The Bad Luck Bride for comp Read online

  “Papa, do you think there is any truth to the rumors that Lord Berkley’s wife died of anything more than an accident? It would be so exciting to think we are entertaining an actual murderer,” Christina said, unable to hide her fascination with the man.

  Richard placed his fork slowly and purposefully on the table and turned toward his younger daughter. “There will be no more such talk, young lady. Do I make myself clear?”

  Christina lowered her head, though Alice had a feeling she was not feeling even a bit of shame. “Yes, sir.” She was quiet for a few moments, and Alice could almost see the words she was trying not to say pushing against her sister’s tongue. “But it would be exciting, even to just pretend.”

  Richard cast his wife a look of frustration, and her mother pressed her lips together in an effort to keep from smiling.

  “Pretend all you want, but if you so much as make even a hint about murder or dead wives, I will lock you in your room for a year,” Richard said, but an emptier threat had never been uttered by her father. Christina had her father wrapped around her little finger and everyone in the house, including Richard, knew it.

  “Yes, Papa,” Christina said. “But what if he brings up the subject of his dead wife?”

  Richard scowled at Christina, and she begrudgingly agreed that nothing should be said.

  * * *

  The next day was blustery and unusually cold, and the sea turned violent, with large waves smashing against the shore and sending spray up onto the cobblestone streets of St. Ives. A steady wind-blown rain fell, and Henderson couldn’t be certain when the drops fell against the window, sounding like small pebbles being thrown against the glass, whether it was the rain or the spray from the sea.

  As soon as Berkley’s carriage pulled up to his hotel, Henderson hastened out, not waiting for the footman to lower the stairs, instead doing the deed himself and pushing quickly into the interior where Berkley sat, looking elegant and every inch the earl he was. A large black umbrella was propped in the corner next to him, and Berkley gave it a pointed look before taking in Henderson’s half-drenched state. Henderson gave himself the mental reminder to make use of a valet, at least when he was in England. A valet would most certainly have provided him an umbrella. Though his clothes were expensive, his hair neatly trimmed, and his face freshly shaven, he still did not have the polished look of Berkley, nor of Northrup. If he wanted to somehow win Alice’s hand in marriage, he must at least look the part and not remind Lord Hubbard at every turn that he was nothing more than a commoner.

  Berkley gave him an assessing look, as if he were thinking the same thing. He was silent for a few minutes before asking, “How is it that you know the Hubbards?”

  “I met their late son, Joseph, at Eton. We became best friends and I often spent summers at Tregrennar. The Hubbards were always kind and treated me like a member of the family.”

  Moving his thumb slowly over his chin, Berkley seemed to absorb this information before shaking his head. “And so you fell in love with the daughter, couldn’t allow your feelings to be known, because, well, you were a guest in the house and Alice was Joseph’s younger sister, and so, de facto, your little sister.”

  “That’s about the gist of it. When Joseph died, it crushed us all. I was supposed to have been with him that night, but I made other plans.”

  “Ah. You feel partly responsible.”

  “Wholly responsible. I left for India directly after the funeral. I didn’t say good-bye, I just left, believing in my heart it was for the best. I was only twenty-one and Alice was just seventeen, not even out yet. She got engaged a year after I left.”

  Berkley appeared taken aback. “I thought you said she was nearly engaged. If she’s engaged, that quite changes things, Southwell.”

  “You misunderstand. Her first fiancé died just prior to the wedding. In the church, as a matter of fact. This latest fiancé jilted her at the altar but arrived not two days ago to beg her forgiveness. As far as I know, she hasn’t forgiven it fully yet, though her parents seem more than willing to forgive him. There’s been no announcement, and the actual engagement was nullified when Northrup failed to show up at the church.”

  “Harvey Heddingford? That Lord Northrup?”

  “The same. Why, do you know him?”

  Berkley smiled. “No,” he said calmly. “But my father did.”

  Henderson recognized the look on Berkley’s face. Even though he hadn’t known the man long, he could tell when something devious was brewing inside him. “I do not want to win the lady through extortion, my lord.”

  Berkley held up his hand, a wholly unconvincing look of innocence on his face. “I would never stoop to such levels. I would, however, enlighten Lord Hubbard of any interesting financial predicament that would harm his own purse.” Berkley sighed. “The information I have is old and may not even be pertinent to the current situation, so I will tread carefully.”

  “Northrup is in financial straits?”

  “He was two years ago. Gambling debts to a few gentlemen who were, let us say, less than happy with the situation. My father’s reach never fails to surprise me.”

  Henderson thought on this as the rain slashed against the carriage, a noise that periodically lessened as they went under trees along the way to Tregrennar. If Northrup was still heavily in debt, he had no right to marry Alice. Perhaps Henderson was not the wealthiest man in England, but he had amassed a nice nest egg whilst in India and knew he could build a comfortable life with Alice, one that very closely matched the life she was accustomed to.

  “The Hubbards are aware I am coming, are they not?”

  Berkley smiled blandly. “Now what would be the fun in that?”

  Chapter 12

  “Two men are getting out of the carriage,” Christina called to Alice and her mother, who were waiting in the parlor pretending not to be sitting on the edge of their seats in anticipation of the earl’s arrival. “I cannot see them at all through the rain. They have an umbrella hiding them. Were you expecting two gentlemen, Mama?”

  “I was not,” Elda said, and it was clear to Alice that she was slightly alarmed. Rising, she opened the door and caught the attention of a footman, instructing him to tell Mrs. Godfrey there would be an additional person for luncheon. “There, that’s settled. I do hope Mrs. Godfrey isn’t too upset. It is only one addition.”

  “I’m certain she will handle the news with aplomb, Mama,” Alice said. “I do wonder who he has brought.”

  “The more the merrier,” Northrup said, in the exaggerated cheerfulness he’d adopted since his arrival. He was being extremely solicitous to Alice, and was so agreeable it was difficult to remain angry with him. Still, Alice found herself resisting him and could only blame her new feelings for Henderson. Northrup had kissed her a few times, and had very nearly gotten carried away on one occasion (for which he’d profusely apologized), but his kisses did not nearly elicit the passion that Henderson’s had. Just thinking about it—which she did more than she should—would cause her entire body to heat. It made her want to find that wonderful release she’d found with Henderson, and longing, a subtle pressure between her legs, had her pressing her limbs together far too often. And that left her aching for more.

  The butler entered and announced their visitors with solemn dignity. “His Lordship the Earl of Berkley and Mr. Southwell, madam.”

  Alice, who had been trying to look pointedly uninterested, for she didn’t want to encourage her mother at all in trying to push her toward the earl, snapped her head up. Henderson, the rascal, smiled broadly, first at her mother and then at her. With narrowed eyes, Alice tried in vain to stop her heart from picking up a beat and her lips from tilting up at the corners. Henderson would know, of course, that despite her mock anger, she was entirely too pleased to see him at Tregrennar again.

  “A pleasure, Lord Berkley, Mr. Southwell,” Elda said, giving a slight disapproving emphasis to Henderson’s name. “I would l
ike to offer my condolences on the loss of your father.”

  Berkley nodded. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “I hadn’t realized you were acquainted with Mr. Southwell, my lord.”

  “I met Mr. Southwell only recently when he approached me regarding the famine relief.” Alice tore her gaze away from Henderson to look at Lord Berkley, who epitomized elegance and wealth. Berkley was tall and lean, with thick dark hair pushed back from a strong forehead, lined by worry or time, Alice wasn’t certain which. He was handsome, true, but Alice did not care for the arrogant way he looked at those in the room, nor for his lazy smile, which exuded confidence and privilege. It was almost as if he were playing some secret joke on everyone and he was the only one who knew.

  “Oh, yes. Of course. I recall now you were on Mr. Southwell’s list.”

  “I rather think it was my father who was on that list, but I shall do what I can for the relief. Mr. Southwell is quite passionate and has convinced me to join his efforts.”

  “As have I,” Lord Northrup said, and for some reason, he sounded overloud, like a child who wants to be noticed.

  Elda turned a startled gaze his way, as if she’d quite forgotten Northrup was in the room. That did not bode well for her efforts to deter her mother’s efforts toward Lord Berkley, Alice thought morosely. Lord Berkley was precisely the sort of man her mother would love for her to marry—wealthy and with a prestigious title that any mother would adore for her daughter.

  “Of course. It is so good to see you again, Mr. Southwell.”

  “It has been ages, my lady,” Henderson said on a laugh. Alice watched, delighted, as her mother couldn’t stop her smile. No matter that her father had rudely asked him to leave, Alice knew her mother was pleased to have Henderson beneath her roof again despite her effort to appear otherwise.

  “Mr. Southwell is a particular friend of the family,” Elda said. “Did you know this, my lord?”

  “Indeed I did,” he said, and Alice could swear he darted her a quick look. For some reason, that look made her blush. “Mr. Southwell has mentioned how he spent many happy summers here as a youth. I am glad I was able to convince him to come today.”

  “And did he need convincing?” Alice asked, unable to stop herself.

  “As a matter of fact, he did. I fear I am not a social creature, and having Mr. Southwell along makes it much easier to walk into a home of virtual strangers. I know I visited here as a youth, but it is so long ago, I feared you might have forgotten me.” He smiled easily at her mother, and Alice could see she was falling under Berkley’s spell. Berkley hardly seemed the sort of man who would be anxious about paying a local family a visit, and she wondered why he would say such a thing? Had Henderson somehow begged an invitation?

  The women sat together on a long settee and the men followed and found seats as well, Henderson and Berkley choosing two wingbacked chairs that faced them and Northrup pulling another chair into the group. Alice couldn’t help but notice that Henderson, for all his easy grins, seemed slightly nervous; he kept darting looks to the door as if he expected someone to come remove him from the room. Likely her father, Alice thought darkly. Her father was expected to join them for luncheon, and Alice did wonder at the reaction he would have when he saw Henderson at the table. No doubt he would be as displeased as she was pleased.

  “You father was a frequent guest at Tregrennar,” Elda said. “And of course I recall you, as well. You entertained us by playing the piano, if I remember.”

  Berkley’s smile grew tight, as if it were not a pleasant memory. “Ah, yes. I played with great determination and little talent, as I recall.”

  Elda let out a small, uncertain, laugh. Alice felt sorry for her mother, for it was difficult to know when Lord Berkley was joking or being ironic or simply contrary. He turned to Henderson and asked, “Do you play the piano?”

  Henderson shook his head. “The violin.”

  “What?” Alice could not stop that exclamation from erupting, unladylike, from her mouth. “How do we not know this?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose you never asked. And I did not bring my violin out when I was here.”

  “Why ever not?” Elda asked. “You and Joseph could have played together.” She turned to Lord Berkley. “My late son was an enthusiastic piano player.”

  “I have never played in front of an audience, much to my teacher’s dismay. I tried to once and froze, still as a statue, then burst into humiliating tears. It was the Von Hausen competition and my teacher gave up on me, then and there. I was twelve and far too old for such an emotional display, according to him.”

  “The Von Hausen competition?” Alice looked at this man whom she thought she knew better than any other and could not believe he had kept such a secret from them all. If he had been selected to perform at that competition at such a young age, he must be a master at the instrument.

  “I suppose I didn’t want any of you to treat me differently. If you knew, you might have insisted I play for you and I don’t know if I could have.”

  Henderson fairly squirmed beneath everyone’s astonished stares, until Lord Berkley turned to Lord Northrup, and asked, “Do you play an instrument, Northrup?”

  “I sing.”

  Badly, Alice thought, but gave him an encouraging smile. He was her almost-fiancé, after all.

  “We’ll have to hear you some time,” Berkley said, sounding completely uninterested. “And what brings you to St. Ives, Northrup? This hardly seems the place for such a cosmopolitan fellow as yourself.”

  Northrup’s cheeks turned ruddy. “I am a guest of the Hubbards.”

  “How very charitable of them,” he said blandly, and Henderson gave him a look that could only be described as a warning.

  “It is hardly charity to have the man who plans to marry your daughter as a guest,” Northrup said with a small sniff.

  “My felicitations,” Berkley said, turning his dark gaze toward her. Alice could not tell if his eyes were brown or a very dark blue, but either way, having them pinned on her was disconcerting.

  “Lord Northrup misspoke.” Elda looked nervously from Northrup to Berkley. “They are not officially engaged.” Knowing her mother was vying for Berkley did not lessen Alice’s gratitude for her mother saying those words aloud. She’d feared her parents had come to the forgone conclusion that she and Northrup would marry.

  “We were engaged,” Alice said feeling a bit of a devil for saying that aloud.

  “But Northrup failed to appear at the church.” Henderson, who had seemed nervous not ten minutes before, now seemed to be having a bit too much fun. “He’s here to win his lady back.”

  “Indeed?” Berkley asked, giving Northrup an assessing look.

  “This is a private affair,” Northrup said, clearly annoyed by this turn of the conversation.

  “Actually, it was in the newspaper.” Biting her lip to stop from laughing at Christina’s comment, Alice gave her sister a look that begged her to stop. She might have known Christina would ignore her. “The newspapers, well, one newspaper, called Alice the bad—”

  “Chris-tina,” Elda said.

  “The newspaper called me the bad luck bride. You see, I’ve been engaged to three different fellows and, as you can see, I remain unmarried.”

  “Do we need to discuss this?” Northrup asked tightly. “There are much more pleasant topics we can explore.”

  “Like murder.”

  Alice froze at her sister’s words. She had promised not to bring up murder in front of Lord Berkley, but had done so anyway. One look at her mother, and Alice knew Christina might not see the outside of her room for a month.

  “Murder?” Berkley asked silkily.

  Christina looked at her mother in confusion; then her face paled—no doubt as she remembered that she was sitting in the room with a man who had once been accused of murder and she had promised her father not to discuss it. “Yes, poor Mr. Turner. Some are saying he was murd
ered because it appears he’d been stabbed. In the back.”

  “Oh. Mr. Turner,” Elda said, nearly sagging with relief. “So sad. Are they really saying it could be murder? Where did you hear such a thing?”

  “Martha’s second cousin’s brother works in the mortuary.”

  “Martha shouldn’t go around telling such tales. And you, young lady, should not repeat them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Christina dipped her head, pretending shame. “But I heard the same from Patricia Ellsberry.” Christina turned toward the men. “Her father is a physician.”

  “That would be a horrible thing, indeed,” Elda said. “I cannot imagine anyone who would want to kill Mr. Turner. He was such a pleasant young man.”

  Alice happened to look at Henderson at that moment and saw something flicker in his eyes, as he no doubt recalled their meeting just prior to his death.

  “Mr. Southwell was one of the last people to see Mr. Turner alive.” Alice looked at Northrup with disbelief, not so much at what he’d said but rather how he’d said it, as if Henderson could somehow be the murderer.

  “Indeed I was, my lord,” Henderson said. “He was a good friend and I’m glad I was able to spend some time with him before this happened.”

  “I’m certain you were,” Northrup said apologetically, as if realizing how awful he sounded. He cast a look toward Alice and she had a feeling he was trying to gauge whether she was angry with him or not. He brightened markedly when her father entered the room. “Lord Hubbard.”

  The men rose, and her father immediately started toward Lord Berkley, hesitating only briefly when he realized Henderson was standing next to him. “I do apologize for not being here when you arrived,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand before turning to Henderson and nodding. “Mr. Southwell, a pleasure.”