A Lady's Vanishing Choices Read online

  John peered at him and laughed. “You’re not accusing my wife of being managing are you?”

  Royce shook his head and grinned. After a moment, he became serious. “There is something else you’re not telling me. Let’s hear it.”

  John cast a sheepish grin in his direction. “There is a list of . . . agents, let’s say, of English and French extraction with dual citizenship. It’s common knowledge that several of these men have abandoned the nation of their birth and flown to the aid of the upstart, Bonaparte.”

  Royce whistled softly. “Why would such a list even exist?”

  “The Colonel insisted on a list because a few of these courageous men are actually loyal to England. Information flows both ways thanks to those few brave souls.” John leaned forward, and his voice sank to a little above a whisper, seemingly fearful the walls might overhear. “Colonel Stanwood insisted that their identities be listed in order to protect each man when the war is finally over. The document will clear the names of those loyal to the crown and allow these brave souls to return to this country to reclaim their estates, full of honor and glory.”

  Astounded, Royce stared at his cousin. He could see the logic in the colonel’s actions, but found himself lamenting the risk involved.

  John shifted uneasily in his chair. “If something untoward happens, and the list falls into the wrong hands, these men will die.”

  “Be damned.” Royce curled his fingers over his mouth. “Where are the documents at present?”

  John shrugged, but his voice became even softer. “I turned everything over to the Colonel.”

  “A dilemma, to be sure.” Royce half lowered his lids and suppressed a disdainful laugh. Sometimes the stupidity of government officials astounded him. He deliberately lowered his voice. “In all probability the Colonel has his guard up. Soon we shall have Bonaparte caught by the heels again and everyone may rest easy. Then I can proceed with my life.”

  “Are you so anxious to place your head in a noose?” John laughed.

  Royce shrugged, a little annoyed at the hearty manner of John’s laughter. “To have everything settled, yes. Perhaps Eleanor Littleton shall be my wife with all respect and honor due her, along with my affection. My wings shan’t be clipped too closely, but naturally I shall be discreet. She’ll have no cause for complaint.” He leaned back in his chair. “But, as for love, I want no part of that particular malady.”

  John gave a doubtful shake of his head. “Not a good way to start a marriage. Why not wait a while longer? Surely you aren’t concerned for the succession, are you?”

  “Certainly not. Perry is alive and well. My bride must possess the correct lineage. Beauty is absolutely necessary. She must bear my children, preside over my household with flair, and be content with my affection—not my love.”

  “Is that all you require?”

  At the expression of disapproval on his cousin’s face, a rush of irritation flooded through Royce. He forced his voice to a level tone. “I don’t relish a wife who would plague the life out of me with jealousies. Eleanor exceeds all of the qualifications I require. She is lovely, blonde with a trim figure, and understands society. She’ll look the other way when necessary. Just the sort of bride I desire.”

  “Perhaps it is best you feel no more than regard for her,” John drawled. “Poor Eleanor. Well, back to the subject at hand before you lead me on a goose chase.”

  “Me. It was you spouting off about love and such nonsense.”

  John raised his brows and ignored the accusation. “My superior and the agency are watching a few society hostesses too, Lady Littleton among them. Your Eleanor’s mother. The family is neighbors with you.”

  Royce snapped, “I see what you are about, but Lady Littleton? That’s absurd. Your information must be incorrect.”

  “Possibly. I said watching, accessing her involvement with other political figures,” John finished. “We are hoping to determine how deeply, or even if the lady is implicated in the troubles. That’s why you are giving the ball.” He began shuffling papers together and straightening his desk. “Sara and I should arrive at your place in a week, if that’s convenient.”

  Royce rose from his chair. “The sooner the better, I’d say. I’ll see you then.” He saluted before he strolled out the door.

  Grinding his teeth in frustration, Royce clenched his fists. Of all the ill-fated times for Boney to escape, this was the worst. Royce expected to fix his interest with Lady Eleanor Littleton in all haste and now this. He shook his head in frustration. Her family must be cleared before he could think or marrying her.

  Memories of the gig driver darted into his head. Against his will, her image emerged, lovely and afraid. Such a timid creature, frightened after only a slight accident. How would she cope with directing an entire household? For want of a little resolve, she allowed the circumstances to dictate her actions instead of taking charge. She didn’t appear weak-minded, but anyone that hapless would never do to stand beside him. Where had that absurd thought come from? Gather your wits, old chap. With his future plans in turmoil, he didn’t want memories of her to add to the confusion.

  Striding down the hall, he glanced up only to observe Eleanor’s cousin, Freddy, mincing along. He suppressed a groan. The fribble irritated Royce simply by his appearance, slender and dandified with his locks tossed in the latest fashion. His effeminate steps and twitter when he laughed knotted Royce’s stomach.

  Freddy bowed in recognition, and Royce returned his greeting before continuing on his way. An uneasy sensation nagged him, and he glanced over his shoulder to study Freddy again. Royce’s suspicious nature prodded him when Freddy passed a darkened, private office and rather furtively peeked into the open door, seemingly searching for something before sauntering away.

  Royce shrugged. The talk of traitors and secret documents had stirred his imagination, and his observation skills had been stirred as well. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. What harm in a curst dandy? He pushed out the door.

  Chapter 5

  A few days later, Royce rolled a bite of egg over his tongue and swallowed, finding the breakfast exactly to his taste. The smell of coffee wafted from his cup as he spread the newspaper across the polished table and sighed with satisfaction.

  Content with his acquisition of Stroter Hall, he crossed his legs under the table and leaned back in his chair. When his uncle died, he hadn’t been of a mind to establish his residence at Stroter Hall, but a desire to honor his father’s last request had played a major part in his decision. One of father’s other requests had been that Royce permit his stepmother to remain in the principal seat until he married. He’d reluctantly agreed, but he’d frowned on his stepmother occupying the estate until recently. Now inclined to make his home in this place, he welcomed its sense of peace.

  He would be eternally grateful to his aunt and uncle for taking charge of his brother while he’d been in the military, at war with Bonaparte in the peninsula. Gratitude to his relatives increased his pleasure and set the seal upon settling at Stroter Hall.

  Acquiring Stroter Hall, and the surrounding property, had brought him a sense of acceptance. The place belonged completely to him. His stepmother’s self-pity and whining ways ate at his nerves, as not much else could. Fortunately for him, he had an alternate residence in Stroter Hall. Now he aimed to bring the property up to scratch.

  When he considered his nearest neighbors, the Littletons of Birdelwood Manor, unease crept through him. Could Eleanor’s mother be involved with espionage? Not Lady Littleton. He rejected the very idea and shook the thought away. Thanks to John, he was suspicious of everyone.

  The butler, Odsworth, stepped through the door to replenish the steaming coffee pot.

  “Odsworth, this place could certainly do with a fresh coat of paint, especially the wainscoting.” Royce swallowed a m
outh full of freshly brewed coffee.

  “Yes, Milord,” Odsworth murmured. “May I be of further service, Milord?”

  Royce waved a dismissive hand. “No, that will be all.”

  Allowing his mind to drift, he peered into the future he wanted. He had already decided to take a wife. Putting his house in order required marriage of a sort, in order to set up his nursery—do the necessary things of life. A sacrifice, but worth it in the end. If he could clear Eleanor’s family of treasonous intent, he could continue as he’d planned.

  Interrupted with an abrupt memory of a pair of whisky-brown eyes blocking out the image of Eleanor Littleton, his thought process ground to a standstill. She was beautiful, but what’s that to say to anything?

  Shaking his head at the memory, he concentrated on Eleanor. In London, she’d led him a merry chase, but he hadn’t fully decided on her. Now, he had plans. He did not intend to abandon his goals, no matter the provocation—an unknown lass or no. Yet, however much he may wish it otherwise, the suspicion of treason hung over the family. He must settle that issue without putting up their backs.

  He shuffled his paper open again and sipped at his coffee. Perry strolled in, grabbing a plate from the sideboard.

  “Good morning,” Perry hailed him with a cheeky grin.

  “Morning.” Royce glanced up from his plate. He took note of Perry’s clothes. He seemed to be dressed for an outing. His slender frame garbed in dark britches and a finely cut waistcoat, with his cravat tied to perfection, meant something was afoot. Definitely an outing.

  Royce surveyed Perry with his light, bronzy-brown hair. Little brother looked as fine as a five piece. Soft-spoken. In fact, a charming rogue. Royce smiled to himself. He has turned out rather well. Makes me proud. “Where are you off to?”

  Perry grimaced before he answered. “I thought I’d ride into Chadwick this morning. I might stop by Birdelwood Manor on my way.”

  “You’re not trying to steal a march on me, are you?” Royce grinned. “Trying to cut me out, you young scamp?”

  “No such thing.” Perry returned the teasing grin and cocked one brow. “Eleanor is a lovely little pea-goose, but, shall we say, too playful by half for my taste. Yours too, come to that.”

  “She knows how to present herself.” Royce eyed his brother and shrugged. Although doubts about the union still plagued him, he must continue with his pursuit to make his prying into her affairs credible, even to his brother. If he could prove her family blameless, perhaps the courtship would proceed. “She’ll go along in society splendidly without hanging onto my coattails.”

  “I’ll give you that, but she’s a flirt.”

  “Here in the country, there will be far fewer fops and dandies to flit around her, vying for her attention, flattering her eyebrows and such flummery.” Royce grimaced with distaste. “I don’t begrudge her the attention she has garnered up until this point.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “When she is mine, that shall be an entirely different matter. I guard my own.” Was having her worth the effort? Still, her family must be investigated.

  “You always were a trifle arrogant, but I’m thinking you won’t be best pleased.” Perry shrugged. “My taste runs in another direction. I’m trying to persuade Bethany to ride out with me.”

  “Bethany. You are talking about Eleanor’s cousin, Betha, I take it?” He waited with baited breath, hoping for a denial. He had heard all about Eleanor’s cousin and her vivid imagination, calling attention to herself whenever possible. She wouldn’t do for his young brother. He couldn’t abide hysterical women. Perry shan’t be shackled to that one if he could do anything to stop him.

  Perry grinned. “The very same. However, she hates to have her name shortened. She thinks Betha sounds like a bug.”

  Royce raised a sardonic brow. “I understand she has few social graces. You shouldn’t encourage her when nothing shall come of it.”

  Perry laughed. “I knew her years ago, and I intend to renew our acquaintance.”

  “I’ve heard she invents tales, always full of dramatics and nerves.” Royce drilled his brother with a fixed stare.

  “No such thing. You’ve been listening to the on-dits that float about.”

  “She’s nothing much in the way of looks either, or so I understand.” A frown knit his level brows. “Why raise the lady’s hope. Careful. Before you realize the danger, you could become leg-shackled in a trice.”

  “Nonsense. She is a beauty, vulnerable and appealing.” Perry stared at his brother. He slid his plate onto the table with a jerky movement and began to pace the length of the floral carpet in front of the sideboard. “I met her again the other day. And I tell you, she handed me a leveler. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Explain it to me.” Royce clenched his jaw and doubled his hands into fists. Pity—it’s pity he feels—the same pity that trapped our father.

  “I doubt I can make you understand.” Despair edged Perry’s voice. He raised an imploring hand toward his brother.

  “Dashed right you can’t.” Royce rubbed the back of his neck. “Blister it, Perry. You feel sympathy for the girl. I can understand that, but if you remember, father felt compassion for our stepmother, too. Remember how that turned out?” He cast a disgusted look at his brother. “She was a total witch to us,” he reminded Perry. “She made our lives miserable. How can you even think about a woman with the same failings?”

  “Hold on. I only intend to go calling, for now. I know you always think you have the right of it, but this time you are mistaken. I’m drawn to her, and I shall see where that leads me.” Perry erupted with a downward stroke of his hand when he turned to face his brother. He gazed at Royce with a direct, measuring stare. “You never put a foot wrong. You don’t know how I feel because you’ve haven’t been above half attracted to even your Eleanor.”

  “I’ll admit I’m not besotted, but I too feel the power of attraction,” Royce gritted out. The image of the gig driver burst into his mind. “But I’m not going to ruin my life over it.”

  “I’d say you’re nearly there with Eleanor, whatever you say.” Perry shrugged to make his point. “Bethany is gentle, beautiful, vulnerable, and in need of protection. She calls to something in me.” His piercing gaze raked Royce’s face. “Sometimes ladies are difficult, I’ll admit. But it’s up to us men to take care of them. Even the washer woman, the housekeeper, the untried school girls—all of them must be protected.”

  Royce gazed at his brother in surprise. “But that doesn’t make this any more acceptable.”

  “Royce, I listened to you when you asked me not to join the military, although I wanted to be in on the action.” Perry gazed directly into Royce’s eyes. “You are the head of the family, after all, and my brother. I’ve always looked up to you. If you haven’t noticed, I grew up while you were at war, and now I need to make my own decisions.”

  “Well that has given me a leveler indeed. Don’t commit or do anything foolish.”

  Perry compressed his lips and visibly stiffened. He raised his chin and stood with a dignified pose. “At the least, invite her to the soirée you are giving. Perhaps the evening dinner party or one of the other entertainments you have planned, too.”

  “Certainly. The invitation shall be extended to the entire family—including the cousin. Whether she comes or not is out of my hands,” Royce said with a careless shrug.

  Perry frowned. “Thank you for that little favor at least.” Perry wheeled towards the door.

  Royce called after him, “You haven’t touched your breakfast.”

  Perry laughed in spite of himself. “Yes, Mum.”

  Royce began to chuckle as well. “You young whelp. Don’t forget that John and Sara will be here this afternoon.”

  Perry faced Royce again, a crooked smile still on his lips. “Naturally. We can’t hav
e a party without our lovely cousin to arrange the thing,” he admitted with a grin. “I’ll be back.”

  Royce threw his napkin on the table. All the laughter vanished with Perry’s retreat. The same strong objections he’d raised before slammed into him again. Betha had no style, no dowry, no standing in the Ton, and nothing to commend her except her looks. Besides, Royce could never accept her as his sister-in-law. He let out a string of nasty oaths and stomped down the corridor toward the estate office.

  Chewing nails might relieve a little of the irritation choking him. The blasted chit. Well, he would put a stop to Perry’s interest in Bethany.

  His angry steps took him through the door of his office where he speared his secretary with an impatient glance. The sight of Charles Brumbley, dependable, earnest, and diligently applying himself to the papers before him, calmed Royce somewhat. The musty odor of old ledgers lingered in the air, but both desks along one wall contained a neat stack of papers, all Charles’s doing. His secretary possessed a penchant for neatness, one of his finer qualities.

  “Milord.” From under thin brows, Charles darted a quick look at him and rolled to his feet.

  Nearly as tall as Royce, his secretary didn’t have one spare once of fat on his stocky body. His receding, sandy hair made him appear slightly older than Royce knew him to be, but the glasses added to his air of stability.

  “You’re early, Charles,” Royce’s grumbled, low and annoyed. “You make me feel as if I have a whip in my hand, and you expect me to use it if you dare to look up from your work.”