by Lucy Adams
“Very well.” Lady Madeline lifted her chin and pushed all the anxiety from her face with an ease of manner that Bridgette envied. “I shall let you know the moment I am free of him.”
It took at least half an hour before Lady Madeline moved past Bridgette and gave her a small smile and knowing look. Bridgette, excusing herself from her present conversation as best she could, stepped away and began to meander through the room, smiling at one person and then the next as she continued to look for Lord Chesterfield. Frowning to herself, she took another turn around the room, trying to find the gentleman and wondering where Lady Madeline had been speaking with the fellow, when her gaze suddenly snagged on two gentlemen talking quietly in the corner, one with his back to her and the other, from what she could see of his face, seeming to be Lord Chesterfield.
Bridgette did not move directly towards them, knowing that it would be noted that she had plainly gone towards Lord Chesterfield. Instead, she quickened her steps towards the footman who was standing a little closer to the gentlemen and picked up a glass of champagne from his tray, murmuring her thanks as she did so. Then, she moved back towards the wall, with Lord Chesterfield and the other gentleman now a little behind her.
“The shipment is late.”
She frowned, wondering why two gentlemen would be discussing business at a soiree. Then, a small smile touched the corner of her mouth as she thought of what she could say to Lady Madeline about such a thing. Lord Chesterfield was clearly hard working, if he had come to a soiree but still found himself discussing business matters!
“It does not matter if it is late,” she heard the second gentleman say. “It only matters if all the cargo is accounted for.”
“I am sure it will be quite safe,” Lord Chesterfield replied, sharply. “This is not the first time I have brought in precious goods.”
Bridgette was surprised, lifting her glass to her lips and taking a small sip of her champagne. What sort of goods was Lord Chesterfield involved in? If they involved such great risk, then that was not a wise investment.
“We may have a slight issue with cargo already brought in,” the second gentleman muttered, a little darkly. “I have tried to remove it but I believe it still lingers.”
Lord Chesterfield sucked in a breath and Bridgette felt a sudden tingling running down her spine, as though she stood close to danger and ought to be doing all she could to hurry away from it. Was Lord Chesterfield involved in something untoward?
“Lady Callander, how good to see you this evening!”
She started violently, her champagne swirling dangerously in her glass. “Lord….Windsor,” she said, quickly trying to hide her surprise at his sudden arrival. She knew him from the League, having been introduced to him last Season, but was still a little astonished that he had come over with such a clear intention to speak to her when they were not particularly well acquainted. “Good evening.” She did not dare say what she had been doing, not wanting him to think ill of her for eavesdropping on another conversation. Lord Chesterfield and the other gentleman with him were still speaking but as Lord Windsor continued to enquire after her health and asked if she would be eager to dance with him later. Confirming with a small smile, Bridgette turned to excuse herself, only to see Lord Chesterfield coming towards her. She pasted a broad smile on her face and curtsied, noting, with interest, that the gentleman he had been speaking to was now hurrying away, his face turned from her so that she could not tell his identity.
“Good evening, Lord Chesterfield,” she said, with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. “How good to see you this evening. I do hope you have been enjoying the soiree thus far?”
Lord Chesterfield did not smile. Instead, he eyed her with a sharp gaze, as though he was attempting to push through skin and bone to look into her heart and know her true intentions.
Bridgette felt another prickle of unease run down her spine but forced her expression to remain as open and as welcoming as she could manage. Waiting for him to speak, she allowed a flicker of a frown to cross her brow, which, for whatever reason, seemed to jolt Lord Chesterfield from his own thoughts.
“Forgive me, Lady Callander,” he said, with a small, tight smile. “I have been caught up with business matters these last few days and confess myself to be distracted by it even now.”
Bridgette put one hand to her heart, her eyes widening in evident surprise. “Goodness!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the rest of the guests in the room. “And here, in the middle of this wonderful soiree?” She tutted lightly. “You must not permit yourself to become so caught up with such things when there are wonderful occasions like this going on all around you, Lord Chesterfield.”
“So speaks someone who has very little understanding of such matters,” Lord Chesterfield muttered, his insult driving straight into Bridgette’s heart. “You may think of nothing other than dancing and pretty gowns, Lady Callander, but we gentlemen have a good deal more responsibilities than that, which, I am well aware, you cannot have any real understanding of.”
Bridgette blinked rapidly, a ball of anger settling in her stomach and sending heat right through her. Her hand holding her glass tightened, her free hand balling into a fist. She did not know what to say, finding his manner greatly changed from when he had first spoken to her. He was not jovial and outgoing, but instead, appearing to be quite hard and insulting, without showing any consideration for what she might think of him.
“I think you will have to excuse me, Lord Chesterfield,” she said, tightly, dipping into a curtsy she did not want to make, before turning her back and walking away stiffly. She saw Lady Madeline looking at her anxiously and felt herself inclined towards hiding away from her friend, not wanting to tell her the truth but knowing that she had promised to do so. With a great sigh, she turned towards Lady Madeline, lifting her chin and fighting down the anger that still burned furiously within her.
“Well?” Lady Madeline asked, her hands reaching out to grasp Bridgette’s free one. “What did you speak of? What do you think of his conduct?” Her eyes narrowed just a fraction. “He was not flirtatious, was he? Or overly complimentary?”
Bridgette hesitated, knowing what she wanted to say but fearful that she might see the light fade from Lady Madeline’s eyes if she did so. What could she say? Could she really be truthful when she felt so much anger towards him?
“Please, Bridgette.” Lady Madeline’s eyes were fixed to hers but there was a new seriousness in her expression. “Please, do tell me the truth.”
Bridgette let out a long, slow breath, forcing herself to choose her words with great care.
“Lady Madeline, I do not want to upset you, but I fear that Lord Chesterfield does not allow anyone to see his true nature,” she said, honestly, quickly telling Lady Madeline all that had been said. Seeing how Lady Madeline’s expression became one of horror, Bridgette’s shoulders slumped and she let out another sigh, squeezing Lady Madeline’s hands. “I do not want to tell you the truth of my considerations, but neither do I want to hide it from you,” she finished. “I think that Lord Chesterfield is a changeable sort, who does his best to hide his true nature from everyone around him, including you. For whatever reason, I saw a little of it this evening, and what I did see not only angered me, but greatly upset me also.”
Lady Madeline nodded slowly, the hope fading in her eyes and her lips pulling taut. She looked over Bridgette’s shoulder to where Bridgette assumed Lord Chesterfield was standing, her expression somewhat crestfallen.
“I am sorry,” Bridgette murmured, now wishing that she had not said a word — only for Lady Madeline to squeeze her hand, draw in a breath and give herself a slight shake.
“Not at all,” she said, firmly. “I am glad to know it. Thank you for being so honest with me, Bridgette.”
“You — you will not allow him to court you or any such thing now, I hope?” Bridgette asked, recalling the way that a spiral of fear had whirled its way through her simply by being in Lord Chesterfield’s p
resence. “Truly, I do not think it a wise connection.”
“No,” Lady Madeline answered, with a toss of her head. “No, indeed I shall not.” She drew in a long breath and gave Bridgette a small if not rather tight smile. “Your judgement is appreciated and I shall not turn from it. No, Lord Chesterfield shall not have any favor from me. I shall give my heart to someone who is more worthy of it, should the time come.” A laugh shook her frame and Bridgette marveled at how quickly Lady Madeline could throw off such a disappointment. “Then again, I am meant to be entirely against matrimony.”
“That is quite true,” Bridgette agreed, with a smile of her own. “Thank you for accepting my opinion, as hard as it must have been to hear.”
“I appreciate your candor,” Lady Madeline said, briskly. “Now, I can see that some of the guests are removing through to the next room, perhaps for a little dancing.” Her eyes lit up. “Should you like to attend?”
Bridgette nodded. “Very much,” she said, feeling a good deal more at ease now. Walking with her friend, she did not notice the way Lord Chesterfield watched them both depart, his eyes narrowing as they lingered on her, until she stepped into the next room and out of his sight.
Chapter Eight
Sebastian put his head in his hands and let out a groan of frustration. “It has been a long time since I have felt myself so confounded,” he muttered, barely lifting his head as he spoke. “I do not know what Miss Sarah wished to speak to me about, what she was afraid of and I dare not go back to Madame Bereford for fear that she will know, somehow that I know where Miss Sarah is at present.” He looked up and saw the surprise in one or two of the gentlemen’s faces.
“You do not truly understand the gravitas that comes over oneself when one is in the presence of Madame Bereford,” Lord Hearst said, gloomily. “Her eyes seem to pierce your very soul.”
A little relieved that someone, at least, seemed to understand what he meant, Sebastian let out another long breath. “Indeed,” he said, heavily. “Lord Hazelton’s death, thus far, is just as much of a puzzle as ever.” He cleared his throat and lifted his head a little more. “In addition, whilst I did not want Lady Callander involved in any further way, she now has Miss Sarah in her own townhouse. I need to ensure that she is protected.” He looked about him hopefully, seeing three or four gentlemen nodding.
“The house will need to be guarded at night,” Lord Watt said, as two of the four men lifted their hands. “I thank you, gentlemen.”
The other two men, who had not yet lifted their hands, put their heads together for a moment before agreeing that they also would relieve the first two men at some point, so that they did not exhaust themselves. Appreciative of the support of the League, Sebastian was about to say something more, only for a small scratch to come to the door. One of the gentlemen opened it a crack, before smiling and opening the door wider. Lady Callander stepped inside, looking a little lost.
“Lady Callander!” Lady Franks was on her feet in a moment, her hands outstretched. Sebastian could not help but smile as Lady Callander’s face lit up and she reached out for Lady Franks, her eyes shining with a wonderful light. “I am so glad to see you.”
“As I am you,” Lady Callander replied, embracing her friend. “I did not see you at the soiree last evening.”
Lady Franks shook her head. “I was not able to attend after all,” she said, with a warmth to her voice that Sebastian knew came from the knowledge that new life was growing within her womb. “But I shall explain all later.” Gesturing to the gentlemen and the other few ladies that had joined them, Lady Franks quickly introduced the gentlemen that Lady Callander was not acquainted with, before hurrying her into a chair.
“We were just discussing Miss Sarah,” Lord Watt said, quietly, his eyes on Lady Callander. “How is her condition?”
Sebastian hoped that Lady Callander would beam with delight and state that all was quite well, only for his hopes to be dashed as she dropped her head.
“She is not at all recovered,” she answered, quietly. “The dressing has been changed and there is no more bleeding, which is a relief, but she is still very pale and wane. She is drifting between unconsciousness and sleep and as yet, I have not been able to have any sort of conversation with her.” Sighing, she rubbed at her forehead, her eyes pained. “I have heard her moan and mumble but she says nothing comprehensible.”
Sighing, Sebastian’s lips twisted. “How unfortunate.”
“Indeed,” Lady Callander agreed. “We can only continue to pray that she will recover fully, in time.”
“And in the meantime, we are quite stuck,” Lord Hearst said, frowning, his voice filled with regret. “We cannot speak to Madame Bereford, we cannot even communicate with Miss Sarah and….” He looked around the room. “Has anyone found out anything about the gentlemen involved in shipping?”
There was a few murmurs and, after a moment or two, Lord Windsor stood up.
“Lord Cambleton, the baron from Scotland, has some involvement in such things,” he said, with a small shrug. “Except that, by all accounts, he has come to London to escape such matters for a time. I myself have not seen him in London before, but I have noticed his presence at a good many social events.”
“I believe Lord Banister has come to London for much the same reason,” Lord Fitzherbert added. “His estate is close to the sea so his business is also in such things as that. Not that he gains much enjoyment from it, I understand.”
“There is also —”
“What about Lord Chesterfield?”
Lady Callander’s voice broke through the group’s conversation, making every gentleman present turn to look at her. She clearly noticed this for, as they waited for her to continue, there was a hesitation there, a slight pause before she began to speak
“He….he spoke of it last evening,” Lady Callander continued, slowly. “I ought not to have been listening to his conversation but I was attempting to speak to him so that I might ascertain his character in order to help Lady….” Closing her eyes tightly, she shook her head. “That does not matter, of course.”
“What was it that he said, Lady Callander?” Lord Franks asked, as Lady Franks patted Lady Callander’s hand. “What did Lord Chesterfield say?”
Again, there came that hesitation, that slowness of manner that spoke of an uncertainty on Lady Callander’s part. Sebastian quickly realized that she did not know the truth as to why they were looking into the fellow.
“We have been told that spies are being brought in from other countries — enemies of our country — on ships,” he explained. “The ships are checked, of course, with the crew numbers counted and tallied but that does not seem to be making any discernible difference.”
He watched as Lady Callander’s eyes widened, her astonishment apparent.
Lady Callander blinked rapidly, her color fading to white.
“We cannot quite understand who is involved or why such things are occurring, only that —” Lord Franks went on.
“The cargo.”
Sebastian stared at Lady Callander, the room going so quiet that Sebastian could hear nothing but his own breathing. Lady Callander was staring at him directly, as though he ought to know precisely what she was speaking of.
“I’m sorry,” he said, carefully. “What do you mean, Lady Callander. What cargo?”
She took in a long breath, closing her eyes and tilting her head back just a little as though such an action would help her recall exactly what she had seen and heard.
“Lord Chesterfield was talking to another gentleman,” she began, slowly. “I did not see his face and only heard his voice a little. Both he and Lord Chesterfield were speaking privately and very quietly but I certainly heard them mention the words ‘cargo’.”
A flurry of anticipation whirled around Sebastian’s chest. “What exactly do you remember, Lady Callander?” he asked, eager to put his hand out on her arm to encourage her to speak, but resisting the urge. “What did you hear from Lord Chest
erfield? I tell you the truth when I say that it may very well be pertinent to what we are discussing.”
Lady Callander nodded, pressing her lips together for a moment, her eyes open. “The gentleman with Lord Chesterfield was worried about his cargo,” she said, slowly. “Lord Chesterfield reassured him, stating that it was not the first time he had been asked to bring such previous cargo. The gentlemen then said something about being anxious over a missing piece of cargo, which Lord Chesterfield reassured him that it would not linger for long.”
Sebastian frowned hard, letting the words wrap around his mind and considering them carefully.
“And you think that this ‘cargo’ might refer to our enemies being smuggled into the county?” Sebastian asked, before anyone else could speak. “And that the one that is being worried over might be — ”
“Miss Sarah, yes!” Lady Callander interjected before she could stop herself. “I am a little concerned for her safety.”
As am I for yours, Sebastian thought to himself, grimly. He looked around at the other gentlemen, who were now all glancing at each other with equal looks of concern, the very same concern that was building in his own heart.
“We shall have to find proof,” one gentleman said, although Sebastian did not look up from where he had pinned his gaze to the floor, trying to focus his thoughts. “We must know whether or not Lord Chesterfield is the gentleman responsible.”
Lord Windsor nodded. “We cannot simply board his boat whenever it arrives, however,” he said, bluntly. “We may be many but there are more ruffians and the like at the docks. We are easily outnumbered.”
“And brute force will not win us that battle,” Sebastian agreed, still frowning hard. “Then we must find another way to do so.”
Lady Callander cleared her throat lightly and everyone looked up. “I do not want to use her ill but my friend, Lady Madeline, is being pursued by Lord Chesterfield,” she said, “even though she has decided to refuse his attentions.”
