Page 38 of The Ladies Road Guide to Utter Ruin (The Ill-Mannered Ladies #2)

38

About ten minutes after George and I joined Lord Alvanley in the dining room, we heard voices approaching from the hallway, the discussion lively but inaudible through the thick stone walls.

I took a sip of claret, for courage, and watched the door. George and Alvanley stood near the hearth—behind the dining table, which still held the remains of the dinner we had interrupted—their own intense conversation suspended as they, too, waited for the door to open.

Julia entered first, and the relief on her face was declaration enough: the ladies had agreed to take in Hester and Miss Grant.

“We know what it is like to have the life we wanted forcibly refused by our family,” Lady Eleanor added after announcing the news. She looked fondly at Miss Ponsonby at her side. “It is hard to stand against such intervention. One needs resources and, of course, the help of friends and kind people. However, our support does come with one caveat. We cannot stand in the way of the law. Lord Deele is Lady Hester’s guardian, and if he insists on taking her from this house, I am afraid we cannot stop him.”

“Lord Alvanley and I have the same caveat,” Mr. Brummell said.

Beside him, Alvanley nodded. “However, we will do everything we can to assist up to that point.”

“We understand,” Julia said. “Thank you all, so much.”

The relief of their agreement seemed to pull all the energy from my limbs, my body as heavy as lead.

Julia skirted the table to stand beside me as the ladies joined Brummell and Alvanley at the hearth.

“If you agree, we will pay for their lodging,” she murmured close to my ear, her words barely above a breath. “Miss Grant has some money left from an inheritance, but she should keep that in the event that they can set up their own household. Besides, from what I have heard among society and what Lady Eleanor has intimated tonight, the ladies have a very limited source of funds, so this will help them as well as Lady Hester and Miss Grant.”

“Of course we will pay,” I said. The economics of independence was always fraught for women, whether they were of high station or low. Julia and I knew control of one’s own money meant control of one’s own life, which was probably why men kept it from women in every way conceivable.

“What do we do if Deele insists on taking Hester?” she asked.

But I did not get a chance to answer, for a clatter of hooves sounded outside. We all peered through the old glass at the smeared whirl of activity in the drive. As far as I could tell, not a coach, but three horsemen.

“Is it Mr. Kent and Lord Evan?” Julia said, the anticipation in her voice mirroring my own rise of hope. “They have been so long!”

We both moved to the window, although proximity did nothing to improve the clarity of our view. From the hallway, I heard the front door opening, some muffled instructions in the voice of my beloved—my heart suddenly lighter at that dear sound—and then the footman knocked upon the dining room door.

“Come,” Lady Eleanor said.

The door opened and the footman announced, “Lord Evan Belford and Mr. Kent, my lady.”

And Weatherly, for I could see him standing in the hallway too.

Evan and Kent entered and bowed. We all returned the honors although all I wished to do was run to my love. I could see the same impulse barely contained in my sister’s curtsy.

Evan’s eyes found mine, his wry smile warm but tired: This is an unexpected solution.

I shifted my own smile into a moue of doubt: I hope it works.

Both he and Mr. Kent had divested themselves of greatcoats and hats, but they were road-stained, with dust smeared upon their faces and fatigue dark around their eyes. Kent had dried leaves caught in his hair and in the collar of his jacket, as if he had been dragged through a bush.

“You are most welcome, gentlemen,” Lady Eleanor said. “I am pleased to see you again, Lord Evan.”

Evan bowed. “Lady Eleanor, Miss Ponsonby, allow me to introduce Mr. Kent.”

The two ladies inclined their heads graciously.

“It has been a long while, Belford,” Lord Alvanley said with some warmth. “I am glad to see you well.”

There was, I think, a hint of relief in Evan’s return smile. “Thank you, Alvanley. May I introduce Mr. Kent, lately of Bow Street.”

Mr. Kent bowed again, apparently unmoved by an introduction to the most powerful men in society. “How do you do.”

“We are very pleased that your sister and Miss Grant will be staying with us, Lord Evan,” Miss Ponsonby said. She bit her lip. “All proceeding as we hope, of course.”

“Indeed.” Evan bowed again. “And I thank you for your generosity. May I see my sister?”

“Yes, yes, come this way,” Lady Eleanor said, leading the way out of the room. “She is well enough and almost awake.” Evan looked over his shoulder at me. We would confer later. I nodded.

“You are covered in leaves, Mr. Kent,” Julia said, crossing to him and gently picking the offending foliage from his collar.

Mr. Kent smiled, their eyes meeting in such a full, raw connection that I looked away. “I took Deele’s horse into the woodland beside the road. It was not pleased about it,” he said.

Across the room, I saw Mr. Brummell note the intimacy with a lift of an eyebrow. Did nothing get past the man?

“Weatherly,” I called, making my way past my sister and her swain to the hallway.

“Yes, my lady?”

He was more worse for wear than Evan and Mr. Kent, his greatcoat wet and muddy in patches, and a graze upon his cheek. He saw my evaluation.

“I came off a few times,” he said ruefully. “I think the horse knew I was not a skilled rider.”

“Are you hurt, beyond—?” I motioned to his face.

“No, my lady. Lord Evan checked me, but I think I may have slowed down our progress. I am sorry.”

I waved away the need for apology. “Do you think you are up to another task with the horses? It will be in the phaeton.”

He straightened, a small smile appearing. “You want me to drive the phaeton?”

Weatherly might not yet be skilled in the saddle, but he was an excellent carriage driver. “I need you to take Lady Davenport’s team and the other horses to the Hand Inn. Rouse the publican, any way you can, and tell him Lady Augusta Colebrook wishes for a change of horses. Try to get a matched pair for the phaeton—I want to get back to Davenport Hall tonight—but I suspect we will have to take what we can get.”

Or ride with all speed to Liverpool. Either way, fresh horses were essential.

“Of course, my lady.”

I handed over my bag of coins. “Make sure he knows he is stabling Lady Davenport’s best team until she reclaims them. Press upon him that he must not let anyone else use them in the meantime or he will have hell to pay from Lord Davenport. Give him double what he asks.”

“I will, my lady.” He hesitated. “Will Lord Evan and Mr. Kent be coming back with us?”

A good question. The problematic collusion between Mulholland and Deele was still unanswered. Was the thieftaker nearby? Surely he could not know we were here in Wales. And if we did end up returning to Davenport Hall, Julia and I would be coming face-to-face with Duffy again. A confrontation that would be even more complicated with Evan and Kent in tow. Particularly since I suspected Julia was no longer in the mood to be conciliatory toward our brother.

But that was all too far in the future.

I shook my head. “I do not know.”

···

I felt a touch upon my shoulder and opened my eyes, somewhat disoriented by the last remnants of sleep. I still sat at the dining table, Evan in the chair beside mine, his arm around me and my head nestled quite comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder. I had no recollection of how that had happened.

“I just heard the lookout return,” he said. “Deele must be coming.”

The last I remembered was discussing Hester’s condition—reasonable, considering what she had been through—and eating the very welcome selection of cold meats, bread, and cheese that Lady Eleanor had supplied for an impromptu supper. Apparently, I could not withstand a full stomach, a warm hearth, and one, admittedly large, glass of claret. Nor, it seemed, Evan’s shoulder. Using him as a pillow was becoming quite a habit and one in which I found a great deal of comfort. I never felt safer than when I was in his arms. I turned more into his shoulder, feeling the broad muscle beneath my cheek and breathing in his scent: a mix of soap and saddle leather and earthy male skin.

The door opened to admit Mr. Brummell. “Deele is coming up the hill,” he announced. Upon seeing me still leaning against Evan, he raised his quizzing glass upon its riband to view the tableau. I eyed him back, daring him to make one of his bon mots, but he merely smiled. An oddly satisfied smile. “Lady Eleanor wishes us to assemble in the library,” he added.

I chose to take the smile as a sign of his approval and glanced at the mantel clock. Just past midnight: I had slept for over an hour and a half and felt a great deal better for it. A tight squeeze of my eyelids cleared the last of my slumber.

I extracted myself from the dining chair and Evan’s arm. “I sent Weatherly to change the horses at the inn,” I said. “Fresh enough to get to Liverpool if you should need to flee.”

Evan nodded and stood, massaging his shoulder. The dear man must have remained in the same position for the entire hour and a half. “Thank you. I hope it will not come to that.”

If it did come to it, if Deele insisted upon taking Hester, what would Evan actually do? Would violence ensue? I suspected it might, for I could not see Evan allowing his brother to lay hands upon their sister again.

We joined Julia and Mr. Kent, Lord Alvanley and Mr. Brummell, and Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby in the library. Miss Ponsonby and Julia were seated, Lady Eleanor stationed at the door, and the men ranged alongside the hearth. Julia waved me over to sit beside her on the sofa.

“Your hair is all squashed,” she said, reaching over to tease out a flat curl. She twisted the offending lock around her forefinger and let it loose. “There.”

Apparently, it was important to have symmetrical hair when one was confronting a furious adversary.

A loud thumping upon the front door echoed through the cottage. A fist, I would say, four times upon the wood. I shifted a little more to the edge of the sofa. I did not want to recline too much; facing Lord Deele required a stiff spine and the ability to rise from the seat at any given moment.

“Where is she? Where is my sister?” Deele’s voice boomed through the hallway. “Get out of my way, you stupid slut!”

I hoped the poor maid managed to dodge out of the way of his wrath.

Lady Eleanor glanced around the quiet room: were we all ready? Everyone nodded: we were.

She opened the library door and said, “What is this commotion?”

“Lady Eleanor! Where is my sister? I know my brother has brought her here. I demand you take me to her now!”

“Ah, Lord Deele, do come in,” Lady Eleanor said graciously. She stepped back into the library, forcing him to follow.

He stalked into the room, his rage obliterating any civility. The fury had reddened his face, a vein pulsing at his temple. He cast a hard glance about the room, then rocked back upon his heels.

“Alvanley, Brummell, what are you doing here?”

“We are on our way to Underbank Hall,” Lord Alvanley said mildly.

“Do you know what is going on here?” Deele demanded.

“We do,” Mr. Brummell said. He lifted his quizzing glass and viewed Deele through it.

A less furious man might quail under such observation, but Deele turned his glare upon Evan, standing beside Alvanley. “Then you know my brother here is aiding our sister to run away with her female companion! It is monstrous!”

Lady Eleanor cleared her throat.

“Really, Deele, do take note of where you are,” Brummell said.

Deele looked from Brummell to Lady Eleanor, coming to a somewhat belated understanding of whose house he stood in. “Well, I did not mean to say—” He huffed, flailing somewhat.

“Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby have kindly agreed to host Hester and Miss Grant over Christmas and New Year,” Evan said, interrupting his protestations. “After which, our sister and her friend will find themselves a residence and set up their own household.”

“No,” Deele said. “You cannot come back into the country and take over. I am Lord Deele. I am our sister’s guardian and she will not live with that woman. I forbid it and I have the law on my side. Where is Hester? I will take her from here now.”

“I am here, Charles,” Lady Hester said from the doorway. Her gaunt pallor held a fierce majesty, and although she leaned heavily upon Miss Grant, she stood firm, ready to fight her own corner.

“You may have the law upon your side, Deele,” Brummell said. “But you do not have Alvanley or me on your side.”

Deele swung back to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that we are aware of Bothwell House and your subsequent treatment of Lady Hester. Incarcerating your own sister in such a place cannot be tolerated, nor can taking her from her friends by force and laudanum. Leave Lady Hester and Miss Grant alone. Otherwise you and your wife will find yourselves suddenly lacking entrance to all bon ton homes. And I do mean all of them.”

Deele stared at him, aghast, then sought Alvanley’s gaze. “Surely you do not agree with this, Alvanley. It is coercion!”

“You have acted in a way that no gentleman would, Deele,” Alvanley said somberly. “I had thought you better than this.”

It was as if Alvanley had struck him in the face. The most gentlemanly man in all society had condemned his behavior.

“All you have to do is leave them alone,” Alvanley added. “Nothing else. Let them live their own lives and make their own choices. Just walk away, man.”

I swallowed, a sudden sour realization drying my mouth. I had, in effect, been doing the same as Deele: making choices for Hester and Miss Grant, and my sister as well. Overriding their views with my own. I clasped my hands together, trying to quell the rush of understanding. But my past actions rose inexorably into wretched knowledge. Even Deele’s motivations were not so far from my own: he believed he was saving his sister, keeping her safe, just as I wanted to keep everyone safe. Of course, Deele’s idea of safety was misguided, heinous and brutal, bound up with his own selfish fear for his reputation. Even so, I could not deny the parallel. How many times had I thought I knew best? How many times did I not listen to my sister or Miss Grant? Their protests and ideas? All under my own belief that I was responsible for all. That I could keep everyone safe. Julia had said as much upon the roadside. Evan too. And I had not listened. I bowed my head, feeling a hot wash of shame.

Hester’s hoarse voice brought me back from my own agony. “I am thirty years old, Charles,” she said. “I must be allowed to navigate my own life. I will never give up Miss Grant. Not for you or for anyone else.”

At the corner of my eye, I saw Miss Ponsonby bring her fingertips together in a tiny, silent clap.

Deele looked around the room, teeth bared. His fury settled upon Alvanley, whose round, genial face held an implacability I had not seen before. “You give me no choice. All right, then, I will walk away. Forever.” He rounded on Hester. “You are no longer part of this family and you will have no money from me. We will see how long your unholy attachment survives poverty and debasement!”

“She will have money from me, Charles,” Evan said. “Hester and I are family, and I think it is you who are no longer part of it.”

Deele stared at him for a long, savage second. “You ruined this family, you know. Father always said you were the better man, and nothing I did was good enough. Well, I am not a convict riding around the countryside, robbing people.” He looked around the room at our new friends. “I hope you realize who you are colluding with.”

On that, he turned and stalked from the room.

“Wait,” I called, but I knew he would not do so. I ran after him, following him down the dim hallway and out to his carriage. His footman opened the coach door. “Wait, Lord Deele. Please!”

He turned and snarled, “What do you want?”

“Back in London, you received a man by the name of Mulholland. A big man with sandy hair and whiskers.”

“How do you know that?”

“Did he tell you that we were helping your sister? And that your brother was with her?”

“Why do you think I would give you any information?” he said, the fury still in his voice.

“Because he has been hired to kill Lord Evan.”

He snorted. “What makes you think that?”

“He told me,” I said flatly, pushing away the memory of the man’s hands upon my breasts. “Did he say who had sent him to you?” I closed my hands into fists, trying to contain the urgency in my voice. From what I had observed, Deele would withhold the information if he knew how important it was to me. And to Evan.

“I repeat, why would I tell you anything? After what you and my brother have done.”

“Because Mulholland has used you as a way of getting to your brother. He tricked and manipulated you, Lord Deele. A common thieftaker. He is probably still laughing about it now.”

Deele drew a breath through his teeth. Was it more rage at me, or at the thought that a man of Mulholland’s station had manipulated a marquess? I hoped, with all my being, it was the latter.

“Whitmore,” he finally said. “He said Charles Whitmore had sent him.” He turned and took the step into the carriage.

I stood with my hands still clenched as the name tolled through me. Charles Whitmore. Undersecretary of the Alien Department. Why had he hired Mulholland?

The footman closed the coach door, flipped up the step, then climbed into the seat beside the driver. With a snap of the whip, the carriage jolted forward, wheels and hooves grinding across the gravel.

I turned to go back into the house and saw Evan standing in the shadows of the doorway, arms wrapped around his body. He had followed me.

“I heard,” he said. “Charles Whitmore. I do not understand. I have never met the man.”

I slid my hand into his, my cold fingers curled into his warmth. “Well, at least we have a name now.”

But it was a name that did not make sense. Whitmore was at least ten years younger than Evan and would have been a child when the duel was fought. Why on earth did he want Lord Evan Belford dead?