Earl of Kinross

by Meara Platt

  “Lara,” her father admonished her gently, “leave Kinross alone.”

  “I certainly will not.” She grinned at Marcus. “My lord, what do you have to say for yourself?” She hoped it was I love you, Lara.

  But that was too much to hope for, wasn’t it?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MARCUS IGNORED LARA’S teasing, his ears picking up the sound of a carriage stopping suddenly in front of the townhouse. “Dunning’s here.”

  He turned to Lara’s father. “Your daughter cannot remain with you. There are things going on that I cannot explain yet. But this is why I brought my aunt and mother along. They are here to help me get Lara out of Dunning’s reach.”

  “Lara, my dear,” his mother said, “We have just invited you for supper tonight at Miranda’s home. We want you to leave with us now.”

  Marcus saw the stubborn set to Lara’s jaw and knew her response before she gave it. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Brayden. I cannot abandon my father. I won’t.”

  Her cheeks were pink with anger. But the blood had drained from her father’s face and he was ashen. “No, Lara. Kinross is right. You must go. This devil has already destroyed me. It’s you he’s after now. Go, my child. It’s too dangerous for you here.”

  Dunning and his men were at their front door now.

  “No, Papa! They’ll hurt you. I won’t abandon you to face them alone.”

  Marcus did not blame her for wanting to stay and protect her father. She’d been looking after him for years, but Marcus was not giving her the choice. She would leave with him if he had to toss her in a sack and carry her over his shoulder.

  First, he had to chase off Dunning and his bailiffs.

  He nudged Lara behind him. “Stay put,” he commanded, hoping he carried some authority with this independent girl. “Please, Lara. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  Dunning and his lackeys were approaching fast, their footsteps thunderous on the wood floor.

  His mother and Miranda were already behind him, but they’d first grabbed fire irons hanging on a peg beside the hearth. Like the Valkyrie of Norse legend, they were now poised for battle, each of them armed and standing tall and magnificent behind him. “We’re ready for them,” Miranda assured.

  Marcus did not want any of the women involved. “If there’s fighting to be done, I’ll do it.”

  Miranda waved her iron shovel at him. “You can’t fight them all on your own.”

  “We’ll help,” Lara said, picking up a vase and preparing to hurl it at Dunning the moment he entered the parlor.

  Marcus smothered a groan, wishing he’d just grabbed Lara and tossed her in his carriage. He could have escaped before anyone realized what he’d done. Lara would have fought him with all her might, perhaps never forgiven him for separating her from her father, but he would never forgive himself if she came to any harm now. “Lara, wait until he’s closer before you smash it over his head.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “I have your permission to hit him?”

  Having been raised by strong women, he was not of the mind that the fairer sex was helpless. Indeed, he wanted Lara to be able to protect herself. This is what he liked about her, that streak of independence and determination. She was beautiful and intelligent, too. Perhaps he’d tell her once this ugly business was over.

  For now, he worried about her. She wasn’t as big as the women in his family. Not nearly as big, although she was of average height for a woman. Nor was she used to using her fists. Her hands were small and soft. “Yes, you may hit him. But only if he gets past me and comes at you. Otherwise, you are to stay behind me and keep out of this fight.”

  Dunning and his men burst into the room. Dunning’s face was red with anger and his lips were contorted in a snarl. He’d brought six of his bailiffs with him.

  “Stratton, I warned you about allowing guests into your home. You are under house arrest, and that means no visitors, no parties, no contact with anyone outside of me.” Lord Dunning did not bother to introduce himself to Marcus or his family. He was an unremarkable man in every way. Average height. Average build. Dull gray hair that was thinning on top. Dissipated eyes. Sallow complexion.

  “This is not a social call,” Marcus said, his steely gaze encompassing Dunning and all the men behind him. “Lady Lara has been summoned by Queen Charlotte to Buckingham House. I have the invitation in my breast pocket.”

  He noticed the flicker of uncertainty in the eyes of the men standing behind this pompous arse. Good. Let them be concerned. “Do you dare put yourself above our queen? I’ll be more than happy to tell her you refused to allow Lady Lara – who is not under house arrest – to attend her.”

  “You lie!”

  Marcus reached into his breast pocket and withdrew the note carrying the royal seal. It was meant for him, not Lara. But Dunning did not need to be told that. “As a peer, you may come out of this scandalbroth with your ears soundly boxed. But I can assure you, these gentlemen behind you will feel the full force of the queen’s rage. They will not be shown similar mercy.”

  Dunning sensed his men’s disquiet. “He’s bluffing! Don’t listen to him.”

  “I’m leaving with Lady Lara now. If any of you take a step toward her, it is the last step you shall ever walk as free men.” He reached for Lara’s hand, but kept his gaze steadily on Dunning and the men behind him. “Come, Lady Lara. We don’t wish to be late.”

  She didn’t move.

  Bollocks.

  He had no desire to fight his way out. The bayonet that had slashed through his arm and left a scar had also torn through muscle. He wasn’t back to full fighting strength yet and could not easily throw punches.

  “Come along, lamb,” his mother said, nudging Lara forward. “Your father will be waiting for you, safe and unharmed, when you return. Isn’t that right, Lord Dunning? Because if there is so much as a scratch on him, my family will come after you. Both my sons are generals in the king’s army. They’ll bring the full force of their regiments down on you and your bailiffs, who are likely acting outside of their authority. Is this not so, gentlemen? It is not a threat. It is a promise.”

  “My sons are military, too,” Miranda said, not to be outdone by his mother and moving toward Dunning with fire iron in hand. “I can assure you, your bodies will be lying in chains at the bottom of the ocean, never to be found.” She grabbed Dunning by the collar. “Get out, you rat.”

  Lara gasped.

  Marcus stifled a groan. He had only himself to blame for bringing Miranda along. She was a modern day Queen Boudica, as tall and strong as any warrior who ever lived. Napoleon’s army would have been subdued in a day had she been permitted to lead the English forces into battle.

  And now she had Dunning in her clutches.

  Marcus watched the bailiffs, hoping they would not try to stop his aunt. He’d have to jump in and throw punches then.

  He was prepared to take a pounding. His concern remained for Lara. Those bailiffs would go after her first. Lara wouldn’t run, for her priority was to save her father. And that old man would jump into the fray to protect Lara. They’d both be hurt.

  As soon as Miranda tucked her fist into Dunning’s collar and began to drag him to the door, the man began squealing like the swine he was. “Sykes! Sykes!” he shouted, enraged when his bailiffs merely stepped aside and allowed Miranda to pass. They were not getting paid enough to risk their lives by angering the queen.

  Men such as these always looked out for themselves first. They may have taken Dunning’s bribes readily enough, but they were not going to take the fall along with him. They’d sell their grandmothers to keep themselves out of prison.

  Marcus curled his fists when Sykes came running into the parlor. “I’d do as your friends have done,” he warned the butler. “Stay out of this.”

  Sykes looked to his cohorts.

  “Do as Lord Kinross says, Sykes. He’s got a missive from the queen ’erself asking for Lady Lara to be brought to ’er. Dunning’s fi
nished. If ye take ’is side, ye’ll spend the rest of yer life in gaol.”

  Sykes nodded. “Shall I roll in the tea cart, Lord Kinross?”

  Marcus declined. “No, I believe I’ll be taking Lady Lara with me now.” He prayed that Lara would not continue to give him a hard time. “Your friends have given you wise counsel. The law has finally caught up to Dunning. If you wish to save yourself, then show your good faith and protect Lord Stratton…or leave now with your friends. It’s all the same to me, so long as Lord Stratton is unharmed.”

  As he spoke his warning, everyone could hear Dunning’s panicked squeals in the background. Sykes nodded. “Very good, m’lord.” He then turned to Lara’s father. “I wasn’t ever paid to harm you, m’lord. Only to snitch, and Lord Dunning hasn’t paid me in over two weeks.” He sighed. “Them wages is lost. He won’t be paying anyone now.”

  The bailiffs walked out. Sykes followed, as did three other servants who were new to the Le Brecque household. Marcus walked out behind them, his only concern as he watched them traipse out, was whether any of them had walked off with the family silver.

  They all strode past Miranda as she spanked Dunning with the iron shovel. The man was almost hoarse from squealing. Marcus turned to Miranda and put a stop to the beating before he had to rescue her from murder charges. “Release him, Miranda.”

  She frowned at him. “Dear boy, you are spoiling my fun.”

  “I know. My humblest apologies, but we must get Lady Lara to Queen Charlotte now. Lord Dunning knows he’s finished. If you haven’t beaten the brains out of him yet, he’ll know to pack up his bags and flee the country before the authorities come around to pick him up and ship him off to prison.”

  She let go of Dunning’s collar.

  He ran off as fast as his squat legs would carry him.

  An odd calm settled over Marcus. The authorities would be waiting for Dunning at his home and his office, it didn’t matter where he fled. However, this was only one small step in triumph. Dunning was a high-placed lackey, but never more than that.

  Lord Governor Montvey was behind these schemes, and the men he had working for him would not be so easily intimidated as these bailiffs had been. The bailiffs were big, rough men, to be sure. But they were working men. Obviously prone to dishonesty, but under the guise of serving the law. With that protection stripped, they would not stray from the confines of civility.

  Montvey’s men would not be so easily tamed.

  They were not afraid to maim or murder.

  Lara hurried out of the house, her smile as bright as sunshine. “You did it! Oh, Marcus, I’m sorry if I sounded ungrateful. I was very proud of the way you handled those ogres without a drop of blood being shed. Please do forgive me.”

  “No need to apologize. I know how fiercely protective you are of your father.” He tried not to stare at her, but it was impossible to overlook her sparkling beauty. Despite the wintery chill and approaching overcast to the skies, the sun still managed to shine on her golden hair. Her smile was as bright as a sunbeam.

  “My only regret,” she said, pursing her mouth in a mock pout, “is that I did not get to hit Dunning over the head with that vase. Although I congratulated you over your bloodless rebellion, I was looking forward to pounding him with it until I drew blood.” She shivered, for she was not adequately dressed for the cold. But she was obviously warmed by this first success and relieved her father’s ordeal was almost at an end. “That sounds awful, doesn’t it? Not very ladylike.”

  He put his arm around her to lead her back into the house, realizing they were now alone in front of the townhouse. Miranda must have gone back inside when she noticed Lara coming out. This meant she liked Lara and wanted to give them a moment of privacy. Not that there would be any while standing outside where anyone passing on the street could see them. He supposed his mother, aunt, and Lara’s father had their faces pasted to the window, eager to see what might transpire between them.

  Did they think he would kiss Lara? When he did, and there was no doubt in his mind that he would, the deed would not be done in front of an audience. His feelings for Lara were not tame, nor would their kiss be. “It depends on how one defines ‘ladylike’. I was raised by an independent, wilful mother and surrounded by strong, intelligent women all my life.” He chuckled. “If a brawl is in the offing, I’d want Miranda on my side.”

  Lara nodded. “She was brilliant. I wouldn’t want to face her on a dark street corner.”

  “Nor would I.” Marcus chuckled. “But she is my idea of a lady. I do not like helpless females.”

  “Oh.” Lara’s smile faded.

  “Lara, you are not helpless. I know you’ve often felt this way during your ordeal, but you always fought for your family. You loved them with all your heart and soul, and tried your best to protect them. The odds you faced were daunting, yet you never gave up. To me, that is the mark of a true lady.”

  A blush crept up her cheeks.

  She seemed quite disconcerted by his compliment, no doubt because she’d received none for so many years. He intended to remedy that. “Thank you, Marcus,” she said in a shaky breath. “This is high praise, coming from you.”

  “Let’s fetch your cloak and gloves. I’m taking you along with me to Queen Charlotte.” He thought his mother and aunt would leave as well, but when he and Lara returned to the parlor, the two matrons declared they would remain with Lara’s father.

  “We’ll have tea and reminisce while we await your return,” Miranda said. “Hurry along, now. Wouldn’t want you to be late to call upon the queen. We have much to catch up on with Lord Stratton.”

  Marcus wasn’t certain he wished to leave them behind. What if Dunning eluded the authorities and came back? No, he was done for and his bailiffs were not coming back. He merely nodded in Miranda’s direction, preferring not to engage her in an argument he wasn’t going to win. Let them enjoy the company of Lara’s father. The Bow Street runners were already watching the house and would step in if danger arose.

  He returned his attention to Lara. She would be riding in his carriage with no chaperone to attend her. He supposed it mattered little. Lara had already been cut from Society. One more scandal wouldn’t do much damage to her already tattered reputation.

  Repairing matters would not be difficult, assuming Lara would allow him to help. He’d intended to court her in order to remain close while protecting her. The idea may have started as a necessary ruse, but it hadn’t taken him long to change his opinion.

  When he courted her, it would be in earnest.

  He now considered her a necessity to his heart.

  LARA HAD ALWAYS thought of Marcus as a man unto himself, descended from the gods on Mount Olympus. He excelled at everything he did, so it was no surprise to her that he’d quickly moved up the ranks while in the army, rising to the level of general. General Marcus Brayden. It suited him.

  Nor did it surprise her that the Crown had rewarded his service by granting him the earldom of Kinross. He was now Earl of Kinross. Few soldiers had been so highly honored. Of course, Marcus had to be among them. Was there ever any doubt?

  The man was perfection.

  He wore the title as though he’d been born to it.

  Indeed, he was magnificent and she felt like a peahen beside him. And now, because of his doing, they were about to have an audience with Queen Charlotte.

  It had taken Marcus all of two days to accomplish this. Could he save Hugh so easily?

  “Lara, talk to me,” he said softly, interrupting her musings as his sleek carriage rolled through the busy streets of London. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Miracles.” She cast him a wistful smile. “My father insists if you wish hard enough for a miracle, it will come true at Christmas. I don’t believe him. How can I when each passing year has dragged us deeper into despair? Yet, I want to believe. I’m so afraid to get my hopes up and have them crushed again.”

  “I know we still have a lot of work to do. I
t doesn’t mean you can’t rejoice in this first victory. You owe it to yourself, Lara. I hope it will be the first of many to celebrate. Put up your decorations. Be proud of your accomplishments.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We can’t decorate until Christmas eve anyway.”

  He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Since when do you follow tradition?”

  Her eyes lit up as she laughed with genuine cheer. “Never, I suppose. In truth, I’d love to put them up, fill the house with holly boughs, velvet ribbons, and mistletoe.”

  “Give me a week to root out Montvey’s vermin. I’ll help you put up those decorations.” He cast her a surprisingly warm smile. “Especially the mistletoe.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Are you jesting?”

  “About kissing you?” His smile never faltered. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

  She liked the smoldering way he was looking at her, but surely she was mistaken. “Oh, Marcus. Please don’t tease me. My head’s already in a muddle. I’d love for you to kiss me, but I think it would hurt me very much if you didn’t mean it.”

  “Lara…” He leaned forward and took her gloved hands into his own. They were seated opposite each other in his carriage. “Let’s not speak of it now. There’s too much work still to be done. I’m going to go after Montvey’s men hard. They are dangerous. I don’t know what will turn up as I begin kicking over the rocks under which these snakes are hiding. I want you under my protection when this happens, but I don’t want us distracted by whatever it is we may be feeling for each other. These are not nice men and will not be stopped by Miranda spanking them with an iron shovel.”

  She nodded, but cast him an impudent smirk. “Your mother and aunt are quite wonderful. Miranda’s thrashing of Lord Dunning is a moment I shall savor always. I wish my father’s friends had done the same years ago.”

  “So do I, but treason is a serious charge. Whether his friends believed the allegations or not, they dared not risk their own lives or the safety of their families by coming to his defense and being accused themselves.”