James, Earl of Crofton
Page 12
James hadn’t thought of that as a possible outcome. “That seems a little unfair, as it is I who will solve the mess that happened when my father was earl.”
“It may be unfair, but you cannot control what people think, and you do not wish to cast a shadow across your father. That would cause a foul taste in the mouths of many, including your own.”
“You know I will pass no shade against my father. But how can I act swiftly and not have it seen as though I am cleaning out the bad blood from my household when my father failed to so?”
“It is a matter of positioning. Your father was already aware of the situation, and from what I know of him, he would not have let it continue. Now you are acting swiftly, honouring his name, when he was unable to complete the task because of the illness that struck him down. He ensured, with his dying words that his son would continue his actions of smoking out the demons at Crofton Hall.”
Marchent was an excellent politician, and James was glad to call him a friend. “It is no wonder the king has chosen you as an advisor.”
“Nonsense. I know you would have come to the same conclusion, but a heavy heart slows the brain. This is another pain you should not have to deal with at this time. And it leaves you with a hole in your household that needs a man you can trust. But trust is not easy to come across.”
“Another truth. I do not know the steward well, but my father must have trusted him at some point and he has already come forward to shower me with false support. Now I need a replacement, someone who can step in and avoid an issue with the other servants.”
Marchent rubbed his chin. “I have a suggestion. On reflection, I propose you do not replace your steward straightway. Instead, return to the hall with an advisor, someone you are liaising with to overhaul the running of your household. New earl—new regime.”
James liked the sound of the idea, but like with a new steward, he was similarly bereft of an advisor. “That sound very sensible. But I have no advisor to call upon.”
“I have a suggestion about that too. Although I’m not sure how you will react to it. Or him for that matter.”
James tutted. “It is not like you to be so coy.”
“I am talking about Adam Dowson—but maybe you and he are too close for it to be comfortable. But then, he would not be your servant but a trusted confidante, which changes the dynamic somewhat.”
James’s initial thought was to dismiss the idea outright. His attraction to Adam was an additional complication, but if it were not for that, Adam would be an excellent candidate, and maybe James needed to think more about the needs of his estate than his cock. “I can see why you would hesitate to suggest him, but I think Mr Dowson might be just what Crofton Hall needs.”
Marchent snorted. “Not just the hall but the earl?”
“You were the one to put his name forward.”
Marchent nudged him. “I have seen your interest, Crofton. It is good to see you have such a fancy; it has been too long since David.”
“I am afraid my interest has been rebuffed, and I have taken it with good grace. I can put aside a burgeoning attraction for the sake of my estate. And, as you say, Adam—I mean, Mr Dowson—would be an excellent candidate.”
“I cannot believe you would give up the chase so easily.” Marchent waggled his eyebrows. “It would make it easier for you to grow close if he were under your roof at Crofton Hall.”
“I will not pursue a man who is not interested.”
“Oh, I think there is interest. It is a matter of resolving what is causing his reluctance.”
“Perhaps you should reserve your advice for your own affairs. How is the actress?”
Marchent clicked his tongue. “She was a mere passing fancy. As I said before, I have no interest in making her a duchess. There is another I wish to hold the title. I now need to persuade her she wishes to take it.”
“Ho! Have you finally met a woman who is resistant to your charms?”
“I would not say resistant. Just like your good Mr Dowson… in need of gentle encouragement.”
James had no doubt his friend would be successful, but he was not so sure he would be so lucky. Marchent had said it was a matter of overcoming a reluctance on Adam’s part—it would help a great deal to understand what that was. Adam had gently refused him when he was at the townhouse, said he was tempted but not enough to take up James’s offer, and James, on reflection, knew he had not really been in the right state either, so perhaps he should be grateful Adam hadn’t used James’s vulnerability to his own advantage.
Marchent got to his feet. “Can we find somewhere else to talk? My backside is terribly damp.”
James took the hand Marchent offered and allowed Marchent to pull him to his feet. “Maybe we can walk and talk. We have discussed my most worrisome issue with my steward, but I would like your advice on other matters.”
“Very well. What great things can I help you with?”
“You can start with how you keep your estates in order when you are always in London half drunk.”
Marchent slapped him warmly on the back, and James knew his friend had understood his implication. “That, dear Crofton, is my greatest talent. Come. Walk with me and I will share my many wild and lurid experiences.”
James staggered slightly as he left the drinking den. Marchent’s promise to share his experiences had turned into a merry evening and he had supped far too much. He wasn’t completely sure where he was, but if he headed towards the main road he would be able to pick up a hackney. But that was easier said than done, the warren of alleyways he’d meandered through all looked the same, and even trying to retrace his steps hadn’t helped.
He hiccoughed loudly and burped into his sleeve. The world around him was spinning slightly and he leaned against a wall to regain his bearings. Shaking away the dizziness, he made his way towards the light in the distance. The alleyways were dark and difficult to navigate, and only a sliver of moonlight guided his way. He knew he must not dawdle. No good would come to him if one of the city’s less salubrious characters were to happen upon him.
He heard voices ahead that sounded like a group of revellers on their way home and he thought that was as good a direction as any. Pushing himself off the wall, he burped again and carried on. He froze as a hand gripped him by the bicep, his drunken state making him stumble forwards into a broad chest.
“Please, my lord, I would ask you not to make yourself an easy target.”
James squirmed but was held tight. However, the panic disappeared when he recognised the mask his assailant wore. “You? What is a highwayman doing in the back alleys of London?”
“Saving the Earl of Crofton from being robbed and left for dead.”
Once again there was something familiar about the Chivalrous Highwayman’s voice, but his mind was too addled to help him place it. “Shouldn’t you be lurking in Epping Forest?”
“I had business in town. Often the price for pretty things is worth venturing into the stench of London. And let us say, it is wise to keep my mask to hand, in case someone might recognise me.”
“Don’t you fear someone might see the mask and call for the sheriff? Your wish to hide your identity may cause your downfall.” The soft chuckle annoyed James. “You should not laugh—you wear the mask of Harlequin, someone may trace you back through it.”
“You seem concerned I may be caught. I am a petty villain. You should want me strung up.”
James couldn’t make out the highwayman’s features beyond his mask and his lips. “You saved my life once, and maybe tonight a second time. It is only fair I would wish yours spared in return.”
“Here was me thinking you have softness for me.”
A softness? Maybe, but the Chivalrous Highwayman was no more attainable than Adam. “You think highly of yourself.”
“Then you would object if I were to kiss you?”
No doubt he should object, but he didn’t push away when a whisper of a kiss danced across his lips. It was br
ief, too brief, and James whined pathetically when it stopped.
“You are my favourite pretty thing, my lord. Let me get you to safety and then I can find my bed for the night.”
“Or you could continue kissing me.”
The dry chuckle was again reminiscent of someone. “Such temptation. But I must decline, for you have drunk too deeply to know your own mind.”
James tried to argue, but the words would not come and instead he let the highwayman guide him through the streets. James noticed he was limping, favouring his right leg. They didn’t speak, but James didn’t find the silence oppressive, and a few minutes later he realised Cheapside was up ahead.
“I leave you here.”
“Such a pity.”
“Indeed, but I still have errands to run. My night is still young.”
With the rustle of his travelling cloak the Chivalrous Highwayman was gone, leaving James with yet more wonderful fodder for his daydreams, only this meeting he would guard from the gossips of court.
Chapter 13
James knew he wasn’t stupid, but some of the marvellous fellows from the Royal Society made him feel quite dim at times. No sooner had he thought he was getting to grips with a subject, his companions would change direction and started discussing something new and equally confounding. So far it had ranged from the prediction of weather to new ways to remove teeth, and now the merits of pencil drawing when observing life. He nodded, pretending to be knowledgeable about the drawings of microscopic objects, although he had no depth of understanding on what they were referring to beyond that it was some book written by Robert Hooke a few years ago.
James stifled a yawn. In his defence, he wasn’t sleeping well; it had nothing to do with the company. His feelings for Adam and his most recent encounter with the Chivalrous Highwayman were adding to everything else he had to contend with. He was wondering at what point it would be polite for him to excuse himself when a cry from one of the rooms set up for cards sounded like a siren’s call. Somehow, he doubted he’d be prone to yawning if he were chasing down a trick or two.
Before he had the chance to say anything, Tilly appeared, eyes shining. “Do excuse me, gentlemen. But I simply must spirit his lordship away.”
“Is there something wrong, Cousin?”
Tilly looked gleeful. “Not wrong, but you must come and hear this. Captain Fasling has met the Chivalrous Highwayman. His sister is positively overcome.”
James’s own liaisons with the good captain meant James knew that Fasling would have been as intrigued with the highwayman as James. “I should speak to Captain Fasling and ensure his sister is not too distraught.”
He excused himself, much to the bemusement of his companions, who obviously thought a highwayman’s actions were not worth their time.
Tilly grabbed his arm and laughed once they were at a discreet distance. “You can thank me later for saving you from death by boredom.”
“I was very interested in their conversation.”
She snorted. “I believe you, Cousin, but you were keen to leave with me. Perhaps you’re as bad as some of the gossips and cannot get enough about the Chivalrous Highwayman.”
“I have a keen interest. He did save my life after all.”
Tilly stopped and poked him in the chest. “What did you say?”
James had only told the sheriff about what had happened on the road, and he had no intention of revealing his encounter in town the night before. Up until now, he’d not had the desire or energy to say more. Returning to London after the death of his father was a serious affair, and it hadn’t felt right to cheapen it with this lurid tale, but now, a few weeks on, he wouldn’t miss the chance to lord something over Tilly. “You heard me well enough. He saved me from the bastard who took my ring. If it were not for his intervention, I am sure I would be dead now.”
She let out a soft coo. “James, you are a canny fellow keeping this from me.”
“I did not set out to keep anything from anyone. It was not important.”
“A likely story. Now, tell all.”
James didn’t want to share his encounter to all and sundry, so he pulled Tilly into a quiet alcove. “I am going to give you the abridged version, then you’re going to stop bothering me.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
Tilly fluttered her fan in annoyance. “Get on with it then.”
“My carriage was pulled over by a bandit. He stole my father’s ring, and thanks to my inability to keep my mouth shut, he thought it better to end me then and there rather than leave me free to tell my tale. Our mutual friend came to my assistance.”
Tilly peered at him thoughtfully. “And? You’re missing out something important, I can tell.”
“A mere trifle. He may have kissed me.” And last night had been the second time—something he would keep to himself.
Tilly let out a shrill noise that probably would have knocked birds out of the sky had they been outside. “Oh my sweet Lord!”
“Yes, yes. Now stop it. Nothing more will come of it.”
Tilly danced delightedly from foot to foot. “That is so romantic. Saving your life, and his only reward a kiss from his fair maiden.”
James was beginning to regret telling her. “I’m hardly a maiden, fair or otherwise. And it will not happen again.”
“Whyever not?” She sounded genuinely disappointed.
“Because I’m an earl. I can’t be cavorting with a highwayman.”
“Don’t be daft, James. Come on, let’s go and cluck over Captain Fasling’s less exciting tale and smile smugly, knowing you have stolen the Chivalrous Highwayman’s heart.”
Tilly was almost skipping as she headed towards the card room. James hurried to keep up with her and collided with a young servant boy, who muttered a quick apology before scurrying away. The boy had done his damnedest not to look at him. Not surprising given that some of his fellow nobles might have seen fit to give him a sound thrashing for his discourtesy. James thought he’d seen him somewhere before, not at the palace, but he couldn’t place him and he pushed the thought from his mind as he hurried after Tilly, who called for him to come along.
Captain Rupert Fasling was as dashing as ever, and if James hadn’t still been thinking about Adam he might have invited the good captain to join him for an afternoon of mutual pleasure. Rupert stood next to his sister Felicia and was taking great pains to make soothing noises while ensuring the small group who’d gathered around him were hanging on his every word. “That was when my poor dear sister swooned, and our assailant took great care in carrying Felicia back to our carriage.”
Tilly huffed, and muttered out of the side of her mouth, “I bet she was faking it. Felicia might look innocent but she’s a crafty mare when she wishes.”
James thought that a bit rich coming from Tilly. “You are just sore that you did not think to do the same.”
She didn’t deign to answer him and flicked her fan closed, chin held high as she launched herself through the crowd. “Felicia, my dear, when I heard I simply had to come and see you were unharmed.”
James had to admire her nerve. She took centre stage and he shook his head at her antics, but he smiled as Rupert approached him, the captain having the good sense to know he could not compete with Tilly for attention. “Ah, Lord Crofton, a pleasure as always to see you.”
“The sentiment is very much returned, Captain Fasling.”
“I have heard you had your own encounter a few months back. I can imagine you were equally enthralled by his charm.” Rupert winked, but thanks to his sister and Tilly no one paid them any heed.
“You could say that. There is something remarkable about him, but nothing more than a happy daydream.” James returned his knowing smirk. “Although, I take it you were unhurt?”
“Me? Barely laid a finger on me, more’s the pity. Although, he got into a bit of a scuffle with my driver once Macklin escaped his bonds. Neither walked away completely unharmed.”
Rupert moved closer and dropped his voice. “I remember that look. I wouldn’t mind seeing it directed at me once again.”
Oh, that was tempting, but from the corner of his eye James spotted Adam staring at him from across the room, wearing an inscrutable expression, and a different rush of desire hit him. “A most generous offer, but I fear I am not the best of company at the moment.”
Rupert squeezed his arm gently, and James appreciated the gesture. “I am sorry for your loss. However, I think the earldom will be in safe hands with you. You are as good a man as your father.”
“Your words are very kind, but I have some way to go before I can be as good a man.”
“I disagree.” Rupert leaned in closer. “There are few men at court I respect as much as you. Do not let your own disbelief deter you from being the man I know you are capable of being.”
“I appreciate your kind words, Captain.”
He’d heard the same words from several people; he now needed to start believing them. A kernel of self-belief began to unfurl inside his chest. The grief was still raw when he allowed himself to dwell, but he knew his father had thought highly of him, and so did friends and acquaintances at court. It was time to act on their encouraging words. Sorting out Crofton Hall would be the ideal thing, and he should waste no more time and seek out Adam at the earliest opportunity.
“If I cannot distract you in one way, perhaps a game of cards would serve the purpose instead.”
“I would not wish to take you away from the retelling of your adventure,” he teased as Tilly made an exclamation of great concern at something Felicia had said but James hadn’t heard.
“You would be doing me a great service—you are lucky not to have a sister. They can be terribly tiresome.”