by Cheryl Bolen
“I’m merely searching for something that doesn’t belong here.” Her proper English tone sounded exotic to his ears. He’d definitely been gone too long.
“And what might that be?” He glanced at the bare desk, unable to guess what could be within the drawers that she desired.
Again she hesitated, as though choosing her words with care. She shifted to make it clear she desired her freedom, but he continued to hold tight. “Private correspondence...between my mother and the earl.”
“Love letters?” Benjamin raised a brow, relieved to hear the woman wasn’t personally involved.
“I wouldn’t know as I haven’t read them.” She lifted her chin, a small gesture of defiance that matched the fire in her eyes.
Why did that feel like a challenge?
Before he could respond, she raised a hand and pricked his hand with a sharp object. “What the—” Surprised, he jerked back, inadvertently loosening his hold on her.
She lunged for the door and escaped before he could gather his wits.
With a curse, he strode to the entrance, certain he could catch her if he wished. But was such action necessary when he still had what she wanted? He stood there a long moment, looking into the dark night before at last turning back to the library and locking the door. The faint scent of her lingered in the air, the only proof she’d been there.
He ran a hand over his eyes. What an odd way to end this odd day. He’d arrived earlier than planned to his Uncle Morris’s home, a place he hadn’t set foot in for over five years. It would take time to truly believe this was his home now as he’d never expected to inherit.
While he felt terrible about the tragedy that had taken the life of his uncle and aunt and their only heir, his cousin, he hadn’t cared for the lot of them. Uncle Morris had been an awful human being, his wife no better, and their son even worse.
He’d intended for this day to mark the beginning of a new era for the earldom, which had been led by rogues for several generations. At the age of one and thirty, Benjamin was turning over a new leaf and leading a different—no, better—life. No more roguish behavior, including excessiveness in liquor, women, and cards. Heaven knew Uncle Morris would roll over in his grave if he knew Benjamin’s plan. The man had taken great pride in his many debaucheries and done his best to add to the Granger legacy.
Benjamin had grown weary of doors closing in his face because of his family’s reputation as well as his own. As the new Earl of Granger, he was determined to live above reproach. He’d become disenchanted with the path of his life some time ago and had intended to purchase a commission to join the war efforts, only to be approached by an acquaintance who’d convinced him that his services would be better used elsewhere.
He’d hoped to put his life as a rogue behind him when he commissioned, but spying required him to keep it. The past two years had been equal parts frustrating and wondrous. Atrocities committed by bad men were terrible, but war caused even the good ones to commit far worse deeds. His disgust of such acts done for ‘the greater good’ wouldn’t fade any time soon.
Yet parts of his travels had restored his hope in the world. The sights he’d seen—from the breathtaking Mount Kilimanjaro to the turquoise blue sea near Cyprus—and the people he’d met along the way—simple villagers, tribesmen, as well as a prince or two—had given him a new perspective and firmed his goal of change.
These adventures had helped Benjamin realize he was but one star in the night sky and would only shine brightly for a brief time. The humility he’d experienced at that moment had sealed his desire for a new start.
He’d done nothing of note in his life. Even his spying had seemed of little consequence, though he’d been told his efforts had been helpful. Most of his adult life had been spent seeking pleasure regardless of the cost to others. That pursuit had seemed a natural occurrence after he’d left university and taken his grand tour. When he’d returned to London, he’d done more of the same, following in the footsteps of the majority of the male members of his family, including his father, who’d died while Benjamin was at university. His mother had passed soon after. However, he’d grown weary of waking with the same discontent and headache each morning.
Though he hoped spying for his country would provide the opportunity to change, his role had required a rogue’s cover to allow him to dally in unsavory places to gather information. Spying was a dirty business, a necessary evil poorly regarded by most in the military.
All that was over now. Learning of his uncle’s demise had seemed like a nod from fate that his desire for a new beginning was the right path.
He eyed the desk, wondering whether the information the woman searched for was truly there. Perhaps he should look in case she decided to pay another visit during the night. Obviously, locked doors and drawers didn’t stop her. What an unusual woman she was. Determined for certain, he thought as he rubbed his hand where she’d pricked him.
The middle drawer had been her focus when he’d discovered her. He opened the drawer, unsurprised that she’d managed to unlock it, and pulled out the papers inside. With the aid of the candle she’d left, he soon found what she sought. The delicate curves of the handwriting certainly weren’t Uncle Morris’s. He skimmed the contents in the dim light. No wonder his mysterious intruder wanted the letters back. He paged through several papers and found three written in the same feminine script. The rest of the correspondence appeared to be business related. Those could wait until the morning when he was less blurry eyed.
Without a key to relock the drawer, he decided it prudent to take the letters with him to his bedchamber for safekeeping. What an unexpected—and unsettling—way to begin his new life. He’d had difficulty sleeping before and had ventured to the library for a drink and a book. Now it seemed even more unlikely that he’d find slumber.
He poured himself a brandy from a decanter on the sideboard, selected a book on Greek architecture that he hoped would lull him to sleep then retrieved the candle and letters from the desk. With one last glance at the door that led to the garden, he returned to his bedchamber.
The dry information shared in the book and brandy failed to keep his thoughts from the intriguing woman. She followed him into his dreams, threatening his resolve to keep his distance from reckless women.
Chapter 2
Louisa was already awake the next morning when her maid arrived with her breakfast tray.
“Good morning, my lady,” Beth said as she set the tray on the bedside table then eyed the pile of dark clothes in a nearby chair. “Shall I return those to my brother?” The hopeful note in her tone was impossible to miss.
“Would he mind if I held onto them a few more days? I’d be happy to pay him for any inconvenience.” After spending the night tossing with regret, Louisa still hadn’t arrived at a decision as to how best to proceed. She’d been so close to her goal, assuming the letters had been in the locked drawer. There was always a chance the deceased earl had destroyed them, though her mother didn’t believe so.
“Surely you don’t intend to try again now that the new earl has arrived?”
Beth had gasped in horror when Louisa described her narrow escape as she helped her prepare for bed the previous evening.
“I have yet to decide what to do. If only Mother hadn’t written of her feelings and shared them with that rogue.” From experience, she knew berating her mother for her recklessness would do no good. Her mother’s passionate nature had landed her in trouble several times since Louisa’s father had died, much to Louisa’s dismay.
She sighed. “I’ll need to tell Mother I failed.”
Beth said nothing as she drew back the drapes and added coal to the fire to warm the chilly room.
Louisa sipped her chocolate and nibbled at the toast as she considered her options. “Mayhap the new earl will enjoy an evening out in the next few days, and I can try again.”
Beth spun to stare at her, obviously aghast at the idea. “That holds far too much risk, my lad
y. What if he catches you again? He might have already found the letters and placed them elsewhere in case you think to try once more.”
“But I need those letters.”
“Why not ask him for them?”
Louisa scoffed at the thought. “He’s a Wright. A rogue through and through. I might not have ever met him, but his reputation precedes him. He’d never hand over the letters of his own accord.”
The idea of asking the handsome man for such a favor had her shifting uneasily. The single candle flame hadn’t been enough to make a thorough study of him, but she’d seen enough. His dark good looks and arrogance spoke of a man used to having whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. She couldn’t imagine asking him for the letters. If he was anything like his uncle, he didn’t have a sympathetic bone in his body, let alone an honorable one.
She couldn’t help a little shiver at the memory of him holding her tight. His close regard as he pulled her toward the candle had sent butterflies dancing in her middle. If he had that much effect over her in dim light, what would it be like to have him study her in daylight?
Surely her reaction was due to the situation rather than him. She’d been caught breaking into an earl’s desk not to mention his house. She was lucky she’d escaped when she had. If he’d called the authorities and held her until they’d arrived to question her...
She couldn’t bear to complete that thought.
Telling her mother the bad news would be unpleasant. Her reaction would no doubt prod Louisa into taking additional action to recover the letters. Louisa hadn’t told her when she was going to make her attempt so hadn’t shared her failure the previous night. It was bad enough that one of them had lost a night’s sleep.
She set aside her chocolate then threw back the covers, eager to have the conversation over and done. Beth assisted her into a warm morning gown and affixed a cap over her hair to help confine it.
With a deep breath, Louisa walked down the hall to her mother’s bedchamber and tapped on the door.
“Enter.”
“Good morning, Mother,” Louisa said, forcing a smile as she joined her.
The Marchioness of Whirlenhall had aged well, much like her mother before her. With blonde hair a shade lighter than Louisa’s, smooth skin, and a curved figure, she could’ve easily passed for a woman of forty rather than two and fifty.
“Good morning, Louisa.” She offered her cheek from her position propped against the bed pillows in a pale blue dressing gown decorated with delicate lace and ribbons. The white lace cap she wore should’ve made her look dowdy but emphasized her blue eyes instead.
Louisa kissed her cheek then pulled a nearby chair closer to the bed.
“What brings you to visit me so early in the morning?” her mother asked as she enjoyed her chocolate.
Though Louisa was filled with regret at her failure, she refused to take all the blame. Her efforts the previous evening wouldn’t have been necessary if her mother hadn’t felt the need to pour out her feelings to the earl. What made the situation even more frustrating was that her mother had decided prior to the earl’s death that she hadn’t truly been in love. Why couldn’t that have happened before she wrote the letters?
She loved her mother dearly but worried she wouldn’t be able to save her this time. The thought of the new Earl of Granger only made her more certain that all was lost. If he found the letters and decided to share them with the world, her mother would be humiliated at the least. Depending on what she’d written to the married earl, she might even be ostracized by Society.
For her mother, such an outcome would be devastating.
For Louisa, it would be equally so.
She wanted a family of her own, though she had yet to find a man she thought she could live with for years to come. She secretly feared she shared her mother’s fascination for rogues and scoundrels. As her mother liked to say, men who misbehaved were so much more interesting than those who didn’t. Louisa’s father had been a charming rogue in his younger days, though he’d quickly reformed after meeting Louisa’s mother. His nephew had inherited the title but had yet to marry. He preferred the country to London, at least for now.
“I fear I have bad news,” Louisa began as she folded her hands in her lap. “I attempted to retrieve your letters from Clarke House last evening but failed.”
“Granger didn’t keep them after all?” Her mother sounded almost disappointed at the thought.
“I don’t know. I was searching his desk when the new earl discovered me.”
“But he wasn’t supposed to arrive until today at the earliest. Wrights are never early.”
“Apparently, this one is.”
Her mother reached out to take her hand. “What happened? Are you well?”
“Quite.” Though she hoped his hand still hurt from her hairpin. “He startled me. We exchanged a few words after which I escaped.”
“Does he know about the letters?”
Louisa licked her lips, wishing she hadn’t told him. At the time, she hadn’t felt as if she had a choice. He would eventually look through the desk. If the letters were there, he’d find them. Maybe even read them. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Oh.” Her mother drew back her hand to cover her mouth in shock. “Then all is lost.”
Louisa’s heart sank. Her mother tended to be overly dramatic, but in this instance, she might well be right.
“I suppose we’ll know within the next few days,” her mother said, her voice barely a whisper. “Now that Parliament is in session, more of the ton will be in town. Christmas isn’t far away. That means more gatherings.” She paused, blinking back tears. “And more opportunity for Granger to share what he learned about this widowed marchioness.”
Louisa reached for her hand to hold it with both of hers. “There’s always a chance he’ll do the right thing and destroy them if he found them.”
“He’s the Earl of Granger. Of course, he won’t do any such thing. My days in Society are numbered. Whatever will we do?”
“We don’t know that for certain. Perhaps nothing will come of the situation, and we’ll have needlessly worried.”
Her mother cast a disbelieving look at her. “Now you sound like your father. He was such an optimist.” She sniffed delicately.
Before her mother changed the subject, Louisa took the opportunity to attempt to caution her once again. “I ask you to please temper your behavior in these situations. To take a moment to think through the various scenarios that might occur based on your actions.”
“I’m sorry to be such a burden to you,” her mother said as big tears escaped her eyes. “I don’t mean to cause anyone harm, most of all you.”
Her tears made Louisa feel like a toad for bringing her more distress. But in the past few years, they’d had similar conversations more often than Louisa could count.
If only her father had lived. He had held the key to her mother’s happiness. His humor and spontaneity had kept her guessing. He’d never stopped courting her, despite their many years of marriage. From what Louisa had discovered of men, he’d been unique.
“You know I love you and want to see you happy, Mother. But if you could hold back from making grand gestures until we have a chance to discuss them—”
“I must follow my heart, Louisa. I would urge you to do the same.” With the passion Louisa longed to eliminate within herself, her mother pressed her hand on Louisa’s chest. “The path to happiness can only be found by following your heart.”
Louisa gritted her teeth. Of late, her mother’s strong emotions had only led to trouble, embarrassment, and humiliation. She had no desire to involve herself in any such encounters that might end in disaster. Her mother did enough of it for both of them, and Louisa’s nerves couldn’t take the additional worry.
Louisa stayed by her mother’s side the following evening as they greeted the Marquess and Marchioness of Delham, who were hosting a dinner party. Though she knew her mother feared the worst, she hid her conce
rn well. Louisa couldn’t help but search the other guests’ expressions for some sign of derision. Much to her relief, she saw nothing to cause alarm.
They exchanged pleasantries with several acquaintances, but the tightness around her mother’s eyes revealed her continuing concern, at least to Louisa.
“I simply don’t know if I can do this,” her mother whispered soon after they’d arrived.
“I realize it’s difficult, but we must remain strong.”
“Waiting to see if anyone knows of my transgression is unbearable.” Her gaze swung over the thirty plus guests, a hint of panic in the depths of her eyes.
“Calm yourself, Mother.” Louisa reached out a gloved hand to clasp her mother’s. “You look lovely, and no one seems to be the wiser of the situation. There’s no need for panic.”
“No need for panic yet.”
“Everyone is far too busy discussing Napoleon’s defeat and speculating how Europe will move forward to worry over a few letters.” How Louisa hoped this was true.
Thankfully, her words seemed to calm her mother who drew a deep breath then released Louisa’s hand as a friend came forward to visit.
Why couldn’t her mother remember moments like this when she was about to do something untoward, such as write inappropriate letters to a married man? With a sigh, Louisa smoothed her satin gown, one of her favorites. The silver embroidery along the hem, the deep blue bodice, short full sleeves, and rounded neckline with more silver embroidery bolstered her confidence, something she’d feared she might need this evening.
“Louisa, your gown is gorgeous,” Annabelle Gold said as she joined her.
Louisa turned to greet her cousin with a genuine smile. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”
“I didn’t either, but Caroline insisted.”
“How is the soon-to-be countess?”
Caroline, Annabelle’s older sister by two years, had become betrothed to the Earl of Aberland in May, much to her dismay. One moment alone on a terrace in a compromising situation had forced Aberland to propose and her to accept. To both their surprise, they’d discovered themselves enamored with one another. Louisa was envious of Caroline’s love match, despite Aberland having the reputation of being a terrible rogue.
