The Earl She Left Behind (The Noble Hearts Series; Common Elements #1)

by Anna St. Claire

  * * *

  The road to Harlow’s was quiet, and Max enjoyed the tranquility. The early frost from the night before made the branches and leaves of the trees sparkle, and the rime on the blades of grass shimmered alongside the road in the new light of day. Only the sound of Willow’s hooves striking the hard dirt road disturbed the calmness. His own musings distracted him, and the three hours to Harlow’s estate fairly flew. A drive flanked by open iron gates appended to massive brick posts greeted him.

  He leaned over and gently rubbed his horse’s neck. “Thank you, my friend. I will see you rewarded.” Willow answered him with a slight whinny and a nod; he was almost certain she understood him. An amused smile lit up his face.

  Max knew the way to the stables and took his horse there, handing the reins to the groom. “Ah, Justin.” He dismounted. “Please take good care of her. I promised her some of your excellent oats.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Justin answered, taking Willow’s leads. “She will be ready when you call for her.” He gave a slight bow before turning and guiding Max’s horse to her usual stall toward the back.

  Whistling and suddenly feeling as if a weight had been lifted, Max took the front steps to the white Georgian mansion quickly, surprised to see Harlow’s butler, Fitz, already waiting for him. Being away from his home suddenly felt freeing, and he hoped it would give him a chance to clear his head.

  “Greetings, my lord. I trust your trip was unremarkable this fine morning.”

  “It was pleasant enough.” Max noted Fitz’s loud tone—almost a bellow. Perhaps the man was losing his hearing.

  “Very good, my lord. His lordship awaits you in the study. Please follow me,” the stout, balding man declared piercingly.

  “Thank you, Fitz.” Max followed the butler down the dark-paneled hall to an open doorway, bright from the clear winter day shining in through the windows opposite the entryway.

  “There you are.” He looked in the butler’s direction. “That will be all, Fitz.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The older retainer bowed and closed the doors to the study behind him.

  “I saw you arrive. I have a brandy ready for you. I have asked Cook to serve nuncheon in here. We have a bit to discuss.”

  “I appreciate that. I am indeed hungry.” Max accepted the brandy and sat down in the armchair in front of the stone fireplace. He could always count on Harlow’s hospitality. As a child, he loved coming to Harlow’s. His family treated him as another son, and Harlow treated him as a brother. This was like a second home to Max, and he felt comfortable laying out his vulnerabilities.

  “You received my missive.” It was a statement and not a question. “It has been difficult to have her in my home and not be able to touch her. Her presence was the last thing I thought to entertain when I returned from France.”

  “Yes. Tell me, how is Lady Tipton doing?” Harlow slowly moved his glass about his lips, a habit he was apt to do when he was discussing difficult topics.

  “She has mostly slept, but she seems better. The dog only leaves her side to eat or conduct his own business. I cannot believe she still has that little ragamuffin.” Max chuckled, unable to suppress his amusement. For his size, Shep was fiercely protective.

  “I know that this convalescence was the last thing you expected, but there is much more to her story. There are some things of which I need to apprise you. Dean, my man of business, has been very busy. He is a tremendous source of information.”

  “Yes, he is always well-versed in the latest on-dit. What has he learned?” Max took a slow breath. He could feel his anxiety rising despite the warmth of the brandy. “I thought I had gotten past all of…this.” He waved his left arm about in frustration. “But it is as if it all happened yesterday.”

  “Lord Tipton had a mistress but spent a lot of time in gaming houses of late.” Harlow hesitated and seemed to choose his words. “His proclivities leaned in a rather harsh…cruel direction. More than one house in the East End banned him after he left girls beaten and maimed.”

  “I had heard he was cruel, but he seemed to keep things quiet. His first wife died without issue. And it was a death that was not spoken about except in hushed voices. His marriage to Maggie came out of the blue.”

  “Yes. Her uncle arranged it to cover a gambling debt. It seems Viscount Winters also has a reputation for the gambling houses. At the moment, he seems to have a rather large debt. There are many outstanding vowels.” He hesitated for a moment. “Max, there is more.”

  Max took a large drag of his drink and closed his eyes. He knew there was a lot to the story. Now he knew Maggie was hiding from her husband. “You used the past tense when speaking of Tipton.”

  “Yes,” Harlow said. “Her husband is dead. They found him on the ground below his balcony window with this throat cut.”

  Max felt every nerve in his body. “Surely they do not suspect Meg of this? She is not capable.”

  “His throat was slit, and there were signs of a struggle. I do not believe they suspect her yet.”

  “Whom do they suspect? And why did you say yet?”

  Harlow moved to the fireplace. Leaning his head against it, he threw the last dregs of his drink on the fire and watched it flame up. “They do not appear to have anyone in mind, but I believe her uncle is searching for her—or has someone looking for her. A Nash Slade. Bad fellow. Thief, mostly, but they know him in the underworld as a go-to.”

  “She saw him. He was rifling through her father’s office.”

  “Maybe you should start with all you know.” Harlow poured them each another drink.

  Max stood. Suddenly restless, he walked to the window and stared off into the distance. Harlow’s study was paneled with rich wood tones, and the armchairs in front of the massive stone fireplace were covered in a soft brown leather. A family portrait from a picnic years past hung over the fireplace. The whole family seemed to watch over the room. While most might find that odd, Max had always found it comfortable. He looked at the portrait, recalling the day. He had been there when the painter showed up, and Harlow’s family had insisted on his inclusion. Despite his mood, a smile worked its way onto his countenance when he spotted the younger version of himself sitting on the edge of the checkered cloth, enjoying the cheeses and meats that Cook had packed. “Those were good times with your family, Harlow.”

  “Yes.” Harlow rose and studied the portrait for a moment. “But we must talk. From what I have gleaned, Maggie could be in a great deal of danger. Your footmen—they are keeping the property under watch?”

  “What are you not telling me?”

  Harlow met his gaze. “If my guess is correct, her uncle is trying to pin her husband’s death on Maggie to steal Maggie’s inheritance she received from her mother.”

  “Wait. Slow down. How can he pin the death on Meg?”

  “He is spreading word that his niece has been seen passing money to unsavory characters. But I have hired runners, and they are tracking the real killer. Maggie may have had freedom from the man to gain, but Viscount Winters was into the man for a lot of money. What he does not know is that Tipton sold the vowels shortly before his death to pay his own debts. Dean secured the name of the individual who bought them, and the vowels for me—a true stroke of genius, I would say.”

  “Yes. Remind me to reward your man of business.” Max would love to call them due now and watch Winters squirm. “Would you sell them to me?”

  “Are you sure that is wise? I think it would be better if I hold on to them for a bit until we find some holes in this mystery and how we can best use them to our advantage.”

  “Deal. You will not be stuck with them. I promise.”

  “Good. Now, there is one more bit to tell you.” He pointed to the seat, and Max took the chair. “Maggie is an heiress. The house that has been boarded up and all the associated property was not entailed. It was actually her grandmother’s, and she bequeathed the deed to Maggie shortly before her death. Winters—Maggie’s father—t
old Dean about it, who happened to also be the Winters’ man of business. The former Viscount Winters was having his will redrafted and had the deed in his office for safekeeping until he could deliver it to his attorney. Apparently, because of the way Maggie was ‘betrothed,’ they passed no dowry. Her father had that separate within his estate, and as she was his only issue, Winters made Maggie the beneficiary of his accounts. I would wager she does not understand any of this.”

  “Yes, it is not something discussed with daughters. Such a shame.” Max gnashed his teeth at the thought of all she had suffered at the hands of these men.

  “Max,” Harlow gripped his right shoulder. “I believe Maggie is in a great deal of danger. She is an heiress. If she is hanged or imprisoned for her husband’s death, who would question it?”

  Max paled. “We must ride. Grab your things.”

  Chapter 5

  Maggie woke to the sun streaming into the room. Shep noticed she had woken. He moved from his corner of the bed to her face and kissed her on the nose before curling up next to her. A quick knock on the door preceded Gertie, who entered carrying a tray with chocolate and biscuits.

  “Shall I put this on the table, my lady, or would you enjoy having it now?”

  “I am feeling hungry. I think something would soothe my stomach from the empty rumblings.”

  “Ye slept so soundly after the good doctor left yesterday, we did not want to wake you.” The maid hesitated before adding, “I brought a wee bit of food for your pup too. It’s right here, under the small dome.”

  “That is so thoughtful of you. Shep and I ate so sparingly this past week. Ha! He had the cook at my house wrapped around his little paw. She kept food for him from dinners. My husband hates my dog, so my dog stayed out of his way, mostly staying in my room…unless...”

  “’Tis but a small measure of cold meats. I did not mean to remind you of what you have been through. It will upset my mistress. She has barely left your room herself, she has been so worried about you.”

  “No. I am the one who needs to apologize. A proper lady would never speak of her husband thus, no matter…” Her words drifted off as she recalled his leering face. It was as if he was there in front of her. “Fergus is a cruel man. Even his horse dislikes him.”

  “You are safe here. His lordship left strict instructions that we should not upset you. If I have done that, I am rueful.” The maid fussed with the edges of the bed linens, tucking them in. “Is there anything else ye require, milady?”

  A frisson of shock tore through Maggie at having spoken harshly of her husband to the maid. “Wait, Gertie. I apologize. I do not know what came over me. I should not speak so of my husband, but it was as if he was standing in front of me and I just...”

  “It could be the laudanum. They gave you quite a draft of it last evening upon the doctor’s leaving. He wanted ye to rest.”

  “That could be it. It always makes me feel poorly and I lose my better judgement. Honestly, I dislike the stuff.”

  Gertie gave a quick laugh. “I see what my mistress likes about you. You are not unwilling to speak plainly. And ’tis clear you have a big heart.” She nodded in Shep’s direction. “Would you enjoy a bath, milady? I would be happy to have the water fetched. And the tub is just behind the changing screen. A warm soak could be just the thing.”

  “Yes.” Maggie felt better just thinking about a bath. She recalled being cleaned when she got here, but a bath would feel marvelous. “I believe that would make me feel better, Gertie. I will have my chocolate and biscuits before the bath. It was kind of you to bring us something to break our fast.”

  “You are most welcome, milady. I shall alert your lady’s maid that you are getting bathed. She can help you get dressed when you are ready.” She curtsied and left the room.

  Maggie looked over at her little dog curled up next to her and patted his head gently. “I love you, little one. I cannot believe our good fortune.” She sipped her chocolate and reflected. It feels odd being in this house, especially after losing Max. I still love him. Uncle’s dictates ruined my chance for happiness with the man I love. An involuntarily shudder shook her body. I need to keep Fergus from this house. I think I may know a better spot to hide in Father’s house. It was hard to look for Father’s papers without using light. Mother told me where to look, but someone moved everything around. The books at least. She had described a small stack of books with the colors blue and burgundy as bindings. I am not sure what it looks like, but I need to find it. “Don’t worry.” She scratched her dog behind his ears. “When I feel better, we will leave. We can go back to Father’s. We will be all right, I promise.”

  “My dear! How are you?” Lady Worsley briefly tapped the door as she entered carrying a small basket over her arm. “I have some cut flowers. I thought they would cheer you.” She laid the basket on the small side table and took out her garden shears. “And no, you and Shep are not leaving here. Max would not hear of it, and neither will I. Let us not speak of it until we must.” Her voice cheery and her disposition happy, Lady Worsley set about brightening up the room.

  “Lady Worsley, I cannot stay here past when I am well enough to leave.”

  “You may call me Harriett. I think we are past formalities. We are friends—more than friends, I think. You were almost my daughter and a sister to Angela. I think we all understand better what happened to you.”

  “I must apologize. I cannot imagine what you think of me with the horrible things I said of my husband. I should not have spoken so.”

  “Were they true?” Lady Worsley arched a brow.

  “Yes. I would not lie. But still—”

  “Pish! Your husband has much to answer for in his treatment of you,” she said sharply, but then softened her voice. “Your mother would have been horrified. As her very close friend, I cannot feel less.” She paused and looked out the window for a moment. “Maggie, you are a strong young woman, and your loss is keen. But God willing, you will be blessed with more children. My heart grieves the loss you suffered, and the toll it took on you. But think of us as an extension of your dear family.”

  “Thank you, Harriett.” Maggie tried to smile and realized her face was a little numb. She felt around and touched the plaster.

  “Dr. Perth put two stitches there.” The older woman dipped her head, acknowledging the injury. She reached into her pocket. “If you need it, I have the laudanum he prescribed. The cut was deeper than we first believed. I imagine it pains you.”

  “No, I do not deal well with the drug. I imagine things. This morning, my husband’s visage floated in front of me. Gertie is arranging for a bath. If I have help, I think that would be wonderful.”

  “Yes. I have assigned Gertie’s niece Anna to you. She will be here shortly to assist.” Lady Worsley began to arrange the flowers. “I hope you like winter roses. I thought the dried heather would add variety.”

  “Thank you. Once I bathe, would it be permissible to explore the library? I should think a couple of tomes would provide good entertainment. And the window seat might be comfortable to read upon.” Maggie pointed to the ornately carved white window seat with pink velvet cushions.

  “That sounds like an excellent idea, and it will give you a bit of exercise.” The older woman finished arranging the flowers and rang for the housemaid. “They will pick up your dishes. I am sure the water will be up shortly. We have nuncheon in two hours. I think that might have been the last real meal you had yesterday. Please join me in my parlor if you are feeling up to it.” She leaned over, gave Maggie a soft kiss on her head, and left.

  Maggie set the food tray on the floor. “Please do not bother this, Shep. I cannot believe chocolate would be good for you.” She put a napkin over the empty cup and walked hesitantly to the window in her night rail. “I will take you to the garden for a walk shortly. I am quite sure Cabot would not want that duty…” Her voice trailed off as she moved closer to the window. A tall, large man with dark clothes and dark hair stood behind the
rose bush garden, staring up at the house. She moved back, hoping she was not seen.

  She needed to alert someone. Slade had followed her here.

  * * *

  Max felt himself relax the closer he and Harlow got to Hambright Manor. The sun was out, and as winter went, this day was warmer than most—and dry. Surely, that was a good sign. He felt sure that Meg was being cared for. His mother held a soft spot for her and would see to her comfort. Losing Maggie Winters to Lord Tipton had devastated his mother and sister nearly as much as it had him.

  He and Harlow agreed they needed at least one stop along the way. The horses needed rest, food, and water, and the two of them needed to eat and discuss strategy. The two men knew the Red Lion well, and they requested their usual table toward the back corner, away from the direct heat of the brick fireplace and the bar.

  A saucy red-headed waitress flounced their way and greeted their table with a smile and a wink. “Will you be having your usual, my lords? It’s been a while since we ‘ave seen ye here.”

  “Thank you. Yes, Tilly. We were out of the country for a long time, but we are home now.” Harlow met her smile with one of his own. “Include a mug of ale, if you please. And the same for Lord Worsley,” he added.

  “Thank you, Lord Harlow.” She curtsied quickly and scurried back to the kitchen to get their food and drink.

  Worsley nodded and smiled knowingly. “That woman would walk on hot coals for you, Harlow. She wants you!” He leaned over and gave his friend a pat on the back.

  “Please. I am very careful not to lead her on. She tends to a lot of needs here, if you catch my meaning. I never take my amusement in the local pubs.”

  “Yes, that is true. We saw what happened to that kid—Tom Bonner, remember him? He was at Eton with us. They sent home him with the pox. Not something you want to learn about in school.”

  “Agree! I recall the poor chap.” Harlow nodded. “Makes me shudder.”

  “I hope Meg is still resting. She was pretty battered. I cannot see how she could be taken seriously as a suspect. The man was cruel to those around him.”