A Lady's Vanishing Choices (25 page)

Chapter 30

Bethany sighed as the carriage approached Stroter Hall where overwhelming problems awaited her return. Only minor considerations. Preparing for the first social event of her life should present few problems, and assisting Royce to trap the killer certainly couldn’t be considered above the ordinary. She swallowed against the sick sensation invading her stomach.

At least, after the ball, she could order Uncle Arthur and his entire family out of her house—
after the ball
. When she looked back on her life, being schooled in the upkeep and the running of the Birdelwood Estates had set her in good stead for meeting the challenges she now faced. Over the years, she’d resented the many occasions Uncle Arthur neglected the responsibilities of managing an estate and everything fell to her. Aunt Gertrude constantly nagged and belittled her, but the hardships had made her strong and determined.

The carriage rolled to a halt at the front steps of the hall, brightly lit with lanterns, and she pushed all her concerns to the side for the morrow. Tonight she intended to rest in her husband’s arms without Eleanor to interrupt at every turn.

With that in mind, a few hours later, she prepared for bed with an extra touch of perfume on her throat and headed to his chamber. She crawled into his bed and waited. When the door opened and he noticed her, he didn’t say a word. Raising his brows, he sat the candle on the dresser and practically dove into bed beside her. He wrapped her in his embrace, and after bringing her to the pinnacle of delight, he murmured in her ear, “I love you so, my sweet. More than I can ever tell you.”

“Me too.”

Drawing slightly away, he gazed down at her and asked with a drawl, “Is that all I’m allowed? A simple, me too.”

She cuddled against his shoulder. “You are delicious. A jest only. You have my undying love.”

His breath was warm against her ear when he continued, “I’ve been thinking, perhaps we should call the entire plan to a halt. We can arrange another way to capture the villain.”

Pushing up on her elbows, she scoffed, “There is no other way and you know it.”

“But Bethany. Your qualms have infected me as well. I don’t want to expose you to further danger. I love you too much.”

“That’s so sweet.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’m already exposed to danger. Between you and John, I realize this may be our only chance to apprehend the killer. I shall never be at peace again unless he is caught. Besides, Sara and I spoke to the housekeeper. The rumors started spreading hours ago.”

He clenched his jaw for a moment and finally relaxed back against the pillows. “I’m still not certain this is a wise move, but it seems there is no retreat. The die is cast.”

“Everything is planned to the last detail. You’ve made certain of that. I shall be perfectly fine with you by my side. I trust you.”

He gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head before drawing the covers up to her shoulders. Wrapping his arms around her completely, he relaxed and sank into slumber.

She allowed her lids to drift shut, his words circling in her head. With a certainty, tomorrow would be filled with danger for both of them. She relied heavily on Royce, his strength, his cunning, and his resolve to see them through to victory. With that thought, her mind settled and sleep claimed her.

The rising sun poked light into the chamber, bright and clear. She turned over and opened her eyes, remembering Royce’s soft voice when he informed her of his need to be about the day’s business. She wanted nothing more than to snuggle down and sleep a bit longer, but a tap sounded on the door. She brushed hair off her forehead and sat up. “Enter.”

A maid pushed past the opening, and after glancing around, delivered a tray with a teapot and a china cup. She smiled and poured a cupful for Bethany. “Morning, milady. Before he left, milord asked me to bring you the tea.”

“A good day to you as well.” Sipping most of the delicious liquid down, Bethany crawled out of bed, ready to face the new day. She dressed, assisted by her maid, and descended the stairs.

Ollie stood at the foot waiting for her. “Milady, a pair of tradesmen came to call. The couple asked for his lordship but agreed to meet with you in his absence.”

She had hoped to swallow some breakfast before her day began in earnest, but perhaps not. She heaved a sighed. With her hand on the newel post, she drew a deep breath. “Tradesmen, you say?”

“A man and woman. They insisted. I made so bold as to show them into the anti-chamber to await your pleasure.”

“Splendid. I’ll see them at once.” She smiled at the footman and stepped into the room awash with sunlight streaming through tall windows. A couple occupied a padded bench along one wall. The brassy-blonde young woman, generously endowed, bounded to her feet, followed by the man, who was slower to rise. She bobbed a quick curtsy while the man doffed his cap and shuffled from one foot to the other. He cleared his throat.

Bethany’s complete attention rested on the man dressed in a plain jacket and a rough pair of trousers. With a nose and ears too large for his head, along with a receding chin, he appeared similar to an elf in fairy tales. His eyes were merely eyes, unremarkable in any way. An unappealing shade of dull brown marked his hair and brows.

Bethany’s curiosity stirred, and she searched the expression on each face before her. “You called to speak to my husband?”

“Beg pardon. My name’s Luke Stanshaw. I’m Sir John’s man. This here is the gel he sent me to protect, Abigail.” He twisted his cap in his hands. “When I told her how much danger was awaitin’ her, I hounded her for information. When it come spilling out, I thought she ought to tell all to Sir John or Lord Rivton. I insisted she come here with me.”

Abigail stammered, “Milady, I’m afraid. The second Luke here, eh, I mean, Mr. Stanshaw, told me I was in mortal danger. I wanted to run away.” She twisted her hands together. “I know his name and what he looks like, but that’s all.”

Bewildered, Bethany could only blink. “Who?”

“Joliet Savoy’s brother. I was friends with Mary Rose and went visiting with her.” She fixed her gaze on Bethany with an expectant air and announced, “His name is Louis Savoy.”

Bethany raised her brows but remained silent. The name alone meant nothing to her, so she wasn’t certain what to say. Abigail seemed to wilt in disappointment.

“Tell milady how he looks,” Luke encouraged.

“Well, he has piercing eyes—dark ones. He could see right through your clothes to your flesh.” Abigail shivered. “He has dark hair, and he is tallish like Mr. Stanshaw here. He is ever so handsome, not as handsome as Luke here, but a mite taken with hisself for all that.”

In a failing voice, Bethany said, “Thank you so much for your attention to detail.” Abigail’s prejudiced description must be totally inaccurate if she compared everyone to her very plain, but worthy protector. Bethany suspected Abigail was more impressed with Luke’s station than his actual appearance. It took a few minutes for Bethany to recover control. “We are preparing for a ball in a few days. If you would accept a position as one of the servers, perhaps you would recognize this Louis Savoy and point him out to Sir John or my husband.”

Abigail shuddered and shook her head. “A mite too dangerous for a body.”

“I told ya, I’d look out for ya,” Luke drawled.

Abigail sighed and, with a tremor in her voice, said, “If it be important, then I’ll serve at your grand ball.”

Bethany called to the footman, “Ollie, please show this young woman to the housekeeper. She’ll be helping with the ball.”

Abigail grabbed Luke’s hand. “Where you goin’? I thought as how you was to protect me.”

“I’ll be close by. I have to communicate with Sir John. I’ll be watchin’.”

Bethany interrupted, “You’ll be safe here with us.”

“I’m around.” He tipped his cap at Bethany, grinned at Abigail, and strode out the door.

Reluctantly, Abigail followed the footman, but she kept glancing over her shoulder in the direction Luke had taken.

Bethany stood in place and shivered with apprehension.
I know the feeling. I need Royce close at hand too.
A sense of foreboding crowded around her, tangible in the atmosphere. Wishing the ball over and all the unpleasantness settled, she shook loose from her thoughts. Brooding would accomplish nothing. Preparations for the festivities needed her attention.

Freddy watched his father ride away from Birdelwood Manor and shook his head. He rounded the corner and came upon his aunt in the rose garden. She saw him immediately and began to wring her hands.

“Why, Freddy? Why must he do this thing? It’s dangerous beyond belief,” Gertrude wailed.

Freddy laughed at her absurd fears. “Now, now. The Frenchman is up to snuff. He can handle every rig and row that threatens.”

She sneered. “He is such a deceitful creature, parading round under false pretenses.” She shifted uneasily. “He’s not really Louis Savoy either. Using his stepfather’s real name as a disguise shall bring us all to ruin.”

He brought her tirade to a halt with a few brief words, “Remember, the blunt shall be yours.”

“I own I wanted a few coins. Mostly I wanted adventure, perhaps a little attention, but I never dreamed of this,” she cried and began to pace the slightly overgrown path. Her gown caught on a bush growing out of control. She frowned. “Is it so dreadful to want the finer things in life? Arthur is too nip-farthing to do things properly. Not even a gardener to mold the grounds into shape,” she finished, while extracting her dress from the thorns.

Freddy nodded in agreement. “And it ain’t even his blunt he’d need to spend.”

“No it isn’t his, but no one is to know that. In a weak moment, I mentioned it to your father, but he should not have betrayed me by telling you.” Gertrude wrung her hands again and glanced at Freddy with an anxious frown. “My poor brother, I hope he isn’t blamed for any of this.”

Freddy drawled, “Serve him right for being such a credulous simpleton.”

“Freddy,” she scolded, staring at him. “How can you talk so about your dear papa?”

“My dear papa is no saint, but no need for concern. Evidence has been planted on one of our illustrious sympathizers.”

“We mustn’t be caught, Freddy. What’s to be done?” she moaned, her eyes wide and filled with distress. “This action is unbalanced and ill-advised.”

“No sense in jumping a fence before one comes upon it,” he advised and caught her about the shoulders. “Take a damper. It will work like a charm. You shall see.”

She broke away. “Freddy, I declare, I’m going to have a fit of the vapors if you continue to treat all as if it doesn’t matter. I never intended to become a traitor. Now this,” she cried before casting him a somewhat hopeful look. “What if we both turn evidence? You know, draw back. You and I?”

His voice deepened. “Don’t even think something so ill-advised. The Frenchman would be on you in a second. You’d find yourself done in.”

She drew a startled breath and her eyes filled with fright. She turned without another word and, with mincing step, scurried into the house.

Freddy stared after her, his eyes narrowed. Pudding-hearted, no doubt. He grinned at the door where she’d disappeared. The proper fright had been all he’d needed to keep her in line. He sauntered towards the house.

Finding her suggestion laughable, he scoffed at her attitude.
She wants me to draw back at this late stage. Ha. She has no clue as to the actual path I have chosen. I have no intentions of quitting. Not ever. This is my calling and, finally, my main objective shall be satisfied. Rolling in funds
.

No blame shall fall on me, either. Most of the Ton rarely even notice me. I’m not ugly or anything. People tend to notice only that I have a weak chin. Because I’m not a strapping, big bully, people dismiss me as ineffectual. With a pocket full of the ready, I shall walk among the high uppity-ups, and I’ll be laughing behind their backs.

The high-sticklers considered him a weakling, but he wasn’t weak, not by a long shot. He would show them, and his father—the loving father that had wanted his son to follow him in the diplomatic corps.

Shout at me now, Father. Just because I have no bent for politics, you think I have no brains. Ha. Secretary to some up and coming political star—not likely.

Freddy could plot and plan with the best of them and come out on top. Yes. Given time, he’d show them all.

Cramming his hands in his pockets, he strolled into Birdelwood Manor. He spied Eleanor in the hallway. She motioned him into the parlor and plopped down on a settee.

He drawled, “Well, you’re finally home. So you’ve stopped gazing at the lovely things his money could buy for you, have you?”

“Freddy, that’s unkind. I’m ready to sink.” She pleated the fabric of her gown and stared down at her hands. “I suppose I wanted him to see what he had given up when he choose her over me.”

“Bit your nose, did it?” He grinned.

She glanced up. “She’s not as plain and ill-favored as I’ve always supposed. Now she’s decked out in finery and jewels,” she pouted and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief. “To think all should have been mine. It doesn’t bear thinking of.”

“Too bad she didn’t drown in the lake.” Freddy sank down beside Eleanor.

“What?” she screeched with a dumbfounded expression.

“Didn’t you hear? She almost drowned one night. I shouldn’t wonder that precipitated her marriage to Rivton.”

“Something certainly did. I expected an offer, but he didn’t come up to scratch after all,” Eleanor complained with a tremble in her voice.

Freddy gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I don’t hate Betha exactly, but it would have been convenient if she had succumbed to a watery grave.”

With her hand to her throat, Eleanor gasped, “Freddy, what are you saying?”