How to Entice an Earl (7 page)

“So, you aren’t annoyed with me for going to Mrs. Bailey’s?” Maddie asked, shocked.

“Oh, dearest.” Her mother shook her head. “Of course I am annoyed with you. Not only did you go to a gaming hell with your scapegrace brother, you also risked your reputation. Again. Annoyed is the least of what I feel.”

“But you aren’t going to punish me in some way?” Maddie looked suspiciously at her mother.

“I suspect that your encounter with that poor man, Mr. Tinker, was punishment enough.”

Maddie closed her eyes as the whole grisly experience came rushing back to her.

Unexpectedly, she felt her mother’s arms come around her. “I’m sorry you had to endure that, darling,” she said. “I can’t imagine how terrible it must have been. Please don’t put yourself in danger like that again. I couldn’t bear it if something awful were to happen to you.”

And for the first time in a long time, Maddie felt at peace with her mother.

A short while later, having donned a pelisse and hat and called for the carriage, Maddie arrived at Winterson House to find that Juliet was already there.

“Dearest,” Cecily said, wrapping Maddie in a warm embrace. “How are you? What an ordeal you had to endure last night.”

Accepting a hug from Juliet, and allowing a cup of tea to be pressed into her hand, Maddie asked, “So, how did you learn of it?”

“Winterson, of course,” Cecily said, reaching for a macaroon. “He had it from Gresham at White’s this morning.”

At the mention of Christian, Maddie felt herself color. “Oh,” she said, trying to remain nonchalant. “What did he have to say for himself?”

“Only that you were the one to find poor, stabbed John Tinker,” Juliet said, patting Maddie’s hand. “And that Linton ran away and left you to find your own way home.”

“If I see your brother any time soon,” Cecily said grimly, “I will give him a towering scold. Not only did he leave his dying friend behind, he abandoned you. That is not the behavior of a solicitous sibling.”

Cecily brushed the macaroon crumbs from her lap and rested her hands on her stomach. She was so newly
enceinte
that her condition had not yet begun to show, but Maddie had noticed that her cousin was often to be seen with her hands there. A pang of envy shot through her. Not that she begrudged Cecily her happiness. She definitely deserved it. And Juliet, who had endured a horrific injury and kept the secret of it for years at her mother’s behest, was utterly entitled to her wedded bliss with the handsome Lord Deveril. She was happy for both of her cousins.

But there were times when she wondered whether she, too, would ever find a man who would love her as her cousins’ husbands clearly loved them. Unbidden, she remembered what it had been like to be held against Gresham’s chest last night. How safe she had felt then. How protected. There had never been any suggestion that he would push her for more. But instead, she’d felt as if they were a team of two.

Was that what Cecily and Juliet felt with their husbands? What must it be like to share one’s burdens like that? She and her cousins had always been a team of sorts, struggling against the strictures that society placed upon them, and those members of the
ton
who found them wanting in some respect.

But since their marriages she had felt her cousins begin to pull away a bit. Which was to be expected, she knew. After all, they were part of their husband’s families now, not just their own. She could not deny the fact that she felt some sadness at their new situation, however.

Recalling herself to the conversation at hand, Maddie said, “No. You are correct. Linton was perfectly dreadful to leave me behind as he did last night. Especially given that one of his oldest friends was lying stabbed on the floor.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” Juliet asked, biting into a ginger biscuit. “I know that Linton has been a bit of a hellion, but I have never known him to be so lost to propriety and brotherly concern before.”

“I must admit that I am disturbed by his disappearance, as well,” Maddie said. “He didn’t come home last night. It makes me wonder if there was more to Mr.Tinker’s death than a simple argument over gaming losses.”

Cecily paused, her voice gentle as she asked, “You don’t suppose that Linton…?”

Maddie felt her heart clench. She was disappointed in her brother, but she was not yet ready to assume him guilty of murder. Was she?

“I cannot imagine why he would,” she said aloud. “As far as I know James was not losing badly enough last night to make him wish to do such a thing to his friend. And they were playing at different tables anyway. He could hardly have lost money to Tinker if they weren’t playing with one another.”

“It might have been over something that happened at another time,” Juliet said glumly. “Perhaps your brother owed him from before.”

“It’s a possibility,” Maddie admitted. “And I am not so foolish as to believe that the authorities will look that carefully into their history together. The very fact that Tinker is dead and Linton is missing seems to indicate that he is responsible for his friend’s death.”

“I’m just glad you were unharmed,” Juliet said with a shudder. She, too, had come into close contact with a killer recently. “It would have been just as easy for whoever killed poor Mr. Tinker to harm you, as well. After all, you were close enough to hear what happened.”

“But I didn’t hear anything,” Maddie protested. “Or at least I don’t believe I did. I was too busy adjusting the bosom of my gown in the retiring room after what Gresh—That is to say, after a comment by another guest.”

“Gresham didn’t approve of your gown?” Cecily asked innocently.

“He thought it was too low cut.”

“That doesn’t sound like our Gresham,” Juliet said with a raised brow. “I have it on good authority from Alec that he is what is known among gentlemen as a brea—”

“As I was saying,” Maddie interrupted, before Juliet could continue with what promised to be a very alarming revelation about the earl. “I was too busy adjusting my gown to hear anything that happened in the hallway. So there is little danger that the killer will come after me. And I will tell anyone who asks the same thing.”

“That would be best,” Cecily said. “In fact, I will put it about this evening at the Marchfords’ ball. And you and Juliet will, too. You are both coming, are you not?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Juliet said with a grin. “I plan to dance a waltz with my husband.”

“And it would seem that I have a rumor to spread about myself,” Maddie said with a frown. She did so detest balls.

“Cheer up,” Cecily told her with a grin. “I hear Gresham will be in attendance, as well.”

That, of course, was what Lady Madeline was afraid of.

Five

After his conversation with Winterson, Christian made his way to the Gresham town house in Berkeley Square. He’d only lived there for a few weeks, and still had a bit of trouble realizing that it belonged to him.

He’d visited for family occasions before joining the army, but never with an eye toward inheriting the place himself. He still considered it a freak accident that his cousin had died before siring an heir who could have inherited the earldom.

Though he’d sent a note informing his mother of his intention to remove from his bachelor rooms at the Albany to the the Gresham town house, she had chosen to remain in Scotland where his two elder sisters and their husbands and families lived. Ever since his twin, Clarissa, had died while he was at war, the relationship between Christian and his mother had been conducted largely by post. And, to his regret, he preferred things that way. If he ever found himself in the same room with his mother again, he was unsure of how he would be able to keep from unleashing all the rage he felt over his sister’s loss.

Shaking his head to clear the dark mood that threatened, he bounded up the front steps, the door opening before he could reach it. The butler, Yeats, had a penchant for correctness in all things, and had probably been watching for him.

“Good afternoon, your lordship,” Yeats said as Christian stepped into the entryway.

Handing his walking stick and hat to the footman beside his reed-thin majordomo, Christian accepted a stack of letters from the butler.

“You have a caller, my lord. I have asked him to wait for you in the study.”

“Curious,” Christian said, “do you know who this mysterious visitor is?”

As if insulted by such a question, Yeats sniffed, then offered a card on a salver.

“Interesting,” Christian said, reading the card. “See that we aren’t disturbed.”

Making his way upstairs, Christian opened the door to his study to find Lord Thomas Leighton, late of His Majesty’s Army, sipping brandy and reading that morning’s
Times.

Upon hearing his host enter, Leighton raised a graying brow. “About bloody time, Gresham. For a new earl you spend very little time counting your stacks of gold.”

Pouring himself a glass of brandy, Christian snorted. “That’s because I am constantly being hounded by a demanding old blighter from Whitehall who thinks I’ve got nothing better to do than chase Bonapartists.”

“You should tell that old blighter to leave you alone,” Leighton said, sipping his own brandy. “Or to get another hobby.”

“I’ll consider it,” Christian said with a wry smile. Taking a seat behind his desk, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I take it this isn’t a social call.”

“Hardly,” Leighton said, sitting up straighter. “I heard about the business at Mrs. Bailey’s last night. I want to hear your version of events.”

In detail, though without referencing his conversations with Maddie, Christian told the other man about the events leading up to Tinker’s murder the night before.

When he was finished, Leighton whistled. “I wish you’d been able to see who it was that confronted Tinker in the passageway.”

“So do I,” Christian said with a frown, thinking once more of how close Maddie had come to stumbling upon the murderer at work. “Unfortunately I didn’t see anyone leave the room with the exception of Lady Madeline, and I know she wasn’t the one to kill the fellow.”

“So you trust her?” Leighton asked. “Despite the fact that she’s Linton’s sister? We did have reason to think he might be the man the Citizen’s Liberation Society might have been planning to contact. Now that Tinker is dead, I wonder if Linton might not have been the CLS operative who was planning to contact Tinker.”

“You can trust Maddie, sir,” Christian said, then winced inwardly. “Lady Madeline, I mean.”

Leighton didn’t miss the quick correction. “Maddie, is it? Just how well do you know this chit, Gresham?”

“We move in the same social circles,” Christian said with what he hoped was indifference. “She is the cousin of my friend Winterson’s wife.”

“Is she, indeed?” Tretham asked. “I hope you won’t let that friendship compromise your duty. You would not be the first man to be taken in by a pretty face, son.”

“Lady Madeline is
not
involved in her brother’s activities,” Chritian bit out. “She was there to conduct research for a novel, for pity’s sake. It was foolish for her to convince her brother to take her there, but hardly criminal.”

Then, realizing he might have sounded less than respectful, he added, “My lord.”

Leighton remained silent, waiting for Christian to continue. It was a particularly effective interrogation technique. One that Christian had used himself a time or two. Realizing that his superior was giving him a chance to make amends, he thrust his hands through his hair, ruining his valet’s hard work.

“My apologies,” he said finally. “It would appear that I am perhaps more involved with the young lady than I like to admit. But I do assure you that she has nothing to do with the Citizen’s Liberaton Society. I don’t really think her brother is, either, though his behavior last night is certainly not that of an innocent man.”

“No, it isn’t,” Leighton said, rising. “I want you to find out one way or another, Gresham. And that might mean making that pretty face you’re fond of look very sad. Are you prepared to risk that?”

Christian stood as well. “I won’t like doing so, of course,” he said, “but I will do what’s necessary to ensure the country’s safety.”

“Good man,” Leighton said with a smile. “If we’re lucky, you won’t need to make your lady weep.”

Following his commander from the room, Christian sent up a prayer that he was right. Otherwise, he’d have to deal with a very angry, very distraught Maddie.

*   *   *

Fully prepared to spend the entirety of the Marchford ball sitting out every dance, Maddie was somewhat surprised to find herself in demand as a dance partner, thanks in no small part to her firsthand knowledge of what had happened at Mrs. Bailey’s the night before.

True, she had been less wont to sit out dances since her cousins had married, but even so she was certainly no toast. And Amelia Snowe, still smarting from her own failure to bring someone, anyone, up to scratch, had done her part to make sure that Maddie did not benefit too much from her cousins’ marriages. It was an open secret that Amelia had set her cap for the Duke of Winterson at the beginning of the season. And the fact that someone like Cecily Hurston, who, though a viscount’s daughter, was considered firmly on the shelf, had caught Winterson’s eye galled Amelia to no end.

Thus it was that Maddie found herself the recipient of Amelia’s glare from the opposite side of the room as she took her place next to Cecily once more.

“Someone should tell Amelia that scowling like that can lead to wrinkles,” she said to her cousin as she sipped the cup of punch Lord Dimsdale had brought her. “I should think someone as concerned with her appearance would know that.”

“Well, you were dancing with Lord Dimsdale, dearest,” Cecily said. “She’s had to lower her expectations since both Winterson and Deveril defected. But I understand that Dimsdale has a healthy income. Certainly enough to keep her in frocks.”

“I don’t think you’ve sat out a dance all evening,” Juliet said from her position next to Cecily. “You are certainly in looks tonight. Is that a new gown?”