“I’ll be there.”
“Shall I make you an invitation?”
“No, I will find you,” he promised.
She fought hard not to look away and felt her face heat. Her lips trembled. “And how shall my family address you?”
When he didn’t immediately answer, she thought he was reluctant to give her his name, but then she wondered if he were purposefully trying to frustrate her.
“Sir William Husher, or Sir Will.”
“You’re a baron?”
“No, just a lowly knight.” He held her eyes as if challenging her to take her invitation back.
While some social circles counted knights as peers, most thought him a high-ranking commoner.
A lowly knight.
There was nothing low about this man.
“All right, Sir Will. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Perhaps your brother would not agree.”
“He will.” He was the one who gave her the idea for the book. She’d tell him Sir Will was coming over to help her. “Good evening.” She gathered her grandmother and they were gone moments later.
And the moment they were in the carriage, her grandmother began to ramble about all the fun she’d had.
Camilla laughed.
It was two hours past midnight by the time she arrived home, but sleep would not take her.
She was more awake than ever before.
Husher.
I make people shut up.
Had a man been guarding you, you’d never have made it that close to the door.
I could be dangerous.
He was perfect, if Camilla did say so herself.
She was glad her brother had encouraged her in the direction of romance. She had no doubt that he’d allow Will to help her.
Will.
She’d find out everything about him in the morning.
∫ ∫ ∫
0 7
* * *
Camilla was ready for bed when her door opened and her mother stood in the threshold.
Her mother crossed her arms. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but her expression was neutral. “I didn’t know that you’d returned home.”
“I thought you were asleep.” Camilla crossed over to the door and took in Lady Hornstein.
Her dark eyes warmed as Camilla neared and a smile touched the woman’s face. She looked younger when she smiled. Pretty. It deepened the wrinkles that had begun to form on her face, but it was a wonderful expression on her.
Her dark hair had started to gray at the roots. She was a little too thin and a little too pale, but Camilla wouldn’t comment about it. She knew better.
She held out her hands and her mother took them.
She liked these moments. As their eyes held, she felt deeply connected to the woman who’d given her life. She was reminded of the years before her father left. They’d been happy from what she could recall.
Her mother squeezed her hand. “How was the party?”
“Wonderful. There were so many people.”
“Did you see your friends?”
She nodded. “Ruth was there.” Ruth was her greatest friend. Camilla had spoken to a few of the ladies in her circle… just before she’d slipped away with Anthony.
Her stomach hollowed out at the thought. While her father didn’t seem to care about what she did, her mother did.
Lady Hornstein stiffened, and Camilla held her breath. She tried to take her hands back, but it was too late.
Her mother’s grip tightened. “Were there young men at this party?”
“Of course, Mother.” Her heart raced. She tried to laugh. “They’re everywhere.”
“Did you speak to any of them? You did, didn’t you?” Her mother pinched her lips and those scowl lines deepened. “Camilla Isadora James! What have I told you about speaking to men? They’re liars and thieves. They’ll take your happiness and leave you with nothing.”
Camilla stilled and fought down the hurt that arose. The woman was speaking about her father. Like Camilla, everything seemed to revolve around him.
She didn’t bother telling her mother that when she claimed Lord Hornstein had left her with nothing, she was calling Camilla nothing.
Ten years of such comments had toughened Camilla enough to not cry over it.
“Was he there?” Lady Hornstein inquired with fierce eyes. “He was, wasn’t he? That’s why you didn’t look for me once you arrived.”
And in a blink, their soul connection was gone.
Her mother was right. Her father’s presence at the party had been the reason Camilla had tried to sneak into her room quietly.
“Was she there as well?” her mother asked.
“No.” Camilla shook her head. “Mother, I’m tired. Please—”
“You’re tired?” Lady Hornstein let her go, all but tossing Camilla’s hands away. “You don’t know what tired is. You do nothing but sleep and eat and party through the night while I’m forced to do everything!”
Camilla wanted to ask what ‘everything’ included. Her mother wasn’t involved in any charity groups, didn’t inquire with the housekeeper about how money was spent, or bother to consult the cook about the menu for the week.
Camilla did the latter.
Her mother sat around, drank, and scowled.
Knowing the best way to diffuse her mother’s rage was to remain quiet, Camilla stood in place as the woman went on. She likely only allowed Camilla to go to parties so she’d have something to rant about later.
“And the dowager,” her mother said. “I never liked her. She’s useless in every way. She couldn’t even keep your son home.” Her mother swallowed and pain filled her eyes. “She bothers to accompany you to parties, but she won’t tell her son to do right by his family, will she?”
They both knew the dowager had spoken to Camilla’s father.
But she’d also spoken to Camilla’s mother about looking the other way and to not bother her husband about his indiscretions. The dowager assured her daughter-in-law that her husband would return to her if she could silence her tongue.
But her mother refused. She refused to be a woman second to anyone else.
And that was the only thing Camilla admired about her mother. It was neither pride nor love that had drawn that line in the sand. It was self-respect.
Yet how Camilla wished her mother would use that same determination in other parts of her life.
Camilla covered a yawn.
Her mother blinked as if coming out of a nightmare. “It’s late. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” She kissed Camilla’s head and left.
∫ ∫ ∫
0 8
* * *
Will walked down the long open hall of Kensington Palace Orangery.
The day was a bright one. The sun struck through the wall of windows and warmed the halls soft white and cream colors.
Lord Landcastle sat at a table in the corner of the room. He motioned for Will to join him.
The table was covered with white linens. Fresh flowers from the garden sat in a vase. Their petals were the palest pink, their leaves dark green.
Will wondered what people would think if they knew that he took a meal at Kensington Palace nearly every week, that he’d met the young Princess Victoria and had had more than a few conversations with the girl’s mother.
He was a lowly knight, but he sat across from an earl who seemed to value Will greatly. He smiled as breakfast was placed on the table.
As usual, they consumed their meal before they spoke.
“Thank you for finding and delivering Hennison to me,” Landcastle said. His eyes were the shade of fine brandy as they narrowed. “Your men, Morris and Dutton, returned before you did. They said they couldn’t find you.”
“I followed a hunch and had no time to warn them about where I was going.”
“That’s dangerous,” Landcastle said. “I depend on you. I gave you men so that you could look after one ano
ther.”
“Finding Hennison was more important.”
Landcastle leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I want to tell you that your words are not true, but… we all make sacrifices and yours was immeasurable. I like your dedication, but I also like you alive so be careful.” He smiled. “What would the Crown do without you?”
Landcastle was Captain of the Yeomen of the Guard and Deputy Chief Whip in the House of Lords.
His position as the Yeomen of the Guard was more honorary than anything. He was a decorated bodyguard to the queen. He was supposed to be more ornate than anything else. The army that worked for him were the ones who were supposed to get their hands dirty.
But Landcastle was no window dressing. He got his hands dirty and took his job at court seriously. He was a well-liked, handsome man who was known for his suspicion.
That he seemed to have little to no suspicion toward Will meant more to him than gold.
Will shrugged the praise off, though inside he was dancing with joy. “You don’t need me. You can easily find someone else.”
Landcastle stared at him and sighed. “No, I don’t think I will.” There was sadness in his voice. The earl idly rubbed his thumb against his china as he spoke. “You only discovered half of what Hennison knew. He gave me everything.”
Will looked at the earl’s hands and noticed the reddened marks on his knuckles.
He didn’t ask how the earl received his information. “What did you discover?”
“There were plots to kill the princess.”
Will stilled. “I didn’t know that.”
Landcastle nodded and sipped his tea. “A group of simpletons who didn’t wish to see a woman rule. Never mind the upset her death would have caused. He and everyone who worked with him will be executed.” The earl lowered his cup. “And you’ll be rewarded.”
“I do enjoy money.” Will poured himself a cup of coffee.
“You’ll be rewarded publicly.”
Will put the kettle down and worked to keep his movements smooth. “That’s not necessary.”
“But it is. I’ve allowed you to work in secret for nearly two years because you told me that was what you wanted.” The earl crossed his arms. “Come now, we both know you’re not this humble. Why won’t you allow me to put on a little show in your honor?”
“It’s not necessary is all.” He hated celebrations. All they did was remind him that Raven was the only person who cared for him. “I do my job. I like doing it. I enjoy working for you. It’s enough.”
“Too bad, because you have no choice and as of today, you no longer work for me.”
Will was confused. In his head, he went back over the conversation he’d just had with the earl and recalled his every expression. “Have I displeased you in some way?”
Landcastle smiled and shook his head. “No. The Crown has decided to reward you with land.”
Will’s belly tightened. He knew what that meant. He feared what it meant. “I received land when I was knighted, and I’m hardly home as it is. I would rather not—”
“You’re form of address is about to change.”
Will held his breath.
“You’re an earl.”
An earl?
Will bit his lip. He didn’t want it.
Landcastle didn’t seem to care. “No one will protest it. The letter of patent has already been filled and signed. You earned your knighthood in the war. You and Sir Raven’s imprisonment was critical to Wellington’s efforts. There will be a ceremony... ”
“I don’t want it.”
“Don’t make me force you before the House of Lords.” Landcastle narrowed his eyes. “Speaking of which, you’ll have a seat there now. We expect you to use it.”
“We?”
Landcastle shrugged. “Van Dero thought it a good idea as well.”
Will gasped. “Does he…”
“I told him.” Landcastle grimaced. “It was only a matter of time before he found out that you worked for the Crown. While you were injured, he questioned Hennison. He didn’t get as much out of him as I did, but that was only because Van Dero didn’t know who you worked for.” Landcastle shook his head. “Naturally, he had you followed. His man saw you bring the prisoner to Newgate and then trailed Hennison to me.”
Will clenched his teeth. “So what? You’re friends with Van Dero now? Great! Capital! You met him just a few months ago. You’re the best of mates, are you?”
He shouldn’t have been surprised by Van Dero’s involvement.
Never bother to tell me information I already know, my lord. I never forget anything.
“Van Dero was never my enemy. I admit, I was wary of the man in the beginning, but I like the policies and bills he wishes to present. He’ll need votes, and he said that you had a great amount of respect for him.” His eyes danced.
Will remembered giving the duke those words. Now he wished he could take it back. “Give it to Morris or Dutton.”
“Tell me why I shouldn’t give it to you?” Landcastle said. “Tell me why you don’t want it.”
“I like what I do.” Work was all Will had. It was all he’d ever had. What was he supposed to do as a lord? Hire a man to run his property and then sleep through the afternoon? A seat in the House of Lords had never appealed to him. For starters, the chairs looked very uncomfortable.
“You’ve been taking unnecessary risks since earlier this year,” Landcastle said. “Van Dero said he believes this is about your son’s death and the fact that the woman you originally abandoned with child was already married when you decided to go after her.”
Will stopped breathing. He was tempted to fly across the table and strangle the earl. But it was illegal to hit a peer.
However, he was a peer now, wasn’t he?
He balled his fist on the table but did nothing more.
Landcastle’s visage was a mirror of the pity Jeremy had given him last night. “I’m sorry about your son. I’m sorry you never met him, but perhaps it’s for the best that you didn’t marry Miss Hurrell. Think of this as a new start. The world is opening up for you. Would you like me to keep going?”
“No. I’ll take the title but no ceremony.” He’d do anything to shut the man up.
Landcastle said nothing.
Will closed his eyes and groaned. “Can we please not do this?” Why did everyone wish to paint him a hero?
He remembered his next appointment was at Lord Tolkin’s house. Camilla was writing about him.
He had no desire to be featured in any of her books. He hadn’t read The Good Father, but Will was certainly no Mr. Reevas.
He was only agreeing to go because of the mission Van Dero had him on. Did Tolkin know about his father’s connection to The Queen of Poisons?
It was so much easier to think about his job.
Now he had a new job, an earldom.
“And exactly where is this land?” Will murmured.
“South. It’s in a very good location. Sencio.”
“Never heard of it.” But that was a lie. He did like Sencio. He lived close and had coveted that stretch of endless grass for some time and with the river that flowed through, it was the perfect location for cattle grazing.
He was already noting to get his man of business on it even as he struggled to reject the entire conversation.
Landcastle scoffed. “I doubt you’ve never heard of it. And even if you haven’t, get used to hearing it, since that’s your formal address now.”
There was no getting out of it, so Will tried to buy himself some time. “We need to keep this quiet, at least for another month. I’m... working for Van Dero. I’m doing him a favor.”
Landcastle narrowed his eyes. “Does this favor help the Crown at all?”
Will shrugged. “You know the duke. Most likely.”
The earl nodded. “Very well. A month and no more.”
Will stood. “I have somewhere to be. If you need me…”
“I’ll write to you about possi
ble dates for the ceremony.” Landcastle smiled and then he stood. “Thank you, Lord Sencio.” Then he bowed. “Your services to the Crown will never be forgotten.”
All Will heard was the man would no longer need him.
The one thing he’d enjoyed had been traded for land that meant little to him in the end.
Who could be happy about that?
∫ ∫ ∫
0 9
* * *
“So, this lord is going to steal his bride?” Emily asked, her blue eyes glittering. “This story does sound terribly romantic. What happens next?” Emily, who was addressed as Lady Tolkin, sat across from Camilla in the drawing room with a look so full of excitement that Camilla could feel it in the air.
“I’m not sure,” Camilla confessed. “But I’ve decided that my lady will be the hero at the end of the day. She’ll save him in some way.” Camilla just wasn’t sure how.
Emily lifted a brow. “You want the woman to save the man? But how? He’s stronger than her, isn’t he?”
“Well, of course, he is. He’s strong, clever, handsome.”
“Green eyes with blond hair,” Emily said with a knowing grin.
“Actually, his hair is dark.”
Emily’s mouth fell open. “Dark? Since when?” Then Emily narrowed her eyes. “Was it Sir Will who made you change your mind?”
Camilla and Emily had peeked into the hall when Sir Will arrived. Then her brother had escorted him into his private office for a short talk.
That had been nearly half an hour ago.
Luke was upset that Camilla had introduced herself to a man, a commoner, but just as she knew, he hadn’t turned Will away. He wanted her to succeed just as much as she did.
And with Will’s help, Camilla was certain the book would be magical.
He was magical.
For the hundredth time, she recalled the moment Will had crowded her against the brick wall in the dark moist alley. She remembered his scent. She remembered the feeling of fear he’d stirred in her belly right before the relief washed over her with the knowledge that he wouldn’t hurt her.
When Camilla woke that morning, a part of her, a very devious part of her, had wondered…
The Exception of an Earl Page 4
