Tenacious Trents 01 - A Misguided Lord Read online

  *

  Though Clayton didn’t wish to, he found himself pondering Miss Westin’s words later that evening. What the devil had she meant about laughter and tears? The woman was deranged. Of course a lady would view all matters with emotion. They didn’t have the capacity to view life, and world around them, with objectivity.

  Still, he admired her confidence and candor. It was refreshing. The conversation wasn’t inane and weather wasn’t mentioned once. Perhaps it was her age. Miss Westin was older, by at least three years, than the average debutant, not that he would be as crass as to ask. Why hadn’t her grandfather presented her before? Until Miss Westin appeared this year, Clay had no idea Lord Stanhope even had another granddaughter to marry off.

  It would be easy to get lost in her soft brown eyes and forget about the demands of his station for a few moments. But such lapses led to trouble. It had almost ruined his father and Clayton vowed never to repeat that mistake.

  “What do you think of Stanhope’s granddaughter?”

  Clayton turned to find his brother, Jordan, standing beside him, along with John.

  “Interesting, I suppose. Why?” Did Jordan have an interest in Miss Westin? His gut tightened at the thought. Clay couldn’t understand why, unless it was out of protection for his younger brother. That must be the reason.

  Jordan shrugged. “No reason. I’ve rarely seen you dance at one of these functions.”

  “I do need to think about finding a wife,” Clay reminded him.

  “Miss Westin?” John grinned. “She is a lovely lady.”

  “She won’t do,” Clay insisted.

  The two brothers looked at him oddly.

  “Too outspoken. Too forward. I suspect she is just like Adele and that will never do.”

  His brother’s stiffened at the mention of their father’s second wife.

  Jordan simply shook his head sadly and John muttered something about judgmental as he wandered away. They didn’t understand. Their current, and last step-mother, was a lovely woman, who never gave his father an ounce of concern while he was alive. His brothers must not remember Adele the way he did. His father was very clear about what traits to avoid while looking for a bride. Remember son, never marry a woman full of passion, who wants to dance and go into society. You will never make them happy and they will make you miserable in the end. A quiet woman who knows her place is the best wife a man can have. If you want passion, get a mistress.

  But, knowing everything he did, why was he still drawn to Eleanor Westin? Why did she intrigue him so, regardless of the fact she would never do?

  Jordan stood there studying him. “Do you even know anything about Miss Westin or has she slighted you somehow and you judged her without question, like father would have?”

  Being compared to their father didn’t sit well with Clay. Yes, he had learned much from his father, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be just like him. For one, he would never take a switch to his children in a fit of rage.

  Jordan lifted a glass of wine from the tray a footman carried past. “Let me tell you what I know.”

  Jordan always knew the latest gossip. Of course, Jordan also talked to people. He had the freedom of doing as he pleased. The benefits of being the spare, and the ladies adored him, old and young alike.

  “When Miss Westin’s father died, the youngest son of Stanhope, she and her mother retired to the country. Eventually Miss Westin’s mother remarried and more children were born. Unfortunately her step-father and mother passed away, I believe I heard that it was three or four years ago. If Miss Westin had it her way, she would still be in the country with her family but as her guardian, Stanhope forced her to London to find a husband.”

  Admiration for Miss Westin sparked in his chest and Clay turned to study the crowd until his eyes found her.

  Jordan came over to stand beside him. “In fact, Miss Westin prefers the country.”

  Prefers the country. Perhaps he had been hasty in his judgment of her after all. Just because she seemed happy, laughed and ran through parks didn’t mean she would make a poor wife. And, a woman who preferred to take care of younger siblings instead of partaking in a Season spoke well of her character.

  And, she was far more interesting and prettier than Lady Anne. Perhaps he should reconsider the matter and Miss Westin.

  Chapter 4

  They didn’t die. Clayton re-read the papers he found stashed in the back of his father’s desk in their London home. Why had Father lied to them? Why hadn’t he simply said Adele took Julia and left?

  Sick dread filled him. If society knew Adele still lived, or at least she had been alive three years ago, then Father could not have married Rose Chambers a year after Adele’s supposed death. And, even though the marriage had taken place, with society looking on, it didn’t make Madeline any less a bastard.

  Clay tossed the papers on the desk and leaned back. Nobody must ever learn, ever. This would crush Rose and ruin Madeline. Neither deserved the consequences of what could happen. As it was, Clay wasn’t even sure he would tell his brothers, though he was curious as to their thoughts on the matter.

  No. He shook his head and stood before he walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of whiskey. He needed to figure out what he was going to do before he mentioned this to anyone. He settled back behind the desk and reviewed the documents and the ledger once again. Until six years ago his father had sent funds to an address in Paris. Is that where Adele and Julia lived? Did they live there now?

  There was only one way to get his answers. Clay stood and strode for the door. Higgins, the butler appeared. “Send for the solicitor. I need to see him immediately.”

  Clay slammed the door before the man could respond and returned to his desk. Too agitated to sit, he paced the room. Why had father lied? What had become of Adele and Julia? Where were they now? For years he had been torn between the feelings of hatred and pain, because that woman had abandoned him, taking his precious sister with him. Julia was supposed to be his to protect and watch over. That had been his promise to her on the day she was born. Then that woman ripped her out of his arms when she was only two.

  Clay pushed his fingers through his hair. Of course, he now knew they were only humoring a child and he could have no more protected Julia than a puppy, but at the time, he took the responsibility with all the seriousness of any young boy wanting to prove himself to his father.

  At first he had been hurt by her abandonment, betrayed. Over the years his feelings turned to hatred, all fueled by his father. But, if his father had lied about them being dead, what else had he lied about? According to Father, Adele had everything a wife could hope for, but she was never happy. Nothing could please her and it was her fault the family had been torn apart. Resentment grew and that was all Clay felt anymore.

  He and Jordan had argued over Adele for years until they agreed never to discuss it again. Jordan insisted Clay was remembering wrong and that it was father who drove Adele away. Was Jordan right? He rubbed his face, wishing his father were alive simply so he could demand answers.

  Father always insisted that he should have never married Adele. He should have bedded her and left her alone. It used to sicken him with how his father went on. When Clay became aware of women, and the comfort and desire one could find in their arms or between their legs, his father took him aside to explain, and until he took his dying breath his father continued to remind him that breeding and decorum mattered. A man marries a comfortable, pleasant and agreeable woman. He loves and finds pleasure with a passionate one. Lust is for a mistress and never a wife. To mix the two will ruin a home.

  Father’s passion and lust for Adele had ruined their family and he would never forgive either of them for that. Had there not been Julia, Clay may not have ever cared. But from their ill-formed marriage, he had gained, then lost a sister and that he lay at Adele’s feet. Had she kept to her place all would be well.

  Then again, if she had, he would have never had Rose as a mother. T
here was no sweeter, kinder woman on earth. And, he wouldn’t have gained another sister in Madeline.

  Rage rose within. He would find Adele and make sure she never stepped foot in England again. He would not have her ruining the life Rose and Madeline had in their family and society. But first, he wanted answers. Why had father lied, and what else had he kept from them?

  *

  Eleanor burst through the front door of the home her family resided in. An hour ago an urgent message had come from Leigh. Benjamin has spots. He was only five, and had been ill for the past four days with a slight fever, cough and had complained of achiness.

  But spots? What if it was small pox? People died from small pox and she could not loose Benjamin.

  She rushed up the stairs, past her brothers and sisters and stopped beside Benjamin’s bed. His smile was weak, but he smiled none-the-less. Eleanor placed a hand against his brow. Poor Ben was warm, but not hot like one suffered when extremely ill.

  Eleanor didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, other than a weak little boy with bloodshot eyes. Oh, she should be staying here and taking care of him. Ben may have recovered by now had she not be dancing the night away. “I don’t see any bumps.” She pushed open the curtain to let sunlight in to the room. Her brother scrunched his eyes closed, winced and turned his head from the light.

  “I am sorry, dearest.” She quickly blocked out the light so Ben wasn’t further disturbed.

  “Look at his stomach and back,” Leigh instructed from the doorway.

  Eleanor pulled down the wool blanket and lifted his dressing gown. His poor body was covered in a rash. Is this what small pox looked like? She had never seen a case before and when someone came down with it back home their mother had kept them away from the family until they were well again.

  Mrs. Hartley came into the room. “I’ve sent for the doctor.”

  Oh, dear, a doctor. He would charge her for the visit. Did she have the funds? It didn’t matter. She would find them somehow. Benjamin needed a doctor. “Do you think it is small pox?”

  Mrs. Hartley studied the boy. “Doesn’t look like it to me.”

  “Then what do you suppose it is.”

  “Measles.”

  Eleanor jumped at the sound of an older man. When had he come into the room? But there he stood at the foot of Benjamin’s bed looking at him.

  “Are you sure?” She had measles as a child, but couldn’t remember anything other than aching and itching. Eleanor was relieved and distraught at the same time. Small pox was the more serious of the diseases, or so she believed. Fewer people seemed to die of Measles, but they still did.

  The doctor stepped around her and went about examining Ben from the top of his head to his toes. When he was done he gently ruffled the boy’s head and straightened. “He is a strong lad.”

  That was good, wasn’t it? “Then it isn’t measles?”

  “No, it is.”

  Her heart sank again and her eyes went to her youngest sibling. “What can I do?”

  “There isn’t much, I am afraid. Keep the room dark and the boy comfortable. A mixture of a grain of Dover’s Powder with a bit of syrup each night will help him sleep comfortably.”

  “And, he will be all right?” Eleanor needed assurances.

  The doctor gently smiled at her. “I cannot give you that guarantee. But, his fever isn’t too hot and he seems healthy. I think he has a better chance than most who have survived the disease.”

  Relief shot through her.

  “Call me if he worsens.” The doctor gathered his belongings.

  “What do I owe you?” Please, don’t let it be much.

  The doctor looked to the older woman who had been helping with the children. “If Mrs. Hartley would be so kind as to bake me one of her cakes, that would be payment enough.”

  The woman blushed and looked down. “Of course I would, Dr. Hubert, and you don’t need to use a sick child as an excuse to get one.”

  Eleanor wanted to laugh with relief. She didn’t need to pay the doctor out of her precious, quickly depleting funds and it looked as if Mrs. Hartley had a love interest. Perhaps Mrs. Hartley would be able to move out of her brother-in-law’s household soon. But not before they were gone, hopefully. As selfish as it seemed, Eleanor needed to the woman to be with the children.

  The doctor followed Mrs. Hartley out of the room and Eleanor turned to Leigh. “Do we have any Dover’s Powder or syrup?”

  Leigh shook her head. “We haven’t needed it in years. I didn’t think to pack it.”

  It is what she feared. “Very well, I will run to the apothecary. Keep Ben comfortable and the other boys away from him.” Leigh had also had measles as a child so neither one of them should contract the disease again. The other boys had not and she couldn’t risk all of them becoming ill.

  Mrs. Hartley just closed the front door after letting the doctor out when Eleanor came down the stairs. “I need to go the apothecary.”

  “I’ll stay with the children.”

  “You don’t have to…”

  “Nonsense. Your grandfather is going to require you to be home later, as you well know.”

  Eleanor’s heart squeezed. How could she go about in society while her brother lay in bed above-stairs with the measles? “I can’t. Not with—”

  “—You can and you will,” Mrs. Hartley interrupted. “First, he won’t give you a choice. And second—” she opened the door, nearly pushing Eleanor outside, “—you need to find a husband so you can be with those children all the time.”

  Mrs. Hartley was right. She hated being away from them, especially now. But, she wouldn’t find a husband and security for all of them if she remained by the bedside of a sick child. It was unfair that she had to make the choice, but there really wasn’t one. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  *

  Clayton tooled the phaeton through traffic, wishing he had his carriage, but he had allowed Jordan to borrow it this morning. He had too much on his mind and wished he had a driver so he could think about what needed to be done next. An hour ago the solicitor had left after having confirmed that Adele and Julia had resided in Paris, though they spent much of the time traveling all over the continent. What they were doing and who they were visiting were unknown. When the former Earl of Bentley had written on Lady Julia’s eighteenth birthday, requesting the girl return home, mother and daughter had disappeared.

  What did his father think to accomplish by bringing Julia home? Acknowledging her existence would garner too much attention and far too many questions. What if society learned Adele never died? Did his father wish to ruin Rose and Madeline’s life because he wanted a daughter back he had not seen in sixteen years?

  “He wished to marry her off to Lord Purlingham. The gentleman was looking for a wife and it would have been advantageous to be linked to the viscount’s family.”

  Clayton’s stomach turned. Purlingham was sixty-years-old, if a day. How could his father even think to marry a girl of eighteen off to a man old enough to be her grandfather? Had Julia returned, Clay wasn’t so certain he would have allowed such a match.

  Apparently his father had tried to find his wife and child but had been unsuccessful. Purlingham married another chit and successfully produced the heir he had been waiting decades for.

  Clay wasn’t about to give up so easily. Until he knew the whereabouts of Adele, he could not rest easy. What if one day the woman showed up in London and announced who she was? That would be a scandal he did not want to face, nor did he want Madeline or Rose to have to suffer. Decision made, Clay drove to Bow Street with the intent of hiring a runner to investigate. Instead of entering the building, he never moved from the seat of his phaeton. What if he couldn’t trust them? What if they weren’t discreet? One word said to the wrong person and the family shame would make its way through society like a fire in a barn full of hay.

  He could only share this with someone he completely trusted. Someone who had the skills to investigate. Clay pull
ed back into drive and drove around without any real direction trying to come up with a solution and finally settled on John, his younger brother and spy. And he was also recently of Paris. Maybe John had connections and could find Adele before anyone learned the truth.

  Traffic was heavy this afternoon and Clayton pulled up on the reigns, waiting for the carts ahead to move out of the way.

  Glancing around at the many pedestrians shopping, he saw her. What was Miss Westin doing here? He looked for the Stanhope carriage, but did not see it parked anywhere, nor did Miss Westin have a companion with her. At the moment, she stood outside counting coins before she tossed them into her reticule. Curiosity pulled at him and Clay drove the phaeton to the curb, stopping before her.

  “Good day, Miss Westin.” He tipped his top hat when she looked up.

  “Lord Bentley.” Surprise lit her worried face and she looked around.

  A boy came forward to hold the horses and Clay jumped down and sauntered over to Miss Westin.

  She was far from her grandfather’s home in Mayfair. Clay read the sign above the door of the shop she had just exited. An apothecary. “Is someone ill?” That would explain her worried frown and near agitated state.

  “My brother,” she answered with haste. “If you will excuse me, I must get back to him.”

  Why was Miss Westin alone and why hadn’t a servant been sent for the medicine?

  “Let me drive you?”

  “No, that isn’t necessary. It is not far.”

  Not far? It would take at least an hour for her to walk back to Mayfair.

  “Is your carriage close?” Maybe it was out of sight. The streets were crowded today.

  “I do not have one,” she answered. “Really, I must go.”

  Clay placed a hand on her elbow when she turned to walk away. “Let me drive you.”

  She stopped and glanced up at him, biting her lower lip. Why the concern? He had the phaeton and it was perfectly acceptable to ride about in one unchaperoned. “No, it is not necessary, but I thank you.”