The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(67)

Henderson, holding her father awkwardly in his arms, looked up at her. “Tell your mother to call a physician.”





Chapter 14


“Killing Lord Hubbard was not part of the plan.”

Henderson gave Lord Berkley a withering look, unamused by the man’s comment, and Berkley mumbled an apology.

“Thank God he did not die. At least not yet. I do not believe Lady Hubbard would ever forgive me if he does.” After the physician had been called, Berkley urged Henderson to leave once it became clear that Lord Hubbard’s death wasn’t imminent. He could not get the way Alice’s face looked out of his mind, grief etched with guilt and remorse. When it came to Alice, it seemed Henderson was unable to use common sense or even attempt decorum. Berkley very nearly had to drag him from the terrace, where a small crowd had gathered. The only saving grace was that no one knew what had precipitated the attack. At least he could be grateful that Alice had not been ruined.

Henderson took a sip of the very fine brandy Berkley always seemed to have on hand, no matter where they were. Proprietors didn’t seem to mind, especially when he gave them a generous tip. This evening, they sat morosely in a small tavern just outside of St. Ives. It was an ancient place with low ceilings and wide plank floors that had likely seen a century of spilt ale. The old gentleman behind the bar might have been there since the beginning, so bent and wrinkled was he. Even his clothes seemed to be from another century, as if he’d found something that fit him when he was a lad and continued to wear it to this day.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” Berkley said.

“This is a rutted and muddy road, indeed,” Henderson said. “What of you? You looked rather taken with Clara Anderson.”

“She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, but I am not in the market for another wife. I still have a rotten taste in my mouth from the last beautiful wife.”

While Henderson thought it would have been far more convenient to meet in Berkley’s home, the earl truly did seem to loathe being there, using the large estate only as a place to work and sleep. Henderson had come to value the other man’s friendship for far more reasons than that he was attempting to help him gain Alice as his bride. He supposed it might be that Berkley seemed to take nothing seriously, and Henderson took everything seriously.

“I am running out of time,” Henderson said. “Parliament is back in session in just more than a month and we are not prepared. I have a feeling Northrup’s enthusiasm for famine relief will wane as soon as Miss Hubbard formally breaks it off with him and I shall have to rely on you alone. And this,” he said, pointing to an article in the Times about riots in India, “only makes matters more urgent. I cannot forget famine relief is the reason I returned to England, that there are people counting on my efforts to make change.”

Berkley drummed his fingers on the table and looked thoughtful. “I mean no insult, but why send you, a man with no influence and few connections, on such a daunting errand?”

Henderson gave Berkley a sheepish grin. “For one, I volunteered. I’d received a letter just that morning from my grandmother, who mentioned Miss Southwell had just announced her third engagement. She knew, of course, that I was friendly with the family and I supposed she thought I might be interested in hearing the news. And of course I was more than interested. For another, I am a passionate speaker and am not without influential friends. At least I thought so. Perhaps I overstated my influence or had grand ideas about just how far loyalty would go. It has been four years since I left, and it’s been an eye opening few weeks since I returned.”

“Oh?”

“It seems the influential friends I thought I had were actually influential friends of Joseph’s. I’ve written to nearly everyone I can recall from our days at Oxford but have received not a single response. I was a bit of tag-along. I had no idea, you see.”

“Ah. It can be difficult to see oneself as others do. I learned that lesson myself, which is why I headed to America, where no one knew me.” He laughed softly and took a deep drink. “Now, with my father’s death, there are certain people who expect me to step into his role and I’m afraid I have little interest and fewer skills.”

Henderson was slightly taken aback. “Are you withdrawing your support for the relief?”

“Absolutely not. But once I have exerted myself on that effort, I think I shall retire from politics. That was my father’s forte, not mine. Though I must admit my antipathy toward my father’s work has turned, of late, toward admiration. To keep all that information, stored away, to be used later takes an enormous amount of foresight and I can see how it could be amusing to wield such information against one’s enemies. I have a feeling, though, that he also wielded it against those who thought him an ally.”

Henderson had to admit he was curious about what Berkley had found out about Lord Hubbard. The knowledge that he held something that could be used to sway the man toward Henderson’s goal of marrying Alice lived in the corner of his mind, like some sort of small animal scurrying about begging for notice. “I know I said I would not use the information, and I will not, but what did you find out about Lord Hubbard?”

Berkley smiled as if pleased he’d come around, and Henderson couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed in himself for asking.