Brides of London: Regency Romance Collection Page 28

  “Why did you not speak to me of this before?” she asked, her voice hard. “Why did you not tell me from the start that it was Lady Starling?”

  Lord Ancrum groaned and shook his head. “I was ashamed,” he admitted, his face coloring a little. “I did not want you to think ill of me and I know the reputation that Lady Starling has. Therefore, I—”

  “Therefore, you chose to hide the truth from me for fear of what I would think of you,” she interrupted, aware that this was, most likely, the truth in all its entirety, but finding that she was still quite angry with him for keeping it from her. “You were trying your utmost to prove to me that you were a gentleman of honor and you did not believe that your association with Lady Starling would show that. Is that not so?”

  “It is.” He was looking at her now with a grave expression, as though he realized just how upset she was and yet was praying that she would understand. Lydia wanted to be rational, wanted to accept that he had simply made a mistake, but all she could feel was anger and frustration.

  “Then is there a reason that Lady Starling came to me in order to force an end to our engagement?” she asked, a little too harshly. “Mayhap there is something you are hiding from me, Lord Ancrum?”

  As she fixed him with her gaze, Lydia saw the color drain from Lord Ancrum’s face and felt her stomach twist with a sudden guilt. She should not have suggested such a thing and yet, before she could retract her question, Lord Ancrum had begun to speak. His brows were lowered, his eyes filled with anger and his expression one of sheer fury.

  “I have never drawn near to Lady Starling, Lydia,” he hissed, taking a step closer. “I have never wanted to do so either. I am aware of her reputation, of course, but it has never been something that I have sought for myself. I made that clear to her from the beginning and in a way, she seemed glad of my friendship, for I did not behave as other gentlemen of her acquaintance did.”

  Lydia swallowed hard, an ache building in her throat. “I see,” she said dully, but Lord Ancrum was not finished.

  “When she told me of her difficulties with Lord Paulson, I could not simply turn around and walk away. I considered myself to be a gentleman willing to come to the aid of those who might need my assistance and, even though I knew I had to be careful, I offered to help extract her from Lord Paulson’s clutches.” His voice had grown a little louder now, drawing the attention of one or two passersby. “Mayhap it was foolish to do such a thing but that is the choice I made, Miss Whitaker. There was nothing more than friendship between myself and Lady Starling and I certainly do not condone what she said to you about our engagement. I cannot think where she had gotten such a notion, for as I have said, there was nothing of consequence between us.”

  Feeling a little shaken by the volume and sharpness of Lord Ancrum’s voice, Lydia drew in a steadying breath and dropped her gaze to the ground. Lord Ancrum said nothing more, his voice dying away and the words being captured by the breeze. Nothing more was said between them for some minutes, leaving Lydia feeling confused and upset. She wanted to tell Lord Ancrum that she had not meant to speak in such an accusatory manner, and that she was upset and confused over his actions, but the words would not form on her tongue. Instead, they simply stood there for some minutes, with only the wind and the birdsong to interrupt them.

  Eventually, Lord Ancrum cleared his throat and, daring a glance up at him, Lydia saw that he looked heartily ashamed of his behavior. His face was red, his eyes downcast, and his expression one of ruefulness.

  “Miss Whitaker—Lydia, I—”

  “There she is!”

  Lydia whirled around, hearing a hard, angry voice speaking just behind her. Two men walked closer to her, their faces holding identical hard expressions. Stumbling forward, she felt herself enclosed by Lord Ancrum’s arms and clung to him, feeling as though he were her anchor in a dreadful storm.

  “Miss Whitaker, I believe?” the first man said, looking at her with interest. “Daughter of Viscount Templeton?”

  “I am,” Lydia replied, aware of the small crowd that was beginning to form around them. “Who are you, might I ask?” She took in the man, seeing his plain clothes but aware that he was not poorly dressed. All in all, he looked quite respectable.

  “Jones, of the Bow Street Runners,” the man replied with a small bow. “We have need to speak to you, Miss Whitaker.”

  “At once,” the second man replied, gesturing for her to walk with him, but Lydia only shook her head.

  “I shall not go with you,” she stated firmly, her eyes beginning to search the crowd for the person who had directed the two men towards her. “Whatever it is you wish to ask, you may ask it here.”

  The second man’s brows lowered, his expression growing irritated. “I am in no mood for games, Miss Whitaker. A mere conversation is all that is required at this present moment, although you will need to consider each and every answer you give us carefully. Only the truth will do, given that you have been accused.”

  The color drained from Lydia’s face, her hands grasping tightly onto Lord Ancrum’s arm as his other hand slipped about her waist, steadying her. “Accused?” she repeated, aware that every eye was on her, every face turned towards hers with interest. “Of what, might I ask?” She felt her strength begin to fade away but forced herself to stand tall and speak with determination. “And who is it that accuses me?”

  “You were seen leaving the room, Miss Whitaker.” The singsong voice of Lady Starling reached Lydia’s ears, and she turned her head to see the beautiful lady extract herself from the crowd and begin to slowly walk towards both Lydia and Lord Ancrum. “You did not return until after Lord Ancrum had found you. The poor fellow must have been so shocked to see Lord Paulson lying stabbed through the heart.” Her eyes flickered to Lord Ancrum, her expression appearing sympathetic. “And you are an excellent actress, I must say. Pretending to be shocked and horrified when you yourself were the one to kill him.”

  A gasp rippled around the crowd and Lydia felt herself grow nauseous with a sudden fear. The Bow Street Runners were reaching for her, but Lydia shook her head, holding up one hand to them.

  “I did not kill Lord Paulson,” she stated as firmly as she could. “I had nothing to do with his death.”

  “If you would just come with us,” the first man said, as gently as he could. “We just need to speak to you, that’s all.”

  Lady Starling’s eyes glittered, her hateful gaze fixed upon Lydia. “You tried to entangle Lord Ancrum in your little scheme,” she said loudly, so that not a single word would be missed by the gathered crowd. “You forced him to offer you his hand in marriage so that your reputation would not be disgraced—and in doing so, entrapped him forever.” She shook her head pityingly. “But not any longer, Miss Whitaker.”

  “I had no reason to kill Lord Paulson,” Lydia stammered, ignoring Lady Starling’s visible dislike. “I had nothing to do with his death.”

  Lady Starling tutted, as though Lydia were being deliberately untruthful. “You must not pretend that your mother’s difficulties were not a reason for you to wish Lord Paulson gone from this earth,” she replied softly, making a chill run down Lydia’s spine. “Lying will do you no good, Miss Whitaker. The Bow Street Runners will have the truth from you one way or the other.”

  Lydia’s breath became ragged and she looked up into the face of Lord Ancrum, desperate to see some sort of reassurance, some sort of hope there. Lord Ancrum was looking fixedly at Lady Starling, his mouth pulled taught and his jaw set firm. Anger flashed in his eyes and seeing that look, Lydia was reassured that he felt nothing for Lady Starling and all that she offered.

  “We will discuss this further at my townhouse.”

  Lord Ancrum’s voice was loud and filled with authority and even the Bow Street Runners seemed to be aware of it, for they took a small step back from Lydia, with the second letting his outstretched hand fall back to his side.

  “Lady Starling,” Lord Ancrum continued, his arm still prote
ctively around Lydia, “you will accompany us also. I will not allow my betrothed to stand accused of something she did not do—and all of you present, I would ask you to wait before you make your own judgments that you will then, no doubt, spread throughout all of London.” The crowd muttered at this but Lord Ancrum silenced them with one swift motion of his hand. “I will not have rumors about my betrothed spread through the rumor mills,” he said angrily. “Hold your tongues until judgment has been served and the truth comes to light.”

  “Your townhouse, then,” Lady Starling said smoothly, taking a step towards him and smiling up into his face, ignoring Lydia completely. “I should be glad to attend with you, Lord Ancrum.”

  Lydia shuddered violently, the fear of what could happen to her taking a hold of her heart. Lord Ancrum said nothing more but gestured for Lady Starling to move away, and, much to her relief, the Bow Street Runners did the same.

  “I believe I know the truth, Lydia,” Lord Ancrum whispered in her ear as they walked from the park. “You must trust me for what is to come.”

  Lydia looked up at him, her hand snaking around under his arm, holding onto him for support. “I do trust you.”

  “You may hear me say things that will seem to break your heart, but it is naught but a ploy,” he added, just as Lady Starling turned her head to look at them both. “It will all be nothing more than an act, as though I were a performer at the theatre.” His jaw clenched as he returned Lady Starling’s gaze, who smiled at him smugly before turning her head away. “And I will make certain this matter comes to an end.”

  15

  “I would have you seek her out and bring her here most urgently.”

  Frantically, Joseph gave instructions to his butler, who frowned heavily at the dark expression on his master’s face. He told him precisely what he was to do and urged him to send as many footmen out as possible. The butler nodded quickly and hurried away, fully prepared to do his master’s bidding.

  Clearing his throat, Joseph prepared himself for what he was to do next. It had only been earlier that afternoon that he had realized the truth, had come to see just how foolish he had been—and whilst everything, as yet, did not quite make sense, he was quite certain of where the guilt lay.

  His thoughts returned to Lydia. She had been so terribly afraid, but in spite of this, had proven to him just how strong a character she had. In front of the small crowd and the gloating expression of Lady Starling, she had stood tall and declared herself innocent of any crime. It had only been when the Bow Street Runners had come to take her with them that she had turned to him for support.

  Lady Starling was practically alive with the delight of what she had orchestrated. He had not understood why she had been so eager to separate both himself and Lydia but now, finally, he was beginning to see clearly the truth of the matter. No doubt Lady Starling believed herself to be doing something for which he would be grateful, but in that regard, she had entirely mistaken him.

  Settling his shoulders, Joseph drew in a long breath and walked back along the corridor towards the drawing room. He had not wanted to leave Lydia sitting there alone, but he had not had any other choice, given that he had to speak to his butler about what was required. It also would, he hoped, give Lady Starling the impression that he was not particularly considerate of Lydia, which, whilst being entirely untrue, was what he wished her to think.

  Pushing open the door, he cleared his throat and gestured to the two Bow Street Runners, who were standing by the empty fireplace.

  “A drink, gentlemen?” he asked, the whisky and brandy to the left of the fireplace. “Please, help yourselves. I can see that my staff have been efficient enough to bring the ladies some tea, so please do ensure you have something to enjoy also.”

  The two Bow Street Runners glanced at one another and, after another moment of hesitation, went to pour themselves something from the table. Joining them, Joseph poured a large measure of whisky into a glass and then returned to where he had been standing, able to see Lydia, the two Bow Street Runners, and Lady Starling. Lady Starling was sitting opposite Lydia, looking as calm and collected as he had ever seen her. She was looking towards Lydia, her eyes sharp and a tiny smile lifting the corners of her mouth, giving her a distinctly arrogant appearance. Joseph felt his stomach twist, his repugnance growing steadily, but he fought to keep such emotions from his expression.

  “Now,” he began, as the two other men returned to where they had been standing. “You are to speak to Miss Whitaker about Lord Paulson’s death, I believe.” He gestured towards where Lydia sat. “You believe she is the one to have killed Lord Paulson, then?”

  Mr. Jones, the first Bow Street Runner, cleared his throat gruffly but nodded. “It is possible,” he replied, ignoring Lydia’s swift intake of breath. “I would say we have good reason to believe it to be true as well. After all, Lady Starling here has told us that Miss Whitaker had left the room long before the musical performance even started and was only found by chance thereafter.”

  Joseph, who thought this to be a rather unconvincing reason to place the blame solely on Lydia’s shoulders, shrugged.

  “On top of which, Lady Starling was good enough to reveal to us that Lady Templeton, Miss Whitaker’s mother, was in debt to Lord Paulson. I will not go into specifics, but the incident that Lord Paulson threatened to reveal could have ruined the Templeton family. Miss Whitaker would have been ignored by all of society and thrust into a life of loneliness and isolation.”

  “And so, you believe her to be guilty of killing Lord Paulson in order to protect herself and her mother?” Joseph asked, keeping his sigh of exasperation to himself. Seeing the two men nod, he shot a glance towards Lydia, who was staring up at him, white-faced and clearly afraid.

  “I know that you were only forced to propose to Miss Whitaker because of what she saw,” Lady Starling murmured, getting to her feet and taking a few steps towards him. Her eyes were filled with sympathy, seeming to glow as she looked at him. “You were afraid that she would believe you to be the murderer and so, to protect yourself and her reputation, you had no choice but to propose marriage to her.”

  Joseph, who knew this was, in fact, quite true, nodded slowly. “That is indeed the case, Lady Starling,” he admitted, not even glancing at Lydia. He forced a smile to his face as Lady Starling put her hand on his arm for a moment, as though in solidarity. “However, as much as I will admit that, I cannot pretend that such reasoning gives Miss Whitaker any particular guilt. No one saw her enter the room.”

  “But she was the only one absent from the drawing room for a prolonged length of time,” the second Bow Street Runner said gruffly, as Lady Starling dropped her hand.

  Lady Starling sighed heavily and looked back at Joseph, ignoring Lydia completely. “You are a kind man to try and protect Miss Whitaker, even though you care nothing for her,” she said softly. “But you need not do so any longer. No one will criticize you for bringing your engagement to a close now, Lord Ancrum. Allow justice to take its course. You will find yourself free once more.”

  Joseph looked down into the face of Lady Starling and took in everything he saw there. She was beautiful, yes, but underneath that beauty lay a deep cruelty that bit out at everyone around her, at everyone who did her wrong. And it was up to him to reveal it.

  “You want me to be free from my betrothal, do you not, Lady Starling?” he asked, putting his hand out and capturing hers with his fingers. “That is the truth of the matter. You have tried your utmost to discover a way to remove me from this betrothal.” He kept his voice quiet and gentle, hating how his fingers touched hers but forcing himself to do so regardless.

  “I have always sought your best, Lord Ancrum,” she told him, her blue eyes fixed upon his and her words sweet and smooth as she spoke. “I know that this engagement must have been a torturous burden for you. You barely knew this creature and in spite of that, you were supposed to consider matrimony?” She sighed heavily and shook her head, clearly feeling a g
ood deal of sorrow over what she considered to have been a terrible burden for him. “But you shall be free of it now and how much better for you that will be. You will be able to go about your life as you wish and take a bride of your choosing.”

  “A bride of my own choice,” Joseph murmured, his heart twisting painfully as he heard Lydia gasp. “Someone whom I have come to know better than any other. Someone who has relied on me. Someone who has my trust. Someone who I must pray and hope will be able to turn her back on any other and look only to me.”

  A slow smile began to spread across Lady Starling’s face and, as she looked up at him, Joseph felt a sense of triumph begin to flood him. This was going precisely as he had planned.

  “You are much too generous, Lord Ancrum,” Lady Starling murmured, pressing his hand with hers. “But surely you must know that I would turn my back on all others should you offer me your hand. I have found our acquaintance growing into a deep intimacy that I would long to continue.”

  Joseph’s jaw set, hearing the truth of what Lady Starling desired. It was as though a curtain was slowly begin pulled back to reveal what was hidden beneath it, letting him see the truth for what it was.

  “You seek to blame my betrothed for the death of Lord Paulson so that you might take her place,” he said bluntly, tugging his hand out of hers and stepping back, his brows lowering in anger. Lady Starling’s eyes flared with surprise, her mouth falling ajar for a moment as he gestured wildly towards the Bow Street Runners. “You have taken these men in as you have done with so many others. You have tried to lay the guilt at Miss Whitaker’s feet when she has had nothing to do with it.”

  “I am seeking only to protect you!” Lady Starling exclaimed, losing some of her decorum for a moment. “I am trying to ensure that you do not shoulder the blame.”

  Joseph shook his head, a snort of disgust leaving his mouth. “That has always been your intention, has it not, Lady Starling? You did not want me to take the blame for Lord Paulson’s death, for then your plan would have come to naught.”