Chasing Lord Mystery Read online

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About Aileen Fish

  More Danby Pact Books

  Other Books by Aileen Fish

  Prologue

  The Falcon & the Philosopher Inn, Cambridgeshire – December 1814

  Flickering light from the hearth at the far end of the taproom cast a warm glow across the floor, wooden beams, and six very serious gentlemen gathered in a circle around one of the tables. Only an occasional pop or crackle from the fire made any sound in the otherwise vacant tavern.

  “Richard would want us to drink to his name,” Rowan Findley announced, lifting a glass of whiskey out before him.

  Robert Hurst, the Earl of Northcotte, snorted. “Richard would want to be alive,” he grumbled under his breath, but the others heard him clearly. And on that point they were all in agreement.

  Richard Hollace, the late Lord Arrington, had lived life to its fullest. He embodied the sentiment “eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.” And unfortunately, the latter was true in his case. It was the way Lord Arrington had passed that had caused such a pallor to be cast upon the taproom. No man liked to think about his own passing, and certainly not passing before one’s time, but to be killed so viciously, and by one’s own wife…

  “Which is why we should drink to his name,” David Hounslow, the Marquess of Preston said softly, lifting his glass of whiskey as well.

  “Here, here.” Sebastian Stanwick raised his glass.

  The other three men followed suit as Findley said, “To Richard Hollace, a damn good friend.”

  “With a generous heart,” Preston added.

  “And a wicked sense of humor,” Nicholas Beckford, Lord Edgeworth tossed in.

  “The life of every party,” agreed Everett Casemore, the Marquess of Berkswell.

  “Knower of all things equine.” Northcotte smiled sadly.

  “Knower of all things female.” Stanwick frowned.

  That last bit swirled about the room, each man ruminating over the truth of it. Had Arrington known fewer females, he might very well be alive this night. He wouldn’t be lying six feet under with a hole in his head in the shape of a fire iron. The six of them wouldn’t have driven through the snow to Cambridgeshire on short notice. And they wouldn’t have sat through their old school chum’s funeral, wondering how such a tragedy could have befallen the man.

  One by one, they swallowed the contents of their glasses, each wondering how the world had stopped making sense. Ladies didn’t murder their husbands. They just didn’t do such things, except… Well, except one did. Something the lot of them would have thought unfathomable a fortnight earlier had become a tragic and quite frightening truth.

  “What’s going to happen to her?” Preston asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the crackling fire.

  “She’s been taken to Newgate,” Edgeworth replied. “I expect they’ll hang her.”

  “Richard should have been more careful of her sensibilities,” Stanwick said, raking a hand through his midnight black hair. “He should have taken care that she not find out about his paramours.”

  “I doubt he thought his wife was capable of such a thing,” Berkswell returned.

  “I doubt any man thinks so.” Findley sighed.

  “And yet women are very clearly capable of such things,” Northcotte began, “One only has to look as far as Richard for proof.”

  Again, silence befell the six men. One only did have to look as far as Richard to see that women were very clearly capable of murder. Northcotte had never spoken truer words.

  “Well, that settles it then—” Findley broke the silence, slamming his glass on the table in front of him a little harder than was necessary “—I’m never getting married. That’s the best and only way I can think of to avoid Richard’s fate.”

  It only took half a second for Preston to say, “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  “Well, then, what about you?” Findley glanced from Berkswell to Northcotte to Edgeworth to Stanwick.

  Berkswell scrubbed a hand across his jaw and shook his head. “Certainly not worth the risk. My brother can inherit.”

  “As can my cousin,” Northcotte added solemnly.

  “Never planned on marrying anyway.” Edgeworth shrugged.

  “Nor I,” Stanwick agreed.

  “Then we’re agreed,” Findley announced, lifting his glass in the air once more. “I, Rowan Findley, hereby solemnly vow to never take a wife.”

  The other five lifted their glasses and repeated the vow in unison.

  Famous last words, most assuredly…

  Chapter One

  May 3, 1810

  London

  Lady Miriam Thornhill was grateful for the gloves she wore to the first assembly of her first Season. Her hands were sweating as badly as the rest of her. The rented room wasn’t large enough for the number of people crowded within. There weren’t enough windows to open, had their hostess, Mrs. Abercrombie, chosen to open them. As a result, there was no air in the room.

  The small group of musicians was gathered in one corner and a space had been cleared in front of them for dancers to move about. A refreshment table and some card tables were set up in the far end of the room for those whose tastes did not run to dancing. Miriam was not one of those, but dancing required a partner, and after an hour standing beside her mother, she had none.

  Mama waved her fan gracefully and eyed the room once more. “Someone will ask soon, I’m certain. How can they not? You are so lovely in your puce gown.”

  Luckily Miriam and the modiste had persuaded Mama to allow a lace overlay of fine netting and delicate pink flowers to tone down the hideous shade of dried blood, but Miriam still believed she would ruin her entire Season by being seen in that gown.

  Mama closed her fan with a snap. “Smile, daughter. Here comes Lady Roddington and her son.”

  Miriam straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin to that awkward angle Mama insisted put her face at its best advantage, and smiled. Lady Roddington returned the smile, then her gaze drifted down to Miriam’s gown and the smile faded.

  “Lady Roddington, may I present my daughter, Lady Miriam?”

  “Delighted. This is my son, Lord Arthur. Dear boy, take Lady Miriam out in the next set and let her display herself before the others.”

  Lord Arthur looked over the crowd towards the card tables. “Sorry, ma’am, but I promised Hurst I’d let him try to win back some of his blunt.” Without even acknowledging Miriam, he strode away.

  Lady Roddington pressed a hand to her ample bosom, her eyes wide as she stared after him. “That boy! Forgive him, Miriam, dear. He is most awkward in company. It’s such a shame, what with his looks. I shall never be able to find him a wife. Tell me, Lady Alderford, did you take notice of Mrs. Abercrombie’s hat? I must find out where she had it made. It’s just the thing.”

  Miriam prayed the building would catch fire so she could escape her agony, and was certain the heat in her face would be the cause. The nerve of the man to openly snub her like that! Everyone must have seen it. She would be a pariah for the entire Season, if not the rest of her life. She and Mama might as well return home, for there was no reason to remain in London.

  “Pardon, Lady Miriam, do you care to dance?” A tall, handsome young man stood before her, one hand behind his back, the other outstretched. His green velvet cutaway coat revealed an ivory quilted waistcoat, and his fawn breeches clung to very muscular thighs.

&
nbsp; She sighed, then snapped out of her doldrums and stared into the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen. “Yes, Mr.—, I’m sorry, were we introduced?”

  “I would have asked your mother for an introduction, but she and Lady Roddington were so engrossed, I would have missed the opportunity to dance with you had I waited. Robert Hurst, at your service, my lady.” He bowed so elegantly, a long lock of his thick, dark blond hair falling over his brow. He swept it back nonchalantly as he straightened with fluid grace.

  “Mr. Hurst, I would be delighted to dance.” She caught her mother’s attention and followed the young man through the crowd to the edge of the dancing area where they joined the lines of dancers. Mama must know whom this man was, or she would have made a face at Miriam. All Miriam knew was he’d saved her from a fate worse than death—being left without a partner after so blatant a snub.

  Before the music even began, Miriam knew Mr. Robert Hurst would forever hold a place in her heart.

  Chapter Two

  Hambleton Cottage, Cheshire, England

  December, 1814

  Robert Hurst, the eighth Earl of Northcotte, swirled the brandy in his glass as he listened to his brother-in-law, David Lumley, and their host, Stephen Lumley, discuss the final race meetings of the year. The Lumleys were his main competition as a horse breeder and racehorse owner, but horseflesh was the last thing on his mind.

  David motioned to the empty chair sitting before the desk in Stephen’s study. “Be civil, sit with us. Just because Patriot beat Triton in the sweepstakes last month doesn’t mean you have to hide in the corner.”

  Spinning on his heel, Northcotte growled and stalked towards the men. “I do not hide in the corner. I happened to pause there, that is all.” He dropped into the chair and crossed his heel over his knee, rubbing at a bit of mud clinging to his boot heel. “And my mind is not on race meetings.”

  No, his thoughts were on the most damnable of creatures. Women.

  David leaned towards him, his brows drawing together, deepening the crease there. “Is your mother unwell? Joanna never said anything. It was shortsighted of me to speak out.”

  “No, no. Mother is well, as is her husband, last I heard. My thoughts were on Arrington.”

  Both his companions blanched and gulped their drinks. David wiped the back of one hand across his mouth. “Messy business, that. When I got your letter, I didn’t sleep for two nights.”

  Stephen nodded, his good eye trained on Northcotte. The patch covering the other eye looked almost threatening in the dim light from the single lamp and the fire, giving a harsh appearance to the gentle young man. “What could have made his wife do that?”

  Northcotte downed the last of his brandy, hissing at the burn it left in his throat. “She’d had enough of his mistresses, I’m told. Caught him in flagrante delicto.”

  “But a fire poker to the noggin,” David said. He shook his head.

  “It reaffirms my decision to remain single.” Northcotte tugged at his cravat, the tightly-wound fine linen suddenly feeling too close to a parson’s noose. He didn’t go into details about the pact he and his surviving school chums had made on the subject. Being married, the Lumley men might not understand Northcotte’s position. “I’m lately pleased I ended things with my mistress two months ago. I doubt one of them would react so horribly to my being with another woman, but you never know.”

  Stephen lifted the crystal decanter and refreshed all three glasses. “I can’t imagine Jane smashing my head in with a fire poker.”

  David laughed. “You’ve imagined some other way she might kill you? How much longer must I be married before these nightmares begin?”

  They continued to banter good-naturedly, but Northcotte couldn’t drink away the image of his old friend lying in a casket, so young, and so needlessly. Nothing could entice Northcotte into marriage, so long as the very real possibility of finding another casual companion lay in his future.

  But now was not the time to dwell on murders or mistresses. He was there to celebrate Christmas with his sister and her family by marriage. Somehow he needed to set aside his maudlin musings and find a smile. His niece and nephew would expect their Uncle Rob to be cheerful and gay, and those were the two people he would never let down.

  David’s voice brought Northcotte out of his thoughts. “You can’t remain single forever.”

  “Why can’t I? My cousin would be grateful for the chance to assume the title and pass it to his son. Mother is remarried, so there’s no concern of her having a place to live. And as you seem to be doing a fair job of keeping my sister provided for, I have no need for an heir.”

  “I’m doing a damned sight better than fair taking care of Joanna,” David muttered, staring hard into the liquid in his glass.

  Stephen frowned. “There’s more to marriage than providing an heir. There’s the rest of your life to live out. Do you really plan to spend it alone?”

  “No, and that’s precisely why I don’t want a wife. What if she turns out to be a cold fish in bed? If she thinks she’s done her duty once we have a son, yet expects me to not look elsewhere for my needs? It’s not worth the risk, when there’s so little reward.”

  The other two chuckled. “Oh, the rewards would astound you,” David said.

  Stephen nodded, his grin spreading. “You continue to deceive yourself that you’ll never marry. And we’ll try not to say we told you differently when you find yourself in love.”

  Northcotte gulped down the last of the whiskey in his glass. When he looked to his future, love wasn’t even part of the picture.

  ~*~

  Lady Miriam Thornhill rocked the tiny baby in her arms, inhaling the fresh scent of soap mingled with the sweetness of mother’s milk on little Annie’s breath. “Joanna, she is such an angel. Sometimes I fear I will never have the privilege of experiencing motherhood.” She handed the infant back to her mother and took a seat beside her very pregnant friend, Jane Lumley.

  “You are only four-and-twenty, Miriam. Hardly on the shelf. You will find just the right man, do not fear.” Jane held the tiny gown she was sewing closer to the candle and inspected her seam. Suddenly, she peered at Miriam. “You are not still holding out hope for Lord Mystery, are you?”

  “Heavens, no! I haven’t thought of him in ages.” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “He was just a young girl’s dream. I now know I need a real husband. It won’t happen soon enough to please my grandfather. He sent me another summons to appear before him for Christmas. I was so disappointed to have to inform him you required my assistance as you were laying in.” The requests her grandfather, the Duke of Danby, issued always meant he had arranged another marriage prospect.

  Jane echoed her laughter. “That is the truth. My mother, Stephen’s aunt, and Joanna could never manage my household without your help.”

  “Goodness, will they all be here? I hadn’t realized you’d have so large a party for Christmas. I hate to intrude on your family. Perhaps I should have gone to Danby Castle.”

  “Don’t even think it! My mother and Lady Bridgethorpe won’t arrive until a day or two before Christmas, unless the baby comes early. David and Joanna plan to return to Newmarket shortly after Christmas, so I wouldn’t mind if you decided to stay for several months.” Jane rearranged her feet on the low stool in front of her chair and heaved a sigh. “I fear this one is envious of all the attention his cousin is receiving, and I won’t be able to delay him any longer.”

  “Are you hoping for another boy?”

  “I hope for a quiet angel, but I fear it will be another Lumley child in spirit. He hardly rests while I am awake, and wakens me often enough during the night. I say a prayer nightly for the nurse who keeps such a good eye on little Harry.”

  Jane stroked a hand up and down her belly, the most serene smile on her face. Motherhood must be the most joyous time of a woman’s life. And Miriam would never know for certain, as she was doomed to spinsterhood.

  Joanna Lumley, Jane’s cousin-in-law,
passed her baby off to the nurse and joined Miriam and Jane before the fire. “I was informed a short time ago that my brother arrived today, but he has failed to present himself to me. I can’t believe he prefers David’s company to mine.”

  Jane shook her head. “Northcotte is a man. He’s not about to join us in our tea and gossip.” She turned to Miriam. “Joanna’s youngest brother, Sam, won’t enter a room here unless he’s certain another man is present. It’s as if he fears he will be enlisted to change Annie’s swaddling clothes.”

  Joanna and Jane laughed. As she drew in a breath, Jane’s eyes widened. “Ummm, Northcotte is single isn’t he, Joanna? And so is my dear friend here. Mayhap we need to work a little magic, cousin.”

  Miriam giggled with them, but quickly took the reins of the discussion. “You will do no such thing. If I wanted an arranged marriage I would have gone to Grandfather’s castle. I thought I’d be safe here.”

  “My brother is a fine catch, you won’t find a better one,” Joanna argued, laughter remaining in her voice. “He’s an earl, you’re an earl’s daughter. He’s tall, handsome, and once he set my father’s debts to rights, he returned to his old, charming self. I think you’d enjoy his company.”

  “I’m certain he’s a very pleasant man, but I hope you didn’t invite me here to play matchmaker.” Miriam pulled at a loose curl before folding her hands in her lap and forcing herself to leave it alone. She had a hard enough time keeping the curl in her hair; she didn’t need to be straightening it.

  “No, never fear. It hadn’t occurred to me until I said it.” Jane reached for the plate of biscuits and offered the treats to the other ladies. “I truly thought of nothing other than my own happiness when I invited you to visit. David’s sisters live close enough to come skate on the pond or go for sleigh rides with their brother and Stephen, but I see them only at meals unless it rains. I am always grateful for a companion to play cards with. Unless we invite a friend or two from the village, you will be the only one here who isn’t family.”