Scandalous Lords and Courtship Read online

He half expected her to declare that it was for that reason that she had accepted Mr. Northcutt’s proposal, but instead she merely sighed and looked down. His heart beat faster, and he had to control the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her.

  William turned and picked up the fob once more. It was a round, gold ball with a worked design over its surface, the letter C in relief on one side. “If only I could remember when I have seen this fob.” And then in a flash it came to him—that night when Reginald had played with his watch chain to such annoying effect. The round fob had been on that chain.

  “I know the identity of our thief,” he said.

  She looked at him, her large blue eyes wide with fear and anticipation.

  “Reginald had just such a fob.”

  “Cousin Reginald?”

  William nodded solemnly. “The C is for Carlyle.”

  “But what is in these papers that he would seek to have back? Despite all of our efforts, I have been able to discern no fraud against the estate, and my widow’s portion was allotted to me in due course.”

  “There must be something here that we haven’t discovered,” William said sternly. “If you will examine these notebooks, I will review the estate accounts once more.”

  They worked for several hours in relative quiet, only stopping when Abbott brought in a tray with tea and biscuits, and then again when he appeared with the offer of claret and more substantial refreshments. It was strange, Helena thought, how even with the harsh silence between them, the mere presence of Lord Brandon made her feel infinitely better. She experienced an ease of company that was new to her. Could that be true in marriage as well? She had to admit that she had never felt perfectly at ease with her husband. Dazzled, certainly. And anxious for his good opinion, but never entirely relaxed. He was the kind of person who immediately commanded attention, not the sort of person to be comfortable with.

  Finally, the clock on the mantle struck seven and William said, “Perhaps we should suspend our efforts for today.”

  Helena looked up with a start. She had completely forgotten about a theater engagement, and would now be considerably rushed in her dress. She nodded. “We have been too long at the work, and I must dress for the theater.” She extended her hand to him. “Thank you again, Lord Brandon. Thank you for coming.”

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips and allowed his lips to linger as long as he dared over the smooth whiteness of her skin. “Of course, Lady Carlyle.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I have always wanted to see Measure for Measure,” Helena said as their carriage maneuvered between all the others lining up to deposit their occupants at the theater.

  “Such a lovely suggestion by Mr. Northcutt to offer us a place in his box,” replied Lady Wickersham.

  “Oh yes, he has been most obliging to think of us.”

  “I am sure the compliment was meant for you, my dear. Despite his unremarkable legs, he might make you a decent husband.”

  Helena chuckled self-consciously. “We shall see. Perhaps at some point in the future, when I am ready to marry again. In any case, he likes the theater. That is something.”

  “Or he likes being seen at the theater, which may be much the same.”

  Mr. Northcutt greeted them warmly and invited Helena and her aunt to sit with him at the front of the box. He sat beside Helena and leaned over conspiratorially. “How delightful to have you with us tonight. At the intermission, I have a surprise for you.”

  “For me?” Helena said with some unease. It was one thing to receive flowers but quite another to receive anything of value. She wasn’t sure she wished to be beholden to Mr. Northcutt. It would merely embolden him to press her further.

  “Why yes. But I cannot tell you now or it will not be a surprise.”

  “Of course,” Helena replied, and then to say something, she added, “Measure for Measure is such an interesting play, do you not think? There is often much duplicity in moralizing men. Shakespeare knew of what he wrote.”

  “And of the virtue of women. The virtuous Isabella gets her reward when she marries the duke in the final scene.”

  “So, you feel that marriage is a reward for a woman?”

  He looked at her surprised. “Why, of course. All good comedies end with a wedding, don’t you know.”

  She was about to respond, but then the lights dimmed, and the curtain rose upon the streets of Vienna. Her attention was taken by the magic of the theater, and she became so engrossed in the play that she didn’t notice Mr. Northcutt had leaned quite so far in her direction that his leg practically touched hers and his hand rested on the back of her chair. She sat up straighter and shifted her legs. She felt a sudden unease. Surely, Mr. Northcutt wouldn’t renew his addresses in the middle of the theater. She turned back to the play.

  At the end of the act, Mr. Northcutt, who had a wide acquaintance, welcomed any number of people into the box. There grew such a crowd, that Helena was separated from her aunt in the confusion. Then Northcutt appeared at her side.

  “You know a great number of people, Mr. Northcutt,” Helena said.

  “Let us come away from this crush. I can show you the surprise.”

  He took her elbow very firmly and guided her out the back of the box and down the stairs to the main floor.

  She asked him several times where they were going, but he merely smiled and pulled her along until they reached the street in front of the theater. A carriage stood in the road. She jerked with all her might and yanked free of his grip “I will not go another foot until you tell me what this is all about.”

  He bowed with a flourish. “This is the surprise, my dear. We are eloping to Scotland.”

  Helena stood rigid with anger. “Eloping? Is this your idea of a joke? I will not elope with you to Scotland or anywhere else!”

  “Ah, but I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. Do not worry, I have left word with your aunt of our intentions. We may come to pay her a visit in all propriety once we are duly man and wife.”

  Then, out of nowhere, two men raced toward her with a large wool blanket and rope. Despite her attempts to kick free, they got the blanket over her head and then she was trussed up and carried. The wool of the blanket suffocated her. Her panicked breathing increased. She tried to free her hands, but they were bound behind her back with stiff rope and her ankles likewise. The man heaved with exertion and she fell against the wall of something and hit her head. Then came the telltale bumps of a carriage over the London cobblestones.

  * * *

  William sat in front of the fire at his lodgings and sipped a Madeira, replaying over and over in his head the events of the afternoon. Lady Carlyle was so indescribably magnificent. He hoped that by following Stirling’s good advice he had made some small steps toward her heart. Although her words had been serious, he had discovered a certain look in her eye when she regarded him that boded well for the future. There had been some warmth in the look, and that warmth might possibly be coaxed into a blaze given enough time and patience.

  Then there was the matter of Carlyle’s murder. If he could solve it for her, gratitude might be added to other feelings. The housebreaker and the thief had to be one and the same; otherwise, there were too many coincidences. But if nothing had been taken, what could Reginald have possibly been looking for? Then again, if Reginald hadn’t found what he wanted, he would surely try again. Lady Carlyle might be in some danger, and Lord Brandon was just the man to protect her, if she would let him.

  Could Carlyle’s death have to do with depredations on the estate? The estate papers appeared to be in order. Or perhaps a long-lost secret. For what infraction had Reginald been sent down from Oxford? William wracked his brain to remember. But Reginald would have had no reason to kill Carlyle so many years later if Reginald had secrets from his Oxford days.

  Oxford days. And then it hit him. Lady Carlyle had given him the notebook from their Oxford days. Could that be what Reginald had been after but couldn’t find? Wi
lliam leaped from his chair and crossed the room to his desk. He extracted the notebook and brought it back to the light of the fire.

  He read the notebook backwards and forwards twice, looking for some hint as to why Reginald would want to steal it and how the theft would be in any way connected with Carlyle’s death. There had to be some information hidden away in Carlyle’s youthful scribbles that would have jeopardized Reginald’s inheritance. For the theory that Officer Stephens had first proposed, and that Lord Brandon had firmly in mind after discovering the fob, was that Reginald had tired of waiting for his inheritance. Reginald worried that Lady Carlyle might get with child at any point, thus cutting him out, and had killed Carlyle for the title once he arranged for Carlyle’s murder to look like mischance. Thus, Reginald sought the notebook when he discovered that Lady Carlyle had found it and taken it with her to London.

  It seemed like a very sound and rational theory, until he read through the notebook for the third time. This time, instead of focusing on Reginald, he simply read it and a new picture emerged.

  “Oh God,” he exclaimed. “What a fool I have been!”

  Chapter Nine

  “Could you, at the very least, remove this blanket? I will suffocate otherwise,” Helena said.

  “Yes, my dear. Give me a moment,” replied Mr. Northcutt.

  She felt tugs on the blanket and then the sudden brush of fresh, cold air on her cheek. She blinked. Faint light filtered through the curtained windows of the carriage, indicating that they hadn’t left the city entirely. She stared at Northcutt contemptuously. “So?”

  Northcutt tucked the blanket around her shoulders and then sat back against the squabs. “You are without your cloak and may catch cold on the journey,” he said, as if that explained all.

  “We are definitely bound for Gretna Green, then, to be married over the anvil?” she said with all the disdain she could muster.

  “I am afraid that I couldn’t risk the banns.”

  “But why not ask me to marry you in the proper fashion? Why kidnap me in this low manner? I thought you were a gentleman.”

  “Oh, I am, but even gentlemen can be pushed too far. If you had given me the yes I deserve, then this all could have been very different.”

  “I cannot believe that you ever cared for me. It was just money you were after.”

  Northcutt leaned forward, placed his hand on her knee and caressed it slowly. “My dear Helena, you know that my heart has always been yours to command. I have merely accelerated the time frame of our joyful union.”

  Helena felt a surge of panic at the press of his hand. She had to figure a way to escape the carriage. Scotland was a long distance away. They would have to change horses multiple times. She would find some opportunity to distract him and then run for assistance. Before nightfall, he would have to untie her because she certainly couldn’t enter an inn bound as she was. Therefore, it wouldn’t do to openly fight him now. He must be made to think that she was slowly reconciling herself to her fate.

  “I see,” she replied. “But why now? What has happened to set you upon this course? I still do not understand.”

  Mr. Northcutt smiled at her. “Unfortunately, my run of luck has ended. But do not worry, dear Helena, your fortune will be more than sufficient for us both.”

  * * *

  Lord Brandon paced the floor. He pulled out his watch and consulted it for the tenth time. She had mentioned the theater, so he had to wait for her to return to her aunt’s house in order to be sure of speaking with her alone. That stiff Abbott would likely not let him enter the house to await their arrival. Old-fashioned servants held strict views on propriety. Not that the lateness of the hour made such a visit entirely appropriate, either.

  He had a sudden vision of Lady Carlyle, standing alone by the library fire, the dappled light reflected on her pale cheek, her eyes mysterious and her lips warm and yielding.

  No, better not to think of that.

  He couldn’t wait any longer. He gave Perkins instructions to call him a hack carriage, straightened his cravat, threw on his greatcoat and headed out into the night, clutching a notebook.

  Abbott received him with chilly pomp, which suggested, that gentlemen did not visit ladies at such an advanced hour of the evening. However, he ushered him into the drawing room and shut the door behind him saying as he did so, “I will see if the ladies are disposed to attend to you.”

  William stood beside a large candelabra that provided the only light in the chilly room, waiting nervously for the sight of Lady Carlyle.

  Instead, Lady Wickersham bustled in, followed by several dogs. She shut the door loudly behind her. “Oh, Lord Brandon, I am so glad you have come! I don’t know what to do. Why would she have run off like this?”

  “Where is Lady Carlyle?”

  “Gone, Lord Brandon. Gone before the second act started. There were so many people in the box, I didn’t notice when they left, but when the second act started, she wasn’t there and then he wasn’t there. And it is so very odd because he doesn’t even have very good legs.”

  “What? Where has she gone?”

  “Off. I guess it must be explained by this note they handed me. But still, I do not fully understand.” She handed William a crumpled paper. “Here, maybe you can make sense of it all.”

  He unfolded the crumpled paper and hurried over to the light. In a looping script he read:

  Dear Lady Wickersham,

  I know that this may come as a shock, but our only excuse must be that the great love we feel for one another cannot be delayed by the societal conventions. We have waited through mourning and now seek to confirm by marriage the love we have held secret ere long. Please do not be concerned for the welfare of your niece. She is safe and travels in comfort with me to Scotland. Despite the abruptness of this news, I hope that you will receive us back in London when we return as man and wife. Best wishes for your health and happiness until that time.

  Yours,

  Harcourt Northcutt

  William crushed the paper in his palm. “When did they leave?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. More than an hour ago, I suspect. It was after the first act. But what does it all mean? Did Helena really wish to marry Mr. Northcutt?”

  “If she did, she might regret it, because he is the man who murdered her husband.”

  “It wasn’t that awful Reginald?”

  “No, for once Reginald might actually have been correct. But, I am afraid we don’t have much time if they have got a whole hour ahead of us.”

  “Are you going to go after them?”

  “Yes.” He started to pace. “But I am unlikely to be able to trace them through London. And I will need my gun.”

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Lady Wickersham wrung her hands. “Please be careful, Lord Brandon.”

  He stopped pacing and regarded her solemnly. “Lady Wickersham, I promise I will do all within my power to bring your niece home. You can trust me.”

  Lady Wickersham extended her hand, and when he took it, she gave his hand a squeeze. “I know you will, Lord Brandon. The legs always tell.”

  He was unsure of the proper reaction to that remark, but decided not to question her further.

  Chapter Ten

  Instead of going home, William hailed a hackney carriage and made his way to a very modest neighborhood, some distance from his own rooms. He found the house he was looking for and knocked loudly. Fortunately, Officer Stephens, an intelligent young man, quickly awakened from slumber and more quickly mobilized to chase the eloping couple. Then it was simply a matter of returning to William’s rooms to call up his racing curricle from the stables and retrieve a very fine pair of dueling pistols, a lantern, and a relatively current map. William handed one of the guns to Stephens. “Northcutt will probably have that silver pistol with him. Let us hope that we are not too late.”

  * * *

  Helena watched anxiously as Northcutt slumped down into the seat, his head lolling to one side, apparently deep in
slumber. How he could possibly sleep at a moment like this was beyond her comprehension. Nevertheless, it gave her an opportunity to think and plan. She tried to work her hands free once more, but only succeeded in causing the skin of her wrists to ache.

  She leaned over and moved the curtain aside with her nose. The full moon gave enough light to see by. They had made their way out of London, and now traveled the Great North Road en route to Edinburgh. She wondered just how long it would be until morning, when surely the horses would need to be changed if they were to proceed any farther. If there were but a way to get word to her aunt. Aunt Wickersham could contact the magistrate of Bow Street, who might be able to send someone after them. Assuming her aunt would disbelieve the elopement story, of course. Then again, perhaps she would think Helena capable of an elopement.

  Helena had a sudden vision of herself hauled into a Scottish church beside Mr. Northcutt and recoiled. How had she ever tolerated his company? And then the truth of the matter struck home. She would never willingly marry Northcutt because she was in love with another. Somehow, without knowing quite how it happened, Lord Brandon had quietly stolen her heart. She smiled despite her dire circumstances. She was in love with the kind and dependable Lord Brandon. The Lord Brandon whose handsome face and fine figure she had somehow overlooked for years. Who could have predicted such an outcome?

  Unfortunately, circumstances prevented her from dwelling for more than a moment on the perfections of Lord Brandon’s warm brown eyes and lopsided smile. How could she ever explain this situation to him, if, that is, she managed to escape? He would think she had gone willingly, and then there would be no hope of rekindling his love. Her heart sank.

  Helena pulled herself together. She would have to face that problem when it presented itself. First, she had to make her plans and escape.

  She turned back to the sleeping Northcutt. In the dim light of the carriage, she could see the precision of his cravat and the fastidious way he had smoothed down the many capes of his driving coat. She noticed that he still gripped a scented handkerchief in one hand. She had seen him hold it to his nose whenever the air of a ballroom felt particularly close and fetid. Suddenly, she had a brilliant idea.