Regency Scandals and Scoundrels Collection

by Scott, Scarlett

  “Seven Dials, eh? That is of great use to us, Miss Harrismith. Once I reach London, I will pass it on, but if Ivo wasn’t a member of this band of murderers, I fail to understand why he wished to hurt William.”

  She gazed down at her hands. “Von Bremen thought you weren’t going to marry the baroness. In his troubled mind he believed if you lost William, his sister would be there to comfort you with the hope of an heir. Your marriage would put an end to his troubles. He controlled her money, you see. And he’d lost most of it.”

  “I only wish you hadn’t been dragged into it,” he growled.

  She rubbed her temples.

  “Are you in pain? Shall I leave you to rest?”

  “It’s merely a slight headache. I must tell you the rest. Once his attacks on William had failed, Von Bremen decided to gain respect from his cohorts by killing you, so he planned to ambush you. There were several guns hidden among the rocks. He’d placed his rifle there the day I met him returning from Spender’s Bluff, the same day he’d tried to shoot William at the river. The rest he’d brought from Oxford.

  “Von Bremen admitted to the fire in the nursery, Your Grace, and leaving the cat on the tower steps to lure William to the roof.” She closed her eyes. “He intended to push him over the edge.”

  “Thank God you stopped him.” Andrew stood, fighting his feelings, drawn to say something, but it was hardly the right time. And he must hasten to London to pass this information on to Castlereagh. There was no time to lose for they might be planning another murder. The coach would have been brought around. And yet, he’d much rather remain with Jenny, which he admitted was entirely inappropriate.

  Andrew urged himself to be patient and placed his hands firmly on the back of the chair. “You must rest, Miss Harrismith. Please remain here until you are completely well.”

  She frowned. “I should not be in this bedchamber, Your Grace, the servants will not approve.”

  “They have been told how you saved my son’s life. They will be happy to serve you.” He stood looking down at her. “You deserve that, and so much more.”

  She shook her head. “Who was shot? Was it Mr. Forsythe or Mr. Irvine? Are they all right?”

  “My cousin, Raymond, was shot in the shoulder, but is recovering. He bravely distracted Von Bremen, by riding out in full view. It was you calling out and alerting Raymond that made him take evasive action and saved his life.”

  She put her hands to her cheeks. “I’m so relieved he’s not badly hurt. I thought for a moment it was you, Von Bremen shot, and when I woke, I didn’t know what had happened. No one would tell me.” She swallowed, and her lip trembled.

  Their eyes met, and something that did not require words passed between them. “Jenny, I—” He turned at the knock on the door.

  The footman entered and quaked at Andrew’s glower. “Baroness Eisenberg has asked me to inform you she waits below, Your Grace.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened.

  Andrew cursed under his breath. “We will talk again when I return. My gratitude knows no bounds, Miss Harrismith.”

  He strode from the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  What had the duke wished to tell her? Was it compassion she saw in his eyes, or something deeper? Jenny only knew that he’d left her with a dreadful yearning for something that could never be. She loved the children and wanted to be a part of their lives, but accepted that it wasn’t enough for her. This foolish passion she felt for His Grace made her realize how much she needed a man’s love. Coming so close to death, brought it home to her, that a governess’ life would never be fulfilling. But how powerless she was to change her future! And to settle for a half-life very hard indeed.

  She left the bed and slowly began to dress in the gown she’d worn when the German abducted her. Jenny shrank as cloth touched her skin, the collar and the bodice torn away, where her brooch had been. She drew in a ragged breath. In the bedchamber assigned her, she would shut herself away and try to deal with these painful emotions. It wouldn’t do for the children to see her like this, not until she had gained some control of herself.

  When she entered the servant’s hall, a footman and several maids rose from the table. They crowded around her asking how she was, calling her a heroine, because she had saved William from a madman on the roof of the tower. The story had grown into a fantastical tale as it now seemed that she’d actually struggled with Von Bremen on the roof. How this version of events came about, was a mystery, but their concern brought tears to her eyes. And Mrs. Pollitt actually smiled at her.

  Jenny was directed to a large airy room on the attic floor which occupied an entire corner with two windows. It was once the old butler’s quarters. Forrester had been given a comfortable suite of rooms in the male servant’s wing where the footmen were housed.

  All her clothes had been neatly put away. She sank onto the bed. Mrs. Pollitt had sent her feverfew and vinegar for her temples, but her head still ached, and she discovered a bruised hip. This was undoubtedly why her emotions were so raw.

  The evening was her own. She was not to see the children again until tomorrow morning. After an excellent repast she undressed and curled up in bed closing her eyes. Still exhausted, she fell asleep, and into a nightmare. Von Bremen’s mad eyes stared at her, the barrel of his gun pointed at her heart. She screamed.

  Loud knocking on the door brought her awake. It was morning.

  “Come in.” She woozily pushed herself off the bed and reached for her dressing gown.

  The red-haired footman entered. “Are you all right, Miss Harrismith?” he asked. “I thought I heard you cry out.”

  “I am fine, thank you, Jeremy. I… knocked my leg on the iron bedpost.”

  He brought in her breakfast tray with a letter. “This arrived in the post yesterday, but we were unable to give it to you.”

  A letter from home. Just what she needed to cheer her up. “Thank you, Jeremy.”

  Once the door closed, she sat at the table and drank her tea, nibbling on a bit of toast. She tore the letter open and began to read Bella’s neat script.

  “No!” As the contents of the letter were revealed to her, she couldn’t believe what she read. Bella was to marry Judd. It came home to her with a shock how wrong she’d been to leave home. She should have stayed to fight. And now, because of her, Bella would suffer.

  Jenny sprang up. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do. Then, having decided on the only option available to her, she pulled her bag from the top of the cupboard. She took out two dresses and laid the green wool on the bed along with her straw poke bonnet with the matching ribbons, and her cream linen spencer. She bundled up the torn gown discovering a spot of blood on the front, and left it in the bottom of the wardrobe, then after washing she dressed in her warmest dress, before pulling on the spencer. She had twenty shillings in her purse for the trip to York on the stage-coach, and just enough left over to hire a chaise to take her the rest of the journey. But as she was not on the way-bill, there might not be a seat available, even atop the coach which was something she dreaded. Several coaches stopped at the Black Lion Inn, on their way north, one as late as midnight. She tucked her purse into her reticule, then sat to remove her house slippers and pull on her half-boots. Dressed in her bonnet and pelisse, she sat at the table to pen a letter to the housekeeper, requesting her trunk be sent to Wetherby Park, and apologized for having been urgently called home. Then she wrote another, far more difficult note to the duke, unable to explain her reason for this precipitous flight. He would not understand, of course, and was unlikely to forgive her. And the children! Oh how she would miss them. Would they be all right? Her final letter to say goodbye to them was the most painful of all.

  Jenny picked up her portmanteau and left by the servant’s stairs. Only a housemaid saw her leave, but she merely nodded and scurried away. Jenny slipped from the house into the misty air and hurried to the stables to ask Jem for a lift in the gig. There wasn’t time to walk the six
miles to the Black Lion inn. The mist grew denser, curling through the trees, threatening to hold up the coach and delay her journey.

  Jem scratched his head but asked no questions. While he harnessed a horse to the gig, Jenny tried not to think of what awaited her at home. Could she change her father’s mind? The stage would travel all day and into the night. She would not reach York until nine o’clock at the earliest. Then she must pay for a jarvie to drive her the few miles out of town to Wetherby Park.

  Finally, after some hours waiting for the weather to clear, the coach traveled away from the Black Lion, with Jenny jammed in between a stout woman and a pastor who dug a boney elbow into her side. Thinking of the duke and the children cast her into despair, especially the duke, his searching blue gaze and studied awareness of her, as he stood at her bedside. She had sensed a strong connection between them as if he might step forward and… The knock on her head must have scrambled her brains! At least now with some distance between her and Castlebridge, she could regain some perspective. He was a duke, and her employer, and she a poor baron’s daughter, who was far from the gently reared young lady, a duke would seek to marry. It had been their shared concern for his children that bound them together. William and Barbara! She had promised them a story. Her throat closed, and she hurriedly swallowed. Children were resilient, and they had their loving father. In a little while, with a new governess, or a new mama… the prospect brought her low, and she fought not to cry, aware of the clergyman beside her, casting her the occasional curious glance.

  She looked ahead to arriving home. How best to deal with her father? He had not listened to her before, would he now? He simply must.

  *

  As they traveled to London, Greta glared dry-eyed at Andrew from the coach seat opposite. “I don’t believe you, Harrow. You are attempting to excuse your violent behavior.”

  There’d been no tears for Ivo. Perhaps they weren’t so close after all. “We tried to reason with Ivo, Greta. Would you have approved of him killing Miss Harrismith?”

  Her face crumpled. “Miss Harrismith again! I declare you’re too fond of her.” She narrowed her eyes. “Have you bedded her?”

  He refused to dignify that with a response. “Ivo tried to kill William. He shot Raymond. Doesn’t any of that concern you?”

  “You say he tried to kill William. But that was Miss Harrismith’s story. Raymond should not have tried to seduce me. Ivo was only acting on my behalf.”

  Andrew sighed. Impossible to get through to her. She only saw what she wanted to. “Take the money I offer you, Greta. You may need it. What if you arrive back in Germany and discover your brother has lost your fortune?”

  “I shall remarry. I have many eligible suitors. I don’t know why I chose you.” She sighed. “But it was so very different in Vienna.”

  “Yes, it was.” She was so beautiful, many gentlemen would pursue her, and he wished her well.

  Greta pouted. “I don’t like England. The English are suspicious of foreigners even though your royal family hail from my country.”

  He had no response to that, because it was true, although his friends had always been warm and courteous toward her. But it was also true that she could not face her brother’s culpability. “I shall put you up at Grillon’s Hotel in Albemarle Street. It’s an excellent hotel and you are welcome to remain there under my aegis until your boat sails.”

  She nodded, as tears filled her eyes. “I don’t understand my brother at all. I must confess I never did. Ivo was always wild.”

  “He appeared to have lost his reason, Greta.” Andrew could not tell her why Ivo wished to kill him, or about the murderous group he intended to join.

  She narrowed her eyes. “If you’d treated me as you had in Vienna, dancing attendance on me instead of disappearing off to London, it would not have come to this.”

  “Marriage would have made both of us unhappy. I prefer country-life and you are happier in town.”

  She shrugged. “The country is an utter bore. And it will make you one.”

  They continued on in silence.

  After Andrew deposited Greta at the hotel, he made his way to Whitehall. When he relayed what Jenny had told him a flurry of activity ensued.

  Some hours later, as he sat with Castlereagh in White’s library, news reached them that the culprits lair had been located and the three Germans shot while trying to escape. A list of their victims was found, and Andrew’s name was at the top.

  It had shaken both him and Castlereagh who begged him to remain in London to celebrate with him at the king’s ball, but Andrew wanted only to return to Castlebridge. To his children. And Jenny. And the unfinished business between them. These dreadful events had gifted him with the knowledge, that in the end, love was all that mattered.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It took her last penny to hire a hackney to deposit her at Wetherby Park, but Jenny was glad of it. She didn’t fancy walking the five miles, not when dark clouds threatened to blot out the moon. Beyond the carriage lights acres of dark meadows and woodland surrounded them.

  The jarvie pulled up at the gates and refused to go any farther. Without another penny to spend, Jenny had no option but the pay him and walk along the carriage drive through the avenue of aged limes, the air decidedly frosty. Overhead an owl hooted and flapped away on giant wings. Her half-boots crunched over the gravel, as she lugged her bag, which had become very heavy as fatigue and the effects of the last two days took their toll. At the bend in the drive, the big house appeared against the dark sky. Candlelight flickered in the downstairs windows, the upper story in darkness. As her father retired early in the country to save on candles and lamp oil, everyone had gone to bed. Papa had long since given up a footman, and the butler had retired some time ago. She was surprised to find the big oak doors unlocked. She stepped into the cold hall lit by candles in the sconces and mounted the staircase. On reaching the landing, she crept over the rug and opened a door. Arabella’s room lay in darkness.

  “Bella?”

  No answer. Jenny crept over to the bed. “Bella?” She put out a hand and touched the cold pillow. Where was she?

  Jenny’s fumbling fingers alighted on a candle on the side table Next to it was the tinderbox. She struck a taper, lit the candle, and the room leapt into focus. The bed had not been slept in. Next door, Beth’s bed, and the boy’s the same. The familiar creaks and groans of an old house greeted her as she crossed the landing, but beyond that, silence. Where was everyone?

  She put her bag down in her old bedchamber, which smelled dusty and looked sadly neglected and distinctly uninviting. Divesting herself of her bonnet and pelisse, she changed into house slippers, then ventured downstairs.

  She passed the doors to the darkened drawing room and parlor and entered the library where the embers of a coal fire cast an orange glow over crimson rug. Her candlelight flickered over her father’s desk piled with papers, a journal open with his careful script, his glasses, pen holder and inkwell standing ready.

  Jenny was about to rouse one of the maids when the front door opened, and a chorus of voices rang through the house.

  In the hall, the family trouped through the front door, and stopped, mouths agape.

  “Jenny!” Bella and Beth ran to throw their arms around her.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come home.” Beth’s big eyes filled with tears. “We have missed you most dreadfully.” She studied her. “What happened to your poor chin?”

  “I had a fall, but I’m perfectly all right. I’ve missed you too, Bethy.” Jenny hugged her fearing she would cry too. “I’ve missed you all.”

  “We’ve had a turkey dinner at Mr. Judd’s house,” Charlie said with what have been heartless disregard for his sister’s distress, but Jenny suspected was bravado. Charlie put great store by manliness.

  Not so Edmond who came to kiss her cheek. “Are you here to stay, Jenny?”

  “I…”

  Her father edged Charlie and Edmond aside. “
Jenny! Why have you come home? Did the duke let you go?”

  Jenny shook her head. “I must talk to you, Papa.”

  “You look exhausted,” Bella put an arm around Jenny’s waist. “I’ll pop down to the kitchen and make you a hot drink. Are you hungry? There’s some bread and ham. We really should air the sheets on your bed, but a warming pan must suffice. I’m afraid the—”

  “Yes, yes,” her father interrupted. “Come into the library, Jenny.”

  Jenny sank onto a chair before her father’s desk, squaring her shoulders for the battle which would surely follow. Despite it only being a little more than a year since she left, he looked older, with more white streaks in his hair, and lines painted on his brow. “Bella wrote that she is to marry Mr. Judd.”

  “That is correct. Is that the reason you’ve left your position and rushed home?”

  “Papa, I told you why I refused Mr. Judd. How can you agree to him marrying Bella? To become a member of this family?”

  “I have no choice. He will accept Bella without a dowry and assist in keeping the estate afloat.”

  “But Bella is beautiful. If you’ll just give her a Season—”

  “There’s no money for any of that,” he said with a frown. “You’ve no idea what bad straits we are in. I can no longer provide for my children’s education. Your brother, my heir, works as a clerk. A clerk!”

  She fought to keep her temper as she looked around the library crammed with Papa’s books. He disappeared into the past and cared nothing for the present, and though he protested, she doubted he gave enough of his attention to the necessary changes that would assist the tenant farmers, and improve the estate’s revenue. He had sold off his land to a farmer, and would do so again and again until nothing was left. But if she told him what she thought now, she would lose any chance of changing his mind.