Edmund sipped his coffee. "You call blowing all your money at card games, which are sometimes heavily manipulated, fun?" Edmund couldn't believe his friend could be serious.
"And you can be so judgemental and critical of everything and everyone that I wonder why you don't exercise the same approach to certain aspects of your life, Swinton." Peter's tone had a sharp bite as he gestured to the envelope on the table with the Earl of Langford's seal on it.
Edmund sighed, feeling properly chastised.
Peter continued, "Since we are doling out criticisms now, I think it's time to share some of mine with you. When do you think you'll stop working for such a ruthless, unscrupulous, and mean-spirited man as the earl? You are quite aware of all of the despicable things he has done, but you have no trouble working for him." Peter's lips curled in a sneer.
Edmund was grateful when his order of a raspberry tart suddenly arrived, and he had time to gather his wits. His friend was angry, but there was no reason to be when all he'd just been trying to make him face reality. Bringing up the earl's topic was an excellent retaliation, but Edmund had to distinguish facts from fantasy.
"You know those are just rumours, Shelbroke. I can't believe you think the man murdered his wife just to keep a mistress he obviously didn't want to marry."
"There is a likelihood that he did, and you know it. That man is as treacherous as they come, and that isn't even the height of the things he's done. He has many people in his payroll and doesn't hesitate to get rid of anyone who looks to stand in his way." Peter shook his exasperatedly. "This is the problem, Edmund. You believe everything else, except the truth standing in front of you. You, yourself, have complained in the past about his shady dealings. Do you remember? Or would you like me to jog your memory? I'd gladly do it in a heartbeat."
Edmund immediately felt a pang of regret for making a delicate admission at a discussion with his friend a month ago; his injudicious remarks had been fuelled by anger and several snifters of brandy. There were indeed heavy grains of truth in his friend's words, but his annoyance was that Peter was using it now as a way to deflect a conversation about his growing gambling addiction.
Brushing crumbs from his charcoal-colored waistcoat, Edmund said soothingly, "It is true that my employee, Lord Longford, is a man of unsavory character, of which I am quite aware; but all those sinister rumours are just embellishments by everyone to make him appear more menacing than he is. I admit he is quite unscrupulous, with a host of distasteful attributes, and a horrible reputation, but he isn't the devil that you, and everyone else, paint him to be."
Peter stared at him as though it was the first time he was laying eyes on him. His friend's expression openly showed that he was disappointed at Edmund's defense of the earl.
"You can be blind to a lot of things, and it's perfectly understandable, but you should come down from your high horse sometimes and see that everyone has flaws and character defects, including you. You have a terrible sense of judgment, Edmund. Maybe that's why the man retains you. What do I know? "Peter shook his head and arose, shaking out his coattails and setting his beaver hat on his head." My luncheon companion has arrived. I'll see you later in the evening."
Edmund sipped at his coffee as his friend took his leave, feeling the sharp, bitter taste hitting the back of his throat. Peter was right about a whole lot of things and wrong about a host of others. He knew absolutely nothing about Edmund's involvement with the earl, and would never understand.
Unlike his own, Peter's father was a peerage member, even though low on the social ladder. Peter had never had to struggle for basic necessities and, just when it seemed misfortune was about to claim them, a twist of luck had come charging in, in the form of his father's old friend on the continent who was heavily into the world of trade and commerce. Peter had never had to live off the mercy of others. He'd gotten an excellent education at Eton and was doing nothing more serious than making occasional appearances at the dock's warehouses, while he waited in line for the title which was automatically a door opener, no matter how reluctant the person behind it might appear.
Edmund had very few choices in his life paths, and he couldn't afford to be too fussy about how and where he made his income. The Earl of Langford paid handsomely well for his services; enough to get his rents paid down at the row, keep his sister's education paid for at the modiste, and with just enough left over to help manage his family's expenses back in Hartford Heath.
Apart from all of that, other things bound him to work for the earl. Things much more complicated and deep-rooted so that he couldn't just quit and leave it all behind, even if he disapproved of the earl's unscrupulous ways.
Peter was right about many aspects of the earl's nature. Lord Langford was a vicious, moody, and unforgiving man who never hesitated to deal with anyone who crossed him, and even those who didn't, for the sheer fun of it. The man was obsessed with money and acquiring lands, resulting in underhanded tactics just to get what he wanted.
Edmund had never heard of anyone refusing him. No one had the nerves to do so, not even influential men in society, because he always seemed to have enough secretive and unsavoury information about everyone.
Edmund knew most of his friends thought him a pretentious sod for remaining in the earl's employ while maintaining an otherwise foreign lifestyle from theirs that involved no gambling, excessive drinking, and whoring. They often teased him about how his good looks were wasted on his dour personality, and just how maddening it was that he attracted the ladies frequently—for a good number of them saw him as a tortured soul.
On the other hand, his peers thought him rigid, unbending, and sanctimonious; but they couldn't ever be wrong. Of course, there were times when he stood his ground on some issues, but that usually happened only when he was overwhelmingly sure of himself.
As for the rest of their description of his personality, their opinions were speculative. Edmund preferred to keep his true nature to himself; neither could he reveal the truth surrounding the status of his relationship with Lord Langford.
His friends and acquaintances had no idea of everything at stake.
He had his family to think of and some things more complicated than money.
Edmund picked the envelope off the tabletop and broke the seal, retrieving the thick, expensive paper inside and quickly perusing its contents.
Your presence is needed at the house. There is a matter of an urgent, delicate nature which I need you to handle. I can't stress exactly how important this is.
See you at one.
E.L
Edmund folded the letter and returned it back to the envelope, and then his coat pocket. His mind was greatly troubled about the urgent business which needed handling on the morrow. Knowing the earl, he expected something clandestine and felt that thought grip him like a cold, uncomfortable vise on his throat.
Chapter Three
"Remind me why we are rushing out to the market this early in the day again, Miss Lucy?"
Lucy turned to Caroline, one of the earl's housemaids, and her friend and confidante, who wore a tiny frown of impatience as they hurried down the slightly busy street at ten the next morning. They skirted boys pushing wheelbarrows of leeks and cabbages, stray dogs, horses pulling wagons laden with heaped potatoes.
"Don't whine now, Caroline. I told you all about the earl's drunken wager with Viscount Hilgrove, and how I think it'd be a good idea to capitalize on it.. I know how it seems, but it just feels good that my luck is changing at last."
They were just turning the corner of Belgrave Square, and Lucy's eyes intently searched the street for any sign of the tall, impressive viscount—at the same time, bearing the brunt of the maid's judgmental eyes on her..
The usually busy avenue was almost empty of any gentry, not that she was expecting to find a replica of Hyde Park at the walking hours of four and six; no sane member of the nobility would be up and about before the presentable hours of the afternoon. A few merchants and haberdashers
were setting up their wares at the corners of the street, and a plump middle-aged lady was haggling severely with a greengrocer who seemed ready to give up any second if for no reason but to keep her quiet.
"I still have to get supplies, you know, miss. Mrs. Wilburn will have my neck if we return without everything on the list."
Lucy was distracted from the slightly comical scene a few steps away by Caroline, who tapped impatiently on the list of supplies she held.
"Don't you worry, we can get supplies later. Quick, help me look out for the viscount," Lucy urged, almost impatiently.
It didn't matter how much she'd tried explaining everything to Caroline; the dear girl didn't quite understand what drove her ambitions, and saw it as a load of foolishness, even if she never out rightly said so.
Caroline had been a blessing since the first day she'd gotten to the earl's house, flustered, nervous, and deathly scared, which were appropriate emotions to accompany the great deception she'd been about to perpetrate.
The earl hadn't thought she needed such an extravagance as a personal maid, but Lady Agnes had insisted, so Caroline had been appointed to her but retained her former housemaid duties at the same time.
Lucy hadn't been able to bring herself to use the girl in such a manner. She wouldn't have minded not having anyone attending to her but it was part of the charade she'd decided to play, and there was no helping that. She tried all she could to sort herself out, though, leaving Caroline to attend to more pressing duties as absolution for the guilt about her lies.
Lucy suspected that Caroline knew she wasn't a hundred percent gentrified. There had been occasions of pronounced lapses and gaps in her knowledge of proper society behaviors and presentation, but never once had the keen-eyed maid probed or remarked about them. For that, she was immensely grateful and in the dear girl's debt. Her lack of suitable gowns, gloves, pelisses, and slippers, she had blamed on her sad history of debt and loss, and Caroline had not questioned this either.
Lucy's mind was made up about retaining Caroline's services, and had been since Caroline covered for her absence one evening to the earl, chalking it up to a sudden case of ague, while she, Lucy, had been dressed as gaily as possible given her meagre wardrobe, parading the length of Hyde Park for prospective suitors to write of in her pocketbook—a bluestocking fashion she'd copied on her last outing to a soiree with Lady Agnes.
Once she was married successfully to a titled, rich gentleman,, she was going to insist on taking Caroline with her, and set her up with someone of average means—maybe someone in trade, with enough money to take care of her friend and ease her stress forever.
Caroline was a very good friend, and Lucy knew things wouldn't have run as smoothly if she didn't have the girl in her corner; especially since some of the Langford servants disliked her intensely. If only they know the necessity behind the mask I've decided to don, perhaps they'd understand the horrendous situation I seek to escape from.
Standing in the same spot, without a glimpse of Viscount Hilgrove, Lucy was beginning to worry. Indeed by now he should be striding nonchalantly along the street, bowing to people, his watch fob glinting gold, his leather boots polished, his eyes confident and cocksure. Surely she should be able to see the height of his top hat, the flash of his bright blue, brocade waistcoat, his devilish smile.
Why wasn't he up and about? Had they proceeded on their mission too early? Her heart tightened apprehensively and she stood on tip toe. She adjusted her bonnet, newly trimmed with goose feathers which Caroline had begged from Cook, and dyed pale green to match the slightly faded green gown, sprigged with rosebuds, which was the best gown Lucy owned. She was hoping to be more elegantly soon, for Lady Agnes had told her she could have some of her gowns, ones she no longer wore. With her own sewing skills, Lucy knew she could easily remake the gowns to fit herself.
Perhaps his absence at the park was for the best. Her thoughts were already riddled with doubts and guilt at perpetuating the level of deception she was already involved in. Snagging the viscount, whose character was = questionable, would be the final step in a descent into an unscrupulous and immoral life, wouldn't it?
A few well-dressed ladies and their servants were already up and about and suddenly, Lucy found herself reining back a caustic remark. It was still early in the day for them to be prancing around the square. They were supposed to be lounging on their beds, or taking a lesson, as were their schedules, rather than hampering her chance of living the life of her dreams.. Even if the viscount wasn't an ideal choice of husband, she was determined to make an effort, and no simpering, privileged chit would stand in her way of doing so.
"Miss Lucy? Why don't we go down the street and shop on our way, as well as looking out for the viscount at the same time? If you want a chance of being the first person to speak to him, you wouldn't get it standing here," Caroline remarked.
"Now that's brilliant! You see why I wanted you with me?" Lucy bestowed her friend with a grateful smile, slightly chastised that Caroline rolled her eyes heavenward in a dramatic fashion. The maid hadn't made it a secret that she disapproved of Lucy's ambition to snag a rich, titled husband by any means, and sometimes asked her doubtfully if she would not prefer a suitor who felt affectionate love for her. "Not at all, Caroline," Lucy would respond. "My mother married for love and much good it did her! And I know a parson's daughter who married for love but later her husband ran off with another woman and left her without income or support. No, love is not important to me. I simply need security and respect."
Despite Lucy's assertions, Caroline remained doubtful and yet she supported Lucy's decisions and assisted in the ways she could.
They hadn't taken more than a few steps down the street when Lucy sighted the viscount's carriage, pale yellow with blue trim and pulled by a perfectly-matched team of four handsome greys, rolling to a stop across from where they stood. Her heart began to beat heavily when he alighted, along with one of the earl's footmen, Marcus.
"Look, Caroline, there he is. He is really here!" Lucy could barely breathe.
"Yeah, I can see him. But Lucy, you scarce know the man! Have you no intention of finding a sweetheart who loves you, and for whom you feel affection in return?"
"Hush, girl! You let your mouth get away from you sometimes. Don't you realize he is an important man, a good friend to the earl, and a potential suitor whether we are fond of one another or not?" Lucy admonished her friend, who didn't look the least bit repentant. She felt herself battling with the truth contained in the girl's words.
"Well, I was just making an observation, is all."
"Doesn't he look so dashing and impressive? Heavens! Look at his impeccable attire. Don't you just admire how much he is in tune with the first fashions?"
Lucy tried hard to distract herself with the viscount's appearance. Observing him from a short distance, neither dimmed nor reduced his handsomeness. She reluctantly admired how the well-muscled breadth of his shoulders filled out his white pleated shirt and waistcoat, and the slender length of his legs in his close-fitting trousers. She knew that he was all too aware of his handsomeness; his consciousness of his own appeal must also have been bolstered by the number of illicit affairs he was rumored to have conducted.
If she ever ended up with someone like the viscount, it would be a moot point to expect his faithfulness and commitment—as it was fashionable for men to keep mistresses outside their marriage bed. She could only hope for his discretion, and focus her mind on other engagements, as most society women did; like hosting soirees and dinners or pursuing a new hobby. As long as she could live an easier life, and never be as forsaken and destitute as her mother, then she would pay the price that society demanded.
Affection and fondness are all very well, Lucy thought, but I cannot afford such sentiments. My ma likely felt love for my father, and where did that get her? In the workhouse , that's where. A charity case!
Lucy found her heart being overtaken by the reasons and conditions that had d
riven her down the road she'd taken in the first place.
Finally, all her dreams, machinations, and guilt-ridden pretence were paying off. She got a quick glimpse of a promising future standing on the sidewalk, and it wasn't as dark and forlorn as she'd thought it might have ended up being. There were colors, comfortable carriage rides, glittering balls that lasted till the early hours of the morning, and respect. There was everything she wished for standing before her. All she had to do was cross to the other side of the street. But are these things worth the price of my morality? an inner voice niggled once more. Are they worth losing my standards for, by marrying someone like the viscount?
Lucy suddenly shook her head against the questions and turned to the maid. "Caroline? Do you think Lady Agnes would be kind enough to prepare a trousseau for me? She is always so ill and weak, I wouldn't want to trouble her for such flimsy things, but I have no one—"
"Miss Lucy?"
Lucy turned at the urgency in Caroline's voice to see her staring to the left, and the smile lingering on her face died a quick, painful death.
Lady Mary Ashgrove, one of the belles of the London season, and a remarkable beauty, was heading towards the Viscount, with another, less splendidly attired, woman who looked to be her chaperone.
Lady Mary wasn't just beautiful, but extremely popular, and had almost all of the eligible bachelors in London eating out of the palm of her hands.
Lucy's heart stilled, and she felt all colour drain from her face as the viscount noticed the lady's approach; and stepped forward to meet her, a broad smile on his face as he removed his top hat and bowed with practiced ease.
If Caroline hadn't leaned close to hold her, Lucy was sure she'd have collapsed on the ground.
To Catch the Candid Earl: Regency Historical Romance Page 3
