Romancing the Earl

by Darcy Burke

  Mother shook her head. “No, he didn’t bring anything like that. Is that why you’re here? You’re looking for some tapestry? I suppose just paying your mother a visit didn’t occur to you.”

  Elijah stared at her, dumbfounded she would say such a thing. “Are you going to pretend we have that sort of relationship?”

  Her answering look was cool. “That was a long time ago, Elijah. I expected the army to have eased your frustration.”

  “It did.” But he’d never forget the way she’d abused—not physically, but with words and demeanor—him and his father. She’d hated everything Jerome Hollister had done—the way he’d dressed, the manner in which he’d eaten, the amount of time he’d spent with his horses. That Elijah had taken after him, particularly in his love of animals, had ensured she’d all but hated him too. “Do I not seem changed to you?”

  She perused him at great length. “Yes, you do. You’re quite handsome, more so than I would’ve thought.”

  The backhanded compliment didn’t surprise him, but the fact that she’d given him a compliment at all did. It also wasn’t shocking that she noted only his physical appearance. He didn’t expect her to glean a sense of how he’d matured, not within the span of brief minutes since she’d come downstairs, but even if he spent a fortnight in her company, he doubted she would. However, now that he was the earl, perhaps she would treat him differently—maybe try to acquaint herself with the son she’d always disdained. But he didn’t want that. He was content with their mutual disregard.

  “Back to my reason for being here,” he said, avoiding her gaze as much as possible. “What was the purpose of Matthew’s visit?”

  “Purpose?” She cocked her head to the side as if she were an exotic bird, many of which he’d seen firsthand in Australia. “He came to see me. He was a good son.” She sniffed.

  It seemed Matthew hadn’t told her anything about the tapestry. That in itself was curious, since he’d been an overly effusive fellow. If he’d been excited about the prospect of a treasure map, he would have found it difficult to contain his enthusiasm, especially from their mother. That he did spoke volumes about his desire to keep the map secret from those who were desperate to obtain it, perhaps by any means necessary.

  “You mentioned his valet. He accompanied Matthew?” he asked.

  “Of course.” Her mouth puckered. “This is an awfully strange visit, Elijah.”

  Would she not call him Norris? He would’ve thought his title would be too alluring for her to resist. But maybe she couldn’t quite accept him as the earl. It was far more than she ever would’ve expected for him. She’d been shocked enough when he’d found success in the army.

  He knew the precise way to gain her assistance, if not her interest, which he’d prefer to do without anyway. “I’m troubled by Matthew’s death,” he said, waiting for her reaction. She leaned forward slightly, suddenly engaged in a way she’d hadn’t been since entering the room. “Someone tried to buy this tapestry from him. It’s very valuable. After he declined their offer, someone tried to steal it. He then hid it, and I wondered if it might be here.”

  Her manicured hand fluttered to her chest. “What are you saying, that Matthew was involved in something dark? Because I don’t believe it.”

  Elijah worked to retain his patience. “No, I’m not saying that. I merely want to find this tapestry before someone else does. It occurred to me that his death might not have been an accident.”

  Mother’s sharp intake of breath filled the room. “You don’t think he was killed?”

  “I’m not certain. The circumstances are somewhat suspicious. Right now, I’m merely trying to gather as much information as possible.”

  She put her fingers to her lips and looked up at the portrait again. When she turned her attention back to Elijah, her mouth was tight, the flesh around her lips pale. She clasped her hands in her lap. “Shortly after . . . he died, there was a robbery here.”

  Elijah sat forward, anticipation coursing through him. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

  “There isn’t much to tell. It happened while everyone was out, save the cook. She didn’t hear a thing, but Denkins found several pieces of silver missing.”

  Elijah frowned. “How do you know it wasn’t one of your retainers?”

  Her gaze turned positively frigid. “Because I do. Denkins also found a broken vase in my upstairs sitting room, and the carpet near the back door was wet—it was drizzling that day—and no member of the household had used it.”

  “Did you report the theft to the authorities?”

  She gave him a supercilious glare. “Of course I did. They determined that it was simply a burglary.”

  “Were there any other thefts in the vicinity?”

  “No, I recall the constable saying there weren’t.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was something. Elijah felt certain it was related to the tapestry. The theft of the silver was puzzling, however; why take that if you were searching for a treasure map? Unless you wanted to cover up what you were really looking for. Ice pricked his spine. He was growing more and more unsettled by the entire bizarre affair.

  “Do you think the robbery was somehow related to Matthew’s death?” she asked. “How can that be possible?”

  He didn’t want to share more with her. The less she knew, the better, and not only because he didn’t wish to prolong this interview. However, he was still no closer to finding the tapestry. If the villains—and he was beginning to think of them as such—hadn’t found the map here, did that mean Matthew had hidden it elsewhere? Or did it mean they simply hadn’t found it and it was perhaps still somewhere in the house? And if it wasn’t here, Elijah was no closer to where it could be. “You haven’t suffered any other intrusions since then?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” Her face bore more lines since he’d last seen her, and now they deepened with alarm. “You don’t think someone has come into the house on more than that occasion?”

  “Don’t concern yourself over it.” For more than a year, she’d been safe, and he had no reason to expect circumstances would change. “If you think of anything else, will you let me know?”

  “I suppose.” She sounded resigned and a little bit callous. But then, she usually did, in his experience. “I’m afraid I must return to my chamber.”

  As she stood, he leapt to his feet, eager to be on his way, but disappointed that he was no closer to finding the tapestry. However, there was still the issue of Matthew’s valet. “You said Matthew’s valet was with him. Did they leave together?”

  “How odd that you should ask. In fact, they did not. They arrived on a Tuesday and his valet left Wednesday morning. Matthew stayed until Thursday.” Her features softened. “I remember the days because he accompanied me to the Assembly Rooms where I play cards with my friends on Wednesday evenings.”

  They’d left separately. At last, a kernel of helpful information. “Do you know why his valet left alone? Or where he went?”

  “I do not. But perhaps Denkins might recall something.” She smoothed her hand over her hip. “I’m afraid I really must return upstairs. If you’d like to call at a more respectable hour, I’ll receive you.” How kind. “Or perhaps I’ll see you at the Assembly Rooms this evening.”

  “Thank you. I’ll consider it.” Like bloody hell. This short engagement was about all he could endure, and he was quite ready for another seven- or eight-year separation. At the very least.

  For the first time she looked at him with something akin to interest. “I’m sure you’ll be an excellent earl. Your father always thought very highly of you. He’d be very proud to see how you comported yourself as an officer.” No mention of how she felt, but he supposed this was as close as she’d ever come to praising him.

  With a gentle nod, she moved past him.

  Elijah cleared his throat. “I’m sorry Matthew died. I would’ve preferred for things to remain as they were.”

  She turned to look at him. “You we
re happy across the world?”

  He thought of his simple life in Australia—his small house, his horse, his mistress. “I was.”

  She said nothing, just blinked at him and left.

  Elijah wondered if Denkins would return or if he’d have to go in search of the butler. After a moment, he went toward the door, but then Denkins appeared.

  “Mrs. Hollister said you wished to speak with me.”

  “Yes. When my brother visited, he brought his valet, a chap called Mason. Do you recall why he left before Matthew?”

  “Let me think, my lord.” Denkins stared at the window while he pondered. “It was some sort of errand, but I don’t know the details. His lordship put him on a post chaise to Worcester.”

  Worcester . . . They’d grown up near there . . . A thought sparked in Elijah’s mind. Could Mason have taken the map and hidden it? Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  Elijah was more keen than ever to speak with Mason. Bradford on Avon was a short ride southeast of Bath. Finding Mason there would be a boon, but Elijah doubted he’d be that lucky. At best, he hoped to speak with Mason’s family and hopefully run the valet to ground.

  “Thank you, Denkins, you’ve been most helpful.” Plucking his hat from the settee, he dashed from the house. And stopped short at the sight of Miss Bowen and her ever-present companion awaiting him on the sidewalk.

  Cate tensed as she watched Norris come toward them. She couldn’t exactly read his tight expression, but he looked somewhat anxious. Like as not, he was annoyed to find her and Grey waiting for him. She summoned her most charming smile in an attempt to soothe any discontent. “Good morning, Lord Norris. Did you receive my note?”

  He stopped, eyeing them deliberately. “Yes. I’ve been busy. Come, let us not stand in front of my mother’s house.” He said this with such distaste that Cate assumed he was even more irritated by her arrival than she’d thought.

  “Shall we take a walk?” Cate suggested.

  Norris glanced up at the steel-gray sky. “It’s going to rain.”

  “Not for a bit.” Cate had spent enough time outside to anticipate the weather with a good amount of accuracy.

  “A short one around the block,” Norris said. “I’ve things to do.”

  She cast him an inquisitive look as they started out along the sidewalk. “Things you plan to tell me about?”

  Grey followed behind them, close enough to probably hear most of what they said. If not, Cate would fill her in later.

  Realizing he didn’t mean to answer her question, which she took as an answer—no—she attempted a hopefully informative conversation. “How was your visit with your mother?”

  He spared her a brief glance. “Blessedly short.”

  “That’s all? Have you nothing else to share?”

  He looked over at her as they strolled. “What about you, Miss Bowen? What have you to share?”

  She wished he wasn’t so irritable. “Nothing yet, but then I didn’t just come from an interview that may have yielded information about our objectives.”

  They’d reached the end of the street and the river. He paused and turned to face her. “And just what are ‘our’ objectives?”

  She stopped with him and pivoted so she could look him in the eye. “You wish to determine the circumstances of your brother’s death, and I wish to find the tapestry.”

  “I also wish to find the tapestry.”

  Did that mean he wouldn’t allow her to buy it? She pretended to be obtuse. “So you can sell it to me.”

  His mouth flattened into a grim line. “That remains to be seen.”

  Frustration eroded her attempt to remain pleasant. She’d been foolish to think they were perhaps working together with common interests. “I don’t appreciate your tone or demeanor this morning. I’ve done nothing to warrant your disdain.”

  “Am I being disdainful?” He looked beyond her for a moment, then exhaled. “My apologies. Visiting my mother is a stressful occasion.”

  She felt instantly contrite.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She loved her parents more than anything and couldn’t imagine having a cool relationship, as it seemed he did with his mother. This made her unaccountably sad for him. “Why is it stressful?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “It . . . it just is.”

  She touched the sleeve of his coat. “I should be happy to listen. Perhaps that will ease your stress.” She curved her lips into a gentle smile.

  He stared at her as if he couldn’t quite make sense of her offer. “I . . . thank you. I’d rather not speak of her, if you don’t mind. Let us focus our energies on things that matter.”

  His mother didn’t matter? Her heart ached for him and whatever had caused such cold feelings toward the woman who’d raised him.

  She didn’t wish to make him uncomfortable and so she dropped the topic of conversation—for now. She made a mental note to pursue it at a later date. She always felt better after unburdening herself to her friends. He would undoubtedly feel the same. “I’ve arranged for us to visit Septon House today. As it happens, Septon is hosting a gathering at present, not quite a country-house party, since the focus is on the discussion of antiquities, but there will be typical amusements such as picnics and dancing. We shall have ample time to speak with him about the men who visited your brother.”

  His brow furrowed. “I’m not entirely sure I wish to do that. I’m afraid I don’t trust anyone at the moment. The situation has become a bit more complicated.”

  Had he learned something new? “Because of your meeting with your mother? I do hope you’ll share what you discovered. You can trust me. We want the same things.”

  His gaze was skeptical, as it often was. “I’m not certain we do.”

  “We do,” she said firmly. “I want to identify the men who sought to purchase the tapestry as much as you do. I need to know who else is aware of this map and the fact that it leads to Dyrnwyn. I’d also like to know if there is danger. No, I need to know that too.”

  He exhaled as he turned and retraced their path. “There was a robbery at my mother’s house after Matthew died. Some silver went missing, but I don’t think that’s what they were looking for.”

  “You think they were after the tapestry.” Alarm spread through her, tightening her frame. “Did they find it?”

  “It’s impossible to know, unfortunately. I do, however, plan to make another inquiry this afternoon.”

  He did? “Where?”

  He cocked a brow at her. “I do not recall that we agreed to share every bit of information with each other.” He continued toward where her coach was parked, just beyond his mother’s house. “I believe I felt a raindrop.”

  A fat droplet landed on Cate’s arm. “Perhaps Grey and I will follow you on your errand this afternoon.”

  “You would, wouldn’t you?” He seemed to have lost a bit of his irritability as they lapsed back into their habit of provoking each other. “Very well. Wade and I will be journeying to Bradford on Avon to speak with the family of Matthew’s former valet. I believe he might know something about the tapestry, if not its location.”

  Cate was relieved to hear the trail wasn’t completely lost. “We’ll accompany you.”

  “I didn’t offer an invitation. Wade and I will conduct the inquiry on our own, and I promise to share the results with you when we reach Septon House.”

  She preferred to go with him, but she wouldn’t press the matter, not in his current agitated state. Perhaps she and Grey would stop in Bradford on Avon on their way to Septon House. They might become thirsty after all . . . “Thank you. Who’s Wade?”

  “My valet.” He glanced back at Grey walking behind them. “Think of him as my version of Grey, minus the chaperone part.”

  They’d arrived at Cate’s coach. The drops began to fall more frequently, but it still wasn’t full-out rain yet. Cate’s footman opened the carriage door.

  Norris looked at Cate. “I’ll see you at Septon House later, th
en, and we’ll continue our investigation.”

  He’d said our. Maybe they were working together after all.

  Cate blinked against the rain. “Are we a team, then?”

  He looked at her, and the heat of his blue-gray gaze warmed her. He was familiar now, not quite a friend, but something more than a mere acquaintance. “You aren’t going to leave me alone until you obtain that map.”

  It was a statement of absolute certainty. He sounded as if he appreciated her tenacity, which only heated her further. Something pushed her to move just a hairsbreadth closer. “Do you want me to?”

  His nostrils flared slightly, but it was his only visible reaction. The other response was his delayed exhalation, as if his breath had just caught. “I haven’t decided. I’m concerned about the well-being of anyone in pursuit of this tapestry.”

  “Yet another reason for us to band together.” A huge raindrop splashed against her nose as she looked up at him.

  “You should go,” he said, reaching out to swipe the moisture from her face. Though his gloves kept the touch from being flesh to flesh, it still felt intimate.

  Quickly, before she could think too long about her reaction, she climbed into the coach, swiftly followed by Grey. “See you this evening.”

  The footman closed the door and the rain began to fall in earnest, hitting the roof of the vehicle with a steady pit-a-pat. Cate caught sight of Norris jogging back to his own coach, which waited in front of his mother’s house. She settled back against the seat as they moved forward.

  “You looked friendly with him.” Grey’s voice was carefully monotone.

  Cate glanced at her and made a noncommittal noise.

  “You like him,” Grey said.

  “I need him. There’s a difference.”

  “The last time I saw you behave in this manner was with Iscove.”

  Cate scowled. “Don’t say his name.” He’d been a fortune hunter, not that she’d known it straightaway. She’d been taken in by his silver tongue and gilded looks. He’d encouraged her antiquarian activities and hadn’t cared that she was a woman. In fact, that had inspired and attracted him—or so he’d said. Cate had been utterly foolish to fall for him, even for a short time.