“You surely do not expect myself and Lady Madeline to remain out of doors?” she said, a little stiffly. “Whether you would wish for it or not, Lord Millerton, we are going to attend with you.”
He grinned, reached out, took her hand and brought it to his lips.
“But of course you are,” he said, warmly, smiling at her. “Come then, let us go in together.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Good evening, Madame Bereford!”
Bridgette winced inwardly as she and Lady Madeline hurried into a room directly behind Lord Millerton. Only moments ago, he had thrown the door open wide, making it hit off the wall as it swung back, before striding into the room as though he were meant to be there.
Behind her came Lord Lexington, Lord Hearst and Lord Windsor, the latter of whom shut the door tightly and then leaned back against it, his arms crossed. Bridgette allowed her gaze to run around the room. It was lit with only a few candles, a small fire burning in the hearth which made the room feel uncomfortably hot. There were large tapestries running down the walls which were ornate in their depictions, and a thick piled rug was at her feet. To one end of the room, there sat a very large desk, one which a gentleman might own, with only a few chairs scattered here and there, as though Madame Bereford did not expect to be entertaining a good many visitors at any one time.
Her gaze moved to the lady herself. She was standing behind the desk, her hands planted on it, leaning forward over it. Her eyes were narrowed and as sharp as daggers, her mouth twisted in a cruel smile. Her white blonde hair was twisted into a style that pulled it back from her face almost entirely, save for a few stray curls that artfully danced around her temples.
Bridgette was quite c
ertain that Madame Bereford held a beauty that no other lady could boast of, but there was a cruelty within those eyes that she could not help but see and it was that which made her shudder.
Lord Chesterfield, who had been sitting in a chair opposite the desk from where Madame Bereford stood, had a stricken expression on his face. His hands were tight on the arms of the chair, his head twisted around to look at them all, and as his gaze fell on her, Bridgette saw something shift in his expression. His jaw worked furiously, his eyes holding a spark of anger that had not been there before.
And then, much to her shock, Bridgette realized that there was another gentleman seated across from Lord Chesterfield, also facing Madame Bereford. He was, it seemed, quite relaxed, his eyes fixed to the lady before him rather than looking back at any of them.
“We do not have a meeting, Lord Millerton,” Madame Bereford said, her voice low and filled with sweetness despite the flint in her eyes. “You must depart at once.”
Lord Millerton shook his head, gesturing for the others to come a little further inside, save for Lord Windsor who remained where he was. “We have come at precisely the right time, Madame Bereford,” he said, as the lady frowned hard at him. “We have come to speak to both you and Lord Chesterfield.”
Bridgette moved closer towards Lord Millerton, gesturing to the other man in the chair. With how Lord Millerton had been standing, he had not seen him at the first and, as he did now, he started violently, only for her to hear his swift intake of breath.
“And Lord Cambleton,” he said, softly, making Bridgette’s eyes flare with astonishment as she recognized the gentleman. “Goodness, I did not think it would be you.” A small chuckle escaped him as they all saw Lord Chesterfield sink back into his chair a little, his eyes still angry. “You did not think that note really came from Madame Bereford, did you, Lord Chesterfield?”
“This is ridiculous!” Lord Chesterfield practically threw himself from his chair, pointing one finger at Lord Millerton. “We are friends, you and I. What do you mean by setting up this sort of situation?”
There was nothing but silence for a few moments. Bridgette held her breath, waiting to see what Lord Millerton would say and wondering if he felt any pain at having to speak to his friend in such a manner.
“We were friends,” he admitted, quietly, “up until the day I heard that you have picked up something more in your recent shipping routes.” His eyes fixed to Lord Chesterfield, who said nothing in reply to this, his brow furrowing. Bridgette did not truly understand what Lord Millerton meant, wondering if this was nothing more than a hunch which Lord Millerton had chosen to pursue.
“I do not know of what you speak!” Lord Chesterfield threw up his hands without warning, turning to stride towards the door. “Good evening to you all.”
Lord Windsor chuckled, remaining steadfast and solid as he stood by the door. “I do not think you will easily be able to make me open this door for you, Chesterfield,” he said, his voice low and yet filled with what sounded like good humor. “Although you are most welcome to try.”
Bridgette took in the two gentlemen, seeing Lord Chesterfield take a step back, as though assessing the situation. Lord Windsor was not overly tall but had a stockiness that clearly made Lord Chesterfield consider whether or not he would have enough strength to be able to physically remove Lord Windsor from his post.
Evidently, he did not think so for, with a sigh, he turned back to Madame Bereford.
“There is nothing you can accuse me of,” he said, stoutly, his arms folded across his chest. “I merely came to visit Madame Bereford’s establishment, that is all.”
Bridgette could not help but laugh, the sound sticking to her throat as Lord Chesterfield whirled around, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her.
“You cannot truly expect us to believe such a thing,” she told him, summoning her courage. “You are throwing a ball this evening, Lord Chesterfield! We have all been present at it!” She tipped her head and looked at him, seeing his lip curl but finding no fear within her heart. “Are you truly trying to suggest that you have left all of your guests and your responsibilities as host in order to come and gain a little pleasure from Madame Bereford’s house?” She held Lord Chesterfield’s gaze, caring very little for his reaction towards her. “Or is it more that you needed to discuss ‘The Rose’?” She mentioned the name of the ship that both Lord Chesterfield and Madame Bereford had spoken of at one time and saw Lord Chesterfield start in surprise, his arms loosening as his hands fell to his sides. Madame Bereford had not moved from her desk, and Lord Cambleton was sitting watching, as though he were at the theatre and watching a play being performed directly in front of him.
“And you might also tell us why you killed Lord Hazelton,” Lady Madeline interjected, her voice a little higher than usual. “What excuse can you give for such a heinous act?” She jerked her head away from Lord Chesterfield, as though unable to even look at him — and Bridgette saw Lord Chesterfield stumble forward, one hand reaching out towards Lady Madeline as though he could not bear the thought of her thinking so ill of him.
“I — I did not kill him!” he stammered, staring after Lady Madeline as though she was the only thing of importance in the room. “I swear to you I did not. It was only when he began to question the identity of Lord Callander that I — ”
“Do be quiet, man.”
Lord Cambleton’s voice was low and threatening and Lord Chesterfield fell silent at once, his face going a deep scarlet.