Earl of Hearts

by Meara Platt

  John was immediately swallowed up by the crush of guests as he entered the salon, but since he was taller than most, he was able to see over their heads with relative ease. He needed to find Nicola. The party was well under way and she had to be here… somewhere.

  He began to walk through the room with no obvious purpose in mind.

  “Bainbridge, how was your hunting today?” said an acquaintance who was also an avid sportsman.

  “Good, Willoughby. I bagged five.” Of course, the five were Somersby’s men and not game birds, but it had been a good result. Those scurrilous villains had been well and truly caught by him and Jordan, their intended prey.

  He continued his casual stroll, his gaze resting on every young woman with auburn hair, but none of them were Nicola. Where was she? He eased upon spotting Lord and Lady Darnley chatting with friends in a corner of the salon.

  His jaw clenched when he realized Nicola was not with them.

  Bollocks.

  Where was she?

  He hid his concern, for he was being followed by several of Somersby’s footmen. They must have been instructed to keep a close watch on him. Perhaps they’d been told to lure him out of the room and finish the job their cohorts had failed to accomplish.

  Jordan caught up to him as he was about to approach Lord Darnley. He slapped a beefy hand on John’s shoulder to hold him back a moment. “Most of the staff is made up of locals. Maids. Butlers. Even most of the footmen are local boys. I’ve had a word with a couple of them. They won’t be helping Somersby if there’s a fight.”

  John nodded. “I only counted four in here who stick out as hired ruffians. We can take them down easily. Those other five who came after us today were the worst of the lot, so far as I can tell. Now that they’re simmering in the magistrate’s prison, we ought to have a fairly easy time of it. But I haven’t seen Nicola yet and that worries me.”

  “Och, John. She must be here and unharmed or Lord Darnley would have grabbed that ancient battle axe hanging over the hearth and buried it in Somersby’s head by now. The lass may have a big temper, but she’s a little thing and not easily seen in a crowd.”

  John knew his companion was trying to reassure him. What he said made sense, for Lord and Lady Darnley were quite protective of their niece. But those dark, haunted thoughts were stirring in John’s brain once more and he found them hard to hold down. “I’ll see if she’s in the music room. Somersby might have led her onto the dance floor for the opening quadrille.”

  A harpist, fiddlers, and a pianist were seated in a corner of the music room playing a lively tune. Most of the furniture had been pushed back against the walls or simply removed to create room for dancers. Beyond this room was the dining hall. When he didn’t spot Nicola on the dance floor, he sauntered into the dining hall on the chance that she might be in there.

  The main table held trays of wild game and fish, and a massive roast boar on a silver salver dominated the center. Along the back wall were smaller tables laden with desserts. The marquis had spared no expense to celebrate a betrothal that would never be.

  “Nicola, where are you?” John muttered under his breath, deciding to return to the salon in the hope she was there now. She might have run upstairs to fix her gown or change her necklace for another. There were any number of innocent reasons for her absence.

  But he knew Nicola.

  She was up to something.

  He was about to take another casual turn around the salon when he noticed her slip in through the double doors that led onto the terrace. Had she been outside the entire time? In this cold weather? He knew Somersby had not been with her and was likely searching for her as well.

  He watched Nicola make her way toward her aunt and uncle, and caught the almost imperceptible nod she cast them upon reaching their side. “Damn it, Nicola,” he muttered under his breath.

  What had she done?

  He waited to the count of ten before making his way through the crush of guests. This would hardly be considered a large crowd by London standards, but it was a sizeable gathering for these parts. Only formal Highland clan gatherings drew larger crowds.

  John knew most of the people here, for as the Earl of Bainbridge, he was a sought after bachelor and invited to all the best parties, despite his attempts to put everyone off. Several acquaintances called out to him, but he merely acknowledged them with a curt nod.

  He dared not take his eyes off Nicola.

  Not that it was a chore for him to fix his gaze on her.

  Indeed, it was too pleasant a task by far.

  She now stood chatting amiably with her aunt and uncle and several of their Upper Crust friends. Her beautiful eyes were sparkling with mirth and her auburn hair was done up in a casual riot of curls that perfectly framed her heart-shaped face. A few soft tendrils caressed her slender neck.

  She looked radiant, managing to shine brighter than any candlelight’s warm glow. His gaze drifted lower. He couldn’t help himself. The girl had a body that could stop a man’s heart.

  Bollocks.

  He shook his head and silently berated himself for allowing his thoughts to wander.

  John was only halfway across the room when he saw Somersby come to her side and hold out his arm to escort her to the music room for a dance. She smiled at him. The pair appeared blissfully happy.

  Jordan put a hand on his shoulder. “You have that look again. Promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”

  “Protecting Nicola is not foolish.”

  Jordan’s grip tightened slightly. “Does she look like she needs your protection?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t know? Or don’t want to admit that she’s changed her mind and intends to go through with the betrothal? Perhaps you don’t know the lass as well as ye thought.”

  John ignored the comment. He admittedly was on edge about Nicola’s upcoming betrothal. Eaten up inside about it, truth be told. But it wasn’t because he was jealous. Well, he was jealous. Almost to the point of madness.

  But this was about Nicola, not him.

  She wanted out of this betrothal.

  She had done something to ensure it would not take place. Why else would she have slipped in from the terrace and nodded to her aunt and uncle?

  She had set a plot in motion and just acknowledged it to her conspirators. Or had he gone completely mad because he wanted to believe that Nicola would not marry Somersby?

  When the dance ended, Somersby returned her to Lord Darnley’s side. John took the opportunity to greet her and their gazes finally met.

  He knew at once, felt a jolt to his heart at the slight falter in her smile.

  He had been right. She was in trouble and asking for his help. “Good evening, Lord Bainbridge. I’m so glad you are here.”

  He bowed over her hand. “Wouldn’t have missed it, Lady Nicola.”

  “I’m so pleased.” He felt the tension in her slender fingers as he lightly grasped her hand. Her smile was fragile and forced. “Are you enjoying the party?”

  Somersby emitted a low, feral snarl to interrupt their conversation. He drew Nicola closer to his side, obviously marking his claim to her. “How dare you show your face here, Bainbridge.”

  John arched an eyebrow. “Lady Nicola invited me. Or have you forgotten? Perhaps you thought your friends had taken care of me.”

  “What have you done to my footmen?”

  “Footmen? That is a charming way to refer to your hired scum. You’ll never see them again. Assaulting an earl is a serious crime. And don’t forget that we’re in Scotland now. Neither your influence nor your bribery will work here.” He noticed two of the nasty-looking footmen they’d spotted earlier now making their way through the crowd. “Tell your dogs to back off, Somersby. If they set a hand on me, I shall kill you. Are we clear?”

  “There’s obviously been a misunderstanding, Bainbridge.” The marquis gave a flick of his hand and his footmen stopped and slowly began to back away. He had them well
trained, just as one would train hunting dogs. “They are only here to protect me. If you give me your word of honor that you shall not strike me, then they won’t harm you.”

  “I’ll make a bargain with you. Give me no cause to strike you and I won’t.” He grabbed a champagne glass off the tray of a passing servant and held it up in a seemingly casual toast. “Care for a dance, Nicola? I believe the musicians are about to play a waltz.”

  Somersby’s face turned red. “Keep your hands off her. She’s mine.”

  “Not for another hour, I believe.” He held out his arm, knowing he should not be goading Somersby as he was doing now.

  Nicola frowned at him. “I don’t think it would be appropriate, Lord Bainbridge. But I’m glad you’ve made it to our party. Is Mr. Drummond here as well?”

  “Yes, he’ll join us in a moment.” He supposed Jordan had backed away to secure the perimeter of the room on the chance that more of Somersby’s ruffians were called in.

  Nicola breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I look forward to seeing him again.”

  Somersby stood silently beside Nicola, but there was a lethal look in his eyes. John knew that look well. He’d seen a similar expression on the face of the cold-blooded man who’d killed his parents.

  Somersby wanted him dead.

  Merely because Nicola had run to him yesterday? He wasn’t certain of the reason why and did not care.

  What mattered was Nicola.

  What did the marquis intend for her?

  Nicola was worried about it, too. He could tell because he knew her well, for he’d been friends with her brother for years and often spent holidays with Julian and his family. Nicola was the younger sister who worshiped her big brother and—by association—him, too. She always wished to tag along wherever they went.

  She was the little girl who would put her skinny elbows on the table and hang upon their every word whenever they spoke of their adventures. She would steal downstairs when she ought to have been asleep, eager to spy on their late night card games or rounds of billiards.

  For some odd reason, he could always sense Nicola’s presence and would give Julian a silent warning that they had innocent company. Which meant only the mildest curses allowed, if any. And no talk of women, certainly never about those they’d slept with or meant to sleep with shortly. No talk of their Crown activities, for certain.

  What was Nicola worried about? She was all grown up now, no longer the child he’d harmlessly indulged. But she was still innocent when it came to men.

  He’d slit Somersby’s throat from ear to ear if he ever stole her innocence. It wasn’t merely a matter of completing the act of joining their bodies. Her innocence could be stolen in so many ways. By breaking her spirit. Teaching her to fear him. Raising a hand to Nicola.

  John would kill Somersby if he ever did that.

  Lady Darnley coughed and stepped between him and the marquis, for the hatred between them was palpable and caused the air around them to sizzle like a bolt of lightning about to strike. She obviously meant to distract them before they came to blows. “Poor Nicola has lost her favorite locket. You know the one, Bainbridge. The one you and Julian brought home as a gift for Nicola from the Scarborough fair.”

  “Of course, I remember it.” He arched an eyebrow, for he’d never given her any such gift nor ever been to that fair. “Her favorite.”

  “I’m quite distraught about it,” Nicola said. “I’m sure it must have fallen in Lord Somersby’s garden, but I’m not certain where. Perhaps in one of the flower beds. Or in the pond. It might have fallen when I tripped over that old tree stump at the foot of the garden walk. I’ll look for it first thing in the morning.”

  One of Lady Darnley’s friends who happened to be passing by and caught some of her conversation cast her a sympathetic glance. “I’m certain Somersby will find it for you. If he can’t, he’ll buy you a very pretty replacement.”

  “A diamond-studded replacement,” another of their friends intoned, casting Nicola a knowing smile.

  John frowned. Since he and Julian had never been to that fair nor had he or Julian ever bought his sister a locket, what was Nicola telling him?

  Lord, he was a dolt. She and Rose used to hide messages within knotholes in trees. She’d hidden something in the tree stump for him to find. Bollocks.

  That’s why he hadn’t seen her earlier.

  She’d been out in the garden, planting it inside the tree for him to find.

  What had she put in there?

  And how much time did they have before Somersby realized she’d stolen this thing of importance from under his nose?

  After a suitable time had passed, John made his way through the crowd toward the terrace doors. He moved slowly, stopping to greet other friends and acquaintances. Jordan happened to be standing quietly beside those doors, his back to the wall while he nursed a scotch in his hand.

  “I’ll have one of those,” John said, asking one of Somersby’s footmen to bring him a glass. The man seemed to be lingering beside him and Jordan, no doubt instructed to listen to their every word.

  John had no intention of dulling his mind with spirits, but this was the plausible excuse he needed to send the man off on a useless errand and out of earshot. “Nicola’s hidden something in a tree stump in the garden.”

  “A secret message? Asking for our help? She doesn’t appear to be in distress.”

  “She’s scared. Somersby’s having us watched. I need you to create a distraction while I retrieve it.”

  Jordan grinned and curled his hands into fists. “It will be my pleasure.”

  John scanned the crowd for another glimpse of Nicola to be certain she was safely in the company of her aunt and uncle. “I’ll slip out while everyone’s attention is on you.”

  “I always love a good brawl at a party. Here goes.” He shouldered his way through the crowd.

  It wasn’t long before John heard the clatter of a tray hitting the floor, soon followed by the tinkling sound of shattered glass. “You Scottish bounder! You knocked that tray onto me on purpose,” the bellicose Lord Whitney shouted and took a swing at Jordan. No doubt this was why Jordan had chosen him as the target. The man had a short fuse, especially when drunk as he obviously was now.

  A roar sprang from the crowd and everyone rushed forward to see the fight that had just erupted.

  John silently stole out through the terrace doors, but he’d hardly made it down the steps into the garden before someone quietly called his name. He heard soft breaths and light footsteps behind him. “John, let me show you where I hid his book. There isn’t much time. You need to grab it and ride away as fast as you can.”

  “What book? Nicola, so help me…” That usual feeling came over him, the one where he wanted to throttle her and at the same time kiss her into eternity. He took her hand instead, wanting to keep her close as she led him hurriedly toward the gnarled remains of an old tree. “Damn it, Nicola. What’s in that book?”

  “I’m not sure. Lots of foreign names, as well as dates and numbers. It’s written in code so I couldn’t make any of it out. It was hidden in a secret drawer that he kept locked.”

  John groaned. “A secret drawer?”

  She nodded impatiently. “Yes, that he kept locked,” she repeated. “Aunt Bess was helping me search and she found it. Don’t ask me how she knows about such things or how she managed to pry the lock open without breaking it. I think my aunt and uncle led secret lives in their younger days. I’m tame compared to them.”

  “Tame? You are reckless to a fault.” But he kept hold of her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Go back inside. Stay close to your aunt and uncle. Pretend you don’t know anything. Somersby will blame me for the theft and come after me.”

  “I know you’ll lead him a merry chase.” She spoke in a breathless whisper as they continued through the garden and finally reached the old stump. She reached into its hollow trunk and withdrew what appeared to John to be an elegantly bound book. She st
uffed it into his hands, reached up on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Godspeed, John. Don’t worry about us. My aunt packs pistols.”

  The light press of her body against his sent a jolt of excitement through him. He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss his way down… he’d leave that thought for later. Someone was coming. “Hush, Nicola.”

  He grabbed her hand once more and hastily led her to a nearby thicket to hide. The sharp branches, he realized, were cutting into her skin. To her credit, she made no protest. Not a sound, although it had to hurt. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, hoping the sturdy cloth would offer some protection.

  “He came out here, my lord. I’m sure of it,” one of Somersby’s footmen said, scanning the surrounding shrubbery for sign of him. But it was dark and one could hardly see one’s own hand. The marquis and several more footmen were now standing beside the tree stump, unaware of what had been hidden there only moments ago.

  “Damn it. Find him.” Somersby let loose with a string of curses. “I want Bainbridge dead.”

  “But, my lord. The plan… we can’t do this. He’s an earl.”

  “Do you dare question me? I don’t care about any agreed upon plan. Kill him and toss his body into Loch Linnhe or it’ll be yours that’s tossed in first. Let the currents sweep him out to sea.”

  John put a finger to Nicola’s lips to signal her to be quiet. He needn’t have worried. He doubted the girl was able to breathe, she was that scared. He drew his hand away and wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders.

  She rested her head against his chest and nodded.

  Although Somersby’s footmen held their lanterns high as they conducted a sweeping search of the area, he and Nicola managed to remain hidden in the shadows. The marquis was about to leave his men and return to the lodge when another of his hired ruffians came running out, calling to him in panic. “The book is missing.”

  Somersby clutched his heart in that moment. “No. It isn’t possible.”

  “Your betrothed is missing, too.”

  Somersby snapped. “Find them! Find them and kill them both! What are you waiting for? Don’t let them get away!”