Whispers of the Heart by Rose Pearson

Chapter Nine

“Hmph.”

Geoffrey flung another scrunched up piece of paper across his desk, hoping that it went somewhere near to the fireplace. He simply could not concentrate and, given that he was attempting to write a note to Lord Stratham, was finding it very difficult to put his words into coherent order. This was now the fifth piece of paper he had ruined by some stupid mistake, and he was growing more than a little frustrated with himself.

A scratch at the door announced the arrival of his butler.

“My Lord, you have a visitor,” the butler announced, stepping inside with a calling card. “Might you wish to see him?”

Geoffrey looked down with surprise at the card of Lord Stratham, wondering why the fellow had come to speak to him here, given that they were meant to be staying a little further apart so that Lord Hyndford would not think that there was a strong connection between them.

“Yes, yes of course,” he said hastily, gesturing for the butler to bring him in. “And bring in some refreshments.”

Lord Stratham came into the room only a few minutes later, his smile broad as Geoffrey welcomed him in.

“Good afternoon, Lord Ware,” he said, as Geoffrey immediately went to pour them both a brandy. “How are you at present?” His eyes strayed to the various piles of paper that now sat on the floor by the hearth. “Struggling with your correspondence?”

A little embarrassed, Geoffrey tried to laugh, throwing out one hand in a casual a manner as he could manage as he gestured to it.

“I am struggling to write without mistake!” he replied, rolling his eyes. “A little too much whisky last evening, mayhap?”

Lord Stratham chuckled, clearly aware of what Geoffrey meant.

“I see,” he replied, gratefully accepting the glass that Geoffrey handed to him. “It has happened to many of us, I am sure.”

Geoffrey chuckled.

“Indeed,” he replied, grateful that he would not have to explain that the real reason he had been distracted was solely because of Miss Whyte. “I was, in fact, attempting to write you a note to state that not only was Lord Hyndford present last evening, but he also has, I believe, intentions towards Miss Whyte.” Seeing Lord Stratham frown, Geoffrey quickly reminded him of who the lady was. “He is calling upon her at this present moment, in fact,” he finished, a little irritation coming into his voice despite his determination not to permit it to do so. “I believe that, if he is permitted, he would soon seek to court her.”

Instantly, Lord Stratham’s eyes flared and he leaned forward in his seat.

“You would not permit that to happen, however!”

Shaking his head firmly, Geoffrey held up both hands.

“Of course I would not,” he stated, seeing the relief which filled Lord Stratham’s expression. “But Miss Whyte is not aware of anything related to Lord Hyndford so, at present, I am permitting the connection to continue.” Settling back in his chair, Lord Stratham nodded slowly, one hand cupping his chin for a few moments, his eyes now fixed on Geoffrey’s desk as he considered. “I cannot permit him to court her, however, for fear that Miss Whyte will find herself gravely injured – or her reputation damaged, should the ton hear the truth about Lord Hyndford’s interests,” Geoffrey continued, when Lord Stratham said nothing. “Thankfully, I do not think that she is particularly enamored with him… yet.”

Lord Stratham’s brows rose.

“You think it possible that she might become so?”

Geoffrey shrugged, hating that he had to admit to it.

“I cannot see why not,” he replied, slowly. “I believe that the fervency of his regard and the swiftness with which he has acted has chased Miss Whyte from his side for now, but that is not to say that such an opinion will not improve with time.”

“And there is no other gentleman who might compete for her affections?” Lord Stratham asked, as Geoffrey frowned, not quite certain what he meant. “It would mean that Miss Whyte would take a little longer to consider and decided which gentleman she wished to accept. In the interim, we could use that connection to your household to our own advantage.”

Without even a moment of hesitation, Geoffrey shook his head.

“No, Miss Whyte is not to be involved.”

“She need not know of it.”

“No.” Geoffrey remained firm. “She is not to be involved in any way, whether she knows of it or not. That is not to say that Lord Hyndford’s presence in my home cannot be used to our advantage, but I will not have Miss Whyte –”

“Very well, very well,” Lord Stratham held up both hands, although there was a knowing look in his eyes which Geoffrey did not quite understand. “Then might I ask if you are making any progress as regards Lord Hyndford?”

It irritated Geoffrey to shake his head.

“Not as yet,” he admitted. “I have made a few remarks about the war, about my disinclination towards it and the like, but thus far, he has not made any conversation of that sort.”

“It will take time,” Lord Stratham said, quietly. “But I have come up with an idea which I think might hurry matters along.”

Geoffrey took a small sip of his brandy, just as the butler brought in a tray of refreshments, which was set down on the desk.

“Oh?”

Waiting until they were alone, Lord Stratham shrugged.

“Allow Lord Hyndford to see you and I having an argument or some such thing,” he said, a small smile on his face. “No doubt, Lord Hyndford will ask you about it and, thereafter, you can state that you have grown very weary of all matters pertaining to the war itself.”

“And see what transpires,” Geoffrey finished, as Lord Stratham nodded. “An excellent suggestion.” His smile spread wide. “And how convenient that Lord Hyndford is present in the house at this very moment! He is taking tea with my mother and Miss Whyte, which means that he will be departing soon.”

Lord Stratham chuckled and threw back the rest of his brandy.

“Then mayhap we should make our way to the front of the house, so we are quite ready,” he replied, as Geoffrey nodded. “I can only pray that this leads to something. We need to know who else is involved, else the French attack could take place without us having any knowledge of it.”

“I am certain it will lead somewhere,” Geoffrey replied, reminding himself once more about just how important this particular matter was. “Come then, let us ready ourselves for the play!” He chuckled as Lord Stratham rose to his feet. “I hope that you are inclined towards acting, for this will have to be believable!”

Slapping Geoffrey’s shoulder, Lord Stratham grinned broadly.

“Have no fear,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “I shall make sure that everyone in this house believes that you and I have fallen out of favor with each other. Prepare yourself, Lord Ware!”

Geoffrey laughed and opened the study door.

“I look forward to your performance, Lord Stratham.”

* * *

“Good evening, Lord Ware.”

Geoffrey allowed his gaze to move up slowly towards the fellow who came towards him, hoping that he appeared to be in a very dark mood indeed.

“Lord Hyndford,” he muttered, ignoring the surge of joy which burst through his heart. “Good evening.”

Lord Hyndford regarded him carefully for a few moments.

“You are not at Lord and Lady Weatherford’s ball this evening?”

Shrugging one shoulder, Geoffrey sighed heavily.

“I am not,” he answered. “That is to say, I was present for a short while but did not linger long.” His lips twisted. “I did not find myself inclined towards dancing and merry conversation.”

“Oh?” Lord Hyndford looked back at him steadily but with caution in his gaze. “Has something troubled you?”

Shaking his head, Geoffrey shrugged and gestured to the chair near to him, inviting Lord Hyndford to sit. He knew full well that Lord Hyndford had overheard the conversation – the loud conversation between himself and Lord Stratham earlier that afternoon – but also knew that he could not allow Lord Hyndford to know that Geoffrey had been aware of his presence in the house. He and Lord Stratham had made certain to argue within full hearing of the drawing-room and, a short while after, his mother had come to demand an explanation. She had exclaimed over how Lord Hyndford had been present, how he had grown suddenly quiet given the loud fury which had come from the hallway and how both herself and Miss Whyte had been utterly mortified at the goings-on. Geoffrey had not had either the time nor the inclination to explain himself and had been forced to shrug and state that he would apologize to Miss Whyte at a later time – although as yet, he had not done so.

“I had a sharp disagreement earlier today, Lord Hyndford,” he replied, allowing a slight slur to come into his words in the hope that Lord Hyndford would think him a little foxed. “And it has greatly troubled me. Therefore, I found my low spirits quite at odds with the gaiety of the ball.” He lifted his glass in the direction of a nearby footman, who nodded in understanding. “And you?”

Lord Hyndford chuckled.

“I am not a particular favorite of Lord Weatherford,” he answered, wryly. “Therefore, I must find my own entertainment this evening, for it seems as though most of the ton are present at the ball and there is very little else being put on by others!”

Geoffrey let his lip curl.

“Lord Weatherford is a Marquess, and his ball is well known to be one of the best of the Season,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “The very best musicians, the very best decorations, the very best refreshments.” He chuckled. “The ton does not like to be absent from it and are less than inclined to hold their own occasion on the same night.” He spread one arm wide. “And therefore, you find me here in White’s rather than at a card game or any other such thing.”

“That cannot be altogether bad,” Lord Hyndford replied, chuckling. “White’s is often very enjoyable in its own way.” He waited until the footman had handed Geoffrey another glass of brandy before he continued. “I mayhap should not tell you of this, for I do not want to add to your upset, but I was present in your home this afternoon.”

Closing his eyes, Geoffrey let out a long, heavy breath.

“I see.” He rubbed one hand over his eyes, allowing himself to appear deeply frustrated. “You overheard me speak with Lord Stratham, then.”

“I did,” Lord Hyndford replied, with a small shrug. “It appeared to be quite a serious argument.” His eyes glittered for just a moment. “Do you mind if I enquire what the argument was about? It is not my business, I know, but I cannot help but be intrigued.” His lips curved upwards into a small yet slightly mirthless smile. “It is not often that one overhears such a profound argument between two gentlemen.”

Stratham, your idea has succeeded.

Geoffrey smiled inwardly but kept his expression morose.

“Stratham and I are at odds when it comes to our current engagement with the French,” he said, making sure to take a long sip of brandy in the interim, encouraging the idea that he was a little foxed. “I have had quite enough of it all. In fact, I am certain that there are other ways and means that England might go about this particular endeavor.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “There have been too many men already lost, too many resources wasted.”

“I would agree with you there,” Lord Hyndford replied, firmly, keeping his keen blue eyes fixed on Geoffrey, continually assessing him. “This war does not help England, there is nothing favorable about it. And, as you have said, too many have already lost their lives engaging in a war which could easily be resolved in another manner.” He blew out a breath. “These men gave themselves to a foolish endeavor,” he continued, sounding a little more frustrated in his tone. “They ought not to have done so, not if they were really thinking about what they were doing. Had they sense, they might have seen that there was another way!”

Geoffrey ran one hand over his eyes. Inwardly, he was growing angry with all that Lord Hyndford was saying, hating that the gentleman could speak with such animosity towards all those who had given the ultimate sacrifice in order to protect England’s shores. And yet, Geoffrey knew he had to pretend to feel and think much the same way, if he was to have any hope of furthering their knowledge of those sympathetic to the French.

“It is a hard truth but one that I must agree with you about,” he said, sorrowfully. “I hate to do so but it cannot be avoided any longer.” Shaking his head, he looked back at Lord Hyndford, praying that Lord Hyndford would see him as a possible ally. “I am so weary of it all that I find myself wondering if our supposed enemy might not be the answer to my prayers!” He laughed sorrowfully, his eyes closing for a few moments, hating every single word he spoke. “It is a foolish – and a treasonous thought, I know. But it cannot help but linger on in my mind.” With a sudden start, his brandy sloshing dangerously close to the lip of the glass, Geoffrey leaned forward and kept his eyes wide. “I pray you will not speak of what I have said, Lord Hyndford,” he said quickly, his expression now one of mingled shock and fear. “It is only words from a foolish and foxed gentleman, and I swear that I do not mean a single word of it.”

Looking at him carefully, Lord Hyndford let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes slanting.

“You have nothing to fear, Lord Ware,” he replied, as Geoffrey’s heart squeezed with relief at Lord Hyndford’s words, praying that this would now lead to something a little more tangible. “There are others who think that particular way also.”

Geoffrey let out a breathy laugh, hearing it rasp through his chest.

“I am certain that they will be a good deal wiser than I when it comes to keeping such thoughts entirely to themselves,” he replied, ruefully. “I thank you for your willingness to listen without judgement, Lord Hyndford.” He lifted his glass of brandy and eyed it carefully. “I should perhaps refrain from imbibing any further for fear of what else I will say!”

Lord Hyndford grinned, his expression open.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Lord Ware,” he answered, lifting his own glass towards Geoffrey before taking a sip. “In fact, you may be surprised to learn that I know of a few other members of the ton who think much the same way.” He shrugged, as though it meant very little indeed to know of members of the ton who expressed treasonous opinions. “If you ever wished to discuss your considerations further, I know that there would be some who would be very glad indeed to speak with you.”

“Oh?” Geoffrey tipped his head, looking back at Lord Hyndford with an interest that he did not really feel. “That would be… illuminating, certainly.”

“You need not think you are alone,” Lord Hyndford replied, quietly, his tone now more serious. “You should be able to express such opinions without hesitation, without fear. And there are those who, I know, would be glad to hear what you have to say.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” Geoffrey replied, spreading his hands. “After how Lord Stratham spoke to me this afternoon, I confess that I felt somewhat isolated, if not even a little foolish!”

Lord Hyndford shook his head, his lips pulled taut and a look of anger coming over his face. His eyes a little narrowed, he shook his head.

“You are not foolish to have a different viewpoint from those around you,” he stated, firmly. “Besides which, you have been at war, have you not? You have given much of yourself and still, the threat has not been removed! There must be a different way, just as you yourself have said – and there ought to be open discussions about our schemes and our plans so that those who are willing to give their lives are no longer forced to do so.”

It was a determined and strong speech and Geoffrey forced himself to nod, ignoring the urge to retaliate with a few choice words of his own. Words that would contradict everything Lord Hyndford had said, words that would throw back everything Lord Hyndford had expressed without hesitation. Geoffrey wanted to shout that it was a gentleman’s duty to defend his country and his King but instead closed his lips, furrowed his brow, and said nothing more.

“All you need do is say the word, Lord Ware, and I should be glad to introduce you,” Lord Hyndford murmured, his eyes now a little narrowed as though he feared that he had said too much. “You need not do so if you feel no requirement to do anything other than think of these things, however. I know that not everyone wishes to express their feelings or thoughts to others.”

“I am certain I shall,” Geoffrey said hastily, not wanting Lord Hyndford to think him reluctant. “But it is something that, mayhap, I need to consider a little further myself first. After all,” he said, chuckling a little sheepishly, “it is not as though I have had much success in discussing it with others thus far!”

Lord Hyndford made to reply, only for another gentleman to suddenly appear. He came from behind Geoffrey, moving around to stand between Geoffrey and Lord Hyndford.

“Good evening, Lord Ware!” His eyes were bright with interest but a little wider than before, expressing a shock that Geoffrey could see written into every line of his expression. “And Lord Hyndford, I believe?”

Geoffrey’s stomach dropped as Lord Silverton turned from him to Lord Hyndford before shooting an accusatory glance back towards the first. He had not known that Lord Silverton was here, nor that he had listened to all that Lord Hyndford and he had said. A tightness came into his throat as he looked at Lord Silverton, a great fear grasping at his heart.

“It is, yes.” Lord Hyndford smiled easily but then rose from his chair, inclining his head towards Geoffrey and then to Lord Silverton. “We have not been introduced, I know. Excuse me, I shall not remain, for I have already conversed at length with Lord Ware and do not wish to monopolize his time.” With a broad smile, he gestured to his chair. “Please, Lord Silverton.” He turned to Geoffrey. “Lord Ware, I hope we will be able to continue our conversation again soon.”

“I am certain we shall,” Geoffrey replied, lifting his glass half-heartedly and finding himself relieved that the gentleman was going. “Good evening, Lord Hyndford.”

The gentleman was gone in the next moment and Geoffrey found himself faced with Lord Silverton. Seeing how the gentleman now glared at him, his heart squeezed painfully. Just what had Lord Silverton overheard and how was Geoffrey now meant to explain this all to him?

“Lord Ware,” Lord Silverton began, keeping his voice low as he leaned forward in his chair, clearly wanting to speak quietly and yet with such an anger in his voice that Geoffrey could not help but wince. “I should not have been eavesdropping but, having overheard only a few sentences, I found that my intention of leaving you to converse with Lord Hyndford alone was quite impossible.” He shook his head, his mouth a small, thin line. “Ware, what you are stating – what you are permitting yourself to say – is both dangerous and utterly foolish. How can you…”

“Wait, Silverton,” Geoffrey said firmly, putting one hand out towards his friend, his hand palm upwards. “You are mistaken. I…” Frowning, he ran one hand across his brow, not quite certain how to explain what had occurred. “I do not truly believe everything I said.” He saw his friend frown and blew out a frustrated breath, his expression twisting. “Silverton, there is not a word of truth in anything I said.”

Lord Silverton stared at him, his eyes widening slightly.

“Then why say it?”

“Because I must know which of the gentlemen here in London are not as inclined towards the protection of the Crown,” Geoffrey explained, slowly. “I cannot give you a further explanation but only to say that you need not fear for my loyalty. It is still tied to the King and to my country, I assure you.”

There was still a look of concern drifting across Lord Silverton’s expression and for some minutes, he did not say anything at all. When he finally did speak, it was in a slow, careful manner as though he wanted to make quite certain that whatever he said at the present moment was correct.

“Then you are still making every attempt to aid the war effort whilst remaining here in London,” he began, his expression cautious. “Everything you are doing at present is solely to aid and protect the King. What I overheard from you this evening is not truly what you feel. It is only a ruse.”

“Precisely,” Geoffrey said, hastily. “Silverton, we have been friends for a long time. I can only hope that you would know me well enough to believe that what I have said is the truth.” He held Lord Silverton’s gaze steadily, fearful of what his friend might do or say should he be disinclined towards believing what Geoffrey had said. He felt as though he were on the very edge of a precipice and that Lord Silverton could be the one to push him down into the darkness. There could be so much damage wrought should Lord Silverton refuse to believe him.

Dropping his head, Lord Silverton blew out a long breath and ran one hand through his hair. Geoffrey waited, holding his own breath as he waited for his friend to speak.

“Very well.”

Geoffrey closed his eyes immediately, relief pouring into his heart.

“I will give you the benefit of the doubt, given our long-standing friendship,” Lord Silverton continued, eyeing Geoffrey carefully. “I must hope that both your mother and Miss Whyte are protected from your endeavors and any consequences they might bring?”

A small frown flickered across Geoffrey’s forehead. Why ever was Silverton asking about Miss Whyte? She was not even a consideration at present.

“Miss Whyte and my mother know nothing of this matter,” he said, firmly. “And I should like it to remain so.”

Something ran across Lord Silverton’s expression that Geoffrey could not help but recoil from. It was a look of cunning, a look that made him fear that he could not trust Lord Silverton in all of the ways he had hoped. A chill ran over him, and he caught his breath, but the expression was gone the very next instant.

“But of course,” Lord Silverton replied, softly, tilting his head as though he were being more than sympathetic. “I quite understand. I wish you every success… and that my trust in you is not misplaced.”

“It is not, I assure you,” Geoffrey confirmed, choosing to set aside the expression he had only just seen in Lord Silverton’s face and instead be grateful that his friend had decided to believe him. “Thank you, Silverton. I am appreciative of your understanding.”

Lord Silverton said nothing more, but instead of being filled with either contentment or relief, Geoffrey was left with a certain uneasy feeling. Lord Silverton’s expression had become sly – even though it had only been for a moment – and Geoffrey was quite unable to forget it. An urge to go to Miss Whyte to make certain she was safe poured over him, and it took all of his self-restraint to remain in his seat. His skin prickled as he saw Lord Silverton smile to himself. Something, it seemed, was quite wrong.

And it was all his doing.