Lord Lynster Discovers, page 1
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Lord Lynster Discovers
The Traitor Lords: Book 1
By Adella J. Harris
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When butler Daniel Rivers finds his employer, the Earl of Lynster, has shot himself rather than be arrested for treason, his first thought is to protect James, the new Lord Lynster, a man he’s secretly been in love with for years, even if it means letting suspicion fall on himself. James, the new Lord Lynster, knows the Crown suspects him of being a part of his father’s plot. At least he has his old friend Daniel to help.
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Copyright (c) 2017 Adella J. Harris
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About the Author
Chapter 1
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This publication has it on good authority that there are traitors in the highest levels of society. It has come to our attention that even now, the Crown and its officers are preparing to bring the three traitor lords to justice and stop their nefarious plot to kill our gracious king.
James had only read the first few sentences of the article, but he left the newspaper in the carriage and got out as soon as it stopped in front of his father’s townhouse. The pair hadn’t spoken since his sister’s wedding over a year ago, and both preferred it that way. But recently James had started to wonder if the current silence between them was more than their usual estrangement. The less careful newspapers had been writing about a group they called the traitor lords for months now—a group of titled men who were plotting to assassinate the king, and now the rumors were starting to spread to the more mainstream papers. James would have ignored that gossip entirely had it not been for some very odd questions he’d gotten from his father’s solicitor.
And then the visits started. He had been visited by agents of the Crown more times than he cared to remember in the past few weeks, and from the questions he’d been asked, he suspected his father was one of the traitors, although why Father would be a part of something like that was a mystery to him. Father was the farthest thing from a reformer and, if anything, thought the titled should hold more power, not less. He’d have gone back to the feudal system if he could, and King John was probably a personal hero. And yet, there were too many odd things said, too many questions being asked that showed a bit too much information about the family. And now this news that they were closing in on the traitors, and in a respectable publication.
James ran up the stairs to the townhouse. If he was right, he knew what he would find. He wished there were someone else to do this, but he was the oldest. He certainly couldn’t send his sister in any case, not in her condition. His brother-in-law might have been persuaded to handle the matter if there were a pressing need, say if he’d been called away by estate matters, but he couldn’t ask Lord Gatwell to take on a task like this simply because he didn’t want to. Not when he was soon to be the head of the family. And if his suspicions were correct, he had probably been the Earl of Lynster and therefore head of the family for several hours now, and it was most definitely his duty to check. He rapped sharply on the door.
Much to James’s surprise, the door opened almost at once. “My lord. A pleasure as always.” It was Daniel Rivers, the butler, and absolutely the best person he could have hoped to find on the other side of the door. They had known each other ever since Daniel had been an eight-year-old hallboy on the estate when James was six, and they had maintained a sort of friendship ever since, even if he’d barely seen the man during the estrangement from his father. Truly there was no one he’d rather have by his side now, and no one he would trust more with whatever secrets they might find. The man already knew his deepest secret, and James had never worried that it would be revealed.
James removed his hat and coat and allowed Daniel to take them. “Good morning, Daniel. I wanted to see if my father... I mean there was something in the newspaper...” He wished he’d brought it with him to show Daniel, so he wouldn’t have to explain.
“The Gazette or the Tattler? Both had—interesting articles last evening. I believe your father brought both home with him.”
“And you saw the articles?”
“I did.”
James tried to think how to ask the next question. He was still worrying over it when Daniel gently took control.
“Would my lord like a drink, or shall we proceed directly to the study?”
So Daniel suspected the same thing. “He didn’t drag you into it, did he?”
“No, my lord, but all of the staff have been questioned repeatedly on our days off and have been instructed not to tell him about it. Three maids and two footmen have resigned in the last month alone. And while they were instructed not to tell him anything, they were not given the same instructions with regard to me.”
“So you know all about the questioning.”
“I’m afraid so. It is most unfortunate. I told all of them to avoid purchasing or bringing home any pamphlets regarding any of the protests that have been occurring, just in case.”
“I hope they listened. We’d best go have a look.”
Everything seemed better with Daniel walking beside him. Daniel had always been the one he went to when Father had been cruel, and he’d been the one to tell James about his mother’s illness and when he could visit without Father being at home, and he’d been the one James had asked to keep him informed of Connie’s suitors so he could be certain Father wasn’t marrying her off to some brute with power. Daniel was the one person he trusted completely. The man was completely loyal, although it had never occurred to James to wonder why until this moment. Certainly not because of his father—Daniel had disliked him as much as James had, and yet he’d stayed, all these years.
And then they were at the study door, and James was dreading opening it, as he normally did, although this time not because he expected his father’s wrath. Daniel stepped forward and turned the handle as he always did, letting James concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other through the door into whatever horror awaited him.
He had expected more blood. That was his first thought. He wondered if Father had planned it. Most likely not. He wasn’t the sort to care about who would find the body or the servants who would have to clean up. Oddly, it was the least terrifying confrontation with his father in this room he could remember. Most ended with Father yelling at him or telling him to bend over and take six of his best. Father wouldn’t be doing either now.
James approached the desk and leaned over the form slumped on top of it. He didn’t need to look too closely to see that it was Father, although part of his head was covered with what looked like the blanket from the settee. To muffle the sound of the shot, perhaps, so the staff wouldn’t come running. There was a dueling pistol in his right hand. James located the other on the edge of the desk, still in the box they were kept in. He made himself touch one hand with the tip of his finger. Cold and stiff.
“Daniel, Father’s had an accident with his dueling pistol. Please send someone for Mr. Cuthbert and Mr. Sedmon. And a doctor, I suppose.” Although it was clearly too late for that. The vicar and the solicitor would be of more use.
“Right away, my lord.”
James didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to touch anything else, but was he supposed to? To go through the desk for papers perhaps? He didn’t know. He went to stand by the door. At least he wouldn’t disturb anything there. Unless he was supposed to disturb things.
He was still standing there when Daniel returned. “I sent a footman for Mr. Sedmon and Mr. Cuthbert in that order, and a second to Lord Gatwell.”
Telling Connie. He hadn’t thought of that, but somehow he’d thought he’d have to do it. But Lord Gatwell could tell his wife just as well. “Thank you, Daniel.” He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Telling Connie. What else had he forgotten?
“And I brought you a drink, my lord. A little Scotch and a fair bit of soda.”
James took the offered glass and took a long sip. It helped steady his nerves, but from the amount of soda he detected, he suspected that was all in his head.
“And this, my lord.”
He felt something sticky being pressed into his hand. A marzipan sweet, this one a simple circle with an almond stuck to the top with honey. His favorite treat. When he’d been a boy, Daniel would slip him one after particularly bad incidents with his father. During the particularly bad years at school, when he’d had no friends and thought everyone suspected the truth about him, Daniel had given him marzipan sweets when he’d come home for holidays and would hide small boxes of them in his trunk when it was time to leave. It wasn’t until years later that he’d realized Daniel must have spent most of his pocket money on the treats for him. His eyes felt warm and moist for the first time that morning. “Thank you, Daniel.”
“You’re welcome, my lord.” Daniel rubbed James’s shoulder gently.
The bell in main hallway jangled. “It seems Mr. Sedmon was prepared for something to occur. If you will excuse me, my lord.”
James stayed by the door to the study and waited. It wasn’t long before he heard Daniel’s calm steps followed by the brisk ones that belonged to Mr. Sedmon. James gulped do wn the rest of the Scotch Daniel had brought so Sedmon wouldn’t know he’d been drinking before breakfast, took a nibble of the marzipan, and then slipped the rest of the treat into his handkerchief.
Mr. Sedmon was a small man of indeterminate age. He was wearing his usual sombre grey suit and had a notebook in his hand. “Good morning, my lord. I’m told there was an incident.”
“There was. He’s in here.”
Mr. Sedmon nodded and entered the room. He walked over to the desk and looked at the scene, walked slowly round it once, then came back to the door.
“Did anyone hear the shot?”
“I haven’t asked the staff yet. I haven’t told them yet, although they’ve probably heard something by now.”
“I would suppose the footmen let it be known downstairs before they went to deliver the messages. I’m afraid it is unlikely that they heard the shot, however.” Daniel bowed slightly as they both turned to look at him.
Mr. Sedmon raised an eyebrow. “And you believe this because?”
“Last night, there was a panoramic exhibit on our great victory at the Battle of Trafalgar with refreshments afterward, which I thought would be educational for the younger members of the staff. And as I did not feel it prudent to send them out alone, I asked his lordship if I might give the whole staff a few hours off to take in the exhibit after dinner.”
“And the refreshments,” Mr. Sedmon said with almost a smile.
“As it were, sir.”
“And Father gave permission?” That didn’t sound like him.
“When I asked, he said, ‘Yes, yes, whatever, Rivers,’ without looking up from his newspaper. As I did not wish to disturb him, I did not press but took it as permission.”
“So no one else was in the house last night?”
“I stayed behind in case he needed anything and to let the others in when they returned.”
“And you didn’t hear a shot?”
“No, sir. If I had, naturally I would have been obligated to rush upstairs and see if medical assistance would save him.”
“Naturally. So why do you think you didn’t hear it?”
“I dozed a bit around nine thirty. Perhaps it happened then.”
“Perhaps.” Mr. Sedmon turned back to James. “You’re lucky about that, you know. If he’d survived and been found guilty, the Crown would have been within their rights to take the title, the property, the bank accounts, everything from him, leaving you with nothing to inherit.”
James wondered if Daniel had been aware of that. Most likely he had.
“And this is how you found him?” Mr. Sedmon walked slowly around the room.
“Correct. I didn’t touch anything, but he clearly had an accident with his dueling pistol.” Clearly, he had not, but it was the best story that could be derived from the evidence at hand.
“Clearly.” Mr. Sedmon sighed. “I suppose I should have expected something like this. From the questions they asked me the last time they called, I knew they were close. But that article in the newspaper must have confirmed it for him.”
“I suppose he’s lucky they let it be written.”
“I suppose, but the writer isn’t. From what I’ve managed to ascertain this morning, there wasn’t supposed to be an official confirmation until they were all in custody, but they don’t know who let the press find out how close they were to apprehending them.”
“Do you know who the others were?”
Sedmon looked up. “You really don’t know anything?”
James shook his head.
“I suppose it won’t go badly for you if I tell you then. But if they ask how you know, don’t hesitate to say it was from me. The three Traitor Lords, as the press has named them. Your father was one—that seems obvious now. According to my footman, who heard it from the cook, who heard it from the lad who delivers the eggs and also delivers them in parts of Mayfair, Lord Burfield was apprehended at his house in Ryder Street early this morning. I think he wanted to be arrested, as he didn’t try to run. Lord Martford and his oldest son ran last night and haven’t been found yet. So apparently there were actually four of them. Unless some of the other sons prove to have been involved.”
“I wasn’t,” James said to be certain Sedmon knew.
“What do you know of your father’s plan?”
“Nothing, as I have said repeatedly this morning.” Sedmon at least should have been on his side.
“I did not mean it like that, my lord. I meant as a general question. Have you read the newspaper accounts, for example?”
James knew he’d overreacted, but Mr. Sedmon seemed to be ignoring the outburst. He probably assumed James was overwrought with the morning’s events, and he wouldn’t be wrong, and it wasn’t even noon yet. “I haven’t been reading the newspapers very closely, not much beyond the first paragraphs on the traitor lords stories. It makes me think what fools they all were, and I did keep hoping maybe he wasn’t involved.”
“Understandable, to be sure. I suppose the simplest explanation is that they intended to kill the king and prince regent and frame several of the groups calling for reforms which have sprung up lately. Their thinking—if one can call it thinking—appears to have been that the government would then be forced to deal more harshly with such groups and prevent a revolution in England like that in France.”
“Is that even logical?”
Sedmon sighed. “Not when Lord Burfield tells it. And several of the groups they intended to frame can’t stand each other and would probably have been turning each other in at the first opportunity. And then there is the swindle.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“As you should be. It’s a rumor, but it is widely believed that, rather than fund this objective with their own money, the traitor lords orchestrated several stock swindles, using their influence to cause shares they owned to become artificially inflated and then selling them before they crashed. As I said, not proven, but it is causing a great deal of personal ill will amongst many who might not have had much interest in the case beyond the chance at a public hanging.”
James groaned. “He’s left me an even bigger mess than I thought.”
“Small comfort, I’m sure, but at least he’s left you something. Lord Burfield’s heir will most likely lose the estate and title, as will Lord Martford’s, although the older son did run off with him so apparently was part of this. The younger is cleared, at least, as he’s been away at Oxford these last years.”
“You’re right, it’s small comfort.”
“But there are a few matters we ought to discuss.”
“Then we’d better get them over with.” Then maybe the day would begin to look better.
Sedmon glanced at Daniel. Daniel took the hint and bowed. “I will go and make certain the rest of the staff has been properly informed and that there is some breakfast prepared for you, my lord.”
James would have liked Daniel to stay so he would have at least one friend in the room, but Sedmon didn’t understand that Daniel was to be trusted, so he merely said, “Thank you, Rivers.”
When Daniel had left the room, Sedmon began. “Firstly, I must ask privately, as your solicitor—were you involved?”
Sedmon asked it with so little emotion that James couldn’t muster up much of his own this time. “Absolutely, definitely not. Father and I were barely on speaking terms. If I hadn’t been his sole male heir, we wouldn’t have been at all.”
“Very good. Then, as much as I hate to ask, is there anything in your life that may be used against you, either by the Crown or by the journalists that will no doubt be descending upon us like locusts?”
“Is this necessary?”
“I’m afraid so. The Crown will want to try someone, and that is the time when any little indiscretions come out.”
“I have a blameless life, sir.” He couldn’t possibly know about that, not when he never acted on it, at least not in any but the most discreet molly houses...
“Of course, it is simply that in times of trouble I find that some of my clients find themselves being asked to pay for various peccadillos, even those not of their making, for example, to keep a child of uncertain lineage from being produced in court. And if I am prepared in advance, I can be of more assistance.”
