About an Earl (What Happens in the Ballroom)

by Diana Lloyd

  “Worse,” Oliver said, trying to wash the toast down with a swallow of tea. “Jewel and Elvy are in town.”

  “I thought you were going to put her on a ship and get rid of her.” Shaking his head, Penry reached for a piece of the toast.

  “I was, but it didn’t exactly work out. I was checking out the lead in Cheltenham and she stole my horse. And my clothes.” Oliver swallowed hard, knowing his next sentence would send his brother back into fits of laughter. “Jewel and her maid are wearing my old clothes and going about town as two young men, Jules and Egbert. They’ve rented the coachman’s rooms over a stable on Canary Court. I had to follow.”

  “Oh.” Blinking twice slowly, as if he hadn’t heard correctly, Penry’s mouth fell open. After three seconds of silence, he let out a loud guffaw. “Ha! You had me going for a minute. Seriously, where are they staying?”

  “In a coachman’s rooms over a stable on Canary Court. That’s where I spent the night.”

  “You dog!” Slapping Oliver on the knee, Penry sat back and laughed. “Can’t say I’m surprised. A blind man could see the way you two stared moony-eyed at each other.”

  “I have never in my life been ‘moony-eyed,’ you annoying pile of pestilence.” Nudging Penry with his boot to get him to stop laughing, Oliver tried to make his tone more serious. “I’ve come here to talk to you about our other problems. I think I’ve got it all figured out. Most of it, anyway, and Jewel is going to help.”

  “Keeping the clocks wound, is she?”

  “Your mind is a gutter, brother.” Penry knew him too well. For the sake of Jewel’s reputation, or what was left of it, he’d not confirm his brother’s suspicions. What he’d shared with Jewel last night was too pure to have Penry walk all over it with his brand of humor. Removing the letters from his coat pocket, Oliver laid them on the tea tray. “I need you to stop grinning like a cat and read these letters. We’ll need Bartleby to read through them, too. Dunwoody is our man, I’m sure of it.”

  “And?” Penry took the letters and stared at Oliver expectantly. “You forget how well I know you. There’s something else on your mind, tell me.”

  “Jewel is going to Berkley Square later today. She says Dunwoody’s daughter often spends her mornings there. This cousin might be persuaded to provide more information.”

  “She cannot be traipsing about dressed as a man, and you cannot be sleeping in a stable. This is London! There are lords and ladies all about, and any one of them might know someone on the Committee of Privileges. One wayward word about how the lunatic lord from Winchcombe sleeps in a stable and carouses with women who dress as men and your ship is sunk. And then we’re sunk.”

  “She’ll go as herself. I think. As for the stable, I won’t be staying there again. In fact, I think it best that Jewel and Elvy stay here as well.”

  “I’m not sure that’s any better. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

  “I’ll swing by Berkeley Square to watch over Jewel’s meeting with her cousin. Just in case Dunwoody thinks to throw a sack over her head and hie her off to Scotland. After that, I’ll be meeting Mr. Dobbs at the Pot and Pineapple to hear if there have been any new developments back at the Abbey, and I’ll be delivering these all afternoon.” Pulling the stack of notes from his pocket, he showed them to his brother. “Requests for support from everyone I’ve ever favorably dealt with in the last ten years.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier just to convince her to marry you and use her money to bribe your way out of trouble?”

  “She won’t make a commitment like that until she knows how her father fares.” What he shared with Jewel was too raw and new to share with Penry. Even after last night, Oliver wasn’t certain she’d agree to marriage with the fate of her father unsettled. With her own money she had less need of a male protector.

  “Watch yourself, Oliver.” Penry’s face and voice were tense with concern.

  “Dunwoody wouldn’t dare try anything violent with all of Berkeley Square watching.”

  “I didn’t mean him. Mind your heart, brother.”

  “I intend to.” If only his brother knew that it was already too late for his heart—it had been since the first day he’d met Jewel. Nodding his head, Oliver returned his cup to the tray and shifted in his chair. “Forget my heart, we need to talk about diamonds and history.”

  “I do hope there’s a happy ending.” Penry sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap in rapt attention.

  Quickly as he could, Oliver reiterated the story of the Cheenee Keedalee diamond and the former king’s walking stick. Dunwoody’s connection, he explained, was obvious and yet unproveable without more supporting evidence. Pulling the gem from his pocket, he placed it on his brother’s knee.

  “This?” Penry picked up the jewel. “This is worth forty-five thousand pounds?” Holding it up to the light, Penry frowned. “And why aren’t we just selling it?”

  “Father may have stolen it. He may have held it for ransom from Dunwoody. Do you want to be the one who brings that argument to good King George?”

  “The rumors I hear about Town is that his majesty is off his nut. This war put him over the edge. We can only hope it is resolved quickly.”

  “The war or our problems?”

  “Both, of course.” Penry handed the diamond back, but Oliver waved him off.

  “Have Bartleby put that in safekeeping. I’m not going to ride all over town with a stolen diamond in my pocket.” Reaching into his pocket, Oliver retrieved the letters from Jewel’s uncle. “Take these, too. Read them, have Bartleby read them. There’s a line in there where Dunwoody advises father to ‘not cut the glass to fill all the windowpanes at Winchcombe Abbey.’ He has to be speaking of the diamond—he was begging father not to cut it up and sell it off. We need to have a plan of action.”

  “I’m on it,” Penry said, holding the letters over his heart as a vow.

  Getting lost only once on his way to Berkeley Square, Oliver guided Apollo around the perimeter as he searched for Jewel and her cousin. Spying neither, he pressed a coin into a young boy’s hand in exchange for his promise to mind the horse for half an hour. The front window table at the Pot and Pineapple was open and the perfect place for him to watch over Jewel and meet with Dobbs.

  “Good morning, Dobbs,” Oliver called out when his majordomo walked into the shop.

  “I finished searching every nook and corner of the house, my lord. Didn’t find anything that looked like it might be important. Except these.” Pulling a few slips of scrap paper from his pocket, Dobbs placed them on the table for Oliver to see before sitting down. “The old earl’s receipts, written in his own hand. Had them squirreled away in the oddest places he did, but I found them. They don’t mention Dunwoody specifically but, see here, where this one says D. Woody in the matter of Farmer George’s stone rents.”

  “Stone rents? Sounds like my father’s drunken sense of humor. Let me look at those.” Spreading the scraps out in front on him on the small table at the Pot and Pineapple, Oliver read each one carefully. They weren’t much more than proof of regular payment, the oldest dated five years prior. It was probably too much to hope for Dunwoody’s signature on the notes, but along with the letters, they were suspicious enough to bring to Bartleby.

  “Shall I pull up another chair, my lord?” Dobbs stood and reached for a chair. “I didn’t know your intended planned on joining us today.”

  “My what?” Turning to the window as he spoke, Oliver caught sight of Jewel standing across the street in Berkeley Square. No longer dressed in his old things, she wore a dark gray dress with a light gray shawl pulled around her shoulders. All her dresses were gray to his eyes and yet she never looked drab or dull. She was too full of life for that. And yet, just once, he’d love to see her in all the colors she’d once described to him.

  Heart sinking, the biscuits and tea in his st
omach turning to ash and stone, Oliver forced himself to watch as a man approached her and greeted her warmly. Eldridge. The young buck he’d bashed into at Dunwoody’s ball. If he knew then what he knew now, he’d have knocked him into the potted palm.

  What was she doing meeting her old beau? Motioning Dobbs back to his seat, Oliver couldn’t tear his eyes away. He watched as she smiled and stepped closer to Eldridge.

  And then the man kissed her wrist. Trying to swallow down the murderous rage that filled his heart, Oliver reached for his cup, missed, and spilled tea across the tabletop. While Dobbs scrambled to wipe up the mess, Oliver kept his eyes to the window.

  Jewel and Eldridge were far enough away that he couldn’t possibly hear or even decipher from lip movement what they were saying to each other. She was smiling, but something in her eyes reflected a wariness that made the back of his neck prickle with apprehension. Prepared to dash out and offer his aid at the first sign of trouble, his breath hitched when Eldridge offered her a small box.

  The kiss. The token. Good God, he was witnessing a proposal.

  The only thing that kept him from running outside to flatten the impertinent fop was the threat of Bedlam. A very public show of unfettered anger would help Dunwoody prove madness. Impotent rage was his only recourse, and the realization tasted bitter as he bit his tongue. Forced to be a spectator to his worst nightmare. Fate and timing were on Dunwoody’s side today.

  Blinking hard to reject the anger that threatened to overflow, he took a long cathartic look at the scene before him. To him she’d been an intermezzo much preferred to his dreary reality. Perhaps to her he was nothing more than a scarred but still useful tool that accomplished the task for which it was intended…and nothing more. What transpired between them in the garden was to him of vast importance, but Jewel was under no obligation to feel likewise. She owed him nothing and deserved her happiness.

  So why didn’t she look happy?

  Never taking his eyes from her, he knew without hearing their words that she was suddenly furious with her companion. Didn’t that ignorant pup recognize the fury in her eyes? Why was he still talking? Still curious and now confused, Oliver watched as Jewel threw back her head and laughed while pushing the gift back into Eldridge’s hands. Was the token not to her liking, or was it the proposal that suddenly amused her? Ah, but her laugh appeared to be without cheer.

  Something was wrong. Upsetting a waiter’s tray as he made for the door, he intended to find out what it was. Taking the time only to assure the waiter that the spilled tea would be paid for, Oliver rushed out the door and into the square. If he had a last chance to convince her of his admiration and noble intentions, he was willing to take it.

  “Speak of the devil and he doth appear,” Eldridge said as he stepped into Oliver’s path.

  “Move aside.” Oliver, ever conscious that he must present the appearance of civil sanity in public, resisted the urge to push the smaller man out of his way. “I’ve business to attend to.”

  “If it’s with a certain miss of our mutual acquaintance,” Eldridge said with a smirk, “you’re the last person she wants to be seen speaking to in public. You’re a back-alley sort of nob. We were just now having a laugh over your dog-like devotion. When the fighting is all over, she and I will return to America, have her father released into my custody, and live as favorites of the crown. Rather than endure any more of your intentions, she’ll gladly pay whatever price I demand. And I intend to demand it often enough to keep her too busy for the likes of you.”

  The way Eldridge spoke his last few words with a cocked eyebrow and barely suppressed smile insinuated the physical price Jewel would pay to Eldridge. Having delivered the coup de grace, Eldridge turned and walked away, leaving Oliver staring daggers into his retreating back.

  Twelve hours ago, Jewel had been his body and soul. Now she was accepting another man’s offer of protection. He could imagine the two of them finding his infatuation with Jewel hilarious. A man like him loving a woman like her was no doubt a grand joke. He’d believed her when she turned down his proposal due to concern for her father’s welfare, but that had clearly been a lie.

  She should have gotten on the boat and sailed back to Boston and out of his life.

  Now that was funny. He’d almost given the captain of the Judith a diamond worth ten ships. A gem that had directed him to Dunwoody as the source of all his troubles. He’d almost forfeited everything just to return her to her father because he’d foolishly thought himself in love.

  It would never happen again. Oliver thought again of the sharp blade hidden in his boot. How much satisfaction would be gained from planting that blade deep into the other man’s spine? Would the feeling of triumph last through the rest of his days confined to Bedlam?

  “My lord, do you require assistance?”

  Oliver turned to face a concerned Dobbs. “I was woolgathering, what did you say?”

  “If you don’t mind my saying, you don’t look well. Has London given you a megrim?”

  “London has done nothing to me. I’m just anxious for all these distractions to be gone so I may go about my life and get on with the business of being Winchcombe clear and proper.” A female problem was uncharted territory. If he consulted anyone, it would be Penry, but even that seemed childish at his age.

  “You are Winchcombe. You’ve been Winchcombe since the day your sire crawled into the bottle.”

  “De mortuis nil nisi bonum dicendum est, Mr. Dobbs. My father is dead, buried, mourned, and forgotten. There’s no point to speaking ill of the dead. Soon there will be no reason to ever mention his existence.” At least he hoped so. When the protest was dismissed, the deed disproved, and the gem returned to the Crown, he had no intention of ever sparing a thought to his father again.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord. Am I to stay here in London with you or should I pick up the shipment and make my way back to Winchcombe Abbey?” Bobbing his head in contrition as he spoke, Dobbs kept his eyes to the ground.

  “Shipment?” What fresh slice of hell was this? As if there wasn’t enough going on in his life right now. “I don’t recall a scheduled shipment. What is it?”

  “The Scottish Maiden come all the way from Edinburgh. Lord Graham sent it on a ship.”

  “I forgot about that ridiculous thing. You and the Maiden will need to stay around Town a few more days. I might have need of both of you. Come with me to Bartleby’s.” The idea brought a smile back to his face. It was time for this recluse to make a very grand, very public gesture.

  If it took a cruel, beastly act to set everything back to rights, he was just the beast to do it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Let’s get out of here,” Jewel said as she climbed up to the seat, her face red from indignation and running. “I want to be far away from him and this place.”

  “Him who? I thought you were meeting your cousin, Edwina.”

  “Someone came in her place.” Handing the reins to Elvy, Jewel took a moment to swipe the tears from her eyes. “Will you drive?”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Elvy accepted the reins timidly.

  “You do know how to drive a gig, don’t you?” It had only now occurred to her that Elvy might not be able to navigate a carriage through the busy streets of Town.

  “Of course,” she said, snapping the reins to ease Pickle and Pepper out into the road. “I’m just not sure where it is you want to go. Back to the stables on Canary Court or back to Winchcombe Abbey?”

  “Neither.” With one last sniff to banish her tears, Jewel made up her mind. “I need a man of the law. Oliver mentioned a lawyer. What was his name? I know I’ve heard it. I just can’t think clearly right now.”

  “I’ll have a look out for lawyer shingles along the street and see if a name jogs your memory. Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me what happened back there in the square. Did your uncle show up?”
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  “No. Worse,” Jewel replied glumly.

  “Who could be worse than your uncle?”

  “Eldridge Ashworth.” His name was now a curse; even saying it aloud left a bad taste in her mouth. “He somehow got Edwina to confess she was meeting me. He’s sly that way; he’d convince milkmaids that the moon was made of farmer’s cheese.”

  “A silken-tongued devil?”

  “He was short of silk today.” Clasping her hands in her lap to stop them from shaking, Jewel considered how best to relate the daylight nightmare that she’d just endured. “He was pleasant at first. For a few minutes it felt good to see someone from home. Someone who had been a friend.”

  “I suspect he didn’t stay that way.”

  “How did I ever think to love him? However did I convince myself that he loved me?”

  “Youth?”

  “Not entirely. I was such a fool to think he’d help me now. I even wrote a note and had Oliver send it to him. Eldridge used my note to trick Edwina into letting him come in her place. It’s all my fault.”

  “Get to the part that’s his fault. I’m dying to know what happened.”

  “He used such pretty words, I thought he was proposing. A few months ago that was my fondest wish.”

  “My goodness, but you get betrothed an awful lot for someone new to these parts.”

  “He didn’t propose! It wasn’t real. Neither is the other one if you think about it. I made that one up on the spot just to help Oliver.”

  “And?” Elvy stopped the carriage in the middle of the road and gave her an exasperated look. “What happened?”

  “He smiled ever so sweetly and presented a gold and ruby brooch. I thought he was making an offer of marriage and was already constructing a polite refusal in my head when he explained that he wanted me for his mistress.”

  “Did you stab him?” As traffic began to queue up behind them, Elvy gave the reins a flick and the horses lurched forward. “Is that why you need a lawyer?”