September Awakening

by Merry Farmer

  It was as if someone had struck a match and lit a lamp. That was what his friends were fighting so hard for in Parliament. Women had every bit as much of a right to self-determination as they had to adequate healthcare in a way that focused on their unique physiology. And he was in a position to advance both notions.

  But his moment of inspiration was dampened by the despondent droop of Lavinia’s shoulders as she picked at her food yards away from him, at the other end of the table. She only barely met his eyes, and then only nodded out of courtesy. Armand wasn’t sure she was listening to the conversation at all. Her lack of attention was an utter distraction to him, but it had a surprisingly positive effect.

  When Shayles realized neither Armand nor Lavinia were paying attention to his pokes and prods, he grew silent and ultimately retired to bed early. The footman had to drag Miller out of his chair and practically carry him up to bed. And Gatwick wandered off to ask Bondar about Broadclyft Hall’s artwork. That left Armand to escort Lavinia up to bed in relative silence.

  The first thing she said after the awkward supper was, “Lord Gatwick is an odd man.” She’d bathed and changed into her nightgown in her dressing room, then settled into bed, leaving a gaping space between them. “I have a hard time believing the two of you are so closely related.”

  Armand stared at the empty space. So much for getting closer to her. Not that he would have had it in him to make love with Shayles under his roof, threatening him and his friends with ruin.

  “Gatwick has always been odd,” he said slipping between the covers and plumping the pillows restlessly.

  “I was aware that everything could have been your cousin’s if the courts had ruled differently, but why didn’t you mention that Lord Gatwick was the cousin in question?”

  Armand frowned and lay back, his back a field of knots. “We’ve never seen eye-to-eye. Mark has been Shayles’s toad since university.”

  “Really? They’ve known each other that long?” Lavinia lay down, pulling the covers up to her chin.

  “Yes,” Armand answered, stretching to the side to blow out the lantern, throwing the room into darkness. “They’re a few years younger than the rest of us, though Malcolm was in his final year when they both began. He entered university after a few years’ gap when his father died.”

  “Lord Malcolm has known Lord Shayles for that long?” Lavinia’s voice was quiet enough to seem miles away in the dark.

  Armand laughed without humor. “Known him and hated him.” He paused, wondering how much he could reveal without causing more trouble. “Malcolm’s late wife, Tessa, was Shayles’s first wife.”

  His revelation was met by a gasp of surprise. “But how,” she started, then fell silent. “I suppose there was a divorce?”

  “Yes.” Armand settled onto his side facing her, longing to reach out for her. But the wall between them was firmly in place.

  “So how did Lord Shayles and Lord Gatwick become friends?” Lavinia asked.

  Armand paused. “To be honest, I don’t know.”

  Lavinia hummed, hesitated, then said, “Do you think Lord Shayles is here, Lord Gatwick with him, because he has his sights set on the Helm title and fortune?”

  Armand blinked, completely taken by surprise at the comment. “Shayles has nothing to do with the Helms.”

  “Yes, but he’s in dire financial straits, Lord Gatwick is a friend, and perhaps Lord Shayles believes there’s a way to get money from his friend through his connection to the Helm title.”

  Armand stared straight up at the canopy above the bed, his mind spinning. The connection had never occurred to him. It seemed outlandish, in a way. “Shayles wants to bribe my friends,” he said, thinking the problem through. “He’s opposed them for years. He hates Malcolm. He’ll do anything he can to destroy their credibility and bring down the new government. That’s why he has the letter. He brought it here instead of Winterberry Park because he’s a coward.”

  A long silence met his thoughts. “I’m sure you’re right,” Lavinia said at last in an unconvinced voice. She said nothing else.

  A restless buzz stopped Armand from closing his eyes and attempting to sleep. Whatever Shayles’s aim, it was the least of his problems. Even in the dark, he could feel the disappointment that rippled off his wife. She tossed and squirmed, unable to sleep as well.

  “Lavinia, about India,” he said once he realized neither of them was relaxed.

  “If you want to go, I won’t stop you,” she said, rolling to lie with her back facing him.

  Armand let out a breath of defeat. “I won’t go.”

  “Please don’t let me stand in the way of your dreams any more than I already am,” she said, so quietly that he almost couldn't make out her words.

  “It’s not that.” But in a way, it was. If not for his sudden marriage, he would have been packing his bags and putting his English affairs in order in preparation for a new life. He still hadn’t had a response from Dr. Maqsood about delaying his departure, which meant there might still be a chance to…to what? “Lavinia—”

  “Please, Armand.” She twisted to speak over her shoulder, sadness lacing her voice. “I’m exhausted. It’s been a trying day, and tomorrow will be more of the same. And I will be hosting even more guests in an unfamiliar house while still adjusting to my new position. Go where your heart longs to go, but leave me in peace to do what I must.”

  The snap of her words was like the slap of a schoolteacher’s rod over his hands after he’d been caught misbehaving. “Very well, then. Good night.” He rolled to his side, his back to hers, rubbing the stinging ache in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. The unreasonable part of him was sore that she wouldn’t instantly forgive every misstep on his part and snuggle into his arms the way she had that afternoon. The older and wiser part of him knew she had every reason to feel hurt. And that he would have to work hard to regain her trust.

  If only their situation were such that he had time to rebuild her trust in him. Unfortunately for them all—or fortunately, depending on how the situation was viewed—three carriages arrived just as breakfast was being served the next morning. Alex and Marigold Croydon, Malcolm, Katya, and her children, and, of all people, Lady Prior, landed at Broadclyft Hall simultaneously, throwing Lavinia into a frenzy of hostess duties. That would have been a challenge in and of itself, but of course Lady Prior was a nuisance right out of the gate.

  “My, what a splendid house,” she declared, stars in her eyes as she gazed greedily across Broadclyft’s front hall. “I must speak to the housekeeper at once to get the lay of the land and to make certain she’s running the house properly.”

  “Mama, Mrs. Ainsworth has been housekeeper here for decades. She knows her job and does it expertly,” Lavinia told her.

  Armand could see in an instant that Lady Prior had no intention of letting things go. But there were far larger problems at hand.

  “Ah,” Shayles said, strolling out from the corridor that led to the afternoon parlor as the bustling noise of the arrivals filled the hall. “And so our party begins in earnest.” He eyed Katya’s young daughters in a way that had Katya snarling.

  “You have something that is mine,” Alex marched straight up to Shayles after handing his coat off to Bondar, distracting Shayles from the Marlowe girls. “I want it now.”

  “I just bet you do,” Shayles said with a vulgar twist of his lips. “What with that pretty, nubile wife of yours.”

  “My wife is off-limits,” Alex growled. “This is serious business, not one of your filthy masquerades.”

  “Yes, it is serious.” Shayles was instantly grave. “A new cabinet member manipulating the government before it’s even returned to London is serious business indeed. How do you think the press will feel, knowing how deep corruption in Gladstone’s new regime runs? Gladstone will be forced to boot you from his cabinet before you’ve attended a single meeting. Do you think they will lobby for another election? It would be a shame if all your quaint ref
orms were aborted before delivery, so to speak.”

  “Give me the letter,” Alex hissed.

  “He will,” Malcolm said, stepping to Alex’s side and resting a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Especially if he turns up dead in his sleep tonight.”

  Instead of being cowed by Malcolm’s threat—a threat Armand took seriously enough to be alarmed—Shayles laughed. “So you would add murder to the list of misfortunes your good friend, Dr. Pearson, has suffered? Marriage wasn’t punishment enough for him?” He pivoted to face Armand, who was halfway across the hall, helping Katya remove her coat. “What charming friends you have, sir.”

  “That’s ‘my lord’ to you,” Katya said, glaring at Shayles.

  “Yes, you would know, I’m sure,” Shayles went on, looking as though he were having the best day of his life. “Is that what you called out in ecstasy when Dr. Pearson here was poking you through the back door? The two of you were close before that chit came along.” He nodded to Lavinia.

  “Filthy coward,” Katya hissed, snapping away and refusing to look at Shayles.

  Armand’s face heated, with embarrassment as much as rage. He stole a glance to Lavinia, praying she hadn’t taken Shayles’s meaning. There was no telling whether Lavinia had even heard Shayles’s accusation, though. She was busy directing the maids to take away coats and to show the Marlowe girls to their rooms. Although the bright pink of her cheeks and the miserable look on her face hinted that she’d not only heard Shayles, she’d come to understand more about his ancient past than she wanted to.

  The mess was made worse as Miller wandered into the hall to see what all the noise was about.

  “What is he doing here?” Alex seethed, staring daggers at Miller.

  “Who, Dr. Miller?” Shayles said with a delighted smile. “He’s my personal physician and an employee of my illustrious establishment.”

  “There’s nothing illustrious about it,” Rupert said, marching to join Alex and Malcolm.

  “And how would you know, boy?” Shayles snapped at him, then broke into a leering smile. “Though if you want to find out, I am more than willing to give you a complimentary pass for one night.”

  “I wouldn’t stoop so low,” Rupert replied.

  “Enough of this,” Alex roared, silencing everyone in the hall. He faced Shayles, practically quivering with rage. “You will return our letter or you will leave this house in pieces.”

  “I say, Pearson,” Shayles called cheerfully across the hall to Armand. “Do you let your friends speak to all your guests this way?” Before Armand could answer, he went on with, “I suppose you do, since you clearly don’t know the first thing about being a gentleman. Why don’t you just abdicate like a good boy and let Gatwick have it all?”

  “Because he can’t,” Katya snapped. “And even if he could, he wouldn’t.”

  “He could and he would,” Shayles said in an undertone to Miller. “If he were dead.”

  Miller snorted with laughter. “Where’d old Gatwick go anyhow?”

  “There’s a cricket match on,” Shayles said. “He probably went to ogle the players. Mark does love a man in whites.”

  “Really?” Miller’s brow rose. “I could have sworn he wasn’t…like that.”

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Armand growled, crossing to stand with his friends against Shayles. “Why are you here and what do you want?”

  “Ah, that’s more like it.” Shayles stepped away from Miller, smiling at the line of men opposing him. “Although I did enjoy our banter.”

  “What do you want?” Malcolm repeated Armand’s question with his most intimidating glare.

  Shayles barely flinched. “I want protection,” he said. “I don’t care about your efforts to extend the franchise to the pitiful working class or the rights of women, not that they deserve them,” he added with an off-hand gesture.

  “Get to your point,” Alex said.

  Shayles met his eyes and held them. “I want my club intact. I want any and all references to reform of sin laws stricken from the agenda. And I want the government to continue to turn a blind eye to my business dealings.”

  A sickening knot formed in Armand’s stomach. Shayles’s demands were as much an admission of what he’d suspected all along—that the activities of the Black Strap Club were every bit as illegal as they were reputed to be, that law enforcement had, so far, refused to investigate or report on them, and that Disraeli’s government had somehow been complicit in keeping the whole thing under wraps. The truth shocked him, but neither Malcolm nor Alex looked the least bit surprised, leading Armand to wonder if their accusations that he needed to pay more attention were true.

  “No,” Malcolm answered unequivocally, crossing his arms.

  “What a disappointing answer,” Shayles said with a false sigh of regret. “It’s a pity that something as easy to accomplish as looking the other way will bring down an entire government before it has a chance to take up the reins of power.”

  “Your club is an abomination and should be burned to the ground,” Katya said, joining the men at last. “If I could light the torch myself, I would.”

  “Why?” Shayles blinked at her. “When I have offered you such amenable terms to become a part of the establishment.”

  Katya grunted in disgust, which only lit a fire in Shayles’s eyes. His lust, in turn, had Malcolm turning red and looking ready to start a fistfight, or worse.

  “You won’t leave this house without handing over our letter,” Alex said, swinging the conversation back to where it should be. “You made a mistake coming here to taunt us.”

  Shayles’s smug grin faltered. It was the first sign of hope Armand had seen in the situation. Perhaps pride and arrogance truly had led the blackguard into making a critical error.

  “What would it take for you to hand over that letter?” he said, praying negotiations would work.

  Shayles blinked at him as though he were an idiot. “I just gave you my demands. Keep my club out of whatever machinations you are planning for November.”

  “And if we refuse to do that?” Armand asked, unable to shake the feeling Shayles wanted something more.

  Shayles hummed. “A hundred thousand pounds might do it.”

  Alex and Malcolm hissed in derision. Katya snorted with wry laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, Armand caught Lavinia staring at him with a look that said, “See?” Armand narrowed his eyes and studied Shayles closer. Perhaps Lavinia was right about money being the man’s sole aim after all.

  Shayles shrugged before he could address it and said, “If you refuse to meet my terms, then your lovely wife will have a long and interesting house party on her hands. I do hope she is up to the task of providing entertainment that will suit my needs.” He sent Lavinia a glance that made Armand want to strangle the life out of him.

  Lavinia didn’t hear the comment. She’d gone back to trying to keep her mother from lecturing Mrs. Ainsworth—who had appeared to assist the new guests. Armand had never been so grateful for Lady Prior’s interference.

  “Clearly, we aren’t going to solve anything this moment,” he said, scrambling to salvage the situation. “Alex, I advise that you make sure your wife is settled safely in your room. Katya, Rupert, I’m sure you can take care of yourselves and the girls. Malcolm, stay out of trouble. And Shayles.” Armand wanted to order the man to leave his house and never return, but his friends had a point. As long as he was at Broadclyft Hall, he couldn’t send the letter to the press and ruin them. At least, he couldn’t if he was watched at all times. “Go back to drinking my whiskey and reading my books, or whatever you were doing.”

  “Am I being sent to my room without any supper?” Shayles asked, his lips twitching with mirth. “I’ll go if Lady Helm promises to give me the spanking I deserve.”

  As much as Armand wanted to pummel the man, there were better ways to neutralize the threat he posed. “Bondar,” he called to his butler, who glowered at the side of the room. “Please escort Lord S
hayles and Dr. Miller back to wherever they were before and ensure that they are monitored.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Bondar answered, looking devilishly pleased with the order.

  “Our negotiations aren’t over,” Shayles said as though he’d been invited to tea. “In fact, they’ve only just begun. Good day, ladies,” he called across the hall to Lavinia, Marigold, and Lady Prior.

  “Oh? Good day, sir,” Lady Prior replied as though she’d been addressed by the Prince of Wales.

  Shayles chuckled, then motioned for Miller to accompany him away toward the afternoon parlor. Armand waited, watching to be sure they were truly gone, before turning to his friends.

  “That ass will pay for everything he’s putting us through,” Malcolm said before Armand could speak. “He’ll pay for everything.”

  “Yes, but if we’re not careful, so will we,” Alex said.

  “Why did you dolts send your plans to Gladstone in writing?” Katya asked, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “Only a pack of fools leaves a trail of evidence.”

  “Thank you for your opinion, Lady Stanhope,” Malcolm snapped at her. “But if you will recall, a highly-trusted, highly-competent man was entrusted to carry the letter and personally deliver it to Gladstone.”

  “Accidents always have a way of happening, no matter how clever and competent Mr. Phillips is,” Katya shot back.

  “Should we have sent you with the letter?” Malcolm went on, growing irate. “Would it have made you feel safer to transport the letter yourself, shoved up your—”

  “Will the two of you stop it?” Alex cut him off. “This is no time for your flirting.”

  “You call this flirting?” Katya balked.

  “Between you two? Yes,” Alex grumbled.

  “What are we going to do?” Armand asked. Across the room, he noticed Marigold stepping closer to Lavinia and whispering something in her ear. Lavinia bit her lip and cast a worried look in Armand’s direction. “I know how important it is to keep Shayles under this roof until he gives us the letter, but I won’t have Lavinia put in danger any longer than she has to be.”