Journeys

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  “Indeed.” Helen’s voice sounded sharp.

  Dorothea cut her glance her cousin’s way and discovered that Helen glowered. She chose to ignore her cousin. Whatever foul mood of Helen’s she might endure could be tolerated for a fortnight in exchange for a few moments of idle conversation with Lord Brunswick. Especially since he seemed ever so amenable.

  A matron who had been introduced to Dorothea earlier as Lady Rose Morgan tapped Helen on the shoulder and flew into a glowing recitation of the delights of the food that Helen had served. Judging from the way Helen didn’t look Lady Morgan straight in the eye, Dorothea could tell she regretted the interruption. Dorothea felt thankful that Lady Morgan insisted Helen accompany her to the table to discuss the merits of an astounding array of fruit tarts. With a sniff and another admonishing look sent Dorothea’s way, Helen left her side. Finally. Now she could listen to whatever this fascinating man had to say without reprisal.

  Dorothea considered his suggestion that she remain longer than a fortnight. She had already been introduced to a number of people who seemed pleasant enough, but of course anyone can seem pleasant during a brief introduction from a mutual friend.

  Her present surroundings offered reason to stay. Once she had warmed herself by the inviting fire, Dorothea felt at home, for Helen’s taste in decor mirrored her mother’s. Deep blue draperies fashioned from heavy velvet insulated the room from any draft that could enter through the windows and stood out before cream and gold damask wallpaper. The floor was barely visible in such a crowded room, but what spots emerged now and again looked to be polished. Maple wood planks shone in the candlelight.

  For the first time that day, she was glad she’d been sitting in a cramped coach all afternoon. Her feet weren’t tired, so now that she had recovered somewhat from the initial impact of meeting Lord Brunswick, she was able to resist the temptation to steal a chair from an aging dowager.

  Let them have their chairs, she thought. Their years of standing all night at a crowded gathering had passed them by long ago. All too soon, she would become a dowager. In mourning and preoccupied with the cares of debt for so long, Dorothea had felt and acted like someone thirty years her senior. Finally, the time to be young again had arrived. The notice had been brought to her attention and punctuated by Lord Stratford Brunswick.

  “If only I could remain here not a fortnight, but forever,” Dorothea ventured.

  He surveyed his surroundings. “Fallen in love with the place already?”

  With the place?

  “An easy task, to be sure,” she said aloud.

  “To be sure.” He took a swallow out of the glass of lemonade he was holding. She noticed that he didn’t do so until he eyed a similar glass in her hand. “How good that you are able to visit your cousin. You certainly chose an auspicious time, since practically everyone in the parish is in attendance tonight.”

  “Yes, the number of introductions has been a bit overwhelming, but I am sure I will be able to remember everyone important. I will certainly have no trouble recalling your face and name.” She felt yet another blush. She couldn’t remember a time when she had said something so bold to a man—a man barely known to her, at that. Her fan set itself into motion again.

  “And I, yours.”

  Feeling the need to redeem herself, Dorothea searched for a way to reveal the paramount role that faith played in her life. “Since I have spent all day in my journey from London, I am grateful that I will have tomorrow to rest before being expected to rise for church on Sunday. I trust you attend the lovely white church in the village?”

  “Yes, I do. As does everyone else, whether truly devout or not.”

  “Only the truly devout would make such an observation. You must be a man of meditation and prayer yourself.”

  “I devote time to the Lord outside of attending church, yes. Although I never feel I am Christian enough or that I can ever spend too much time with Him.”

  “You hunger for Him, then.” She prayed the answer would be in the affirmative. If so, then truly Lord Brunswick was a man after her own heart.

  He became pensive. “I have never heard the sentiment expressed in such a way, but I do believe that could describe me.” He looked into her eyes. “I hope you do not find my devotion to the Savior off-putting.”

  “No, indeed. Not in the least.” She wanted to elaborate, but she had already been far too forthright in her speech that evening.

  Baron von Lunenburg chose that moment to approach them. “Well, Brunswick, I see you are attempting to monopolize the most beautiful woman in this room tonight.” He turned his gaze to Dorothea. “He always does that, you know.”

  “Oh, he does?” Dorothea’s chest tightened with a jealousy she had no right to feel toward unnamed women.

  “Baron von Lunenburg exaggerates,” Lord Brunswick assured her. “I assume the two of you have met?”

  “Yes, we have.” Dorothea debated whether she should reveal any of her business to Stratford. For reasons unknown to her, she felt led to share some of the details, though doing so went against her natural reticence. But when she followed her instincts, she usually found a reward. “I have already discovered Baron von Lunenburg to be a most generous man. He offered to do me a great favor, which has eased my mind considerably.”

  “Oh, how generous of him. And he asks for nothing in return?” Lord Brunswick eyed Baron von Lunenburg.

  Baron von Lunenburg didn’t give Dorothea a chance to respond. “My, Brunswick, but you seem concerned with the affairs of others.” He looked at Dorothea. “You will find in a small parish out here in the country, there is little to distract people from idle gossip and the act of being busybodies.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Lord Brunswick countered.

  Dorothea answered, “That is quite all right. I am the one who broached the subject. Lord Brunswick was merely being polite.”

  “Never let it be said that I argued with a lady,” Baron von Lunenburg responded.

  “If you will excuse me.” Lord Brunswick nodded.

  Dorothea tried not to allow her gaze to linger upon his retreating frame. Of course he had to speak to other guests, and etiquette demanded that she not allow one man to dominate her time, as well. Too bad.

  “Shall we see the gardens?” Baron von Lunenburg took her elbow in a possessive manner she wasn’t sure she liked. And she had some idea that flowers weren’t all he wanted to admire.

  She shuddered so he could see she felt chilly. “The night air does not always suit me.”

  “You are feeling a bit cold?”

  “Yes, even in this room with all these people and a roaring fire.” She studied the flames to keep from looking at the way his jaw had set into a hard line.

  “I trust you are not always so icy.”

  She shuddered with a real chill this time and looked back at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

  At that moment, Helen tapped her on the shoulder to introduce her to the vicar. Never was Dorothea so glad to see a man of the cloth.

  Four

  Stratford chatted with a lady of considerable pedigree and lesser comeliness whose mother had led her to him, but his mind was far from idle conversation. He focused his eyes on Lunenburg from time to time, enough to track his movement throughout the room. He had to speak to the man before the celebration ended. A few less energetic partygoers had already departed. If he didn’t make his move soon, he would miss his opportunity.

  As soon as he could comfortably excuse himself, Stratford made his way through the crowd and back to Lunenburg.

  “I need to speak with you.”

  “My, but you are talkative tonight.” Lunenburg’s voice held an edge he hadn’t noticed before. Obviously his mood had fouled.

  “I am only as talkative as is necessary. I have a matter of some urgency to discuss with you, one that could affect the future of us both. If you will permit me.”

  “This is a private matter?” A greedy light glimmered in Lunenburg’s eyes. St
ratford recognized the expression. Lunenburg thought he had just surrendered himself to be a part of one of his financial schemes. Well, let him think that, if that’s what it took to garner the man’s attention.

  “Yes, it is a private matter.”

  “Then let us adjourn to the library.”

  Lunenburg led Stratford out of the room and into a chilly hallway with the ease of one familiar with the ins and outs of the estate house. How quickly he had made himself at home among them all. Stratford could only hope that the trust of his friends wasn’t misplaced.

  “We are in luck,” Lunenburg noted upon entering the library.

  Stratford noticed it was empty of people but stuffed with shelves of books that covered all four walls and extended by two rows into the center of the room, as well. The smell of aging leather book covers and fine paper defined the room.

  “We can have complete privacy.” Lunenburg took a seat in a large chair upholstered in brown leather and leaned toward Stratford as he took the nearest seat. “So, what urgent matter took me away from all the pretty ladies at the party?”

  “A pretty lady, in fact. The one you say is now your mistress.”

  He leaned back so his back touched the chair. “Oh. Her.”

  Stratford couldn’t contain his surprise. “I must say, the blush of new love seems to have worn off quickly. Rebuffed already?”

  Lunenburg cleared his throat. “Of course not.”

  “If you have not been, I venture that you soon will be.”

  “By my own mistress? What a ridiculous notion.”

  “Not so ridiculous if your presumed mistress does not realize what is expected of her. And I have a feeling, based on a brief conversation I just shared with Lady Witherspoon, that she has not an inkling of the unspoken aspect of your arrangement.”

  “Really? Surely you jest.”

  “I do not remember a time when I have been more serious.”

  Lunenburg didn’t answer right away. “I must admit, she played the innocent babe when we spoke, but I thought she was putting on a show for the benefit of her relatives. But in actuality, I find it hard to believe she thinks I am doing her a great favor for free. Certainly she cannot be so naive.”

  “What makes you think she is not naive?”

  “From all appearances, she is past the age of consent, and I have been told that she was born and reared in London.”

  “I am aware that in our ribald day and age a creature of such virtuousness is rare, but I do believe we have found an orchid among daisies.” He didn’t wait for Lunenburg to comment. “And because Lady Dorothea is a sheltered orchid, I would implore you not to follow through with granting whatever favor you were seeking for her.”

  “You have no idea what you are asking.”

  “Do I not? What trouble is she in, then?”

  “Costly trouble. She is in debt in the amount of ten thousand pounds.”

  With the greatest of effort, Stratford hid his shock. “That much, eh?” He made quick calculations of his bank balances in his head and deciphered favorable numbers. “Whom does she owe?”

  “An assortment of creditors in London. Some of them are not so savory types.”

  He couldn’t imagine how Dorothea could have associated with anyone from the underworld or have encountered ways to spend such a large amount of money. “How—”

  “Her father gambled away her fortune. The proprietors of the gaming halls are demanding payment.”

  “Indeed? What a shame. I cannot imagine any responsible man losing a fortune at such an unworthy enterprise.”

  “Perhaps you cannot, but many a man, of high rank or servant, has given in to the temptation to gamble.” Lunenburg rubbed his forefinger and thumb together as if fingering an imaginary coin.

  Stratford searched his mind for a solution. “Surely she has valuables she can sell.”

  Lunenburg crossed one leg over the other. “She has already sold everything, including her home and family jewelry.”

  “Yet she is still in debt by such a large amount.” Stratford let out a low whistle when he considered how deeply Lord Witherspoon must have gotten himself into financial straits. “I assume you agreed to step in and pay the difference.”

  “In a way. I promised to ask a judge I know to speak to her creditors so they would forgive the remainder of her debts.”

  “You have that kind of influence?” Stratford tried not to show how the fact impressed him.

  “When your name is Baron Hans von Lunenburg, your influence can be felt quite widely.” His chest puffed out ever so slightly.

  “So Baron Hans von Lunenburg is not above using strong-arm tactics to settle the matter.”

  Lunenburg shrugged. “Do you really feel sympathetic toward the unsavory types who run gaming establishments?”

  Since the man brought up a valid point, Stratford considered his opinion. “No, I cannot say I sympathize with them in the least. I believe they prey on the weakest members of our society, whether the weak are rich men who are unable to resist temptation or the poor who dream of an easy path to riches. But I surmise the operators of gaming houses would argue that they provide a service, too. Entertainment and amusement for the bored and lonely. And since no one forces anyone to frequent a gaming establishment, they could also counter that if anyone finds trouble there, he has no one to blame but himself.”

  Lunenburg applauded, leaving a large pause between each clap, an obvious display of sarcasm.

  Stratford remained silent, knowing that to take the bait would be folly.

  “Bravo,” Lunenburg concluded. “So what are you saying?”

  “I am saying that although I am not fond of their type of business, robbing Lord Witherspoon’s creditors does not seem to be the Christian thing to do.”

  Lunenburg chuckled, but his laugh held no mirth. “Are you as virtuous as you portray yourself?”

  The backhanded compliment felt like a slap. “I do not offer women favors based on deceit or engage in heavy-handedness to defraud creditors.”

  “Ah, but I only asked one woman.” His crooked smile indicated he fancied himself quite witty.

  Stratford responded with a stony silence.

  “Then you are a more virtuous man than I. And therefore I venture you enjoy far less than I do in the way of amusement.”

  “Once a man decides to follow the Lord to the best of his ability, illicit pleasures may offer some temptation but become much easier to resist.”

  “Then you must be a very lonely man.” He pulled on the end of his mustache.

  Stratford entwined his fingers. “I would rather be lonely than to wallow in sin. Of course, I pray that the Lord will send me a wife in His time.”

  “Enough with your religious talk. I feel as though I have entered a monastery.”

  “If you were to enter a monastery, would you know where you were?” Stratford couldn’t help asking.

  “I would probably know enough to run out of it as fast as I could.” Lunenburg looked toward each table. “If only Luke kept a supply of cigars and brandy here. I could use a bracing drink and a good smoke.”

  “Allow me to suggest that if you spent less time drinking and smoking, you would find a virtuous wife.”

  “I am not in the market for such a commodity.”

  “Obviously.”

  Lunenburg sighed. “I had no idea Dorothea was such a fool. Perhaps she thought she was safe because Helen encouraged her to take the favor.”

  “I would not count Helen as a woman of the world, either. But surely Luke had some notion.”

  Lunenburg shrugged. “I would wager that Luke was more interested in maintaining his own fortune than in maintaining Dorothea’s virtue.”

  “Which I have reason to believe remains intact. And unless you plan to make her an offer of courtship, I suggest you not sully her.”

  “Indeed? You sound more like a man in love than a disinterested stranger. Do you know Dorothea from somewhere else?”

  Str
atford couldn’t say he did. And from Lunenburg’s vantage point, he must look like a fool for intervening in the affairs of a woman he had only met that night. But he had to. He just had to.

  Stratford cleared his throat before he spoke. “Since you obviously have no intention of honoring Lady Dorothea with a legitimate proposal of marriage, I suggest that you save your favor with the judge for a more profitable occasion and allow me to take care of her debt instead.”

  “What? Perhaps you are the one who needs a stiff drink.”

  “No. I am perfectly sober and do not regret what I just said.”

  “So you want to spend a fortune helping a woman you only met this evening? I truly do not understand the English code of honor.” His eyebrows rose. An ugly laugh escaped from Lunenburg’s lips, its sound echoing throughout the room. “I think I see. In spite of all your religious talk, you have a secret motive, you sly dog. You want her for yourself.”

  Stratford didn’t answer. Perhaps he did want her for himself. He couldn’t deny the sparks he felt flying when she was near. Looking into her face, with eyes so bright and skin so smooth, framed by perfect curls that could be compared to whirling cascades of yellow diamonds, he could imagine drinking in her beauty every day for the rest of his natural life.

  He considered the likelihood that he was too taken by the loveliness of her face, the beauty of her form, and the lilt of her voice to make a reasoned and proper judgment. Perhaps Dorothea held no future for him. Possibly she was meant to step into his life for an instant to offer him a test of how he would respond to another Christian in trouble, only to return to London forever. And if so, he was determined to pass the test. He felt compelled to deliver this innocent young woman from her debt—and from Lunenburg’s clutches.

  “What do you care?” Stratford retorted with more vehemence than he meant to express. “You have as much as admitted that she is not promising as a mistress. Why not procure a lady with your charms? Consider my offer an act of kindness toward you. I am taking a bad deal off your hands. One you apparently entered into unwisely and in haste.”

  Lunenburg drummed the fingertips of both hands against each other. “I am not sure the transaction I made is as flawed as you proclaim. As you mentioned, my charms are considerable, and I may be able to change her mind. She would not be the first woman to fall in love with me after hearing my sweet words and feeling my warm embrace.”