Earl of Bergen: Wicked Regency Romace (Wicked Earls' Club Book 15) Read online

  “I appreciate all you are doing, Lord Bergen…” She sighed.

  “Thomas…please call me Thomas,” he whispered. Pushing back from the door-case, he took a deep breath. “I’ll be back in the morning for rehearsals.”

  “I will see you tomorrow, then,” she murmured.

  He watched her close the door and walked around the house to ensure all was secure before he left. There was no sign of the travellers on the way back to the inn, and he had no idea where the band had moved for the night.

  “Good evening, my lord.” Perry took Merry’s reins and patted her mane. “Did you see the fancy carriage over there? Some important guests arrived this morning.” The boy pointed to a large black carriage with a gold crest.

  “No! Jane was not mistaken; she did see her today,” he muttered to himself.

  “Begging your pardon, my lord?”

  “I was talking to myself, Perry―a bad habit, I fear. Tell me…the lady who arrived today… Did you meet her?”

  “I did, my lord. T’was odd-seem’n. She asked if I knew where a Mrs. Newton lived, but she looked angry. I was worried for Lady Newton. Tol’ her I didn’t know the name. She then asked where the church holding a Christmas pageant was, and I pointed out the way to Saint Mary’s.”

  Bergen was impressed by Perry’s quick thinking. For some reason he did not want Aunt Faith to present herself at Newton Grange. In truth, he could not imagine why she was here, and why she was angry. Perry did not seem the type to exaggerate, which meant Bergen needed to find out what his aunt was doing here.

  The innkeeper and his wife met him at the door, interrupting his reflections.

  “My lord, a lady arrived earlier today. She has requested that on your return you join her in the private parlour she has taken for her own use.” The innkeeper’s wife curtsied.

  “Thank you.” At least he would have a chance to find out why Aunt Faith was here.

  “This way, sir.”

  He opened the door she directed him to. At his entrance, his aunt put down the wine-glass in her hand.

  “Good evening, nephew.” She patted the seat next to her. “I need to speak with you.”

  Elizabeth set down the note from Lord Bergen and dropped her head in her hands. After the warnings from him the night before, she had hardly slept for worrying—and now this.

  “What is it, my dear?” Aunt Jane asked with concern as she came into the room.

  “It seems you were correct. Lady Bergen is in town.”

  “I knew it! I’m not in my dotage yet!” she cackled.

  “Do you see what this means, though?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I strongly suspect the old bitty has come to interfere with her nephew’s romantic interest.”

  Elizabeth groaned. “You mean me, do you not?”

  “Why else would the old harridan remove herself from her London party, if not to meddle in the heir’s affairs?” Aunt Jane rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

  “What are you planning, Aunt Jane?” Elizabeth asked warily.

  “Why, a little interfering on my own account!” she answered, as though Elizabeth lacked understanding. “What else does the note say?” She came closer and leaned over to look.

  Elizabeth held it to her chest. “That he and his aunt would like to pay a call.”

  “Excellent!” The old lady jumped up as though she were almost young again.

  Elizabeth looked on with horror.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To get dressed, of course,” Aunt Jane said on her way out of the door.

  Elizabeth sat down at her dressing table and stared after her aunt, wondering how her life had been turned upside down within a week. What did all of this mean? Here she was, considering an affair with a London dandy, when, all of a sudden, it seemed everything was out of control. She had nearly allowed him to tumble her against a tree; he had told bedtime stories to the children…and now his aunt had rushed down from London to try to prevent a match? Elizabeth began to laugh hysterically. It sounded like a penny rag!

  Elizabeth walked over to the wine cabinet, and pouring herself a small measure of brandy, drank it in one sip. She was going to need fortification to get through this day—she could feel it.

  She penned a response to Lord Bergen and after sending it to the Cock Inn, she went upstairs to ready herself for a battle.

  After completing her toilette, Elizabeth took one last glance in the mirror as she heard the carriage come up the drive. She did not think she had ever looked so well, even if she was so immodest as to speak thus of herself. Regardless of the outcome with Lord Bergen, she would prove the equal of the finest lady to be found in London. Her gown was of the latest fashion, in a pale blue sprigged muslin, and her hair was pinned up, with a few curls allowed to dangle over her shoulder. The children had been bathed and dressed in their finest clothes, their assistance sought so they would not accidentally spoil the fun. The kitchen had prepared a small feast, and everything was polished to a high shine.

  Waiting nervously in the drawing room, Elizabeth was thankful it was not long before Lord Bergen, his aunt and another gentleman were shown in. She did not know what had happened to Aunt Jane, but she could only feel relief and pray she would perhaps escape a dramatic scene after all.

  “Lady Bergen, Lord Bergen and Lord Shefford, my lady,” the butler announced.

  Elizabeth curtsied and the men bowed while Lady Bergen looked down her nose.

  “Aunt, Shefford, allow me to present to you Lady Newton,” Lord Bergen said in introduction.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Elizabeth answered. “May I welcome you to Stony Stratford?”

  Lady Bergen sniffed.

  The aunt was much as Elizabeth had expected. She imagined Lady Catherine de Bourgh, from the novel Pride and Prejudice, rushing off to save her nephew from a disastrous mésalliance, and irreverently thought she could well be looking at the character. Lady Bergen was dressed in a manner far too youthful for her age and she wore tight ringlets around her face. The look was not flattering on a young débutante and it was no better on a dowager of advanced years. Elizabeth smiled genuinely and while trying not to laugh caught Bergen’s eye. The wicked man winked at her and almost caused her undoing. Giving him a quelling frown and ignoring the flutters of happiness which rushed through her at their shared understanding, she directed everyone to sit down, and sent for a tea tray.

  “What brings you to our small town, my lady?” Elizabeth asked innocently, though she knew full well.

  “If you must know,” Lady Bergen answered sharply, “I wished to discover what was detaining my nephew from his obligations to his family in London.”

  Shefford cleared his throat, clearly trying to cover a laugh, and Bergen raised his eyebrows at Elizabeth. At that moment, the door burst open and Aunt Jane sauntered into the room as though she were the Queen herself. Her hair had been curled and she wore a gown of teal-coloured silk more fitting for a ballroom. A generous amount of bosom was on display, and peacock feathers adorned a bandeau around her head.

  The men rose to their feet and Elizabeth quickly introduced everyone. Aunt Jane stopped in front of Lady Bergen, and bringing her lorgnette to her nose, looked the lady up and down. It was much in the vein of Brummell with his quizzing glass, giving a set-down. Elizabeth exchanged questioning glances with Bergen, her laughter dissolving like ice on the tongue.

  “Still trying to display your wares like Haymarket ware, Jane?” Lady Bergen asked coldly.

  “At least a trollop gets her man,” Aunt Jane retorted.

  “Ladies, sheath your claws, if you please,” Bergen reprimanded, though he was smiling widely which did odd things to Elizabeth’s insides.

  Aunt Jane sat down on the settee beside Elizabeth and continued to glare at Lady Bergen.

  Fortunately, Henry chose that moment to bring in the tea tray or Elizabeth would have been hard put to cover the awkwardness.

  Before any more conv
ersation was begun, the vicar was announced.

  “How delightful!” Jane muttered in a sarcastic tone and Elizabeth nudged her to keep quiet.

  Elizabeth stood up to greet the man. “Good day, Vicar Brown. To what do we owe the honour?”

  “I hope I am not intruding,” he said, looking around at their esteemed visitors, who were quickly introduced.

  “You are always intruding,” Aunt Jane replied.

  “There is a seat here, next to me,” Lady Bergen quickly offered, no doubt noticing Aunt Jane’s treatment of the man. As sure as the day, Aunt Jane sat up straighter and glared.

  Instead of trying to make the best of the situation, Elizabeth decided to sit back and watch the entertainment. Lady Bergen began to flirt with the vicar, who lapped up the attention like a wilted flower did water.

  Bergen then began to speak to Elizabeth, ignoring the older ladies, who were vying for the vicar’s attention.

  “I am glad to see all appears well today,” he said.

  “Yes,” she answered. “I warned the servants to keep an eye out for the gypsies. No one has seen or heard anything unusual.”

  “Very good. I have not seen any more of the troupe since evening yesterday, either.”

  “Perhaps they will give up and move on,” Elizabeth replied. “Why did your aunt come? I thought you sent a note.”

  “That is why she came. She thinks you are the notorious Mrs. Newton, out to snatch my title and fortune.”

  “Did you correct her misinformation?” Elizabeth asked, offended.

  “She had to come and see you for herself. It seems she was unable to believe I would willingly stay to take part in a Christmas pageant.”

  “I cannot quite believe it, myself,” Shefford put in, scratching his head in comical bemusement. “I must confess, I have never pictured my old friend as a biblical character.”

  “I am full of hidden talents,” Bergen said in his seductive voice while looking straight at Elizabeth. To her annoyance, her cheeks burned in response.

  There was another knock at the door.

  “Good Lord, who now? I have never seen such chaos in a London house,” Lady Bergen snapped.

  “Does anyone visit you?” Aunt Jane asked with false sweetness.

  Josiah, Marie, and Ruthie were shown in.

  “Lady Bergen, may I present my children?” Elizabeth introduced the three and they made their bows and curtsies perfectly.

  “You have children?” the lady asked with her hand on her chest.

  “They were my late husband’s, but I could not love them more were they of my own flesh and blood.” Elizabeth smiled at the children.

  “How vulgar!” Lady Bergen wrinkled her nose with distaste.

  Marie and Ruthie went straight to Lord Bergen as his aunt watched in obvious disgust. She reached into her reticule and pulled out her smelling salts, wafting them beneath her nose.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Bergen said to Marie and Ruthie. “What have you been doing today?”

  “We gathered the eggs and helped milk one of the cowth,” Marie answered, precipitating a loud gasp from Lady Bergen. “Then we went to visit Clarence, but he was too buthy to play with uth.”

  “What was Clarence doing that was so important?” Shefford asked.

  “He was trying to cover one of the sheep,” Josiah replied.

  “Oh! Oh! Get these vulgar creatures out of here!” Lady Bergen demanded, waving her fan as though she would faint. “Bergen, I demand you take me from here at once!”

  “As you wish, Aunt. I hope you are satisfied that this lady is not the Mrs. Newton you thought her to be.”

  “Yes, and I think I prefer the other!”

  “The children live on a farm, Lady Bergen. These are natural things for the children to see and know about.” Elizabeth tried to defend their prosaic outlook on the countryside.

  “Indeed!” Her ladyship looked as though she would soon suffer an apoplectic fit.

  With perfect timing, Marie’s mouse decided to scurry across the floor and up the lady’s skirt. She swooned dead away into the vicar’s arms.

  Chapter 7

  Before anyone could react to Lady Bergen’s swoon, a flash of white fur flew across the room, under the dress of the lady and then out again, in pursuit of the offending light-grey mouse. Marie shrieked and scrambled after her mouse, while Elizabeth fell over Lady Bergen’s protruding feet in a heroic effort to capture Snowball, her cat.

  Lady Bergen raised her head briefly, only to swoon once more, to the chagrin of the short round vicar, who was straining to keep her head of tight ringlets from slipping to the floor.

  Bergen leapt forward and caught Elizabeth as she fell over his aunt’s feet, moments before she hit the floor. Meanwhile, Shefford steadied the vicar and his catch.

  “I have her!” Marie held up her mouse, grinning.

  “And I have Snowball,” Elizabeth whispered. Red-faced, she squeezed her furry white quarry to her chest while Bergen held her close to his.

  “Well, it seems you still feel the need to show your wares whenever you have an audience,” Aunt Jane quipped at her adversary, holding her arms crossed over her chest. Aunt Faith opened her eyes and raised her head, seeming to forget that she had fainted only moments ago.

  “My wares? How dare you insinuate such a thing? If you are referring to the ball where you purposely stepped on my dress and stood up, ripping the skirt from the bodice…” She huffed and glared, her face also red, at Aunt Jane.

  “Ladies…please.” Bergen carefully stood Elizabeth up, squeezing her elbows in a show of affection as he moved towards his aunt. “Aunt Faith, we must leave now to attend rehearsals for the play. Would you care for Shefford and I to accompany you back to the inn?”

  Shefford aided the vicar in his attempt to bring Lady Bergen upright. She finally stood, brushing off her skirt with dramatic wipes of her hands.

  “I would like to see the play.” Without missing a beat, Aunt Faith turned to the vicar, bestowing upon him a slight smile and fluttering her lashes.

  “Well, certainly, my lady.” The short, round vicar stood straighter, throwing back his shoulders and clearing his throat. “We would love for you to join us. It is the final rehearsal before the presentation to our congregation on Christmas Eve. Guests are always welcome. He held out his arm and she lightly laid her fingers on his sleeve as he walked her to her coach.

  Bergen and Shefford mounted their horses and followed behind the coach.

  “Bergen, which biblical figure will you represent in the pageant?” Shefford smiled, his eyes full of mirth. “You still have not said.”

  “No, I have not.” Bergen looked at his friend, sure his own eyes must betray the amusement of the situation he found himself in.

  “Well…” Shefford laughed. “…are you going to tell me, or are you making me guess?”

  “Joseph,” he admitted at last.

  “I would never have guessed!” Shefford guffawed. “I had you earmarked for a wise man.”

  “Laugh your fill, my friend. The pageant means a great deal to Elizabeth, and the children—for one reason or another—were not willing to take part. Marie suggested her mother and I do it. That is how this came about.

  “I am astonished! I have not seen you take this level of interest in a woman before. I say that with the utmost sincerity, and not in tomfoolery.” Shefford nodded and smiled in approval.

  Bergen did not want to respond but could not keep from grinning. Thoughts of the kisses he and Elizabeth had shared, and the feelings that her nearness produced, flooded his brain. He was still trying to determine what was happening between them!

  They were halfway to the church. Bergen decided to raise the question of the travellers with Shefford and seek his opinion.

  “I came upon two gypsies yesterday—one of them was the man who abandoned Clarence in the belief that he was cursed, of all things. He has been watching Elizabeth and her family. I confess I am worried. When I found him, the
donkey was wearing an amulet about his neck which may or may not have the power of truth.”

  Shefford stared at him and then started laughing.

  “Wait, Shefford, I am serious. The vicar examined the amulet and found a description in a book which fitted that of the jewel. The amulet seems to elicit truth from the holder, which would appear to be harmless enough. Maybe it is real, maybe it is just the power of suggestion.” He told Shefford what he had heard and observed from the travellers since his own arrival.

  “The problem is that this same man who abandoned the donkey appears to want the amulet back. I believe he thinks it is valuable and has something to prove, besides.” Bergen reached into his pocket and pulled out the jewelled knife. “Then, yesterday, I found a dagger he had dropped on the road near to Elizabeth’s house. I find myself worried about her family.”

  “That is an unusual piece. You are right, this does not sound good. Perhaps the constable should be informed, Bergen. I think you should at least give him the details of what has occurred. If you wish, I could ride to the round-house and fetch him, so you may stay here and protect the lady.

  “I agree, he should be brought in. I had intended to see him this morning, but with Aunt Faith’s arrival, my plans changed…and now we are almost at the church for rehearsal.”

  “Yes.” Shefford laughed. “Lady Bergen’s introduction to Aunt Jane was tremendously entertaining. I would not have missed that, even for a slap-up dinner at Watier’s!”

  The two men laughed uproariously. “True enough. I had no idea the two knew each other,” Bergen said. “The mouse and cat both had better comic timing than any actor I have seen in a long while.”

  The entourage of eight soon turned into the churchyard, and the two men urged their mounts ahead and secured them in the stable behind the vicarage. The carriage bearing Elizabeth, Aunt Jane and the three children pulled up with Clarence procured behind. Bergen and Shefford assisted the ladies to alight and the small party walked into the church. The vicar met them at the door.