Until now.
Sam had seen the storm that rose in Nash’s eyes, and had feared what he would do. She hadn’t wanted to leave him, when he’d put her in the carriage. She could sense his anger and had never wanted to soothe a man more. She’d also seen his pain, as he stared at Lady Brandell. His eyes were like open wounds, baring all he felt, and she’d known Lady Brandell had been touched by it in a great manner. She hadn’t stopped talking about him for the last two days, repeatedly asking Sam if he were visiting, as though Sam would know.
She’d missed him, as well. A stranger she hardly knew, was now a constant presence in her mind. And in her dreams, occasionally. She still wrestled with the thought of pursuing Lord Selby. If she allowed herself to go where her heart was leading, it would mean being cut off from her father, both monetarily and physically. He’d never speak to her again, especially knowing she’d chosen a boxer instead of a lord.
But those thoughts were all premature. She only wanted to see him.
And stay far away from Lord Brandell.
“Lady Samantha.” Then he turned to speak to his man, Mr. Jeb Reed, the secretary who Samantha had been told had been in Lord Brandell’s service for over thirty years. Reed may have been outranked by everyone in the room, but he was the oldest person present. Sam didn’t know his true age, guessing him to be near his seventieth year, but his dark eyes seemed ageless and knowing. His height was hard to know. He leaned forward with the aid of a cane, yet that in no way made him inefficient. Sam had seen him use it quite quickly, when he was sent on an errand. He rarely spoke, only when necessary. Usually he allowed Brandell to do most of the speaking for him.
What control did Brandell have over Mr. Reed, she’d grown to wonder? She’d also wondered if it was safe for her to remain in the house, but couldn’t imagine leaving Lady Brandell alone. She only hoped that Nash found a way to bring both men down, when he found Lord Selby.
She turned away from Lord Brandell and his assistant. Yet, even as the men spoke, the earl’s gaze followed her as she went to sit next to Lady Brandell.
An unpleasant shiver went through her as she settled next to her lady.
The dowager was by the window, staring out blindly, which was something she did often. She always retreated into her head and could become so enthralled with her own thoughts, that she often hushed Samantha into silence. Sam wondered just what could be taking place in that head of hers. Was she reliving good days? Bad ones? Thinking of another life entirely?
This family was an odd bunch, different in every way from one another. Karl was insane. Jolan, indifferent. The earl, inscrutable and the dowager, insipid… or at least she had been, until this matter with Lady Selby had begun.
Sam and the dowager now spoke more often than ever, and Sam found she enjoyed when Lady Brandell shared a tale or two from her past. They’d also discussed Nash. Lady Brandell was surprised that he used his left hand and had a distaste for concerts as she, herself, did. Sam had laughed, recalling just a few days ago when she’d had to beg Lady Brandell to show mercy on the man who had pledged to aid them. In the hopes of encouraging Lady Brandell to be kind, she’d shared Nash’s sincere concern… but what she’d not told Nash was that she’d said a little more. She’d mentioned that he’d never had a mother, telling Lady Brandell he’d been orphaned long before he’d made the announcement to her, himself. She’d also thought he could possibly use a woman’s kindness. Sam wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, but it had gained the dowager’s attention and though she’d not shared how it had made her feel, she said she would strive to be more agreeable.
But she’d surpassed agreeable, it seemed.
She’d released a sigh of relief after their discussion. She’d been so very lost as to how she’d help Lady Brandell, but it seemed Nash’s presence was working more than she’d thought it could, making the woman a little less alone than before.
Nash.
Though she’d never say it aloud, she thought that more fitting than his common last name, for there was nothing common about him, at all. She’d read all the stories about the Viscount of Eastridge, and Nash’s sisters. In the country, such news had kept her, and her friends, entertained for months.
Lady Brandell stood, her gaze becoming alert.
Samantha looked outside and saw the figure in the dark cut a path toward the front door. Nash came into the lamplight.
They all heard the door open.
Footsteps announced his arrival before the butler did.
Nash was introduced by Lord Karl to Lord Brandell and his brother, Jolan. Something flickered in Nash’s eyes, but was gone instantly, though his moves became more rigid.
Sam knew it to be anger, but he hid it well.
“And you know my aunt, Lady Brandell, of course,” Karl said. “How heroic that you wish to find her stolen reticule.” Was that sarcasm in his voice? “And here is Lady Samantha, again.”
“My lady.” Nash’s gaze slowly caressed her before he turned to Lady Brandell. “Lady Brandell.” To her, he offered a small smile.
Lady Brandell blinked and then returned the grin, seeming more alive than ever. “Mr. Smith.”
The next man he met was Mr. Reed.
Nash’s kind expression remained as he stared into Mr. Reed’s eyes.
The final members of the party arrived just after that. Lady Selby, and her cousin Mr. Ogden. It had not surprised Sam that Mr. Ogden had been invited by Lord Brandell, now that Sam knew what the man was capable of. How she would manage to keep her meal down, was beyond her.
Once everyone was introduced, the party went to the dining room, and Nash was at the very end of the table, next to Samantha.
Karl carried most of the conversation near his father at the other end, filling everyone in on the latest gossip, even indulging his father in a discussion on politics. That was Karl. Sam had yet to see him in a crowd he couldn’t fit into.
Mr. Ogden clung to Karl’s every word, but Lord Brandell’s mind seemed occupied, as did Mr. Reed’s.
Sam cleared her throat and reached for her wine.
“What?” Nash suddenly turned to her.
She lifted her brows, startled. “I didn’t say anything.” She kept her voice low enough that no one would hear them, but with Karl’s boisterous baritone and need for attention it was easy for them to not be heard.
He relaxed, his blue gaze was easy, and remained on her as he spoke. His voice came at a low tone also. “I didn’t have the chance to tell you how grateful I was to you.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For speaking to Lady Brandell on my behalf.” There seemed a world of emotions in his gaze, but he blinked it away and covered it all with a grin. His grin reminded her of Karl somewhat, like a mask that was put on the for the amusement of others… or to hide his true feelings.
Before she could stop herself, she reached out and clasped his hand under the table. “I believe your kindness to Lady Brandell has done more good than anything I could have said to her. I should be thanking you.”
His smile grew less tense as it became genuine. “Why would you thank me for something like that?”
“Because I care for her,” she said, stating the obvious. “And you do as well, don’t you?”
He stilled, then nodded. His hold on her hand tightened. “Yes, I do care for her.”
She smiled, but it wavered at his intense gaze. It seemed words were going unspoken that made Sam’s heart race. Was it possible he cared for her, as well?
She loosened her hold on him just as he tightened their fingers together. This man she’d told herself to stay away from, was drawing her in, more than any other man before him. She wanted to think her attraction rested with the fact that he’d saved her life, but she knew it to be more. So much more. Like the way he was looking at her now, his bold gaze like a graze against her face, stopping at her mouth. He had no manners, the rogue! He was making it very clear what he thought of her, to anyone who cared to see.
Karl called to him, and thankfully Nash’s back was to him, keeping the smothering look on his face hidden. “How old are you, Mr. Smith?”
Nash turned to him, his face changing to a simply pleasant expression. Yet Sam had no such expression for the host. She glared down at the table at Karl. How dare he ask Nash such a thing? It was unlikely an orphan would know his true age. Young children could easily be mistaken for either being older or younger than they truly were, and orphans were usually abandoned without papers, or the knowledge to prove otherwise.
There were so many things she’d never know about this man. His age. His parents. Did any of it matter?
“I’m twenty-nine,” Nash shared.
Sam straightened.
Karl lifted his brows. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he murmured. “There were records that stated so, at Best Home.”
Karl leaned forward. “What did the records say?”
Nash actually laughed. “Well, I’ve never seen them myself, but from what I was told… I was brought to Best Home in June of 1788, just days after I was born, apparently. That’s how small I was.”
Lady Brandell gasped, but it wasn’t loud enough to gain anyone’s attention… but Sam’s.
“By who?” Lady Selby asked, unable to hold in her own curiosity.
“I don’t know,” Nash told her. “By a servant of some sort, but the details elude me… at the moment.”
“I find your life quite fascinating,” Karl went on. “After you left the other day, I went in search for what I could find about you.” He grinned, holding Nash’s gaze.
Neither man wavered.
Sam looked between them and wondered what Karl had discovered about Nash, desperately wanting to know, herself, hoping he’d not discovered what Nash was up to, where Lord Selby was concerned.
The dowager was staring at Nash, but Sam couldn’t read the woman’s expression.
Lord Brandell was speaking with his secretary, but Mr. Reed had stopped listening, for he was staring at Nash, and had gone white.
Lord Brandell looked Nash over before turning to Karl. “What did you discover about Mr. Smith?”
“Nothing, really,” his eldest son drawled. “But I did hear that Mr. Smith saved Lord Manas McKay’s life.”
“His Grace, the Duke of Iverstone’s son?” Lord Brandell seemed intrigued. “You’re acquainted with the family?”
“Very much so.” Nash said with a touch of steel.
“That is a powerful friend to have,” Mr. Ogden said accusingly.
Their host chuckled. “Oh, he’s acquainted with and now somewhat related to many powerful families.” Karl turned to his father again. “He’s one of those orphan Smiths,” he told his father. “You know, that family in the papers that’s been collecting titles like priceless artifacts.”
Lady Brandell’s voice was barely audible, but Sam was sure everyone heard her when she said, “My son would be twenty-nine… had he lived.”
Sam was surprised. It was the first time she recalled the dowager speaking about her son in public, and from Lady Selby’s expression, she was amazed as well. Then she grabbed Lady Brandell’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Nash told the dowager.
She looked up and nodded at him before looking away.
Mr. Reed had regained his color but continued to stare at Nash… as did Lord Brandell.
Mr. Ogden, who seemed oblivious to the conversation turned to Nash. “Three of your siblings claim themselves related to a peer. Have you ever suspected yourself of the same?”
Sam thought that a silly question, but as they all waited for a response, she noticed Lord Brandell’s gaze narrow on Nash.
Nash was swirling his wine as he stared at the earl, and then he took a sip before he said, “Who truly knows? I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what the papers say.” The words were calm, but sitting at his side, Sam could see his other hand, the one she wasn’t holding, balled into a fist at his side.
Karl laughed, making her jump from her thoughts as he turned to Nash. “You know, my father is a member of the BBC. He’s thoroughly against the rise of the commoner.” He tapped his chin consideringly, and then turned to Jolan. “Make note of that. The Rise of the Commoner. I believe I should write a book, or perhaps another play.” He’d written plays before, and Sam thought they’d been very good.
But that title was horrible and obscene. “Lord Brandell,” Sam called. “What was the name of that bill you were speaking about at breakfast this morning?” It was the only way to steer the conversation away from Nash and gain Lord Brandell’s attention… which had found itself stuck on Nash. Even Mr. Reed was now staring at Nash, outright. Ogden seemed just as confused as Sam felt. Whatever was happening at the table seemed bad.
The rest of the evening was less awkward, and Sam was more than thankful when the meal came to an end.
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13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
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Nash grew anxious as the men were shown into the parlor, and the women taken to the sitting room. Different conclusions to the evening began to run through his mind. He hadn’t thought to expose himself so quickly, at least not all at once, but Karl’s line of questions had laid the stage for what Chris’s plan had been. Nash was to create enough fear and suspicion for Lord Brandell and Mr. Reed to make a move. He needed Mr. Reed and Lord Brandell to confess to their crimes and when they did, Nash would need witnesses.
A dinner in Lord Brandell’s house was the worst place for that. Here, his uncle held all the power. He could convince his family to keep silent on the matter and do away with Nash in a way that looked ‘accidental’ to the ton once more.
Reuben had told him the mission would be dangerous.
The men stepped into the parlor, and already, a footman held a tray of glasses for each man. Nash was thankful that that, since it would mean that Brandell couldn’t poison him.
“You may go,” Brandell told the servant and closed the door once he was gone.
Nash took a seat in the corner of the room. That way, he could keep his eyes on everyone without fearing someone would sneak up on him. Also, there was a window at his side. The glass was open to let in the summer night air, perfect if he needed to make a quick escape.
Karl sat with his brother Jolan. The younger one finally looked alert for the first time that evening, watching with something close to fear, as his father began to pace. Karl’s expression mirrored Nash’s. Blank, but watchful. What did Karl know was the real question, or rather, how much did he know? Nash already suspected that his cousin had heard about his time in Newgate, for anyone who knew Nash’s connection to Iverstone, knew how that connection had come about. He was surprised when Karl didn’t make mention of it at dinner. He seemed the sort that would, and yet he hadn’t, holding back the information that would truly have ruined the evening. Nash didn’t need his mother or Sam to know about the mistake in his past. Not yet. He would tell them eventually, but not now.
When his mother had mentioned his death, he’d wanted to ask her how it had happened. He’d wanted to hold her and tell her the truth, and was suddenly convinced that he should. It seemed wrong to allow her to continue to think him gone. Yet he was a man who’d gone to prison for murder; and didn’t want his mother to suffer further from that sort of news. She was likely better off thinking her innocent babe dead; than to know what awful sort he’d become.
Mr. Reed had chosen the chair closest to Nash, and though he didn’t stare outright, Nash felt his gaze on him, likely looking for similarities between Nash and the rest of the Wolfgang men in the room. How did Reed feel, knowing he’d let Nash live? Foolish, probably, likely regretting that he’d not killed Nash as he’d done Lord B
randell’s wife, or Nash’s father… or even Lord Selby, who Nash was nearly sure was dead.
Brandell had been speaking to Mr. Ogden about nothing in particular, before he turned to Nash. In the dim lighting of the parlor, Nash could still make out the man’s dark eyes. “You said a servant left you at Best Home. Do you know if they were a male or female? Old? Young?”
Once Upon an Earl_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book Page 10
