Lord Millerton stopped beside her and then gazed straight ahead, as to where her eyes were fixed. A gentleman was sitting on a bench a short distance from them. He appeared to be a little slumped, his head hanging low, his chin on his chest and his hat a little precarious as it sat
on his head.
“He looks as though he is in some contemplation,” Lord Millerton murmured, although she did not miss the slight catch in his voice. “Mayhap you should permit me to go first, Lady Callander.”
She shook her head. “We shall walk together, Lord Millerton,” she said, decisively. “After all, Lord Hazelton is expecting only myself and, given the strange way he has arranged this meeting, I shall have to ensure that he is not inclined to hurry from me simply because I have company.” She looked up into his face and saw him nod, although a frown knotted his brow as he kept his gaze fixed on the gentleman in front of them. They began to walk together, falling into step beside each other and ensuring that they did not walk overly quickly so as not to frighten the gentleman, particularly if it turned out not to be Lord Hazelton!
“Wait a moment.”
Lord Millerton’s voice was low, his brow furrowing hard as he held her back.
“Wait, Lady Callander.”
She glanced up at him, looking up into his eyes and then back at the gentleman on the bench. “Lord Millerton?”
He finally looked away from the scene in front of him and then back towards her. “Look, Lady Callander.” His low, grave voice sent a shiver down her spine but she forced herself to turn back, to look at the gentleman a little more closely — and caught her breath as she realized what he had seen.
“Oh no,” she whispered, seeing that the gentleman before them was sitting with something protruding from his chest. In the sunshine, she could see that what she could see of his shirt was not a crisp white but rather a dark stained red. “Is — is he dead?”
Bridgette watched as Lord Millerton hurried forward, finding her feet fixed to the ground, her hands shaking as she clasped them together. Lord Millerton moved quickly, lifting the man’s head with both hands, searching the gentleman’s face for any sign of life.
She knew at once that it was Lord Hazelton, recognizing his face. His eyes were wide and staring and from the way Lord Millerton shook his head, she realized that he was no longer of this world.
Closing her eyes, Bridgette took in a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This was not at all what she had expected and certainly had never even thought that Lord Hazelton could be facing such danger!
“We must return to the carriage.”
Lord Millerton’s hands took hers, holding them tightly as she tried to pull herself from the coldness that seemed now to wrap itself around her. It was as though a fog had rushed around her, making it hard to see and to hear and to even feel anything other than shock.
“Lady Callander — Bridgette,” Lord Millerton said, urgently, squeezing her hands and bending his head low so that he might look into her eyes a little more. “You must return to the carriage.”
“Is he dead?” she found herself whispering, even though she knew it was so already. “Has he been killed?”
Lord Millerton held her gaze, then nodded. “It appears so,” he said, his mouth in a thin line. “There was a knife protruding from his chest.”
Bridgette sucked in a breath, shuddering furiously as she closed her eyes tightly and tried to accept what she had been told. “Who would have done such a thing?”
“I could not say at present,” he answered, slowly, “but there is a good deal that I now need to discuss with the League.”
She looked up at him sharply, a moment of clarity brushing through her and chasing away the fog that had been holding her for so long. “The League?” she repeated. “You said before that there was something about Lord Hazelton that they sought to learn more about.” Seeing him nod, she took in a deep breath. “Then, I should like to be a part of such an investigation.”
“No, Lady Callander,” Lord Millerton said at once. “Last Season, you were in some danger from —”
“You are very kind to try and protect me,” she interrupted him, a trifle stiffly, “but I will not be dissuaded. Lord Hazelton knew something about my late husband that he wanted to share with me. In addition, you have something about him that you must also look into.” She put one hand on his, as though her touch might convince him. “What if both are connected in some way?”
He hesitated, then pressed her hand. “Let us first remove you from this scene,” he said, firmly, beginning to hurry her back towards the carriage. “No doubt someone else will soon notice him and we do not want there to be anyone who might connect your name with this dread situation.”
She shuddered violently again as he led her away, going with him without hesitation. Her feet felt as though they were floating on top of the grass, her whole body feeling lighter than air such was her shock. Bridgette could not even recall walking back to the carriage, for the next thing she knew, she was sitting opposite Lord Millerton and being driven back through London.
“Where — where are we to go?” she asked, in a small voice, her eyes lifting to Lord Millerton’s and seeing the concern etched in his expression. “You will not leave me at my townhouse alone?”
Lord Millerton did not immediately answer, perhaps considering what he was to say next.
“You have suffered a great shock,” he said, gently. “I think that it would be best if you —”
“No, pray do not think that you know what is best for me!”
The sharpness of her voice had startled him, she could tell. His eyes flared, his color paling for a moment and his lips pulling taut. She did not drop her gaze, holding his eyes with her own, her hands clenched in her lap. She meant every word, not wanting him to think that he knew what she required and deciding on her behalf what would be best. She was very well able to decide what she needed and, what she needed for the time being, was to be able to discuss what she had just seen and what the League knew of Lord Hazelton.