James, Earl of Crofton

by Rebecca Cohen

  “Dear Lord, Crofton, you are going to court, not the gallows. Perk up a bit.” Marchent dug a small silver box from his jacket. “Here, this’ll sort you out.”

  “You know I can’t stand snuff. If I smoke tobacco it makes me sick and if I snort the stuff it’s like my nose is burning.” James had hoped the craze for snuff would have disappeared by now, but it seemed to be more popular with every passing season. Bloody Dutch and their strange ideas.

  Marchent took a pinch. “Suit yourself.”

  “I suppose I should ask if I have missed anything important while I was away.”

  “Nothing truly of worth. Gossip fuels the court, and there is forever a story about people being caught in various unsavoury positions. The Earl of Devon challenged a horse to a duel he was so drunk, but thankfully he saw sense once he’d sobered up.”

  James laughed. Some things never changed. “I do not think I wish to know why.”

  “He claims the animal was giving him the evil eye, but he is a mad old fool at the best of times. There was one thing. Knaiper is heading back overseas.”

  James’s heart stuttered. Not at the thought of his friend leaving, but that Adam would be going with him. “Is he? I didn’t think his father would be ready to let him off the leash. Mr Dowson will have his work cut out for him.”

  “As far as I heard, Knaiper no longer needs his keeper. His father is allowing him one year to explore the continent once more, then he is to return home to marry.”

  The relief of hearing Adam would not be leaving with Knaiper lifted James’s spirits considerably. “I thought his exploring the continent was the problem to start with.”

  “It’s not like Knaiper will be the next earl, he has three older brothers, so I hear his father negotiated a good marriage for him, and in return Knaiper gets his freedom—for a while.”

  Truth be told, he was happy for Knaiper, but even happier for himself. Adam had become something a little more than a friend. There was an edge of mutual attraction that James was sure could be kindled into more—if he was patient. But he wouldn’t dwell on it for now. Instead, as they drew up to Whitehall, he needed to dig deep and call on every ounce of his heritage. The new Earl of Crofton had arrived.

  James was used to attention, he’d been turning heads since the first time he attended court, but this was different. Now he was one of the richest and most influential men in the country. Before, he had been respected for his potential, but the elevation to earl meant he had the money and political clout that came with being an earl and not a viscount. Without exception, even those who knew him well bowed or curtseyed as he walked past. This was beyond the usually polite etiquette but instead a recognition of the change. It would not happen again, not on this scale, but it was an acknowledgement from court of his importance. Next time it would be the same bawdy shenanigans he was used to, but today was for decorum.

  Marchent took his arm and guided him to a card table. “You need a little bit of normality. You will be back to the old Crofton tomorrow, but for now I can see you are uncomfortable, so a few games of cards will fare you well.”

  Grateful for Marchent’s intervention, James took a seat at what started as an empty table. He knew this day would come, but somehow he had expected to be basking in the glory, not be thrown sideways by it. How he had never considered how the rawness of his father’s death would affect him, he couldn’t understand. He knew he couldn’t have become earl without his father dying, but it had seemed to belong to a part of distant history, where his father would have lived a long and full life. Not now, when he hadn’t even reached his sixties.

  A man and two women approached the table. The man bowed low and the ladies curtseyed. “My lord,” he said. “May we have the honour of playing your first hand as earl?”

  “Please, there is plenty of room if you have a full purse. You have the advantage of me. With whom do I have the pleasure of playing?”

  With another bow, the man took a seat. “I am Percival Huber, the Swiss ambassador’s son, and these two wonderful ladies are the daughters of the Viscount of Roehampton.”

  The two women eyed him with a hunger that was predatory in the extreme. Before, he had been a prize specimen, but now he was arguably one of most eligible bachelors at court. Where once he would have been convinced their hungry looks would extend no further than a few hours between firm thighs, now he was sure their thoughts would be more in line with him standing next to them at the altar. And they weren’t the first to examine him that way. Men were not a problem. Tentative and brief encounters were always the way, given the law—not that he believed he would be seriously burdened with them, given his position—but now the ladies of court saw him as husband material. He was not at all happy at the prospect. If he were to marry, and his thoughts were far away from that venture, then he would do so on his own terms. His father may have made gentle hints, his mother’s hints less so, but as earl he had full control over his marital endeavours.

  He stood quickly. “Apologies. I have realised I must speak to someone I saw heading into the garden. I will return shortly.”

  Marchent gave him a look that said he didn’t believe James for a second, but he distracted the others by calling for the cards to be dealt as James made a hasty retreat into the grounds. He hadn’t expected to be so overwhelmed by the situation, it wasn’t as if he was shy and retiring. Usually he would have welcomed the attention, but now he wanted to hide away for a while.

  The palace was stifling. The heavy scent of the most fashionable perfumes mingling with the smells from bodies trapped under layers of heavy fabric made for a potent mix, and James relished the relative freshness of the gardens. The beginnings of sunset dampened the light and cast a golden glow across the lawn. Couples walking arm in arm were also taking the evening air, but he craved a moment of solitude. Once, he would have alleviated his dour thoughts by leading someone pretty outside for a few moments of fun.

  James did his best to avoid the others out for a gentle stroll, deliberately taking the smaller paths that led to more secluded areas. There was always the danger he might run into amorous couples searching for somewhere to snatch some time together, but he was lucky and found a quiet spot underneath a chestnut tree where he could take a few moments to let himself breathe and adjust. Marchent was right that he needed to come to court, and there was no chance he could have been a bit more circumspect, but he could have been be pickier about the areas he went and avoided the card tables. He’d shown his face, and as far as he was concerned, he should be able to slip away in a while without any repercussions.

  “My lord, are you well?”

  James saw the shadow of the man before he saw Adam himself. Maybe he should have been more annoyed at his peace being disturbed, but he couldn’t help but welcome Adam’s interruption. “Nothing that the passage of time will not cure. Thank you for your concern.”

  Adam took a step closer. “Should I call for your carriage, my lord? Forgive me for saying, but perhaps you might prefer somewhere a little quieter for the rest of the evening.”

  “I probably should, but I confess that while my intentions were to escape outside for some solitude, I do not think I wish to be truly alone.”

  “I am sure there are many who would be happy to keep you company for the night. Lady Elin or Lillian just two of them.”

  Adam must have seen him with the daughters of the Viscount of Roehampton. “I confess that theirs is not the sort of company I crave. I do not need my bed warming.” The words came out more harshly than intended, but his heart was heavy with everything that had happened.

  “I apologise.”

  James waved it away. “I am in the blackest of moods. I am probably not fit for any company.”

  “Would you suffer my company for a few hours? I am not an earl or a viscount, but maybe I can lift your spirits with a few games of chess?”

  James wanted nothing more than to accept the offer, but he also did not wish to get Adam into trouble with hi
s employer. “I do not wish to inconvenience Knaiper.”

  “I will not be required further this evening—his lordship is busy in the company of a very enthusiastic young lady. But I can, of course, leave word of where I can be reached if he were to need me. Although I doubt he will be fit for more than being poured into a coach and sent home, which is not my duty.”

  “I would think he would be getting ready for his new adventures.” And although James had heard by other means, he wanted to confirm Adam’s plans. “Then there would be you own preparation also.”

  “His lordship has time yet before he departs, one evening will not delay that. As for myself, I have spent enough time travelling and I will not be accompanying his lordship.”

  James was relieved to have the confirmation. “I am sure a man of your talents will have no problem finding a new position.”

  “Very kind of you to say so, my lord. Now, one of those talents is chess.”

  James laughed. “Then it appears I must invite you to the Redbourn residence to see if you are boasting unnecessarily.

  “You will not find me wanting. I will arrange for a coach to be brought around.” Adam gave a small bow and turned to leave.

  “Adam,” James said, still enjoying the notion that Adam had previously given him the permission to use his Christian name freely. He wanted to offer the same, to hear Adam call him James, especially after the heartfelt note Adam had sent him after his father had died.

  Adam stopped and turned back. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Thank you. And please, call me James when it is just the two of us.”

  The way Adam’s face lit up as he smiled made James wish he had asked earlier. “It is my pleasure and my honour to do so, James.”

  James watched Adam walk away. He should have invited him to call him Crofton, but it felt too impersonal, too distant for what he wanted with Adam. The more time he spent in Adam’s company the fonder he grew. Adam offered friendship with, as far he could tell, no underlying motive to be anything but supportive. Truth was, James would have been happy if it was more than friendship on offer, but Adam had not encouraged his advances when he subtly made comments. Even the soft lips of the Chivalrous Highwayman hadn’t been able to purge the idea from James’s senses. If Adam believed, like many others in court, that James had no interest in anything more than a momentary dalliance, then James would not be surprised that Adam had not acted on the interest he had shown. A man of James’s rank could operate with relative freedom; laws that would see a lower-born man hanged would be overlooked. Adam didn’t have James’s title or wealth to weather an unfortunate accusation about being caught in the act with another man.

  He shook himself out of his thoughts, which were heading dangerously in a direction they had no business going. Without a backwards glance at the palace, he went to find his carriage. No one would miss him for the rest of the evening. He would be forgiven for needing to disappear after the intensity of returning to court, and some may have assumed he’d slipped away to release his tensions in other ways.

  Adam was exchanging pleasantries with the Duke of Avebury when he approached, not unsurprising given Adam’s previous position in his household, but he sensed from the tightness around the duke’s eyes that Adam may have conjured thoughts of his dead son. James acknowledged His Grace with a nod before climbing aboard his coach. Moments later, Adam joined him.

  “I fear I may not be up to anything as cerebral as chess. If I promise not to play for money, can you be persuaded into a hand or two of cards?” he asked as the carriage trundled forwards.

  “I could be persuaded even if there were a prize to be won. I may not have your means, James, but I have an income enough to afford me a few friendly wagers.”

  “I fear I may regret agreeing to this. Something tells me you may be adept at various games.”

  Adam’s smile was not so innocent. “Indeed. You may thank my travels for my inventiveness; it assured both my safety and that of my travelling companion.”

  “The Duke of Avebury’s son?”

  “Yes, Richard,” Adam said fondly. “In Puja, I once prevented him from being run through by a madam who said he had been there the night before and had cheated one of her girls out of her money. I said it was impossible and put my acting skills to the test, throwing my arms around Richard and saying he’d spent all last night with me, so she must be mistaken.”

  James laughed. “She believed you?”

  “Yes. I had to kiss him to convince her, but one does what one must.” He laughed. “She offered us two of her best young men.”

  “It is no hardship to kiss your lover.”

  “Richard and I were not lovers. Friends, good friends. We were more like siblings. And his eyes were solely for women.”

  “Sounds like myself and Marchent—although I have never kissed him.” James noticed Adam had not mentioned his own desires, but now was not the time nor the place. “I take it you had a wild time overseas?”

  “Yes. Richard’s tour was most enlightening, for us both. His father knew no tutor would help keep him in line, so instead he trusted me to at least keep him safe and dig him out of trouble when he found it.”

  The carriage pulled up outside the Redbourn townhouse. “I remember you saying you spent many years overseas,” said James.

  “My father’s allegiances and actions during the war would have made it difficult for us to remain here under Cromwell. We were fortunate the Duke of Avebury was in need of someone to help protect his family. My mother became the duchess’s maid, and I was the same age as Richard but already well versed in how to fire a pistol and disarm a man with a knife. We became natural friends.”

  “The Duke of Avebury is no fool—he would have wanted to ensure the safety of his family. My grandfather did the same and sent my father, mother, myself and my brother to France. He followed later.”

  James alighted from the carriage with Adam close behind and they entered the townhouse. A few minutes later they were settled in a parlour, the servants having lit the candles and provided a bottle of good brandy.

  “To your good health,” said James, raising his glass.

  Adam raised his in return. “To you also. You said you were in France. Did you take the opportunity to travel farther?”

  “Not at that time. I was only fifteen when we returned to England and King Charles took the throne. Later, I had plans to travel extensively, but it was not to be.” He kept his tone light, but for once he was in the mood to talk, and if Adam pressed him he would not shirk from the truth.

  “I imagine your grandfather and father needed your help. I heard Crofton Hall required some renovation work.”

  Adam wasn’t wrong that the hall had needed rebuilding in several areas, but that had not been the reason. “My father was keen for me to experience more of the world, or rather to experience less of court life. I was seventeen when I first attended, and nothing could prepare a young man for the excesses I saw—I had many adventures and enjoyed fully the hospitality of court. But eventually my eyes settled on one.”

  “Young love has a dangerous power,” Adam said, sipping his wine. “And they returned your feelings?”

  “Very much so. We intended to tour Italy together. Our fathers knew only that we were the greatest of friends. My grandfather had not been so fooled, yet he gave me the blessing that love is not some trivial trinket to be wasted with indecision.”

  “Did something come between you and him? His father—or your father—perhaps with an eye for matrimony to someone suitable?”

  James took a few sips of brandy to fortify himself further and then set down his glass. Adam had seen through his coyness to state bluntly David’s sex and not be bothered by it. “Alas, I think we could have overcome something so trivial. He was fooling about in the grounds of Whitehall and fell from a tree. By the age of twenty-two, some would say he should have grown out of such games. He broke his leg but little was thought of it. However, the fever set upon him two da
ys later. Within three it had quickened and he was dead.”

  “Oh, James, I am sorry.” Adam had leant forwards in his chair, reaching out, but somehow thinking better of it. “Here I am having babbled about my time abroad. I have been most insensitive.”

  “You were not to know, and it is over five years past. I have—as you have commented—not remained too lonely.”

  “You have lost so much for a young man, and now your father. I imagine reflecting on your losses is what has left you melancholy.”

  “In addition to many things. Tonight, I also brood on losing something I should not have attached such sentimentality to, yet I cannot help but do so.” He realised he was rubbing the space where the earl’s ring had sat so briefly.

  “You are not the type of man to pine for nothing. Your reasons are your own, but I doubt they are insignificant. Will you not tell me? Maybe in some small way I can help.”

  James sighed and slumped further in his chair. “My return to London saw me at the mercy of a highwayman, and alas not the chivalrous gentleman of my last encounter. I have recovered from the sore head from his pistol butt, but he took my father’s ring—the ring handed down to each Earl of Crofton, a tradition that started with my great-grandfather. I had it in my possession for such a short time, but after the recent death of my father, losing that also has left me misaligned. It is but a piece of gold and a ruby—it can be replaced—but I wish I did not have to.”

  Adam sat back in his chair, and a pensive look graced his features for a few moments. “I am truly sorry for your loss. Perhaps if you give the sheriff a description....”