Earl of Baxter

by Tammy Andresen

  Her breath caught. It was all beginning to make sense. The intensity of his gaze. The way he’d jumped into her carriage. He knew about her past. Or parts of it. Not her own sins. And he could never know about that.

  This was the man she’d dreamed of marrying. He’d been the center of every romantic fantasy she’d ever had in her life. He was…everything.

  How would he react if he discovered she was little more than a common thief? She’d stolen from the collection tray, taken from the priest’s personal possessions. That money had gotten her and Penny back to London from Dover. But her thieving hadn’t ended there. She’d even stolen food a time or two when she and Penny had been near starvation.

  He saw her as the girl who’d cared for him. But what if he knew the whole truth? What would he think of her then? It was better that he never knew who she really was. She could begin fresh and he would remember her as the girl who cared for him. Nothing more and more importantly, nothing less.

  “Is that what you wished to ask?” she couldn’t look at him as she spoke. Part of her even now wished to confess that it had been her. A voice inside her begged to toss herself across the carriage and into his arms. “You’ve got your answer. Thank you very kindly for your aid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s my friend’s wedding and—”

  The door of the carriage yanked open and suddenly Logan filled the doorway. Without a word, he grabbed Baxter by the collar and began hauling him from the carriage.

  Baxter grabbed the door frame, stopping Logan from pulling him all the way out. “Settle down,” he called to Penny’s new husband.

  He knew he was about to take a beating. That was fine. But he wasn’t ready to leave Clarissa’s company. He’d waited too long to find her again.

  In response, Logan reared back and landed his fist directly in Baxter’s face. He took the shot without saying a word and with only the smallest grunt of pain.

  “Stop,” a third male voice boomed. “He’s an idiot, not a danger.”

  Baxter grabbed his face, falling back on the floor of his carriage and Clarissa couldn’t help herself. She dropped to her knees next to him, pulling his hands from his face. “Let me look.” It was the perfect excuse to caress him.

  Her touch was light as she slowly moved his hands. One of his eyes was already turning a rainbow of colors where Logan had hit him. But men didn’t die from black eyes.

  “I had that coming,” Baxter said on a sigh. His face was drawn into deep lines of regret.

  “There now,” she shushed softly, still holding his hands. “You’re all right.” She’d like to stay there forever.

  But her words didn’t seem to soothe him. In fact, he turned to granite under her touch. He sat up, nearly knocking his head into hers. “What did you just say?”

  She dropped his hands, her limbs falling like dead weights in her hands. “What do you mean?”

  “I know it’s you…” His voice was so quiet that shivers of fear made her shoulders curl in. She had to hide. That was a strange feeling for her. Clarissa never hid from anything. Except from this. No one could know how she escaped from that priest all those years ago.

  Then a new thought occurred to her. If her captain discovered she was a thief, would he pull their funding? She wanted to believe he would never, but then again, it was large sums and she…wasn’t truly worthy. Not yet. She would be someday but, in the meantime, this man could send her entire life crashing at her feet.

  Chapter Three

  Mason grabbed her hands in his, confusion clouding his mind even as his heart pumped wildly. Why had she lied to him? Did she not remember him? Not recognize his title? “Clarissa,” he said as he leaned forward. Bash was arguing with Goldthwaite even as the girls on the bench began to cry. “Tell me the truth.”

  Goldthwaite and his bride stood just outside the carriage, his brother just behind them. He heard the other woman gasp.

  “I’m not who you’re looking for,” she cried as she tried to pull her hands away. “Please. Let go.”

  Someone grabbed his boot and began to pull him from the carriage. He looked over his shoulder to see Goldthwaite tugging at his leg. Mason just managed to reach up with one hand and grasped the grab handle meant for passengers to hold when the carriage really began to sway. “We’re just talking,” he gritted out.

  “Mason,” Bash yelled. “Get out of the carriage already. You promised.”

  He had. But he hadn’t meant it. “I just need a few minutes.”

  Goldthwaite stopped pulling. “You’re going to be dead in five seconds if you don’t get out of that carriage.”

  Mason shook his head. He was still holding one of Clarissa’s hands with his free one. He looked deep into her blue eyes, which had widened with fear and swore under his breath. No wonder she didn’t want to tell him anything. He’d scared her near to death.

  Mason slowly let go of her hand, sliding her gloved fingers through his. “I’m getting out.” He drew in a deep breath. Damn, he’d made a complete mess of this. “Clarissa.”

  “Don’t.” Goldthwaite pulled on his foot again. “Don’t ever speak to her again.”

  His chest tightened.

  He supposed this meant she was protected. That was what he’d wanted.

  A chilly wave of disappointment coursed through him. Six years he’d looked for her. Searching registries, asking priests and nuns. How could this be the end of all that? Sure, he hadn’t pictured the beautiful woman before him but he had envisioned her in his life. Somehow, he’d always believed that with her, he’d be…better. Whole. He needed to get to know her and to have some sort of relationship with this woman.

  Hell. If Goldthwaite would let go, he’d marry her.

  The realization jolted through him, but along with it came a calm. That would be the ultimate form of protection, and honestly, completion of the onslaught of feelings coursing through him.

  “Goldthwaite. I’m the man you sent searching for Penny in the snow, remember?” He didn’t let go of the strap. “I’d never hurt Clarissa.”

  “How do you know her name?” Goldthwaite asked.

  “He thinks he knows me,” came Clarissa’s quiet voice. “But he’s wrong.”

  “Wolf,” the littlest girl inserted.

  He shook his head. “No.” He looked at Natty then. “I’m not the wolf. I already told you. I’m the huntsman.” He’d sent that priest away for her. He’d always protect her. Always.

  Natty’s eyes widened and suddenly she was sliding down on the carriage floor too. Which left absolutely no room for anyone to move.

  Then she leaned forward and studied his face, turning this way and that. Finally, little fingers pried up his eyelid, as she studied his eyeball.

  “He’s right,” she finally said, letting the skin go. “There’s no wolf in there.”

  He couldn’t help it. It was funny. And this little girl was an unlikely ally and a chuckle burst from his chest. “Thank you.”

  She nodded, then she pointed to his cane, currently on the seat of the carriage. “That’s not a very good weapon. You should have an axe. Or at least a sword.”

  Even Goldthwaite had stopped spitting and growling as he plucked the child from the floor and swung her into his arms. “Natty. He’s not a real huntsman, he’s an earl. A strange one but an earl nonetheless.”

  “An earl?” Natty asked. “Like you?”

  “That’s right.” Goldthwaite reached his hand out to the next child, pulling her from the carriage too.

  Natty tapped his shoulder. “Is he going to marry Clarissa the way you married Penny?”

  Both Clarissa and Goldthwaite quickly and emphatically expelled the word “No,” as he pulled the third child from the carriage. Then he grabbed Clarissa’s hand and started attempting to maneuver the sitting woman from the carriage floor with one hand.

  Mason knew he looked ridiculous. He still held the handle with one hand, and one leg had been half pulled from the carriage. And his large body mostly held Clari
ssa in her spot on the floor. “Stop pulling, Goldthwaite,” he said, much of his calm returning. “I’ll move in just a moment and then you can get her out.”

  He knew where she lived. He understood who she was even if she denied it. There would be other chances. He’d make certain of that. They needed more time. Did she truly not recognize him? He needed to find out.

  “Or you could get out,” the man returned. “And I could continue with my wedding breakfast.” Then he paused. “Which you are no longer invited to.”

  “Bloody hell,” Bash said from behind Goldthwaite. “I told you not to cause a scene.”

  “You knew he’d try to compromise Clarissa?” Goldthwaite let go of Clarissa and turned back to Bash. “Why did you let him come?”

  “Even I didn’t know he’d be that much of an egit. But he’s been looking for a Clarissa that he met while he was wounded in the basement of a church in Dover for the past six years. Thinks she’s her. I keep telling him that he dreamed the girl.”

  But Goldthwaite’s eyes flashed back to Clarissa and they held…a question. He knew that Clarissa had been there.

  Triumph surged in Mason’s blood. “She saved my life,” he said to Goldthwaite. It was in the other man’s power to never allow him to step foot near Clarissa again. “And now I want to repay the favor. That’s it.” It was a lie. She was cared for and he’d come for more than that. He knew he was acting irrational, mad even. But he’d looked for so long and then he’d been afraid she’d married and…

  Clarissa jolted next to him. He felt the sudden movement shake through him.

  Then she began to scramble up, as though possessed, trying to get away from him. He reached out and grabbed her hip with his free hand. “Settle now.”

  She stilled but her breathing was harsh. This was the woman who’d threatened him with a pistol. Who’d taken his cane straight from his hand. She didn’t seem to be afraid of anything. But she was frightened out of her wits now. Why? What had he said?

  “I don’t need your help,” she said, her hand coming over his. “Do you understand?”

  Using the handle, he pulled himself up. “No. I don’t actually. Not at all.”

  Her hands came to his chest, the touch causing a streak of lightning to course through his veins. But then she pushed off him and rose from her spot on the floor. “Too bad,” she mumbled and then took Goldthwaite’s hand and let him help her down from the carriage. “Goodbye.” She huffed as Goldthwaite set her down. Spinning, she slammed the door shut and banged on the side of the vehicle. Like that, the carriage, which he was now alone in, began to rumble down the street.

  Clarissa knew there were going to be questions.

  Honestly, she questioned herself. Because part of her had wanted to ride off in that carriage with him. And that frightened her most of all.

  She wished she were a better person. The sort that could pursue a life with a handsome lord who’d spent years searching especially for her. The very idea he had, filled her with light and hope.

  But Clarissa wasn’t the sort of person who could take that life. She’d done far too many terrible things…

  She watched the carriage until it disappeared, not looking back at Logan. She wasn’t ready to answer them. Her thoughts swirled with emotions that she couldn’t quite name.

  “He’s not dangerous,” the other man said. “At least, I don’t think so. He hasn’t been in the six years I’ve known him.”

  Logan harrumphed. “He’s stark raving mad if you ask me.” Then he tugged on her elbow. “Come on.”

  She turned back then, grateful Logan would hold his tongue until they’d left this stranger’s company. Logan began marching her and the girls down the street.

  “Wait,” the other man called. “I’ll double my contribution to the orphanage if you don’t pull out of the club.”

  “I don’t need your money,” Logan gritted out, still moving away.

  But Clarissa spun back to the other man. If she could get an orphanage up and running, perhaps the guilt inside would ease and she could finally move past the sins of her past and into a future. Her captain’s face rose into her thoughts again but she pushed the vision of him away. “Triple.”

  “You can’t negotiate on my behalf,” Logan groaned. “I don’t want any part of that club and I can finance the orphanages myself.”

  Clarissa came to a halt, turning back toward Logan. “You’re that rich?” She was sure Penny knew the details of all this, but her friend hadn’t shared that with her. They’d been busy planning the wedding and celebrating the fact they no longer lived in the East End of London where life had been a daily struggle.

  “The richest,” the other man answered. “And the smartest too. I’m the Duke of Devonhall, by the way. And I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Clarissa…I’m afraid I didn’t catch your last name.”

  “Walters,” she lied. It was Penny’s last name. Hers was Hershel. But she didn’t want these men to be able to find anything about her. Not that it mattered, she supposed. If Logan could finance them, she could begin her new life.

  Would Logan help her with the blackmail? Shame stole her breath. Then she’d have to tell him and Penny about all the terrible things she’d done. Could she tell the Earl of Baxter who she really was? Her head dipped down. She couldn’t. What if he asked how she’d managed to escape? Would she be able to lie to him again? Did she want to? “It was very nice to meet you, Your Grace.”

  The duke stared at her and she became aware his eyes were the exact color and shape of the Earl of Baxter’s. How odd. And disconcerting. It was like he was still staring at her with that intense gaze.

  And on another man, she understood, there was nothing dangerous in those eyes, the Earl of Baxter’s were just…full of zeal. He’d said he wished to help her. But would he still feel that way if he knew the truth?

  “It was nice to meet you as well, Miss Clarissa Walters. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

  “You won’t,” Goldthwaite grunted. “You can consider our partnership dissolved.”

  The duke groaned. “It’s the holiday and your wedding so I am going to let that slide, but I’ll be by tomorrow to discuss this further.”

  “No,” Logan answered as he began to move again.

  “Please,” the other man added with a laugh.

  “You find this funny?” Logan fired back.

  “It’s a bit humorous when you think about it. My brother, the calm and collected man, is the one ruining a deal. People always find him charming but today…” The duke shook his head.

  Brother? Clarissa’s chin pulled back. How were an earl and a duke brothers? Most odd. But she didn’t ask.

  Logan muttered a choice word under his breath. “I don’t care—"

  “You should.” The other man was still following them. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s meet at my house. Then all three of us—”

  “No.” It was Clarissa’s turn to interrupt. She hadn’t shared much of her past with even Penny. Clarissa had told her friend the money that had financed their trip was from her late father. But Baxter knew the truth on that account. Her father hadn’t left her with a shilling. What if the two men began piecing bits together? And what if they found out someone was attempting to blackmail her? They’d never allow her to be in charge of children if they discovered her past. “Do you need to meet with them at all?”

  Logan gave her another long look. “Clarissa,” he said softly. “You were the one who just attempted to up his contribution.”

  She dropped her head, not wanting to answer. Because he was right. With startling clarity, she realized that Logan had become the first man she’d trusted in her life. But then again, it was easy with him. He loved Penny, and Clarissa, looking on, could see that love in every glance and touch he gave her friend.

  The duke stopped walking toward them, one of his eyebrows cocking up. “I’ll leave you two to chat.” And then he moved around them, heading for the far carriage.

&
nbsp; The man knew when to press his advantage, she’d give him that. He also knew when to exit.

  Logan ushered her into the vehicle with Penny. The one the couple should have been alone in, enjoying their first moments as man and wife. Guilt stabbed at her chest.

  “I’m sorry,” Clarissa said as she took the seat across from Penny. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Penny shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” Then she reached out and squeezed Clarissa’s hand. “Are you all right?”

  Clarissa squeezed back. If she were the sort who cried, she might have a mist in her eyes. Her friend was the kindest person in all of England. “I’m fine.” Part of her wished she could tell Penny everything. All the secrets she’d kept all these years.

  Logan snapped the door closed. “He thinks he knows Clarissa from a church in Dover. From six years ago.” Logan looked between the two women. “When and where did you find Clarissa?”

  Penny paled as she looked back across at her friend. “Why don’t you tell him?”

  Clarissa let out a long sigh. There was little point in lying when Penny knew the truth. “I’m the girl he thinks I am.”

  Logan sucked in his breath. “So he isn’t mad after all.”

  Clarissa parted her lips to reply, then hesitated. What option did she have? She’d already started telling Logan the truth, and now, she had to continue. She tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear. “He still jumped into my carriage in the middle of the day. That makes him a bit mad.” Or very valiant. Because today had mirrored more than one fantasy she might have had about the man. No, he didn’t scare a group of children, but in her daydreams, he made some sort of grand gesture and then professed his undying love.

  Logan gave a quick nod. “True.” Then he scratched his chin. “Do you think he’s really been looking for you for six years?”

  Her stomach twisted. Was it bad that she wanted it to be true? “I don’t know.”

  “What happened between the two of you the first time you met?” Penny asked quietly.

  Clarissa looked down at her lap. She remembered how strong he’d looked even lying on the cot, near death’s door, and how he’d tried to defend her against Father Byron. Her heart fluttered. “He was dying. Ravaged by fever and barely eating or drinking. He had a wound to his leg, a bayonet slice. I changed his bandages and mopped his brow. Gave him water.”