Brides of London: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  “Miss Smallwood,” he murmured, dropping his gaze and inclining his head as heat shot up his spine. “Good afternoon. Miss Grey.” He bowed again. “I did not expect to have company.”

  “Lord Blackridge will not be attending,” Miss Smallwood said, as Peter took a few steps forward into the room. “I thought it best not to invite him for fear that he would speak to you of this meeting in advance.”

  Peter saw the surprised look on Miss Grey’s face as she took in her friend’s strong demeanor and loud, fervent words. Clearly, she had not expected Miss Smallwood to be so determined.

  “I did not think that you expected me to speak to Miss Grey immediately, Miss Smallwood,” Peter said, trying to appear calm and collected despite his churning stomach. “Miss Grey, whatever your friend has stated, I had every intention of speaking the truth to you once our companionship had grown somewhat.”

  Miss Grey fixed her eyes back onto his, her face a little paler than he remembered. “You should have told me the truth, whatever it may be, from the very beginning, Lord Marchmont. I am grateful to Miss Smallwood for her insight and her insistence that I know all.”

  “I confess that I do not quite understand everything,” Miss Smallwood interjected, glancing at Miss Grey. “But I knew that Miss Grey could not be permitted to continue in her courtship with you under false pretenses, Lord Marchmont. Surely you were aware of my determination to speak openly to her, given what I had said?”

  Peter cleared his throat and, even though he had not been invited to seat himself, sat down in a chair that faced both the ladies. Miss Grey’s hands were tight in her lap, her eyes never lifting from him, and Peter felt a rush of nerves run through him. A sense of shame rose up within him and he cleared his throat again, much more gruffly this time. What was he to say?

  “Lord Marchmont.”

  Miss Grey’s voice was quiet yet firm and Peter had no choice but to look up at her.

  “I confess that I did not believe you when you stated openly that you had some affection for me. To change your mind so quickly did not seem reasonable to me and, for that, I am grateful that Miss Smallwood came to speak to me as she has done. But now I wish to know the truth, Lord Marchmont. In all its entirety.”

  Peter closed his eyes and let out a small groan. “I fear that if I tell you, Miss Grey, you will no longer agree to our courtship and I simply cannot allow that.”

  “Allow?” She laughed harshly, the sound bouncing around the room. “Lord Marchmont, you forget yourself! I am not yours! You cannot order me about nor demand that I do whatever it is you wish me to do! I have my own mind and therefore, I shall make my own decisions despite what you might think is best. Now, may I suggest that you start at the beginning and tell me everything plainly.” Her eyes lifted to his and she arched one eyebrow. “For if you do not, then you can be assured that our courtship, such as it stands, is now completely at an end.”

  Peter swallowed hard, knowing that he had spoken out of turn but finding that his desperation was such that he did not know what else to do. “I was told to court you, Miss Grey. I was told that not only did I need to court you, but that I had to make you my wife.” He winced as her eyebrows rose and her mouth hung ajar for a moment. “Had I any choice in the matter, I would not have returned to you, Miss Grey, but as things stand, I am entirely without power in this situation.” Quickly, and as calmly as he could, Peter began to speak openly to Miss Grey and to Miss Smallwood, thinking that he had no need to hold anything back from either of them. He told them of the injury to his head, of waking up in the small room and of finding the box and the note that was contained within. Miss Grey said nothing as he spoke, her lips clamped together in a thin, hard line.

  “My brother, Edward, is on the continent—or was, as far as I am aware. I have no knowledge as to where he might be at this present moment, and as such, I fear that the threats contained within the note might very well be brought to fulfilment should I not do as has been asked of me. Along with the note was a ring. A ring that I recognized as belonging to my brother. I have very little idea as to how the perpetrator had it in his possession, but it does, I admit, strike fear into my heart as regards my brother’s safety.” He said nothing more, his words drying up on his tongue as he let his gaze pass from Miss Grey to Miss Smallwood and back again. Miss Grey was watching him with careful eyes, her expression no longer dark and angry, nor filled with anxiety. It was as if, in telling her all, he had allowed her a freedom that had brought with it both relief and clarity.

  Swallowing the lump in his throat, Peter lowered his gaze and let out a long, slow breath, trying to find a calmness that seemed to elude him. He did not know what Miss Grey was thinking nor what she would say, and the fear of it began to bite at him, hard. If she refused to court him any longer, as she had every right to do, then he would have no choice but to wait and see what punishments would fall on Edward’s shoulders, once he discovered his whereabouts.

  “You say that your brother is abroad?” Miss Grey said slowly, surprising Peter with her question. She had not become angry with him nor spoken with a harshness that he knew he deserved. Instead, she was speaking calmly and quietly, as though she were trying to work something out in her mind.

  “I believe he is. He has lived there for some years, ever since the death of our father. I believe he has made something of a home for himself there, although he always promised to return to England. His letters have been infrequent but I have never had cause to worry for him…until recently.” He spoke honestly and the flicker in Miss Grey’s eyes seemed to tell him that she was appreciating his openness.

  “You fear, then, that since you cannot be certain of where he might be, the person who is responsible for this note will do exactly as they state, before you have the time to discover Edward’s whereabouts.”

  Peter nodded, suddenly finding himself quite glad for Miss Grey’s sharp mind and quick thinking. “Indeed. I have written to various places in the hope that he may be discovered there, but as yet, he has not replied to me. I cannot risk his reputation and good name, Miss Grey, not when it is to be my fault for such a thing.”

  Miss Grey held up one hand. “It would not be your fault, Lord Marchmont. It would be the fault of whoever is trying to manipulate you.” She sighed and dropped her hand. “Although I can understand your fear. The ring being sent with the note only confirms that this is a matter to be taken with all seriousness.”

  He swallowed hard, unable to shake the guilt from him. “Edward is the only family I have remaining,” he admitted. “I would do all I can to protect him. Believe me, Miss Grey, I wish to do all I can to discover the truth about who has written this note and why, but in the meantime, I must do as they have asked.”

  Miss Grey arched one eyebrow. “And lead me down a path that is filled with nothing but untruths?”

  “Because I had no other choice,” he stated quickly, interrupting her. “I had no assurance that you would understand and agree, Miss Grey, so therefore I spoke lies to you in the hope that you would accept my courtship. And, thus far, it appeared to be working.”

  Color rose in Miss Grey’s cheeks, the angry sparkle returning to her eyes.

  “I know that you want me to apologize and I will beg your forgiveness if you wish me to,” Peter continued, without allowing her a moment to interrupt. “But I pray that, under the circumstances, you can see why I chose to do as I did and that, mayhap, you will have kindness enough in your heart to aid me in this.” His gaze rested on Miss Grey and he saw, as a few moments of silence passed, that the anger began to leave her expression.

  “Do you still have the note, Lord Marchmont?”

  Miss Smallwood spoke for the first time in some minutes, her eyes wide with both astonishment and anxiety.

  “I do, Miss Smallwood,” Peter replied.

  “Then might you bring it to Miss Grey?” Miss Smallwood asked, throwing a glance towards Miss Grey. “She may recognize the hand.”

  Miss Grey gave M
iss Smallwood a half smile. “I may,” she replied with a knowing look. “And it will give me the opportunity to confirm that what you have said is true, Lord Marchmont.”

  He frowned, feeling a deep flare of anger rise up in him. “If you wish, Miss Grey, you may come and inspect the side of my head if what you seek is the truth. The injury I sustained—which can only have come from a heavy blow—has not yet healed. If you look here,” he gestured to the side of his head, just behind his ear, “then you will see the evidence which you so obviously seek.”

  Of course, he did not expect Miss Grey to immediately get to her feet and come and do just as he had suggested—but then again, Miss Grey did not behave as most of the young ladies of the ton did. She stood by him and looked down, waiting for him to indicate where she was to look, and Peter, brushing aside his surprise, did just that.

  Her fingers were gentle as she pushed aside his thick, dark curls that wove so tightly together. Peter let out a hiss as his head burst with pain all over again, reminding him that the injury to his head had been a significant one that he was oft inclined to forget.

  “Goodness,” he heard Miss Grey murmur, feeling himself suddenly relieved that he had proven the truth to her. Her fingers ran through his curls for a moment, as if she were putting them back in place, and for some inexplicable reason, Peter felt his heart leap with a sudden awareness of her. He dared not look up, his heart beating a trifle more quickly as Miss Grey rested one hand on his shoulder for a moment before making her way back across the room. She did not sit but poured a small measure of whisky into a glass which she then handed to him.

  Peter accepted it gratefully but not without a good deal of surprise. Did this mean that Miss Grey was able to forgive him for what he had done?

  “I will admit to you, Lord Marchmont, that I am more than a little astonished to hear everything that you have endured and the truth behind your reasons for pursuing me once again,” Miss Grey began, once she had seated herself back down. “I am sorrowful that you did not simply tell me the truth from the very beginning, for then we would have been able to begin this courtship with understanding and acceptance instead of confusion and doubt.”

  “I am sorry,” he began, only for Miss Grey to hold up one hand, clearly asking him to remain quiet as she spoke. A flush ran up his cheeks but he did as she asked and fell silent.

  “That being said, Lord Marchmont, I can understand why you have done such a thing as this,” she continued, her voice now a touch softer. “Your concern for your brother is to be admired, although it is rather frustrating that you cannot locate him at this present moment.” She sighed and dropped her hands to her lap. “Letters to the continent will, as I understand, take a good deal of time to reach their intended recipient, which is why this person, whoever they may be, has chosen to use him as an impetus for you to do as they ask.”

  “Then you think I have acted foolishly,” Peter muttered, passing one hand over his eyes and feeling his stomach lurch with fear. “You believe that I should have simply ignored this note and continued on regardless.”

  Miss Grey’s expression twisted with uncertainty for a moment. “I cannot say,” she muttered, looking, for the first time, a little unsure of herself. “I can understand why you have done such a thing, for the fear that unknown consequences might be brought to bear on your brother is to be expected. However, could someone truly reach him when he lives so very far away?”

  “If he still resides there,” Peter reminded her. “I do not know if he has returned to England or is in the process of doing so.”

  Miss Grey sighed heavily and nodded, her frustration matching his own. “Nor can I understand why I am being added to this situation,” she told him. “What possible reason could someone have for wanting you to marry me? I have no particular need to do so and, from what I know of you, you have no reason to hurry towards matrimony.”

  He nodded. “That is so.”

  Confusion knitted her brow. “It is all very strange. However, in light of what you have told me, I suppose, Lord Marchmont, that I can understand your reasons for doing what you have done, although I would have preferred that you told me the truth from the beginning.”

  He spread his hands. “I did not know what your response would be, Miss Grey,” he told her honestly. “You have a firm mind and when you make a decision, I suspect that no amount of pleading or discussion would change your mind. I could not risk that.”

  A flicker of guilt caught her expression but was gone in a moment. “Mayhap that is true,” she agreed, as Miss Smallwood’s eyes rounded in surprise at such a confession. “However, as I am fully aware of the circumstances now, we must continue on as we are, whilst attempting to discover the person behind this note.” She lifted her chin and looked at him steadily, as though daring him to disagree—although all Peter felt was a ripple of surprise.

  “You will allow our courtship to continue, then?” he asked, awash with both relief and hope. “You will not bring it to an end?”

  Miss Grey’s eyebrow arched. “I am not as unfeeling as all that, Lord Marchmont,” she stated, as though she were a trifle offended. “Of course we must continue. It will look to all of society that we are very fond of each other and that our courtship is progressing nicely—but, of course, we shall simply be doing our utmost to discover who has written this note and demanded such things of you.”

  “Appearances only,” Miss Smallwood said, making Miss Grey nod her agreement.

  “Precisely.”

  “So there will be no need to consider matrimony and the like,” Peter murmured, wondering why he felt no relief at that suggestion. “For once we find the truth and call out the person responsible, we shall have no need to continue the pretense.”

  Miss Grey smiled and sat back in her chair, now looking a trifle more relaxed. “That is exactly what I mean,” she said with a gentle wave of her hand. “We shall work together—the three of us—to try and find out the truth and save ourselves from what would be a very difficult and trying marriage.” Her smile grew steadily as she watched him and Peter forced himself to smile back, even though he did not feel like doing so.

  “We shall have Lord Blackridge to aid us also, I am quite certain,” Miss Smallwood said, making Peter nod his agreement. “So there will be four of us.”

  “And surely that is more than enough to find the truth,” Miss Grey said practically. “What say you, Lord Marchmont?”

  Peter tried to smile but found that his stomach was tied up in knots and that his hands were sweaty as he clasped them in his lap. “I say that is a capital idea, Miss Grey,” he replied, as genuinely as he could. “Although I would ask one thing—where might we begin?”

  Miss Grey frowned. “Begin?”

  “What I mean to say is, how might we go about finding the truth about this gentleman?” he asked, seeing Miss Grey’s frown deepen. “Where do we start?”

  Miss Grey hesitated, looking thoughtful for some moments before her expression cleared. “We go back to the beginning, Lord Marchmont,” she said calmly, as though she had thought of this all along. “We return to the boarding house and look carefully all about the room. We study the note. We look at the box. You must try and recall if you can remember anything about the night before you awoke there.” Her smile grew triumphant. “Have no fear, Lord Marchmont—we shall discover the truth, long before you are forced to wed me.”

  He tried to laugh but the sound stuck in his throat, leaving nothing more than a rasping sound that ran from his chest towards Miss Grey. He did not have the same hope as she, did not have the same trust and expectation that was so apparent in her expression. But yet, at least now she knew the truth and had not turned away from him once she had learned of it. Together, they would be setting out to try and find the person responsible and he had to be glad of that.

  “I thank you, Miss Grey,” he stated, getting up from his chair and making to take his leave. “I thank you for your understanding and your willingness to aid me in t
his. Not every young lady would have done so.”

  She smiled at him. “I think you will find, Lord Marchmont, that I am not like every other young lady of the beau monde.”

  This time, his laugh came out from him with ease. “No, indeed not, Miss Grey. But I find that I am rather grateful for it.” This, he realized, was the truth, in all of its entirety. Other young ladies would not have been so willing to listen and certainly might not have chosen to come to his aid. There was a relief in his heart that Miss Grey was so very different and so willing to do what she could to bring this difficult set of circumstances to an end.

  “You shall be attending Lord Matthews’ ball tomorrow evening, I hope?” he asked as she and Miss Smallwood rose to their feet in order to bid him farewell.

  “Yes, I expect to be,” Miss Grey told him as he took her hand and bowed over it. “You shall have to make it apparent to all and sundry that we are courting, Lord Marchmont. It will mean garnering a good deal of attention, which I know you do not particularly enjoy.”

  He inclined his head again and let go of her hand. “I shall do whatever I must,” he replied, finding that he was quite drawn to this gentler side of her that he had not seen evidenced before. “I look forward to speaking with you again tomorrow, Miss Grey. Good afternoon. Good afternoon, Miss Smallwood.”

  “Good afternoon,” Miss Smallwood replied, seeming to have retreated back into her quiet demeanor once more.