How to Entice an Earl (6 page)

Since the other man’s marriage earlier in the season, he’d become a bit annoying in his blissful contentment. It wasn’t that Christian begrudged his friend his contentment. After all, Winterson had done his bit for king and country, and had come home with a bad leg to show for it. And after that ugly business with his brother’s murder, Winterson deserved some happiness. It was just that he was so bloody smug about it all.

“Morning, Gresham,” the duke said, setting his newspaper aside to greet his friend. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite his friend. Nodding to a nearby waiter, he indicated that he would also like coffee.

Winterson lifted his brows. Christian almost never drank coffee. “Late night?”

“You’ve not heard about the goings-on at Mrs. Bailey’s last night, then,” Christian said. It was a statement, and not a question.

Winterson shook his head. “Enlighten me.”

In some detail, Christian related to his friend what had gone on at the gaming hell the evening before. Though he stopped short of telling him about Maddie’s involvement beyond her finding of the dying Tinker.

The duke gave a low whistle. “Not what you expected to happen when the operative met his contact last night, I’ll wager.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “So what had Lady Madeline to say of all this? I have difficulty believing she stood aside quietly while you questioned the witnesses.”

Christian snorted. “Hardly.” He thought back to her response to the goings-on last night, and sobered as he remembered her distress in the carriage after they’d left the scene. “She was shaken, of course. More than I had expected from her, I’ll admit. I had been given to think that she was entirely fearless.”

“One thing to remember about Lady Madeline,” Winterson said, “is that she feels things deeply. She is so determined because she cares.” He sipped his coffee. “Or so Cecily has given me to believe. They are alike in that, I think.”

Not a bad assessment, Christian thought. “She did care very much when her brother disappeared as soon as she alerted the rest of us to Tinker’s stabbing.”

Winterson sat up straighter. “What? I knew Linton was a scapegrace, but I hadn’t realized he was so far gone he’d leave his sister behind at a gaming hell, for God’s sake. It’s bad enough he took her there in the first place—I assume that’s what happened. Maddie is headstrong but she’s not foolish enough to visit a gambling den, even one that borders on respectable, by herself.”

“No,” Christian agreed, returning his coffee cup to the table, and toying with the handle. “She’s not that foolish, though she was very determined to visit Mrs. Bailey’s. I don’t know what she used to force him to bring her, but he did not strike me as having acquiesced to taking her there willingly. Which makes it odd that he disappeared so soon after Tinker was found. She was holding the dead man in her arms, for God’s sake, and he was gone.”

“I know that his family has been worried about Linton for some time now,” Winterson said with a sigh. “It would appear that he needs more than concern at this point. I have little doubt that his father will cut off his allowance after this debacle. Possibly more.”

“One can only hope that it will do some good. As it was, I was forced to escort Lady Madeline home in a hackney. I am grateful that we weren’t noticed.” He waited for his friend’s inevitable chastisement.

Winterson gave him a look.

“What?” Though Christian knew full well what.

“You took Lady Madeline home in a closed carriage?”

“Yes, what’s so odd about that?”
Other than the fact that it’s damned scandalous?

“Aside from the fact that it’s damned scandalous?” Winterson asked, as if talking to a small child.

“You exaggerate,” Christian bit out.

“I think I do not.”

“Well, there was little other choice.” Christian sat up straighter. “She was stranded at a gaming hell. She was hardly going to walk home through the dark streets of London. Or accept the escort of Vinson or Fortenbury. I could not allow her to do that, even if she wished it. What if they’d taken a liberty? Do you really wish to see her married off to either of them?”

“And I suppose I should like to see her married off to you?”

“Better me than those fools,” Christian said, his temper rising. “I did what was necessary—both for my conscience and as Lady Madeline’s friend.”

Winterson was silent as he watched his friend, his gaze assessing. Finally he said, “Interesting. I had no idea that was the direction of things.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Christian said sullenly. “There is no direction of things. I was simply behaving as a gentleman ought. I have little doubt you’d have done the same thing in my position.”

“Not if I wished to remain living,” Winterson said wryly. “I have little doubt that Cecily would avail herself of my pistol if she caught me escorting another lady home in a closed carriage. Cousin or not.”

His annoyance diffused by Winterson’s wry humor, Christian said, “Then you should be grateful it was me there last night and not you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Winterson said. “How did Maddie endure her ordeal, do you think?”

Reflecting on her demeanor during their trip from the hell to Essex House, instead of recalling her trauma, Christian remembered what it had felt like to hold her in his arms and was disturbed by his body’s immediate response to the memory. Damn it, he’d better get himself together or else Winterson would suspect he’d done more than simply offer the girl a ride home. And that
was
all he’d done. And offered a shoulder to cry on. Which was what any gentleman would do in such circumstances. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Not a thing.

In answer to Winterson’s question, he said, “She was as strong as you’d expect. Though understandably upset by the experience, of course.” He did not speak of Maddie’s tears. That was something he knew she would wish to remain private. And he was unwilling to betray her trust in that way.

Changing the subject, Christian said, “Tinker’s death, coupled with Linton’s flight, makes it difficult to determine which of them was there to meet with the Citizen’s Society. It might have been one or both.”

“Linton’s departure certainly does make him look guilty,” Winterson said. “Especially when one considers that if they were both members of the society, Linton might have been instructed by his superiors to remove the other man.”

“But if he were going there with the express purpose of killing Tinker, would Linton have chosen to do so in a manner that would ensure his sister be the one to find his body?” Christian demanded. “My opinion of the fellow isn’t all that good, but I’m not quite sure I believe that he would do such a thing. I know Maddie certainly doesn’t.”

Winterson shrugged. “That’s to be expected.”

“True,” Christian said. “But it does make me wonder if Tinker’s death is even connected to the society.”

“What, you mean it was simply coincidence that Tinker was murdered on the same night you were expecting him to make contact with the society?”

Now it was Christian’s turn to shrug. “More or less. Simply because I was expecting there to be someone at Mrs. Bailey’s who is a member of the society doesn’t necessarily mean that they would be the ones to commit the murder. In fact, it seems uncharacteristic of them to waste their time and energy on such a killing when doing so would bring the attention of the government down upon them. More so than it is already, I mean.”

“The way I see it,” Winterson said, “is that no matter the motive for killing Tinker, your number one suspect is Lady Madeline’s brother. Which is going to wreak havoc upon your friendship with her.”

Unfortunately, Christian had to agree with his friend.

No matter whether Linton was guilty or not, Christian was in for a very uncomfortable few months.

*   *   *

Though exhausted, Maddie awoke at her usual time the next morning.

Checking with the butler at breakfast, she learned that her brother had not returned home the night before. Which was troubling, though he did from time to time stay with friends. She hoped that this was one of those occasions.

Of more immediate concern was the butler’s news that her mother wished to see her before she left for the day.

Her appetite gone, Maddie laid down her fork and knife, drank a final gulp of tea, and headed for the stairs and her mother’s small sitting-room-cum-office, where she managed the household business as well as her extensive social schedule. Lady Poppy Essex was as exacting as a general, and every bit as demanding. And though Maddie loved her mother, Poppy could be just the tiniest bit unforgiving when it came to her daughter’s social stature—or lack thereof.

Cecily’s stepmama, Violet, saw her lack of success as lamentable but not unexpected. Whereas Juliet’s mama, Rose, saw her daughter’s failure to take as something to celebrate, for reasons that Juliet had only recently become aware of. But it was Poppy who was the most displeased by her own daughter’s continued spot among the wallflowers. And though she told Maddie again and again that it wasn’t her fault, Maddie had long since come to understand that what Poppy meant was the exact opposite of what she said.

From Maddie’s earliest years, her mother had found her wanting. Maddie was too loud, too short, too rambunctious, too outspoken. She was scolded for mussing her hair, for dirtying her pinafore, for playing soldiers instead of dolls. In short, whatever Maddie did, her mother found something about it to correct.

Only in the past few months had the Countess of Essex seemed to come to the conclusion that despite her unrelenting urgings, Maddie was not interested in becoming a social success, and was indeed quite happy in her current position. To Maddie’s immense relief, her mother had chosen to leave her to her own devices.

Even so, it was with some trepidation that she climbed the stairs to her mother’s parlor-cum-office. It wasn’t that she feared her mother’s wrath. At this point in her life she’d come to understand that her mother’s scolds were less about Maddie herself, and more about her mother’s attempts to control her own environment. But still, a dressing-down was never pleasant, and if her mother had learned of Maddie’s adventure the evening before, then a dressing-down was exactly what she was in for. She might have decided to let Maddie remain unpopular, but she would hardly be pleased to hear she had risked her reputation in such an outrageous manner yesterday evening.

Squaring her shoulders as she stood before the door to her mother’s study, she knocked briskly on the door, and entered.

Seated behind her massive though elegantly turned desk, the Countess of Essex was as fresh and lovely as ever. Her golden hair was dressed simply in an elegant chignon, and her deep rose gown brought out the pink in her cheeks. Only in the last couple of years had there been any hint of gray in her blond tresses, but even with that mark of her age she was still as beautiful as Maddie could ever recall.

“Hello, darling,” the countess greeted her daughter. “Do sit down. Shall I ring for some tea?”

Answering her own question, Maddie’s mother rose and gave a tug on the bellpull. “I find I’m quite thirsty and it’s been quite a while since breakfast.”

When Maddie only nodded, her mother took her seat again. “I daresay you’ve only just had breakfast since you had a late night last evening.” The countess tilted her head and waited for her daughter to respond.

“Is that a question, Mama?” She had long since grown accustomed to her mother’s use of indirection to begin her scolds. It was one of the reasons she so favored plain speaking. After a lifetime of hints and suggestions, she craved direct communication.

“Oh, do not be difficult, Madeline,” Poppy said with a sigh, as if disappointed that she hadn’t shocked her daughter. “It was merely an observation. Though now that you mention it, I did call you up here to discuss your visit to Mrs. Bailey’s gambling house last night. Really, darling, what were you thinking to go to such a place?”

Maddie did not bother asking where her mother had learned of her escapade. She had spies everywhere.

“It is hardly as if I went to a bona fide gaming hell, Mama,” she said reasonably. “And I went there with Linton. I don’t see you scolding him for going there.”

The countess pinched the bridge of her nose, as if warding off a headache. “We have been over this and over this, Madeline. There are some places where you will never, ever, be allowed to visit because of your sex. I know that your Mrs. Wollstonecraft, with her
Vindication of the Rights of Woman,
would disagree, but she is not your mother. Your cousins are able to see this fact, so I do not understand why it is so difficult for you to do so.”

Maddie did not bother protesting that Cecily and Juliet had done their share of visiting unacceptable establishments before they were wed. Her mother was incapable of seeing their behavior as questionable as Maddie’s.

“Oh, come, Mama, there were any number of ladies there last night, including, I might add, Lady Skelton, who I believe is a friend of yours.”

“Be that as it may, Maddie, you should not have gone there and you know it. What made you wish to go there in the first place?”

“I was doing research for my novel,” Maddie responded, preparing herself for derision. To her surprise, however, her mother seemed to brighten at the news.

“A novel?” she asked, her blue eyes wide with interest. “I was unaware that your interest in literature had moved from poetry to prose.”

“I have had some success with poetry so I thought—”

“You thought you would try your hand at novel writing,” her mother finished for her. “I think it’s the perfect story to put about for your visit to Mrs. Bailey’s. And if you plan to write about the evils of gambling so much the better.”

“But I wasn’t planning to—” Maddie began, only to be cut off by Poppy.

“No, no, don’t tell me what your plans are, dearest,” Poppy said with a smile. “I want to be as honest as possible when I’m questioned by the busybodies at the Marchford ball tonight. I’ll take care of everything. Your visit to Mrs. Bailey’s may make it into the gossip sheets, but by tonight all of the
ton
will know that your true reason for going there was in the interest of art. Anyone who has ever read a novel will be unable to condemn you. It’s perfect.”