The Earl Returns

by Marek, Lillian

  Jolly was even less pleased. Incompetents. His men were nothing but incompetents. It was time to disappear. He would have to try again with better instruments.

  He did not leave quickly enough. His withdrawal was noticed by one of his men, who gave a shout of outrage at the desertion. Merton noticed as well, snatched up the smallest of the attackers, and sent him flying in Jolly’s direction. Man and employer smashed into the wall and slid down it to crumple in a heap.

  Meanwhile, Ashleigh had disarmed the knife wielder with what was a neat bit of swordsmanship if he did say so himself. Disarmed and bleeding, Nicks fled.

  That left only one villain, Tiny, more or less standing. His nose was bleeding, having been on the receiving end of Merton’s head butt, and his shirt had been slashed to tatters by Ashleigh’s blade. He had no wish for any further acquaintance with these gentlemen. He ran.

  Merton and Ashleigh grinned at each other. Few things make a man think better of himself than winning a fight, especially against superior numbers.

  Ashleigh sheathed his sword, dusted himself off, then looked around for his hat. It had rolled away, but had not escaped being crushed under someone’s foot. He picked it up, frowned at it, and tossed it aside with a sigh. Even hatless, he retained an aura of elegance.

  Merton did not. He sported a bruise on his face that would soon turn into a black eye. His coat was torn and spotted. His shirt front was soaked with blood, though not his own. As for his stockings, the less said the better. He had the air of a man who had thoroughly enjoyed himself.

  Ashleigh looked him over. “I do not suppose anyone could have expected you to maintain your earlier elegance, though I did hope it would last until the arrival of your guests. Nor can I admire your technique in dealing with these miscreants. You have no sense of style. One would have thought you had been a street brawler all your life.”

  “One of the many skills learned in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. The denizens of back alleys in cities around the world do not abide by the rules of Gentleman Jackson’s boxing academy. I learned that survival is more important than style.” He surveyed Ashleigh, who appeared barely ruffled by the encounter. “Perhaps I, too, should carry a swordstick to enable me to keep my distance. When did you acquire that habit?”

  Ashleigh shrugged. “I try to be prepared for all eventualities, especially when away from home.”

  They strolled over to the pair lying against the wall who were starting to stir. Ashleigh prodded the small one with the tip of his stick, and the man groaned and flinched. “Repulsive looking creatures. Not, I hope, friends of yours?”

  Merton bent over and seized Jolly by the hair to lift his head. “Never seen him, or any of them, before.”

  “Well, if they are not personal enemies, it seems likely that they are part of your little mystery. Therefore, some conversation seems to be in order.”

  Merton nodded and undid the remains of his cravat. When Ashleigh heaved a long-suffering sigh, Merton pointed out that it was ruined anyway and, at this point, would be more useful for binding their captives. Ashleigh’s sword served to divide it neatly, and once the villains were both bound and restored to consciousness, served also to prod them on their way to the stable behind Merton’s house.

  Once there, it did not require a great deal of persuasion to make their captives chatter away. It appeared that the small man, Alf by name, was terrified of horses, and sufficiently ignorant of them to be unable to tell a placid, elderly cart horse from a high-strung stallion. The merest suggestion that he might be shut into a stall with one was sufficient to prompt a flood of verbiage. Much of this was devoted to apologies and excuses—Alf would never have involved himself in an attack of this sort had he the slightest notion that there would be difficulties—but it eventually became clear that someone had offered Jolly one hundred pounds to remove Merton from this earthly plane should an opportunity to do so arise.

  Jolly himself was a somewhat harder nut to crack, insisting that Alf was daft, and no real harm was intended. Merton would have liked to beat a name out of him, or at least a description of the man who had hired him, but found himself unable to actually strike a man who was bound, not matter what the threat to himself.

  However, the grooms took the threats to Merton amiss. One of them suggested that his lordship and His Grace retire to the house while he discussed matters with Jolly. He hefted a mallet with a smile and commented that, after all, with the bones of his hands and feet smashed, Jolly would be hard put to cause problems for anyone.

  Merton and Ashleigh looked at each other. They shrugged and turned to leave. The groom turned to Jolly and smiled.

  Jolly shouted, “Wait!”

  Merton and Ashleigh paused at the stable door without turning.

  “I don’t know his name. He never said. Never knew mine, neither. Said it was safer.”

  Merton turned back. “In that case, just how were you proposing to collect your fee?”

  “The Black Cat. It’s Stoner’s hell. Stoner introduced us.” Jolly licked his lips and eyed the groom nervously. “Not by name, o’course. But he’d have the money for me once it was known you was…”

  “Quite,” purred Merton. “But perhaps you would be so kind as to describe your client for us, even if you cannot put a name to him.”

  “A nob, he was. The kind with clothes that fit just right and everything clean.”

  “A dandy?” Merton said in surprise.

  “No, not that. But a gentry cove. Older. Pale hair going gray. Kind of slanty cat’s eyes.” He noted Merton’s look of recognition. “You know him?”

  “Oh, yes, I know him.” Merton breathed out the words slowly. “But he seemed the least likely. The gain for him is too indirect.”

  “Perhaps,” said Ashleigh, “but Stoner’s hell? It is hardly the sort of place one goes for an honest game. It is more like the sort of place where a man ends up when he has been cut off at all the more respectable gambling houses. And Stoner would have to know him fairly well to be acting as a go-between. He must have been pretty well done up, in deep enough so any chance would be worth taking.”

  Merton shook his head and turned away.

  “What should we do with these two, then, my lord?” the groom asked.

  “Call the runners and have them locked up. I’ll stop by the magistrate’s office tomorrow to give a statement.” Merton turned to his friend. “Funny. I cannot quite believe it is over.”

  Ashleigh clapped him on the shoulder. “Believe it.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  As it turned out, the Rokebys did arrive before Merton and Ashleigh returned. They were standing in the hall, the ladies doffing pelisses, Rokeby doffing his hat, and all of them being welcomed by Lady Talmadge, when Merton and Ashleigh walked in. Miranda took one look and went flying to Merton, who caught her up in his arms.

  “Tom, what happened? There’s blood—and your poor face!” She was fluttering her hands over him, as if afraid to cause more harm while he was laughing.

  “Not my blood, my love, not mine. It is over. There is no more need to fear.”

  She barely seemed to hear him, as she turned his head for a better look at the bruises on his face. The Rokebys and Lady Talmadge were right behind her, with Caldicott hovering behind them, all making concerned noises.

  Ashleigh cleared his throat.

  No one heard him.

  He cleared his throat more loudly.

  His sister and Rokeby tossed a glance his way but went back to fussing over Merton.

  “He is perfectly all right,” Ashleigh said loudly. That drew some attention, so he continued, “He just looks his usual disreputable self.” Miranda turned to glare at him, so he permitted himself a smile. “And it appears that he is correct when he says it is over. Our villain has been unmasked.”

  Merton was beaming at Miranda. “It was Browne. He hired a few ruffians to attack me, but Ashleigh and I dispatched them, and their leader was persuaded to describe the man who hired them.
It was Browne.”

  “It is truly over? You are safe?” Miranda caressed his cheek.

  “We are safe.” He touched her forehead with his and began sliding his hands up and down on her back. This time, it was Rokeby who cleared his throat loudly.

  Merton pulled back and flushed under the eye of his future father-in-law. “I had best go clean myself up.”

  The evening progressed with joy and gaiety, with only a slight moment of awkwardness when Rokeby refused to use anyone’s title, addressing the duke as Ashleigh, rather than “Your Grace” and putting out a hand to shake rather than bowing. Having been forewarned by Merton, Ashleigh simply shook hands with a smile. Lady Talmadge’s bemusement was slowly turning into delight. They were all still seated at the dining table, nearing the end of what had turned out to be a cheerfully pleasant and friendly meal until Merton had proposed the next day for the wedding.

  “Tomorrow?” said Mrs. Rokeby. “Oh, no. There are far too many preparations to be made. Saturday morning at the earliest.”

  Lady Talmadge beamed at her. “Precisely what I told him,” she said. Mrs. Rokeby turned to her and they exchanged a look of understanding.

  The ladies all stood, and the gentlemen leaped to their feet as well. “Even Saturday gives us only three more days,” explained Mrs. Rokeby kindly. “We cannot waste a minute, so we will withdraw now to make plans. I’m sure you gentlemen have things you need to discuss as well.”

  The men watched their departure in silence. Caldicott reverently placed the port on the table, and the gentlemen slid it along until each had filled his glass. They then sipped appreciatively in continued silence until Rokeby sighed. “I can’t say I know precisely what plans they need to make. I would have thought the only thing needed now that you have the license is a clergyman. However, I know that tone of voice. Mrs. Rokeby does not often insist on something, but when she does, there is no point in arguing.” He considered for a moment. “Besides, when she insists, she has always been right.”

  “There are legal documents to be draw up. Settlements, dowry,” said Ashleigh. “That could be done after the ceremony, of course, but it is as well to have that sort of thing agreed beforehand.”

  Rokeby nodded approvingly, but Merton growled, “I have no need of a dowry.”

  Ashleigh and Rokeby both looked at him pityingly.

  “For a change, try to be sensible, Tom,” said Ashleigh. “We all know you are not going to take your bride’s dowry and fling it away at the gambling tables. However, it can be set aside to provide for her in the case of your death and for any children who do not inherit the entailed estate.”

  “As it should be,” said Rokeby.

  “You also need to make a will.” When Merton looked startled, Ashleigh continued. “I assume you have kept your personal wealth separated from the entail, if only to keep it out of Edgar’s hands. You will now need to make sure it goes to your wife, and any children.”

  “You surprise me, Ashleigh,” said Rokeby. “I had thought practical intelligence had been bred out of the aristocracy.”

  “One does one’s best.” Ashleigh smiled with mock modesty.

  The port was passed once again.

  This time, the silence was interrupted by Miranda, who came hurrying in. “You have to stop them. It keeps growing and growing.”

  The men were still struggling to their feet when Lady Talmadge and Mrs. Rokeby entered.

  “Calm down, Miranda,” said her mother. “We know precisely what we are doing.”

  Lady Talmadge nodded. “Now we have determined a perfectly valid reason for the haste with which this marriage is being celebrated. The Rokebys are planning to return to Boston soon, and Miranda naturally wishes to have them present at her wedding. That would argue for a small ceremony.” She waited for everyone to nod in agreement, and then continued. “However, as an earl, Merton is a person of some importance, and it is best to use this occasion to ease his countess’ entrance into society. Therefore, the wedding breakfast will be held at Ashleigh House. It should not be difficult to gather everyone still left in town. They will come out of curiosity, if nothing else. The Castlereaghs will come, will they not?”

  Mrs. Rokeby nodded. “Oh yes. Emily and I are old friends and have corresponded regularly over the years.”

  “We shall invite the regent as well, though one never knows what he is likely to do. You can leave the arrangements to me. This is one thing I have learned to do.” Lady Talmadge smiled confidently.

  “It is a pity your grandmother cannot be here, but that cannot be helped, I suppose. There will be enough to make clear that this is a marriage that has the support and approval of society,” said Mrs. Rokeby to Merton before she turned to Miranda. “Come along. We will not be able to speak with the dressmaker until tomorrow, but we can begin a list of the things you will need.”

  When the women had left, the men stared after them for a moment and then as one drained their glasses and passed the port again.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Miranda’s dress was a cream muslin with narrow yellow stripes. There was a small ruffle at the bodice and four tiers of ruffles at the skirt, each trimmed with yellow ribbon. The sleeves were long, in a series of puffs ending with a ribbon-trimmed cuff. It was her favorite of the dresses they had ordered before she went to Schotten Hall with the Carrabys, and the dressmaker had no difficulty completing it in time for the wedding. Her fine straw bonnet with the brim turned up was trimmed with cream silk roses and yellow bows, and she wore embroidered yellow slippers, with ribbons wrapped up above her ankles, and cream-colored kid gloves.

  She knew she was looking her best. The mirrors in the hotel had assured her of that. She had arrived at the church with her parents, and she did not think she was frightened or even nervous. But now she stood at the entrance of the church, clutching her father’s arm. She felt suspended in time, as if this were the first truly still moment she had experienced in a week.

  The floor did not seem quite steady under her feet. If she did not know that she never fainted, she might have thought she was about to swoon. She blinked her eyes and she saw Merton, standing at the altar, looking quite unlike himself, brushed and polished to the nines but pale and fidgeting nervously. Then he looked toward the door and met her eyes. The world steadied itself, and she smiled at him. He smiled back. Her father said something—she could not quite make it out—and she began her walk down the aisle, pulling her father with her.

  After that, she saw nothing but Tom. She heard a voice speaking the words of the wedding ceremony, and she heard Tom’s responses and her own, but all of that came from far away. It was not until the words “pronounce you man and wife” pierced her consciousness that she returned entirely to the world. Then Tom, a smiling, gloriously happy Tom, bent down to brush her lips with his. It was all she could do to keep from flinging her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him. It must have shown in her face, because he whispered into her ear, “Soon.”

  The wedding breakfast was nothing short of spectacular. Lady Talmadge must have stripped every florist and hothouse in London of blossoms in cream or yellow, the rooms were so filled with floral decorations. To accommodate the overflow of guests (the formal dining room could seat only seventy), tables were set up in the ballroom, all of them laden with delicacies. Ham as thinly sliced as ever graced a Vauxhall table, baskets of plover eggs kept warm in napkins, bowls of lobster salad and deviled crab, hot rolls, cold rolls, butter and cream, jams and jellies, pastries and bonbons, peaches, plums and grapes, ices from Gunthers, and an enormous wedding cake bursting with candied fruits and covered with a white sugar icing were laid out in profusion. To drink there was a choice of coffee, tea, chocolate or champagne, an endless supply of champagne from the house of Veuve Clicquot.

  And the regent did put in an appearance.

  Miranda’s face had begun to ache from smiling prettily while being introduced to so many strangers. The din of chatter from those who had already
arrived was making it difficult to be sure she heard the names and titles of the newcomers correctly. Suddenly, there was silence, and the sea of guests parted to allow passage of a whale of a man, dressed in a splendiferous uniform of scarlet and green.

  “Well done, Merton, well done,” he boomed. “You have retrieved this pretty little creature from the colonies.” He took Miranda’s hand as she rose from her curtsey and patted it. “And I expect you to make certain that this fellow does not hide you off in the country. I want to see both of you adorning the court.”

  “Your Royal Highness, I will, of course, be obedient to my husband’s wishes,” she said with a smile.

  She ignored Merton’s snort, but the regent did not. He laughed and clapped Merton on the shoulder. “A lively one, is she not? Almost as pretty as her mother, and I remember her when she came out. Elizabeth Saunders, she was, and a rare prize. Drove her parents to distraction, but that American fellow she married seems a match for her. You’ll have your work cut out for you, but I have no doubt the reward will be worth it.”

  After sufficiently effusive expressions of gratitude at the honor done them, Merton and his lady were released and the regent progressed to grant his attentions to others on his way to the dining table. The bridal couple were still feeling overwhelmed when Lady Talmadge came up behind them with her brother in tow.

  “Now, you see, I did not order an excess of food to be served. I can only hope there will be something left over for the other guests,” she said.

  “I know you insisted that he be sent an invitation,” said Ashleigh, “but whatever made you think he would put in an appearance?”

  “La, you never pay attention to any gossip, do you?” She waved her fan but did not really try to hide her smug expression. “I was told by Lady Hertford that not only was the prince intrigued by the tale of Merton’s adventures but the Duke of Clarence was grateful that Tom was willing to settle things without bringing his beloved navy into disgrace.”