Protecting Lady Esther (The King's League)

“I am a little surprised that you would be so willing to do such a thing, Lord Westbrook,” she told him, looking back up at him and seeing how he looked away from her. “If this is to be a consequence of your willingness to help me, then I would not have it forced upon you. It is not something I expect from you nor—”

“I must marry at some point in my life,” he interrupted, finally looking back at her. “There is no reason why someone such as you, Lady Esther, could not fulfil such a position in my life. Therefore, if it comes to it, I have no concerns as to such a thing occurring.”

Greatly surprised at this admission and even more astonished at his openness when they were not even particularly well acquainted, Esther found herself nodding wordlessly, aware that her aunt would soon be approaching.

“Then it is settled,” he said, with a quick inclination of his head. “I should like to call upon you again, if I may?”

“I should like that very much,” she told him.

“Good.” His smile was a little tight, perhaps betraying the nervousness or anxiety that had filled him only moments before. “I will also state that a man has been dispatched to your father’s estate, to confirm whether or not he resides there.” He spread his hands. “They have not returned as yet, but I shall inform you the moment they do so.”

Her heart beat painfully at the thought of her father, making the rest of what had been said disappear entirely from her thoughts. “I have not heard back from him,” she informed Lord Westbrook, whose brow was beginning to furrow once more. “I wrote to him some days ago, but as yet have received no response – although it is perhaps a little too soon to expect such a thing.”

Lord Westbrook nodded, caught her hand in his, and bent over it again. “Perhaps tomorrow?” he said, confusing her for a moment before she realized that her aunt was approaching. “If you delight in the gardens here, then might I suggest a walk around St James’s Park? It is beautiful this time of year.”

“I should like that very much indeed,” she answered truthfully, as Lady Ware came to join them. “Thank you, Lord Westbrook.” She saw him smile at her and managed only a small one in return, her heart and mind caught up now with worry over her absent father, fearing that if the man returned with the news that he was not at the estate – as she herself feared – then she would not know what to do thereafter. Her gaze landed on Lord Westbrook again, seeing him take his leave of Lady Ware, and a reassurance began to fill her heart. He would be able to help her, no matter what occurred. Yes, it had been very foolish indeed for her to go and seek out her father at The Shrew, but in doing so, she had managed to find a gentleman of good character, who was now willing to do whatever he could to help her find the truth. That, she thought, as Lord Westbrook bowed in her direction, was truly wonderful, for otherwise, she might have been left floundering, struggling for clarity and having no-one to turn to for help.

“Until tomorrow, Lady Esther.”

Lord Westbrook was smiling at her now, his eyes holding a promise that she was no longer to be afraid of what was to come; that he would be there beside her, stepping beside her no matter which way she turned.

“Until tomorrow, Lord Westbrook,” she murmured, before he turned around and made his way out of the gardens, leaving her standing beside a thoroughly delighted Lady Ware.

Chapter Seven

“We have more than one difficulty on our hands at present,” Charles said, as the men about the room trained their gaze on him. “We have Lady Esther and the disappearance of her father—Lord Leighton. In addition, we have the matter of the cipher, as well as continuing to protect the book.”

One of the men stepped forward, clearing his throat. “I have just returned from Lord Taylor’s estate,” he said in a loud voice. “I discovered nothing however.”

Charles, whose hopes had been lifting just a little, immediately felt his spirits smash to the ground.

“Nothing?” Lord Brandley asked, h

is brows furrowing. “There was nothing at all that might indicate what Sir Taylor had intended to do with the cipher?”

The man shook his head, spreading his hands. “Nothing. However, I was informed that I was not the first gentleman to have called at Sir Taylor’s estate.”

Charles caught his breath, catching Lord Brandley’s eye.

“You mean to say that there was someone else there before you?” he asked, seeing the man nod. “Who was it, Lord Huddersfield? Did the staff inform you as to whom it might be?”

Lord Huddersfield shook his head. “I did press the butler to speak of this man to me but he was rather vague. He said something about there being a gentleman calling a day or so after Sir Taylor’s death, who stated that he was a cousin and therefore was required to go through Sir Taylor’s personal effects.”

“And the butler did not seek to challenge him?”

Lord Huddersfield shook his head. “If you were the butler and you did not yet know who might be taking over the estate, would you have refused him?” he asked pointedly, looking towards Lord Watt who had asked the question. “No, the butler allowed him in although I believe there may have been a touch of regret about the butler as he spoke of it.”

“And did this man go away with anything?” Charles asked, feeling as though they had only just missed what might have been an excellent lead. “Anything of note?”

“Again”—Lord Huddersfield said with a small shake of his head—“the butler did not see him leave with anything, although that does not mean that he did not. A man’s coat can conceal a good many papers.”

Letting out a long, frustrated sigh, Charles sat back in his chair and let his head rest back against it. “So someone else searched Sir Taylor’s estate before we did,” he said, gruffly. “They may have discovered…”

Instantly, something hit him, hard. A sudden, sharp shock ran straight through him, his breath hitching as his eyes widened in shock. His whole body became alive with tension, his heart pounding furiously as he stared blankly ahead, his hands curling into fists.

“Lord Westbrook?” he heard someone say, sounding as though they were speaking from far away. “Is something wrong?”

Charles could not quite form words, trying to work out what it was he wanted to say without being able to produce any sound. His mouth opened and shut, his mind whirring furiously – until, suddenly he threw himself out of his chair and pointed towards Lord Huddersfield.