by Lucy Adams
“Lord Millerton?”
He whirled around, panic rising in his throat as he saw Lady Madeline staring at him, her eyes holding nothing but confusion.
“You — you appear distressed,” she said, frowning. “I came to inform you that Lord Lexington has taken his leave and that the note will be delivered to Lord Chesterfield within the hour.”
Sebastian blinked furiously, his heart still in a panicked rhythm. “Lord Chesterfield has taken Lady Callander to the dance floor but has not returned her to me as he said,” he blurted out, his words falling over each other in a rush to leave his mouth. “There is something about his manner tonight that troubles me.”
Lady Madeline’s eyes flared with worry. “I — I shall go to her, of course,” she said, quickly, her voice rising with anxiety. “Where did he go?”
Sebastian gestured to where she had gone, feeling utterly useless as he watched Lady Madeline hurry across the dance floor, her beautiful silver gown making it appear as though she was floating across the floor. Everything in him wanted to charge after her, to make certain that Lady Callander was quite safe, but instead he forced himself to remain precisely where he was, drinking champagne that he did not even taste.
Finally, much to his relief, Lady Madeline and Lady Callander came back across the floor, arm in arm. Lady Madeline said something and Lady Callander laughed, her eyes bright. They did not come directly towards him but rather veered to the left, pushing forward through the crowd until he could not see them any longer.
His heart still hammering, Sebastian went in search of them at once, moving quickly without any regard for those around him. His eyes tore through the guests, looking for the silver and light green gown that brought such a beauty to Lady Callander’s eyes.
Finally, he found them.
“Lady Callander!” he exclaimed, much too loudly, given that everyone near to him turned their heads to see how he chased after the ladies. A little embarrassed, Sebastian quickly added, “It is to be our dance!”
Lady Callander, hearing him, turned her head and smiled brightly, although he noted at once the way that a slight tremor caught the corner of her mouth. “Is it that time already, Lord Millerton?” she asked, teasingly, as he drew near. “Let me just check my dance card.”
He caught her hand, holding it tightly, his eyes searching her face as she slowly lifted her head, her lips no longer curved into a gentle smile but rather tight and angry.
“What happened?” he asked in a low voice as Lady Madeline looked on. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” Lady Callander replied, quietly. “He did not do anything to me, Lord Millerton.” She glanced towards Lady Madeline. “Instead, he wanted to make it quite clear that if I encouraged Lady Madeline away from him in any way, then he would do all he could to make certain that I was no longer welcome in society.”
Sebastian’s mouth dropped open.
“He was quite changed,” Lady Callander continued, softly, although there was a hint of steel in her gaze. “Furious, I believe.”
Lady Madeline shook her head. “Does he not expect me to know of what he has done, then?” she asked, angrily. “Does he expect you to remain silent about it?”
Lady Callander nodded. “Yes, I believe he does,” she said, quietly. “I will not pretend that I was not rather intimidated when he leaned over me in such a fashion and practically demanded that I come with him for a few moments, but I knew I dared not refuse.”
“I was worried when I saw him lead you away,” Sebastian told her as he gently placed his hand on hers. “Lady Madeline found you, at least.”
“I did,” Lady Madeline answered, firmly, her eyes flashing with rage. “He was leaning over Lady Callander, speaking to her in low tones and with one finger shaking in her face.” Her lips twisted and she tossed her head. “I made pleasantries, of course, stating how lovely it had been to watch them dance and telling Lord Chesterfield that I looked forward to dancing with him also.” She let out a mirthless laugh. “Lord Chesterfield’s manner changed in an instant when he thought that I had overheard something of what he had been saying.”
“I am just very relieved indeed that you managed to secure Lady Callander,” Sebastian said, earnestly. “And that you yourself are quite all right, Lady Callander.”
She smiled at him then, her eyes gentle. “Your concern is appreciated, Lord Millerton, but I was not in any real danger. He merely wanted to shout at me and threaten me harshly, but I do not think he would have done anything untoward. His main concern is Lady Madeline. He does not want her to think ill of him and, from what I understand, fully intends to court, propose to and marry you, Lady Madeline.” Her gaze shifted to her friend. “I will tell you now that I do not believe it comes from a place of affection.”
Lady Madeline did not sigh nor look troubled in any way. Rather, she simply shrugged, her mouth a thin line. “I expect he wants my dowry for his own purposes,” she said, without emotion. “Purposes that we shall soon discover, I am sure.” Her eyes snagged on someone over Sebastian’s shoulder. “Look.”
Sebastian turned his head to see a footman hurrying across the dance floor towards Lord Chesterfield, who was leading another young lady out to dance. He did not allow himself to continue watching, knowing that even a small glance in Sebastian’s direction might warn Lord Chesterfield that something was wrong.
“I am not certain whether or not this is our dance, Lady Callander,” he said, “but might you step out with me regardless?” He held out one hand to her and with a smile, Lady Callander placed her own in his.
“I would like that very much,” she told him, leaving Lady Madeline watching them both — and Lord Chesterfield also — from the edge of the ballroom.
“He has glanced at us both,” Lady Callander murmured, as she curtsied, “but is reading the note repeatedly. Oh!” She stepped forward into the beginnings of the dance, her hand pressed to his as they moved around in a circle.
“He is dancing,” Sebastian muttered, seeing the gentleman as they circled the other way. “Perhaps he is not about to —”
“Let us simply enjoy the dance,” Lady Callander replied, looking up into his face as they stepped forward and then back again. “And thereafter, see what Lord Chesterfield does.”
Sebastian nodded, smiling calmly at her as they continued the dance, finding himself relaxing into it as he shared it with Lady Callander. He had not often danced with her and found himself almost desperate to take her into his arms. Finally, as the last part of the dance came to fruition, he was able to place one hand about her waist, the other holding her hand tightly, swinging her about as the music swirled around them, making him smile with delight.
“Oh!” Lady Callander’s eyes flared and he instinctively looked down, thinking he had stood on her foot or some such thing, only for her to squeeze his hand, his head lifting at once. “Yes?”
“He has left the dance floor early,” Lady Callander breathed, as they stepped back into their first positions, one hand outstretched towards his, their palms pressed together as they turned first to the right and then to the left. “The lady he was dancing with looked greatly concerned.”
Sebastian felt a great swell of satisfaction rising up within him. “Then it is as we hoped,” he told her, as she looked up at him. “Lord Chesterfield has been caught by the note from Madame Bereford and will soon be making his way there.”
Lady Callander drew in a long breath, just as he took her in his arms again. “Then we must soon take our leave,” she said, softly, as he nodded. “I feel both excitement and anxiety, I confess.”
“As do I,” he admitted, truthfully. “But he will not be able to hide the truth from us now. We will know it all, Lady Callander, and then the fog of confusion and darkness that has kept us bound for these last few days will release us and disperse entirely.” He smiled at her, stepping back and bowing low as the music came to an end. “Shall we depart?” Rising from his bow, he offered her his arm which she t
ook at once.
“Yes,” she murmured, as he saw Lady Madeline standing by the side of the room, her eyes wide as she shifted from foot to foot, her gown swishing this way and that. “It appears that Lady Madeline has noticed Lord Chesterfield’s departure also!”
He chuckled, feeling his anticipation about what would soon occur beginning to rise up within him. “Indeed,” he agreed, with a smile. “As I am sure have the others from the League.” He reached across and settled his hand over hers as it rested on his arm. “Come tomorrow, it will be as though we have stepped into a brand new day and I, for one, am greatly looking forward to such a thing.”
“As am I,” Lady Callander replied, softly, just as they reached Lady Madeline. “As am I, Lord Millerton.”
The streets and alleyways of London were very different in the darkness of the night, Sebastian had to admit. They had taken his carriage a short distance, but then had alighted and hailed a hackney, for he had been quite certain that taking a hackney to Madame Bereford’s establishment would be wiser than taking his beautiful carriage.
Now, they sat in silence as the hackney rolled along the dark streets, seeing the figures running this way and that, a faint glow of a fire coming from one end of the street. This was the darker part of London, the place where all manner of things took place. Hateful, vulgar things that Sebastian would naturally have kept well away from. He could tell by the wide-eyed look of Lady Madeline that she had never before been in such a place, for her breathing was quick and her gaze darted from here to there as her fingers twisted together in her lap. Lady Callander, on the other hand, was not even looking out of the window. Instead, she sat quietly across from him, her hands in her lap but without any tightness or strain present. Her eyes lowered, her breathing steady. The dim light from the fire and dull lanterns outside allowed the shadows to flicker across her features, and even as he watched her, Sebastian felt his heart fill with an even deeper affection than before.
An affection that spoke of love. Love that would not be pushed away, nor kept hidden. Love that would demand that he take Lady Callander as his wife, so that he could always have her by his side, so that he could provide her with the home and perhaps the family that she might wish for. Their first meeting had been so very awkward, but once he had pushed through that, once he had found himself back in her company, conversing and smiling as she did so, he had discovered that ease of manner that had been there before. She had always been so kind and compassionate, and yet had such a strength of will that he found himself admiring her.
“I think we have arrived.”
Plucked from his thoughts, Sebastian looked out of the window, finding a lantern with a small candle flickering within it standing next to a small sign that read ‘Madame’s House’. He grimaced. He had seen it when he had come here with Lord Hearst and had felt his stomach twist at the sight. It was not a house, not a home. It was a sordid business and one that he would look forward to bringing to a close if he could.
“Quietly now.”
He climbed out first, looking all about him for a moment, before reaching up to take the hand of Lady Madeline and thereafter, Lady Callander. Lady Callander did not let go of his hand but rather held onto it as they moved towards the door, which was flanked by two rather large looking gentlemen.
Sebastian cleared his throat, his brow furrowing. He could not make them out in the darkness but knew that they had not been present before when he had first come here.
“Good evening,” he said, as quietly as he could. “I come in search of Madame Bereford.”
A small chuckle left the throat of one of the men and Sebastian frowned.
“We had to dispose of the two guards, Lord Millerton,” said the first man, making Sebastian’s brows lift in surprise, his laughter ragged as it escaped from him as he recognized the voice of Lord Hearst.
“You did not recognize us, then?” Lord Hearst continued, stepping forward to slap Sebastian on the back. “That is good. Lord Chesterfield did not notice us either.”
Immediately, the smile faded from Sebastian’s face as he looked at his friend steadily, trying to make out his features in the dim light. “Then he has gone inside?”
“He has,” Lord Windsor replied, stepping away from his post as the second guard. “He did not so much as look at us. In fact, he appeared very anxious indeed.”
Sebastian nodded, turning to see a few others moving out of the shadows towards them. His heart lifted. This was what it meant to be a part of the League. To have the other gentlemen ready to help, to step forward, to be present when it was required of them. “Then it is time,” he said, firmly. “Lord Hearst, Lord Windsor and Lord Lexington. If you would come in with me, then I would ask the others to remain at every door and window, ready to ensure that Lord Chesterfield nor Madame Bereford can make their escape.”
There was a murmur of acknowledgement, only for Lady Callander to clear her throat loudly. When he looked at her, she lifted her hands.
“You surely do not expect myself and Lady Madeline to remain out of doors?” she said, a little stiffly. “Whether you would wish for it or not, Lord Millerton, we are going to attend with you.”
He grinned, reached out, took her hand and brought it to his lips.
“But of course you are,” he said, warmly, smiling at her. “Come then, let us go in together.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Good evening, Madame Bereford!”
Bridgette winced inwardly as she and Lady Madeline hurried into a room directly behind Lord Millerton. Only moments ago, he had thrown the door open wide, making it hit off the wall as it swung back, before striding into the room as though he were meant to be there.
Behind her came Lord Lexington, Lord Hearst and Lord Windsor, the latter of whom shut the door tightly and then leaned back against it, his arms crossed. Bridgette allowed her gaze to run around the room. It was lit with only a few candles, a small fire burning in the hearth which made the room feel uncomfortably hot. There were large tapestries running down the walls which were ornate in their depictions, and a thick piled rug was at her feet. To one end of the room, there sat a very large desk, one which a gentleman might own, with only a few chairs scattered here and there, as though Madame Bereford did not expect to be entertaining a good many visitors at any one time.
Her gaze moved to the lady herself. She was standing behind the desk, her hands planted on it, leaning forward over it. Her eyes were narrowed and as sharp as daggers, her mouth twisted in a cruel smile. Her white blonde hair was twisted into a style that pulled it back from her face almost entirely, save for a few stray curls that artfully danced around her temples.
Bridgette was quite certain that Madame Bereford held a beauty that no other lady could boast of, but there was a cruelty within those eyes that she could not help but see and it was that which made her shudder.
Lord Chesterfield, who had been sitting in a chair opposite the desk from where Madame Bereford stood, had a stricken expression on his face. His hands were tight on the arms of the chair, his head twisted around to look at them all, and as his gaze fell on her, Bridgette saw something shift in his expression. His jaw worked furiously, his eyes holding a spark of anger that had not been there before.
And then, much to her shock, Bridgette realized that there was another gentleman seated across from Lord Chesterfield, also facing Madame Bereford. He was, it seemed, quite relaxed, his eyes fixed to the lady before him rather than looking back at any of them.
“We do not have a meeting, Lord Millerton,” Madame Bereford said, her voice low and filled with sweetness despite the flint in her eyes. “You must depart at once.”
Lord Millerton shook his head, gesturing for the others to come a little further inside, save for Lord Windsor who remained where he was. “We have come at precisely the right time, Madame Bereford,” he said, as the lady frowned hard at him. “We have come to speak to both you and Lord Chesterfield.”
Bridgette moved closer towards
Lord Millerton, gesturing to the other man in the chair. With how Lord Millerton had been standing, he had not seen him at the first and, as he did now, he started violently, only for her to hear his swift intake of breath.
“And Lord Cambleton,” he said, softly, making Bridgette’s eyes flare with astonishment as she recognized the gentleman. “Goodness, I did not think it would be you.” A small chuckle escaped him as they all saw Lord Chesterfield sink back into his chair a little, his eyes still angry. “You did not think that note really came from Madame Bereford, did you, Lord Chesterfield?”
“This is ridiculous!” Lord Chesterfield practically threw himself from his chair, pointing one finger at Lord Millerton. “We are friends, you and I. What do you mean by setting up this sort of situation?”
There was nothing but silence for a few moments. Bridgette held her breath, waiting to see what Lord Millerton would say and wondering if he felt any pain at having to speak to his friend in such a manner.
“We were friends,” he admitted, quietly, “up until the day I heard that you have picked up something more in your recent shipping routes.” His eyes fixed to Lord Chesterfield, who said nothing in reply to this, his brow furrowing. Bridgette did not truly understand what Lord Millerton meant, wondering if this was nothing more than a hunch which Lord Millerton had chosen to pursue.
“I do not know of what you speak!” Lord Chesterfield threw up his hands without warning, turning to stride towards the door. “Good evening to you all.”
Lord Windsor chuckled, remaining steadfast and solid as he stood by the door. “I do not think you will easily be able to make me open this door for you, Chesterfield,” he said, his voice low and yet filled with what sounded like good humor. “Although you are most welcome to try.”
Bridgette took in the two gentlemen, seeing Lord Chesterfield take a step back, as though assessing the situation. Lord Windsor was not overly tall but had a stockiness that clearly made Lord Chesterfield consider whether or not he would have enough strength to be able to physically remove Lord Windsor from his post.
