The Lady By His Side Read online

  The Lady By His Side

  Stephanie Laurens

  Savdek Management

  Contents

  Artwork Information

  Copyright

  About The Lady By His Side

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter 1

  Map: Location of Pressingstoke Hall

  Chapter 2

  Map: Ground Floor Pressingstoke Hall

  Map: First Floor Pressingstoke Hall

  Chapter 3

  Map: Grounds of Pressingstoke Hall

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Interior Artwork

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Author’s Note

  Also by Stephanie Laurens

  About the Author

  INTERIOR ARTWORK IS LOCATED

  BETWEEN CHAPTER 7 AND CHAPTER 8

  and also can be accessed via the TABLE OF CONTENTS

  This e-book is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only.

  This e-book may not be sold, shared, or given away.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  THE LADY BY HIS SIDE

  Copyright © 2017 by Savdek Management Proprietary Limited

  ISBN: 978-1-925559-00-2

  Cover design by Savdek Management Pty. Ltd.

  Cover and inside front couple photography and photographic composition by Period Images © 2017

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Savdek Management Proprietary Limited, Melbourne, Australia.

  www.stephanielaurens.com

  Email: [email protected]

  The names Stephanie Laurens and the Cynsters are registered trademarks of Savdek Management Proprietary Ltd.

  Created with Vellum

  About The Lady By His Side

  A marquess in need of the right bride. An earl’s daughter in search of a purpose. A betrayal that ends in murder and balloons into a threat to the realm.

  Sebastian Cynster knows time is running out. If he doesn’t choose a wife soon, his female relatives will line up to assist him. Yet the current debutantes do not appeal. Where is he to find the right lady to be his marchioness? Then Drake Varisey, eldest son of the Duke of Wolverstone, asks for Sebastian’s aid.

  Having assumed his father’s mantle in protecting queen and country, Drake must go to Ireland in pursuit of a dangerous plot. But he’s received an urgent missive from Lord Ennis, an Irish peer—Ennis has heard something Drake needs to know. Ennis insists Drake attends an upcoming house party at Ennis’s Kent estate so Ennis can reveal his information face-to-face.

  Sebastian has assisted Drake before and, long ago, had a liaison with Lady Ennis. Drake insists Sebastian is just the man to be Drake’s surrogate at the house party—the guests will imagine all manner of possibilities and be blind to Sebastian’s true purpose.

  Unsurprisingly, Sebastian is reluctant, but Drake’s need is real. With only more debutantes on his horizon, Sebastian allows himself to be persuaded.

  His first task is to inveigle Antonia Rawlings, a lady he has known all her life, to include him as her escort to the house party. Although he’s seen little of Antonia in recent years, Sebastian is confident of gaining her support.

  Eldest daughter of the Earl of Chillingworth, Antonia has abandoned the search for a husband and plans to use the week of the house party to decide what to do with her life. There has to be some purpose, some role, she can claim for her own.

  Consequently, on hearing Sebastian’s request and an explanation of what lies behind it, she seizes on the call to action. Suppressing her senses’ idiotic reaction to Sebastian’s nearness, she agrees to be his partner-in-intrigue.

  But while joining the house party proves easy, the gathering is thrown into chaos when Lord Ennis is murdered—just before he was to speak with Sebastian. Worse, Ennis’s last words, gasped to Sebastian, are: Gunpowder. Here.

  Gunpowder? And here, where?

  With a killer continuing to stalk the halls, side by side, Sebastian and Antonia search for answers and, all the while, the childhood connection that had always existed between them strengthens and blooms…into something so much more.

  First volume in a trilogy. A historical romance with gothic overtones layered over a continuing intrigue. A Cynster Next Generation Novel. A full length novel of 99,000 words.

  Praise for the works of Stephanie Laurens

  “Stephanie Laurens’ heroines are marvelous tributes to Georgette Heyer: feisty and strong.” Cathy Kelly

  “Stephanie Laurens never fails to entertain and charm her readers with vibrant plots, snappy dialogue, and unforgettable characters.” Historical Romance Reviews.

  “Stephanie Laurens plays into readers’ fantasies like a master and claims their hearts time and again.” Romantic Times Magazine

  Cast of Characters

  Principal Characters:

  Cynster, Lord Sebastian, Marquess of Earith – eldest son of Devil Cynster, Duke of St. Ives, and Honoria née Anstruther-Wetherby; heir to the dukedom of St. Ives

  Rawlings, Lady Antonia – eldest daughter of Gyles Rawlings, Earl of Chillingworth, and Francesca née Rawlings

  In London:

  Varisey, Lord Drake, Marquess of Winchelsea – eldest son of Royce Varisey, Duke of Wolverstone, and Minerva née Chesterton; heir to the dukedom of Wolverstone

  Rawlings, Lord Gyles, Earl of Chillingworth – Antonia’s father

  Rawlings, Lady Francesca, Countess of Chillingworth – Gyles’s wife and Antonia’s mother, née Rawlings

  Withers – the Chillingworths’ London butler

  Hamilton – the Wolverstones’ London butler

  Wilkins – Sebastian’s gentleman’s gentleman

  Beccy – Antonia’s maid

  Cynster, Lord Michael – second son of Devil Cynster, Duke of St. Ives, and Honoria née Anstruther-Wetherby; Sebastian’s brother

  Rawlings, Lord Julius – son of Gyles Rawlings, Earl of Chillingworth, and Francesca née Rawlings; Antonia’s younger brother

  Rawlings, Lady Helen – second daughter of Gyles Rawlings, Earl of Chillingworth, and Francesca née Rawlings; Antonia’s younger sister

  At Pressingstoke Hall in Kent:

  Boyne, William, Lord Ennis – owner and host, an Anglo-Irish peer

  Boyne, Cecilia, Lady Ennis – Ennis’s wife and hostess; English

  Boyne, Mr. Connell – Ennis’s younger brother and manager of Ennis’s Irish estate at Tulla; Anglo-Irish

  Blanchard, William – butler

  Blanchard, Mrs. – housekeeper

  Various household staff

  Various stablemen and grooms

  Guests at the house party:

  Boyne, Miss Melinda – cousin of William and Connell, lives in Southampton with her aging mother, invited at the last minute to make up the numbers; Anglo-Irish

  Wainwright, The Hon. Miss Melissa – viscount’s daughter and spinster friend of Antonia, Claire, and Georgia; English

  Savage, The Hon. Mis
s Claire – viscount’s daughter and spinster friend of Antonia, Melissa, and Georgia

  Featherstonehaugh, The Hon. Mrs. Georgia – married to Hadley Featherstonehaugh; Antonia’s, Claire’s, and Melissa’s friend; English and distantly connected to Cecilia Boyne

  Featherstonehaugh, The Hon. Mr. Hadley – Georgia’s husband; English

  Parrish, Mr. Samuel – Ennis’s longtime friend; Anglo-Irish landowner

  Parrish, Mrs. Winifred – Samuel Parrish’s wife; English

  Bilhurst, Miss Amelie – Mrs. Parrish’s niece, traveling with the Parrishes; English

  McGibbin, Mr. Harold – Ennis’s longtime friend; Anglo-Irish landowner

  McGibbin, Mrs. Constance – Harold McGibbin’s wife; Anglo-Irish

  Filbury, Mr. Henry – bachelor friend of Connell and acquaintance of Ennis; Anglo-Irish

  Wilson, Mr. Patrick – bachelor friend of Connell and acquaintance of Ennis; Anglo-Irish

  Worthington, Mr. Baylor – bachelor friend of Connell and acquaintance of Ennis; English

  Others:

  Rattle, Sir Humphrey – local magistrate

  Crawford, Inspector – from Scotland Yard

  Crickwell, Sergeant – of the local constabulary

  Various constables

  At Walmer Castle:

  Wellesley, Lord Arthur, Duke of Wellington – Lord of the Cinque Ports and Commander-in-Chief of the Army

  Moreton – Wellington’s secretary

  Chapter 1

  Arthur’s Gentlemen’s Club, St. James, London

  October 15, 1850

  “I need your help.”

  Lord Sebastian Cynster, Marquess of Earith, sank into the comfort of a leather armchair in the refined quiet of Arthur’s and watched as Lord Drake Varisey, Marquess of Winchelsea, settled his elegant length in the armchair facing Sebastian’s.

  Drake had sent a footman around that morning with a request for this midafternoon meeting. Sebastian had arrived to find Drake waiting in the foyer, and together, they’d ambled through the club. It was too late for the luncheon crowd and too early for the dinner scrum; there’d been few to witness their presence. By unvoiced agreement, they’d made their way to the alcove off the far end of the long, narrow library; from the pair of armchairs slightly angled down the room, they could see at a glance that there was no one near enough to overhear their exchange.

  “As I recall,” Sebastian murmured, “the last time I helped you, I had to hide my hands from my mother for more than a week.” He glanced at one hand, long fingers relaxed on the chair’s arm. There was no sign of bruised and scraped knuckles now, but his sharp-eyed mother, the Duchess of St. Ives, had she detected such evidence her firstborn was indulging in fisticuffs, would have evinced far too much interest as to the circumstances for either Sebastian’s or Drake’s comfort, Sebastian’s mother being a bosom-bow of Drake’s mother, the Duchess of Wolverstone.

  “You enjoyed every minute of it,” Drake replied. “And regardless, this is, I’m afraid, a matter of queen and country.”

  “Ah.” Sebastian stilled. “Queen and country” was Drake’s way of flagging affairs—more specifically missions—with the potential to impact the security of the realm.

  “Besides,” Drake said, his dark brows arching, his golden-hazel eyes—eagle’s eyes—keen on Sebastian’s face, “what other absorbing prospects can you possibly have to fill your hours at this time of year?”

  As it happened, Sebastian had a mission of his own that he was currently pursuing, but it wasn’t something he had any intention of sharing with anyone, much less Drake.

  They were very alike—in many ways and on many planes. Drake was two years Sebastian’s senior, and because of the friendship between their families, they’d known each other from their earliest years. As sons of the higher nobility, they’d attended Eton and Oxford, both at Balliol; their paths had, perforce, crossed again and again at both institutions.

  Although they would never be mistaken for brothers, the physical similarities were nevertheless striking. Both were tall—several inches over six feet—broad shouldered, long limbed, and lean, and moved with the inherent, somewhat predatory grace of powerful men comfortable in their own skins—men who were confident in their strengths, in their prowess, in their ability to meet whatever challenges the world sent their way.

  They were both dark haired, although Sebastian’s hair was a true blue-black, while Drake’s was sable. Scions of the upper echelon that they were, their hair was fashionably cropped, worn just long enough to brush their collars, and they were elegantly attired, both favoring subdued colors and unobtrusively exceptional tailoring. Sebastian, with his pale green eyes, generally wore some combination of black and tan, while Drake, with his eagle’s eyes, habitually wore midnight blue teamed with lighter-hued golds and browns.

  Both shared the pale complexions of their Norman ancestors, together with the chiseled facial features and innately autocratic expressions of those progenitors. High cheekbones, wide brows, well-set eyes, and patrician noses, thin, mobile lips, and squared chins completed the picture, yet the impression each projected was quite distinct.

  Sebastian appeared hard, shielded—more openly a warrior in civilized garb. Drake, on the other hand, could, when he smiled, seem charming, but behind the façade lurked a ruthlessness that anyone who really looked into his golden predator’s eyes could not fail to see.

  Drake had, in large part, picked up where his powerful father had left off. When Royce, Duke of Wolverstone, had finally retired from assisting the government and the Crown in dealing with matters that threatened the realm—those matters that required incisive, decisive, and covert action—many had assumed that, with the wars long over, there would be no real need for the services of such as Wolverstone again.

  In that, they’d erred. While no fresh wars had been declared, tensions remained, exacerbated by this action or that, which resulted in plots, clashes, and schemes, some commercial, some political, and many held the potential to destabilize the state and cause havoc in wider society.

  When Wolverstone had declined to emerge from retirement, the disgruntled political powers had offered the position to his heir. Drake had inherited most if not all of his father’s relevant abilities, including the knack of inspiring other men and building networks of informers; those sterling capabilities had been augmented by some of his mother’s traits—such as the ability to charm. Wolverstone had never charmed anyone in his life; Sebastian seriously doubted the duke had ever seen the need.

  But Sebastian and Drake lived in a somewhat different world to that of their fathers’ heyday. That said, some things remained cast in stone, among them, family honor and loyalty.

  Sebastian’s father, the Duke of St. Ives, the duke’s brother, and his cousins had all fought at Waterloo. The engagement in which their troop was credited with having helped to carry the day had been critical to the battle’s outcome—to England’s success.

  While Sebastian, his brother Michael, and their tribe of Cynster cousins and second cousins no longer had wars in which to serve their country, they still instinctively heeded and responded to duty’s call. And Drake had uttered the magic words “queen and country.”

  There was no point dissembling. Sebastian’s personal quest wasn’t urgent. More, he knew himself well enough to acknowledge a certain readiness to allow himself to be deflected by a legitimate distraction. He sighed and met Drake’s eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

  Drake fleetingly grinned, but a second later, all humor drained from his face. “Yesterday afternoon, I received a letter from Lord Ennis.” Drake languidly waved one hand. “I believe you and he are acquainted.”

  “Distantly.” Sebastian uttered the word as repressively as he could; his acquaintance was with Ennis’s wife, a point he felt sure Drake knew.

  “Ennis wrote asking me to call on him at his estate in Kent. Judging by his composition, he was suffering from a degree of agitation. He said he had stumbled on inform
ation that he believed I needed to know, but that he was unwilling to commit said information to writing and was unable to travel to London at this time. He and his wife are hosting a house party commencing on the nineteenth—four days from now. Various guests have already arrived. Ennis stressed he needs to see me privately, face-to-face. He suggested I attend the house party as one of the guests. Reading between his lines, I believe Ennis wishes to engineer a situation in which he can speak with me without alerting those about him as to the nature of our exchange.”

  Sebastian arched his brows. “You turning up at the Ennises’ house party…there’s no way that won’t be noticed and widely commented on.”

  “Indeed. Which is one reason I won’t be taking up his lordship’s invitation.”

  Sebastian opened his eyes wide. “Me turning up at the Ennises’ house party will be every bit as bad. People will speculate wildly.”

  “But not for the same reason.” Drake smiled. “Few know you occasionally sully your noble hands by getting involved in the missions I run.”

  Sebastian lifted one shoulder. “Few know that you sully your noble hands by running your own missions—society in general imagines you sit in an office in Whitehall and pull strings all day.”

  Drake’s smile turned wry. “Few appreciate that, while in my father’s day, our enemies lay over the seas, the realm’s current enemies are much nearer to hand.”

  “It always amazes me that no one seems to notice that, while your father worked under the aegis of the Foreign Office, you report to the Home Secretary.”