Lord Millerton narrowed his gaze towards Lord Chesterfield. “Why did you need Lord Hazelton’s money, Chesterfield?” he asked, angrily. “It involves your ships, I am sure, but I do not know what it is that is required of you.”
Lord Chesterfield let out a long breath, just as Lord Cambleton exclaimed aloud that he was not to say a single word. Out of the corner of her eye, Bridgette noticed that Madame Bereford was slowly sitting down into her chair, one hand reaching forward for something in her desk drawer.
“Wait!”
The room exploded at once. Madam Bereford pulled out a pistol and shot wildly. Lord Cambleton fell backwards with a grunt of pain, just as Lord Millerton threw himself at Madame Bereford, knocking the chair back and slamming it hard against the wall.
Bridgette could hardly breathe, one hand pressed against her heart as she surveyed the scene before her. Lord Cambleton was lying on the floor, his eyes fixed and staring, red blossoming out from his chest and spreading across his shirt. Lord Chesterfield was sitting in same chair as before, his eyes huge and his lips parted in shock. Lord Windsor also remained in his position, although his expression was one of complete and utter surprise. Lord Millerton groaned and pushed himself up, the chair leaning haphazardly against the wall, one hand holding the pistol and the other hand clamped around Madame Bereford’s wrist. Madame Bereford held a dazed expression, her eyes staring at Lord Cambleton’s prone body on the floor.
Lord Hearst was the first to move, followed by Lady Madeline who, instead of dropping to her knees to help as Lord Hearst had done, simply tottered back to collapse into a chair.
“He is dead,” Lord Hearst muttered, looking up at Lord Millerton, who pushed Madame Bereford into her chair and stood by her side, a perceptible warning.
“I believe you have killed your associate, Madame Bereford,” Lord Hearst continued, rising to his feet and looking at the lady. “Perhaps in the same way that you tried to kill Miss Sarah?”
Madame Bereford’s expression changed at once. Her eyes narrowed, anger burning in her eyes as slammed one clenched fist down on the desk in front of her.
“That arrogant, foolish, ridiculous girl!” she shouted, furiously. “I took her from the worst of places and brought her here, and she repays that kindness by keeping secrets from me? By pretending that she does not know whom I am speaking of?” She spat hard on the ground, her face an expression of fury. “Soon after she spoke to you, I had a man watch her every move.” Her laugh was scornful. “It was not I who shot at her, but rather he, although I will confess that he used my pistol.”
Bridgette shook her head, unable to even look at Lord Cambleton now. “And you do not care about what you have done?” she asked, as Madame Bereford tossed her head. “You do not care that you have sought to kill one and successfully managed to shoot another?”
“No,” Madame Bereford said, starkly. “I do not care. The truth is, Miss Sarah and the other ladies here are nothing more than property. Things to be traded and sold.” She shrugged. “Lord Cambleton made me an offer I could not refuse, particularly when it meant having a little taste of my homeland again.”
Surprise shot up Bridgette’s spine. “You are not English born?” she asked, quite astonished given the lady’s perfect manner of speaking, fair hair and blue eyes.
Madame Bereford laughed again, cruelly. “No,” she said, with a small smile. “I am from France. You may not hear it in my voice but that is because I have taken the time to train myself, to ensure that I do not speak in any way that could give me away.” She snorted. “I know how the French are treated in this country.”
Lord Windsor frowned, his jaw working for a moment. “They are treated kindly, unless they prove to be enemies of our country and our King,” he said darkly. “Which, Madame Bereford, I am convinced you are.”
Madame Bereford gasped aloud, one hand on her heart as though she expected him to apologize for such a remark, but Lord Windsor only snorted and looked away.
“These ships of yours, Lord Chesterfield,” Lord Millerton asked, turning towards the gentleman in the chair. “Why are they so important? What was it
that Lord Cambleton and Madame Bereford required them for?”
Lord Chesterfield swallowed hard, then lowered his head. Even Madame Bereford’s dark whispers did not seem to prevent him from speaking, for he sighed heavily and then began to explain.
“I could not pay my debts here,” he muttered, gesturing towards Madam Bereford. “She demanded that I do so but I told her I could not.” Shaking his head, he rubbed one hand across his forehead. “One of my ships had gone down recently, losing me a good deal of money. I was desperate. And thus, Madame Bereford offered to help me make back some of my fortune and promised to wipe out my debt in return for my assistance.”
“You could have refused,” Lord Hearst grated, darkly. “You could have told her that you would not do such a thing.”
Lord Chesterfield spread out his hands, his eyes heavy with regret. “I could not,” he said. “I was weak. I wanted my fortune to be replenished. And thus, I agreed.” He shrugged. “I have done as Madame Bereford and Lord Cambleton asked of me, using my ship to transport the cargo she requested. However, recently, I have been seeking a way to either hire or purchase another ship, to replace the one that I lost —”
“But you did not yet have the finances required, and so Lord Cambleton came up with a scheme to find someone to put in the money that was needed, is that not so?” Lord Millerton asked, softly. “This scheme was not of your own doing, Lord Chesterfield. It was Lord Cambleton and Madame Bereford using you for their own benefit.”
Lord Chesterfield shrugged, his head low and his shoulders slumped. “Yes, I suppose that is it,” he said, heavily. “I have had to play the part of a wealthy, contented gentleman who is making his way through society with all the joy and contentment one can have, whilst inwardly I have been struggling with what occurred with Lord Hazelton. With what I know my supposed associates have been doing.” His voice was a little muffled and Madame Bereford let out a scream of frustration, but Lord Chesterfield did not even blink.
Bridgette sucked in a breath and leaned heavily on the back of Lady Madeline’s chair, suddenly recalling the conversation she had overheard about the cargo.
“You were speaking to Lord Cambleton about this ‘cargo’ that was supposedly very precious indeed,” she whispered, as Lord Chesterfield lifted his head to look at her. “Lord Cambleton spoke of a difficulty with the cargo that was already present, promising to remove it so that it would no longer linger.” A chill ran all through her as she realized what this meant. “You spoke of Miss Sarah. It was Lord Cambleton who was asked to watch her by Madame Bereford. It was Lord Cambleton who followed her and attempted to take her life.”
Lord Chesterfield did not nod but neither did he drop his gaze. “I was very rude to you thereafter,” he said, quietly. “The truth is, Lady Callander, I have been desperate in my attempts to court Lady Madeline, so that I might gain her dowry and, in doing so, have a way to remove myself from this dread situation that I am now quite dredged in.”
Lady Madeline gave a slight start at the mention of her name, staring at Lord Chesterfield as though she did not know him. Then she looked away, her eyes blinking back what Bridgette thought to be furious tears.
“Then you were just as I feared,” she said, brokenly. “Another gentleman seeking only to secure me for his own purposes.”
“I need the money!” Lord Chesterfield cried, as though it justified his behavior. “I could not go on without it!”