentment, he turned to his friends and saw each one watching him with interest.
“Very well, very well!” he laughed, holding up his hands in a gesture of defense. “I care very much for Lady Augusta. I will soon be asking her to marry me and yes, of course, you shall all be invited.”
The cheers that met this statement quite overwhelmed Marcus, for he had not realized just how much his friends cared for him and his happiness and contentment. Smiling broadly as everyone gave him their congratulations, Marcus sighed and sat back down in his chair, sinking his head back and resting it there for a time, allowing the quiet joy to fill his heart all over again.
“Stayton?”
Augusta had never known herself to be as angry as she was at this present moment. To hear that her cousin was not only insolvent but had been living off the kindness and charity of herself and, in particular, her father, had brought her a great depth of fury. Stayton had never said a word to her about any of his financial difficulties and, had he done so, Augusta wanted to believe that she might not only have understood but done what she could to help him. As things stood, she now had every intention of demanding Stayton return to his own abode, even though she knew all too well he had no-where else to go.
When she walked into the drawing room, she saw each chair filled, her house guests busy in conversation and drinking tea. It would soon be luncheon and thereafter, there was a plan to take a walk through the estate grounds and perhaps towards the wood, depending on how everyone felt about such a long walk. Stayton was nowhere to be seen and so, without a word of explanation or apology, Augusta whirled out of the room again—almost knocking into Knowles.
“Where is your master?” she asked sharply, recalling how little the servant thought of her and finding that she had no desire to endeavor herself to him by speaking kindly now. “I must find him at once.”
Knowles looked down at her, his thin frame seeming close to snapping as he bowed. “Lady Augusta,” he murmured, his face expressionless. “You seek Mr. Stayton? I believe that, at present, he is discussing business matters with your father.”
“Where?” She knew she spoke in an overly rude manner but Augusta did not care. Her only desire was to seek an audience with Stayton just as soon as she could—and if her father was there, then all the better!
“In Lord Berwick’s study, I believe,” came Knowles’ soothing reply, and Augusta left without another word, hurrying along the hallway to her father’s study and pushing the door open without even knocking.
“Ah, Augusta!” Her father did not seem at all concerned by her sudden arrival, holding out one hand to her as though he were welcoming her into a meeting that had already been set up for them both. “Has Stayton spoken to you already?”
Augusta gritted her teeth and set her jaw so that the words she wanted to speak would not leave her lips. She looked towards Stayton, her eyes burning into his but he did not speak a word, looking at her with a sense of triumph in his gaze.
Her stomach suddenly dropped as she realized what her father had said, turning back to face him. “Did you ask if Stayton has spoken to me, father?” she asked, as Lord Berwick nodded. “Might I ask what you presume he has spoken to me of?”
Lord Berwick looked a little surprised but merely shrugged. “About the arrangement, of course.”
Augusta took in a breath before she spoke again, giving herself a moment to calm her anger just enough for her to be easily able to contain it. “The arrangement?”
Stayton chuckled, rising from his chair. “I have asked your father for your hand, Augusta,” he said, extending one hand to her. “Surely you understood that this has been my only desire for some time?”
A chill ran down her spine and she glanced back at her father, who was looking on approvingly. “I do not wish to accept you.”
“Augusta!”
Lord Berwick’s shock was immediate. “Why should you refuse him? He is your cousin, yes, but such marriages work perfectly well, despite society’s strange aversion.” He shrugged and Stayton rolled his eyes. “Stayton himself has suggested that you both reside here so that you might continue to care for both myself and this house as you have done for such a long time.”
Augusta shook her head, refusing to give her hand to Stayton and instead, allowing her lip to curl as she turned to face him. “And is that because you have no wealth of your own to speak of, Stayton?” she asked, coldly, as he began to frown. “No property of which to speak?”
This seemed to shake Stayton to the core for he suddenly sank down into his chair, staring at her with wide eyes.
“I am aware of what has occurred to your property, Stayton,” Augusta continued, when he said nothing. “My father, I am sure, does not have any knowledge of it, however.” One look at her father told her that her surmising was quite correct, for Lord Berwick was frowning hard now, his eyes roving from her to Stayton and back again. “I will not wed you beca
use I cannot align myself to someone with such poor character.”
Lord Berwick harrumphed loudly, putting out a placating hand towards her. “Augusta, I do not think that you can speak with such confidence when –”
“I am sure Stayton will not deny it,” Augusta interrupted, loudly, not even glancing at her father. “Stayton? What has happened to your own property?” She held her cousin’s gaze, aware of how his face had gone sheet white. “And why is it that you now reside here with us?”
Lord Berwick’s voice was louder this time. "Augusta, Stayton is welcome to visit us for as long as he wishes! He –”
“He resides with us because he has nowhere else to go!” she exclaimed, turning to look at her father and seeing his eyes flare with surprise. “His property is sold to pay for debts that he could not repay!”
Silence fell after she spoke, with both Lord Berwick and Augusta turning to look at Stayton. Augusta knew that her father did not want to believe it and, had she not spoken with the courage and confidence that filled her now, she might well have been asked to quit the room and leave them to their conversation, finding herself now betrothed to the cousin she loathed.
“Stayton?” Lord Berwick asked, his brow furrowed. “Surely what Augusta says cannot be true?”
Stayton opened his mouth, his eyes wide with evident fear, trying to come up with some sort of explanation, only to groan and drop his head into his hands, raking them through his hair.
“Stayton!” Lord Berwick said again, his tone one of astonishment. “Do you mean to say that what Augusta has told me is correct? You have no property of your own?”
“I made a foolish decision,” he said, his voice barely audible as he spoke through his hands. “It was one that has landed me in a good deal of debt. I had nothing left. The house was the only thing of value that I could sell and thus, with no other way to pay my debts, I did so.” He swallowed hard, slowly lifting his head out of his hands. “The staff I have are the three I could keep, with the little money that was left over once the debts had been paid. The clothes and few possessions that came with me are all I have in this world.”
Augusta shook her head, looking at her father who was staring at her cousin in wide-eyed horror. She felt a sense of satisfaction, glad that the truth had been brought out and that she was now able to completely distance herself from Stayton.
“You have lived here, on my charity, without even a word of honesty to me?” Lord Berwick breathed, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair tightly, as though he could not quite bring himself to believe what he had just been told. “How could you do such a thing?”
Augusta shook her head, relieved that it had been fairly simple to have the truth brought out from Stayton. “And that, father, is why I will not marry him,” she said, quietly. “His supposed kindness in stating that I will still reside here when we wed is simply because he hopes to gain some financial gain from you whilst ensuring he has a suitable place to reside.” She ignored another groan from Stayton, seeing her father’s eyes dim with sadness and regret. “Besides which, father, Stayton has never once suggested to me that we should wed. I will not become close to a gentleman who has no concern for anyone other than himself.”
“I can see that now,” Lord Berwick murmured, reaching out one hand towards Augusta, and she took it with a small smile of her own. “I am sorry, Augusta.”
Augusta felt a surge of tears burn in her eyes, for the way her father had just spoken, with genuine feeling and respect for her input, meant a great deal to her heart. “Father,” she said, softly. “I know that you meant no harm by it. Do not feel any guilt on my account, I pray you.”
His smile was tight, his gaze sorrowful. “Thank you, Augusta,” he said, pressing her hand. “I think I have been wrong to keep you here and not do as I know I ought. I should be taking you to London, to the Season and the like. It is only that my own spirits have been so poor of late that I have found it very difficult indeed to do so.”
She smiled at him, leaning down to kiss his cheek and feeling a part of herself heal. “You need not feel any such concern, father,” she told him, truthfully. “I will not pretend that I have found it difficult but it seems that my hopes have already been fulfilled.” Her heart soared again as she thought of Lord Rushton. “I think Lord Rushton will come to speak to you soon.”
“Lord Rushton?” Lord Berwick murmured, as Stayton sat back in his chair, broken completely by the truth. “Well…” He trailed off, looking at her with something like admiration in his eyes. “Then I should be glad to speak to him whenever he wishes to,” he finished patting her hand and then letting it go. “And if you would now excuse us, my dear, I think Stayton and I have some matters to discuss.”
She gave her father one more quick smile and then turned about to leave, feeling as though she were walking on air. Things had gone very well indeed and she felt proud of what she had managed to achieve and how she had spoken. Stayton, in her eyes, could very well be the man responsible for contacting the French with whatever information he could find about the border between England and Scotland. He had no money and if there was financial gain to be had in taking on such a dangerous responsibility, then she could see Stayton taking it on regardless. With a new lightness in her heart, Augusta hurried along the hallway back towards the library where the League were waiting. There was much for her to tell them.
Chapter Twelve
There was something very wrong. Marcus could feel it in his bones, shifting uncomfortably from where he sat. He would have to tell the others.
Why are you asleep?
His thoughts began to spin around his mind, making him wince in pain as his head began to throb. Disorientated, Marcus tried to open his eyes but struggled to do so, his lids seeming to be fixed closed. Making to rub at his head, he discovered that he could not lift his hands. A slow realization began to come over him.
He had been captured. His hands were bound, his head aching from where he had been hit. And even if he opened his eyes, he would see nothing but blackness, for a band had been tied around his head. He could not shout out for there was something pressed against his mouth, the tight knot at the back of his head adding to his pain. Nor could he move, his fingers feeling the back of wherever he was being placed, his legs stretched out in front of him, hitting the front of the tiny, cramped space.
Where was he? And just who had managed to capture him?
“Have you seen Lord Rushton this morning?”
Augusta still felt as though she were walking on the clouds, her heart lifted with contentment and happiness as she walked into the drawing room, where some of her guests and some from the League all sat companionably together. It was gone three o’clock and she knew very well that Lord Millerton and Lord Franks had been watching Stayton with a close eye. However, Stayton had not moved from where he was sitting. He had been holding a book in his hands, though his gaze rested somewhere on the floor in front of him. Augusta did not know what had been said by her father, but the fact that Stayton still remained here did not surprise her. Her father would not throw him out on his ear, even though he had been the one wronged. There was a compassion in her father that, whilst buried deep, was still very present.
“No, I have not,” Lady Franks said, looking up at her with a smile. Some of the other guests answered that they also had not seen him, making Augusta frown. Lady Franks rose and came to stand beside Augusta, her expression growing concerned as she saw Augusta’s worry.
“Is something wrong?”
“I have not seen Lord Rushton since last evening,” Augusta said, slowly, her stomach beginning to tighten with nervous anxiety. “I do not understand. I was sure he would have come to break his fast, as he is always in the habit of doing and he was not present at luncheon either.” Luncheon was one of these affairs that could be served at any time to anyone who wished it, but Augusta had waited in the dining room for some time, waiting to see if Lord Rushton would appear but still, after an hour of waiting
, he had not walked through the door. “He is not the type to linger in bed.”
Lady Franks frowned, turned her head and beckoned to Lady Westbrook who came to join them at once.
“Lord Rushton has been absent all day,” Lady Franks explained, as Lady Westbrook’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know as well as I that a mere absence is not often a cause for alarm at such occasions as these –”
“Unless we are in pursuit of someone nefarious,” Lady Westbrook murmured, as Augusta pressed her lips together in suppressed anxiety. “Is he within his rooms?”
“I do not know,” Augusta replied, lacing her fingers together. “I have not gone to check nor sent a footman to ensure he is not unwell. I ought to have done so, before coming to seek you out, mayhap.”
Lady Westbrook waved a hand. “Then let us go at once,” she said, grasping Augusta’s arm and looping her own through it. “We must discover him and I will not wait for a footman to do so when we are very easily able to attend ourselves.”
Augusta did not hesitate but hurried along with her, turning her head to see Lord Franks throwing them a puzzled glance. With a tight smile on her face, Augusta and the other two ladies quit the room with hasty steps, turning their feet towards the staircase that would lead them to Lord Rushton’s rooms.
