How to Entice an Earl (15 page)

“If you are so hell-bent on this course of action,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest, “then let me come with you.”

“No, I…” She paused as if just now hearing him. “What do you mean come with me?”

“I will be your partner in crime,” he said simply. “When you are invited to a less than respectable party or to an outing with your new friends, you’ll take me with you. I’ll come along and be your watchdog.”

And perhaps he might be able to protect her from the sort of situation that had led his twin to her death. Clarissa hadn’t been nearly the force of nature that Maddie was proving to be, but he didn’t want to test the limits of her strength by allowing her to move in such a crowd alone.

“Why would you do that?” Maddie asked, her blue eyes narrow with suspicion.

“Because I want to know who killed Tinker as well,” he said simply. She didn’t need to know about his sister and her own brush with a very fast crowd. All she needed to know was that he did not intend to allow Maddie to risk her own life as Clarissa had done. “And I know that Winterson and Deveril, not to mention your brother, would wish for you to have some sort of protection if you’re going to jump headlong into this business.”

She was silent as she thought over his offer.

Finally, curiosity got the better of him.

“Well? Do we have a deal?” he asked, already thinking of ways to persuade her if she refused.

“Yes.”

Christian felt her relax against him as she gave him her answer. As if the decision had left her exhausted.

Rather than pumping his fist in the air, he gave her a quick hug.

There would be time enough for celebration when they were cleared of this infernal tangle.

Nine

“Lord Gresham! Might I have a word?”

Hyde Park was still fairly deserted because of the early hour. Christian, who was walking his gelding, Galahad, after a good gallop, looked up to see the Earl of Essex approaching him from atop his own mount, a glossy chestnut with more than a little spirit.

Lord Essex himself was rather like an older version of Viscount Linton. His blond hair was liberally threaded with gray now, and despite his age, he obviously had kept in good enough shape to prevent the sort of physical decline that beset so many older men.

It was difficult to see him and not think of the tale Maddie had told him of Lord Essex’s behavior during her childhood. There was an intensity about the man that he imagined could be unsettling for a child. Especially if it was combined with intoxication.

At the reminder of Maddie, Christian felt a stab of guilt at facing her father. He’d already decided last night that he would marry her. He had wanted, however, to take things slowly. He knew how stubborn Maddie could be and he didn’t think that having her father demand the match would be the best way of convincing her of its necessity. If anything, she might defy him merely on principle.

Squaring his shoulders, he nodded to the older man. “Lord Essex,” he said, “I am at your disposal.”

Not liking the disparity in their positions—Christian on the ground, Lord Essex atop his horse—Christian gave Galahad one last pat on the neck and remounted. He indicated with a tilt of his head that they would do well to remove themselves from the small crowd gathering in Rotten Row.

With an answering nod, Lord Essex agreed, and they made their way on horseback to a spot far enough away from the others that they might talk undisturbed.

“It has come to my understanding that you are investigating the murder of a Mr. Tinker,” Lord Essex said without preamble. “And that my son is your primary focus. Is this correct?”

Christian felt a stab of relief at learning Lord Essex wished to talk about his son rather than his daughter. On the matter of Viscount Linton, at least, he could reassure the older man.

“It is true that I am looking into the matter for the Home Office,” he said. “Though I would not say that Linton is my only focus.”

Judging from his expression, this did not reassure Lord Essex. “What has the Home Office to do with a murder over gambling debts? Surely the government has more to do than pry into matters that might more easily be handled by the runners.”

“I’m afraid I am not at liberty to disclose the reasons for the government’s interest in the matter.” Christian appreciated that the earl was curious, but especially given his relationship with Lord Linton, he could not reveal the details of Tinker’s connection with the Citizen’s Liberation Society. “Suffice it to say that there is good reason.”

Lord Essex flushed. “Why the devil not? I am a member of the Lords and have the ear of the prime minister. I demand that you tell me what this is about. What has my son gotten himself involved in?”

“I appreciate your concern, my lord,” Christian said firmly. “And for what it’s worth, I believe that your son is likely innocent of Tinker’s murder. Though I do know that he owed the dead man a considerable amount of money, the murder, was likely unrelated to that.”

“But what can I do?” Lord Essex demanded, his color rising. “It is all well and good for you to say you think him innocent, but we both know that innocence does not always ensure freedom from prosecution.” Christian could all but feel the frustration emanating from the man. “He is my son, my heir. I cannot simply stand back and allow him to be pursued like a common thief.”

The chestnut, perhaps sensing his rider’s agitation, grew restive and tossed his head. Essex, however, kept his hand firm and brought the animal under control.

“Then, with all due respect,” Christian said, “perhaps you should have ensured that he did not run like one.”

A flare of anger lit Lord Essex’s eyes, but just as soon as it was gone, it was replaced by a naked bleakness that was difficult for Christian to witness.

“I know, damn it,” he said, passing a weary hand over his face, his shoulders drooping. “If I could have done so I’d have locked the boy in his room. But he’s an adult now and refuses to be led about by the nose. Or so he says.”

Looking up at Christian, he continued, “I know I’ve not been the best example for the lad to follow. There was a time when he and Madeline were children that I behaved very badly, indeed. But I thought that I had convinced them that my behavior was not something to emulate but something to abhor.” He shook his head. “Obviously I was wrong.”

“And his departure from town?”

“That, I’m afraid,” Lord Essex said, “was done without his consulting me. The damned fool should have spoken with me before he left at the very least. But he has been too much under the influence of that Fielding widow of late. I feel sure she is the one responsible for his absconding.”

Thinking back to Lady Emily’s proprietary air the other morning, Christian was convinced that Lord Essex was right on that score.

“At this point,” he said, “it is suspicious, but not beyond the pale. We are investigating other possible connections to Tinker, so for the time being Lord Linton’s absence from town is not as dire as it might be.

“I would, however,” he continued, “suggest that you confide in your brother-in-law Lord Shelby, and perhaps the Duke of Winterson, and ask them to intervene with the Home Office on your son’s behalf.”

Essex frowned. “I thought you said that you were not at liberty to say what the Home Office’s interest was in Tinker’s death.”

“I did,” Christian said calmly, “but requesting their influence does not make it necessary for you to know that. All you need is to have them—and perhaps try yourself to—approach the Home Secretary and request that he intercede on your behalf.”

Christian wasn’t all that comfortable with how political influence impacted the way that justice was meted out by the government. But it was something that was done with great frequency at Whitehall, and he knew that removing the cloud of suspicion from Linton might encourage the man to return to London. Which would make it possible to keep a better watch on him.

“Why are you telling me this?” Essex asked suspiciously. “What interest do you have in seeing my son cleared?”

Christian shrugged. “I can claim friendship with your daughter.”

At the mention of Maddie, Lord Essex’s complexion darkened. “She is becoming quite a handful,” he said. “She has always been headstrong, but she has become more so in the past few months.

“I wish to thank you,” Lord Essex continued grudgingly, “for seeing that she returned home safely that night from Mrs. Bailey’s.” He mopped his brow with a pristine white handkerchief. “I hold Linton to blame for that occurrence, of course.” He smiled conspiratorily. “We men must ensure that the ladies in our lives remain safe, even it means doing so without their consent. They can hardly be expected to make the most rational of decisions, can they?”

Christian thought about what Maddie’s reaction to her father’s statement might be, and decided it was probably better for the older man that she wasn’t there. If Lord Essex didn’t realize that his daughter, while rash at times, was quite a rational person, then he didn’t think disabusing him of his misunderstanding would do much good at this point. And, for all that he understood Maddie’s hypothetical anger, Christian himself was as guilty as Lord Essex of wanting to protect her from her own impulsive nature.

“I see,” he said. He certainly wasn’t going to say something that might get back to Maddie and put him in her black books. Especially since she’d agreed last evening to allow him to protect her as she went about her mad plan to prove Linton’s innocence.

“I thank you for your suggestions regarding Linton,” Lord Essex said. “I hope that if anything changes about my son’s status, you will let me know.”

Relieved that he was being dismissed, Christian nodded. “So long as I am free to do so.”

“I suppose that’s the most I can ask,” Essex said, touching his hat in farewell.

But before he turned his horse away, he raised a gloved hand. “When you are next in public with my daughter, you might do a better job at concealing your interest in her.” Christian felt his face redden. “We wouldn’t want there to be talk about the two of you. Linton has created enough scandal for the family at this point.”

With those parting words, Essex took himself off.

Christian stared after Maddie’s father in astonishment. So much for thinking he was completely unaware of their connection.

He didn’t deceive himself into thinking that her father’s words had been anything less than a warning.

Guiding Galahad to the bridle path, he determined to heed it.

As much as possible.

Probably.

Damn it.

*   *   *

Maddie arrived at Felsham’s Bookshop in mid-afternoon, having followed Lady Emily there in a hackney at a discreet distance from her house on Half Moon Street. She knew that Lady Emily was an avid reader of Minerva Press novels and had overheard her telling Amelia Snowe just the night before that she was desperate for the latest title that had just come out that month and would be purchasing it today. After waiting for the lady to exit her house for most of the afternoon, she’d been relieved when she finally spied her climbing into her carriage and departing at last.

If she’d had another destination in mind, Maddie would have extemporized, but she was grateful that her attempt to become friends with the other woman would take place somewhere that she felt at home.

Felsham’s was not quite as fashionable as some of the other bookshops, mainly because it was situated in a less than fashionable part of town. It was also known—though Maddie wasn’t supposed to be aware of it—for acquiring books of a scandalous nature published mostly on the Continent. She’d once overheard her brother discussing the fact with his cronies. The owner, John Felsham, didn’t care who visited his shop so long as they had the money to pay for their purchases. And as a result he attracted a number of ladies who wished to purchase items without censure. Maddie herself had been a customer for years because of Felsham’s eclectic selection but had never gotten up the nerve to buy the naughty books. She spent most of her money there on novels and philosophies.

The bell on the door jingled merrily as she stepped inside. In keeping with her new, faster persona, she’d worn another of her new gowns, a primrose walking dress with a deep green pelisse. It wasn’t scandalous at all, but the way it hugged her every curve made her all too aware of the body beneath the clothes.

“Hello, Lady Madeline,” Mr. Felsham greeted her from behind his counter. “I hadn’t thought to see you again so soon.”

She’d been in just last week to pick up a gift for Juliet’s birthday—a book of Dante’s poetry. “Good morning, Mr. Felsham.” She scanned the room but didn’t see Lady Emily or any of her hangers-on. “I was hoping to look through your collection of Madame D’Arblay’s works again. No need to show me, I know the way.”

And with that she wandered through the shop to the rear section where Felsham kept the novels. To her relief, she saw Lady Emily there, scanning the shelves where Maddie knew Felsham kept the Minerva Press novels.

“Lady Emily,” she said, stepping forward, “what a lovely surprise. I did not know you were a customer of Felsham’s.”

The dark-haired beauty, who to Maddie’s eye looked rather pale today, looked up warily. “Lady Madeline,” she said, inclining her head, her dark eyes watchful. “I am perhaps not so famous for my intellect as you and your cousins are, but I do indeed know how to read.”

To Maddie’s disappointment, rather than engage her in conversation, the other woman turned back to her book. This won’t do at all, Maddie thought in frustration. Trying again, she leaned over to see which of the three-volume sets the other woman had chosen. It was a particularly lurid gothic tale that Maddie had devoured in one sitting.

“I enjoyed that one,” she said, feeling like an interfering busybody, but needing to keep the conversation going. “I particularly liked it when Melisande discovers that she is the long-lost daughter of the duke.” Adopting a nonchalant air, she began her own perusal of the shelves.