Читать книгу The Earl's Secret - Terri Brisbin - Страница 11

“Lady Simon is thrilled by her success this evening.”

“If you mean the excessive heat, too many people and late hour, I would have to agree with you, Ellerton.”

David tried to make his way to the edge of the ballroom where there appeared to be more room to move…and to escape this crush. His third ball this week, this one was no less crowded, heated or unpleasant. But it was a somewhat safe escape from the topic of his predicament.

“You are too modest, Trey. You are the jewel in her crown.”

Coming from anyone else in the ton, the words would have been mindless simpering. From Ellerton, however, they were more of a warning. And it was a warning too late in coming, for their hostess was in pursuit and caught them just as he reached the outskirts of the crowd.

“Lord Treybourne! Surely you are not departing so early?”

Lady Simon wore a dress clearly meant for a younger, more lithesome figure of womanhood, one that did not compliment her voluptuous curves. Instead it pointed out the glaring changes that older women sometimes experienced. She leaned forward, displaying what she must have assumed was a pleasant view of her décolletage. “My niece, Catherine, had hoped for a dance.”

She nodded in the direction of the dancing couples, and those not dancing. A young woman whom he’d not met stood, glanced his way and fluttered her eyelashes at an alarming rate.

“I fear I must, Lady Simon,” he said, taking her hand to keep her back at a decent distance. “Please introduce me to your niece at our next encounter. I have other commitments I must keep now,” he whispered in a conspiratorial tone as he threw a glance at Ellerton.

“Oh!” she murmured in a disappointed tone. “Oh!” she uttered in a now more excited one. Tapping on his arm with her closed fan, she nodded. “Masculine pursuits, sir? Ones best not spoken of in mixed company, I suspect?” In spite of her words, her heaving bosom spoke of her desire for him to elaborate on just what their plans were. Her niece was now forgotten in her efforts to discover his plans.

“I thank you for your kind invitation to this evening’s fete, madam. Now, I will bid you a good evening.”

He peeled his fingers from hers and backed far enough away to bow politely. Luckily for him, Anthony was familiar with the situation and was already heading in the direction of the door. David followed quickly, nodding at several people as he passed briskly through the crowd and toward freedom.

The hair on the back of his neck was rising when he stopped momentarily to take his cloak from a footman and he looked around the entryway to see if he were being watched. Not wanting to take the chance of being stopped again, David tossed the cloak over his arm and strode through the door and down the steps to where Ellerton waited on the sidewalk.

He reached in his pocket and drew out several coins. Handing them to the nearest footman, he instructed, “Find my coachman and tell him to catch up with us. We will be walking in that direction.”

It was the only practical thing to do since the line of coaches stretched several blocks away from the Simon mansion. His club was too far to walk to from this neighborhood on the edges of the more fashionable ones, but they could wait for an hour or more for his coach to approach in the lines. Once away from the crowd and the possibility of being overheard, he broached the subject with Ellerton.

“I am thinking of a short trip to our hunting box in the Cairngorms, Anthony. Would you care to join me?”

“Is Commons done its sessions?”

“I have been told we will not be called back until the first or second of October. Surely enough time to enjoy the pleasures of shooting and hunting.”

Ellerton did not respond immediately and, indeed, said nothing, even as the Dursby coach approached in the street. David gave instructions to the coachman as they climbed in and sat on opposite sides. The coach rolled down the street for a few minutes before David decided to pursue an answer.

“My father will not be there, if that’s what you’re waiting to hear. He is escorting my mother to the estate in Nottinghamshire.”

“That was a concern, Trey. The marquess does not care for my company.”

“He cares even less for mine, so we are safe for the moment.”

“Ah, not carrying the party standard high enough?”

“Why is it that you do not take this seriously?” Their families were both Tory supporters, yet Ellerton’s father did not involve himself in the power maneuvers.

“My father has long been more interested in his lands than speeches. Overseeing the latest innovations in his crops gives him great joy and fulfillment.”

David could understand the draw of other facets of life away from the morass of backroom meetings and grabbing for power of politics. Perchance Ellerton’s father had the right of it? Realizing he’d still not received an answer about the trip, he pressed again.

“I plan on leaving on Thursday morning. You can send word if you will join me.”

Anthony stared out the coach window at the passing houses and city blocks for a few moments before answering. “I have never seen you run from something before, Trey.”

He chose to deliberately misunderstand. “The season is over and only those few who have not snagged a husband are still being shown around town. After five balls, four salons and six dinners in this last fortnight, I have certainly fulfilled any possible obligations as a bachelor and target of marriage-minded mothers of the ton.”

“So this is about taking a respite from the rigors of society and not about avoiding the unpleasant topic of a certain publication?”

He could continue to dissemble to avoid the admission of his weakness, but Anthony was one of few people in the world whom he could trust.

“Actually, instead of running away, I am running to the problem.”

“At your hunting lodge?” Anthony eyed him suspiciously. Shifting on his bench, he frowned and then shook his head. “Of course, it is no coincidence that our path to your property in the mountains goes right through Edinburgh.”

“Unless the roads have changed and I have not been advised of such an occurrence.”

Anthony was not addle-pated and he immediately understood…and laughed out loud as he did.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, eh?”

“Although I battle in the light of day, my opponent chooses to hide in anonymity. A situation I thought to change.”

“Now that’s the Trey I remember! Never one to avoid a good fight.” Anthony reached over and smacked him on the shoulder. “And I am honored that you asked me to accompany you, as your ‘second,’ so to speak.”

David smiled at him, but his words made him cringe. He had hoped to keep this a discreet visit to Edinburgh to discover more about the elusive Mr. A. J. Goodfellow. His man-of-business had been unsuccessful in his efforts to find out the man’s background or family or even his whereabouts.

Now, David would use his own connections—his school friend owned and published the Scottish Monthly Gazette and would surely be able to help him uncover this writer. Well, Nathaniel might be able, but David was certain that it would take more convincing on his part for his friend to reveal the information.

“I would consider this a quiet reconnaissance mission of sorts, if you please. My man has already made most of the inquiries, I thought only to follow up on several more promising leads.”

Anthony sat up straight and put a finger over his lips. “I can be as quiet as the grave, Trey. You can count on my discretion in this matter.”

Deciding not to discuss the arrangements or his plans further now, he nodded his acceptance and turned his face toward the windows. He had much to do in the two days before he left town.

He’d written his response to the inflammatory article and it would be delivered to the publisher on Thursday. With the publishing schedule as it was, his essay would arrive to readers while he was in Edinburgh. The best time to observe Nathaniel and his allies and their reaction to it. The best time to flush out the elusive Mr. Goodfellow.

The coach arrived at his club on St. James, and as they climbed out, David was making lists of tasks to be completed before he could leave London.

Engrossed in her review of the newest textbook she’d chosen to use to teach reading at the school, the knock surprised her. Before Anna could call out, the door of Nathaniel’s office opened and a stranger entered. She did not see his face as he turned momentarily to close the door, but his fine clothing spoke of money and his bearing of power. He was as surprised as she must have been at finding an unexpected person in place of the one they sought. She pulled some papers over the book and then rose and walked around Nathaniel’s desk to meet him.

“Good morning, sir,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “May I help you with something?” He eyed her extended hand and frowned. Ah, a high-stickler. Most likely from London.

“Good morning. I am seeking Mr. Hobbs-Smith,” he said with a cursory bow, but without taking her hand. His accent confirmed his origins.

“Mr. Hobbs-Smith has not arrived yet. I am Miss Fairchild. Can I be of service?”

Anna observed him as he thought on her words. Tall, taller even than Nathaniel, this stranger carried an air of anger and danger as he shook his head. When his gaze met hers, the piercing blue stare rendered her breathless. She’d never felt such a concentration of attention before and her words jumbled in her mouth, unable to right themselves. Finally, Lesher opened the door and whispered of Nathaniel’s impending arrival, breaking the spell being woven that robbed her of her wits.

“Can I offer you some refreshments? Mr….?” Anna waited for some name to attach to this man. She needed to know his identity.

“This is a business matter, Miss Fairchild. No refreshments are needed.” He tugged off his gloves, crushed them impatiently in his grasp and examined every inch of the office. Lifting the hat from his head, he tossed the gloves inside it and laid it on the desk.

Did he think her an imbecile to not know the expectations at a business discussion? She was simply trying to be polite and he was treating her as though she were a…woman.

Anna detested the imperious attitude of those of his class, which she supposed must be noble. The only working women he encountered were most likely his servants or store clerks or those who earned their money on their backs.

She gasped as her thoughts went in an inappropriate and unexpected direction. What had ever conjured up such things?

“Are you in distress, Miss Fairchild?” he asked. His gaze did not soften, but there was something resembling concern in it now.

“I am well, sir. I only just remembered a previous commitment.” She hoped the blush was not so apparent to him as she went back to the desk, rearranged some of the papers there and picked up her book. “Mr. Hobbs-Smith is soon to arrive. If you will excuse me…”

Anna’s escape was in sight, her hand on the knob of the door, when it opened and revealed Nathaniel standing there. She pulled it back and allowed Nathaniel to enter.

“Nathan…Mr. Hobbs-Smith, you have a visitor,” she announced to warn him of the presence behind her.

“So I was told,” he replied, tilting his head toward those in the outer office who stared and waited, not even bothering to hide their curiosity.

Nathaniel walked past her and she shut the door. Now her own interest forced her to stay and discover the intent of the mysterious stranger. When she turned back, she found Nathaniel, with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide, simply staring at the man as though he’d seen the very specter of death.

“Mr. Hobbs-Smith,” the visitor exclaimed as he reached for Nathaniel’s hand. “And I was not certain you would remember me from our previous acquaintance.”

Nathaniel did not refuse, exactly, but offered no enthusiasm or resistance to his greeting. Watching the man closely now, Anna was certain she glimpsed some devilish enjoyment in his gaze at Nathaniel’s obvious discomfort.

“Ah,” Nathaniel finally mumbled as he shook the man’s hand and then tried to release it. “My…my…” he stuttered.

“Mr. David Archer, at your service,” the man replied, still grasping Nathaniel’s hand.

A gentleman only? Not a nobleman? Glancing at him, she noticed the expensive material and fine cut of his coat and boots, the well-groomed appearance and haughty bearing. Surprised at her misjudgment, Anna waited to learn more.

“My memory failed me, sir. Forgive me,” Nathaniel said. Realizing that she was still in the room, he turned and began to introduce her. “And this is…”

“Miss Anna Fairchild,” Mr. Archer said. “We have met already. Since Miss Fairchild has another commitment, I would suggest we allow her to leave.”

The dismissal, bordering on curt, was however accomplished very smoothly. Now that her escape was assured, Anna realized she did not wish to leave. Something was amiss here, for there was a strong and palpable ambient between this man and Nathaniel, and she wanted to know the truth of it. When Nathaniel did not voice an objection to her departure, she knew she would not be able to stay.

She would simply need to discover more about this man and this business he pursued when she dined with Nathaniel and Clarinda this evening. With his sister as her ally, Nathaniel would stand no chance of keeping secrets.

Mr. Archer’s disconcerting way of gazing at her, as though he could see and hear all her thoughts, convinced her of the wisdom in a strategic retreat. Glancing from one to the other, she noticed for the first time that they were opposites in many ways in appearance.

Nathaniel was tall and thin, with sea-green eyes and blond curls that made many a woman swoon. She knew because she had witnessed it many times—his angelic good looks and pleasing manners nearly defeated her own efforts to stay out of the bonds of marriage.

Mr. Archer would make women swoon, but she suspected that it would be in fear or from intimidation, for Anna could feel the effects of his intense blue gaze and muscular build on her own calm senses. Although his clothing was the height of fashion and design, he wore his light brown hair cut shorter than was the current rage. Somehow, though, it fit him, for attempts to soften his appearance with longer hair or the curling style that Nathaniel sported would have met with failure.

Lightness and darkness.

Angel and devil.

Nathaniel and Mr. David Archer.

Intrigued more than she would like to admit, Anna knew she must depart. “I will return at one, Mr. Hobbs-Smith.”

“Very good, Miss Fairchild.”

Anna closed the door and stood there waiting, impolite as such behavior was, to hear anything spoken between the two men. She wanted some clue as to their past acquaintance, as Mr. Archer referred to it, or to their business. When silence was the only answer, she glanced at the textbook in her hands and knew she would have to wait.

As she made her way to the school, she hoped and prayed that Nathaniel was not so jostled by this man’s arrival that he revealed too much to him. Nathaniel tended to become unnerved under too much pressure. They must stick to the story they’d concocted to cover the truth.

Too much and too many depended on it.