About an Earl (What Happens in the Ballroom)

by Diana Lloyd

  “She broke into Dunwoody’s office and stole it.” Oliver delivered this bit of news with as little emotion as possible. Her actions had been dangerous, brash, and foolish. And yet they’d produced quick results.

  “Dear God, Oliver, did you assist her in burglary? That’s the sort of thing that will get you thrown in either Newgate Prison or Bedlam Hospital. She’s pretty enough for sure, but she’s got you completely vexed. Let her find her own way back to Boston. We’ve got enough to trouble us.”

  “I can’t.” Sighing and sparing a glance to Bartleby to gauge how much he knew of the situation, Oliver measured his words carefully. “Lord Sibley and his secretary, Mr. Merrick, are under the impression that she is my fiancée. How I managed to lose a fiancée is something I’d rather not try to explain while the inquiry in the Committee of Privileges is still open.”

  “This is a new kettle of fish. Why did you tell them she was your fiancée?” Shaking his head, Bartleby’s voice was tinged with irritation.

  “I didn’t. She did.” All too often, those without a scar failed to comprehend how much his deformity affected his every encounter. “She thought she was helping. Once the claim was made, it seemed prudent to play along. At the time, I saw no harm in her claim and convinced myself that it would help my appearance of absolute sanity. I should probably also mention that, since she introduced herself as my cousin, Lord Sibley and the committee think her name is Julianna Soules.”

  “Any children yet, brother? I’ve always wanted nieces and nephews to dandle on my knee. I’ll be fun Uncle Penry.”

  “Shut up, Pen. You weren’t there; it all made perfect sense at the time,” Oliver snapped back.

  “Gentlemen, let’s confine our discussion to more productive topics, shall we?” Smiling although his words were delivered sternly, Bartleby leveled them with a fatherly scowl. “Find your fiancée, remind her of her name, and for the love of all that is good and holy—the both of you will act the proper betrothed couple until this matter is settled.”

  “Hmm.” Wondering how to break the news of the latest development to Bartleby and his brother, Oliver stalled to find the right words. “Bit of a complication to that plan. This morning Miss Latham accepted another man’s protection and assistance in getting back to Boston.”

  “What?” Jumping up from his chair, Penry put his hands to his head as if his brain might depart in shock.

  “A former suitor named Eldridge Ashworth.”

  “Who the hell is Eldridge?” Bartleby’s question reminded Oliver that his already complicated situation was becoming more so.

  “And why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Still standing, Penry began pacing back and forth across the small office.

  “I was informed of the situation only a short while ago.”

  “Tell Lord Sibley and the committee that she’s gone to take the waters at Bath and be rid of her. You can say she drowned or something.”

  “Pen!”

  “Have your fake fiancée take a fake journey to Bath where she can be sadly swept away by fake waves or nibbled to death by fake fish—it doesn’t bloody matter, none of it is real!” Flopping back down to the chair, Penry laughed.

  “Fake fish? Really, Pen? Am I the only one who can see the seriousness of this matter?”

  “I can.” Choosing that moment to rejoin the conversation, Bartleby deadpanned his reply. “If the girl was willing to do you a kindness by introducing herself as your fiancée once, it is for you, Lord Winchcombe, to persuade her to do it again. I don’t care how.”

  “It remains my belief that her problems with her uncle and my problems with her uncle have the same root. Cut the root and both problems wither away.”

  “What makes you think that? I see nothing here making that obvious,” Bartleby stated.

  “Why was her uncle so eager to ship her off to the Highlands? He might have forced me to marry her but didn’t. Rather, it seems, he was hoping his daughter would snare Penry. Also, it’s too much of a coincidence that Jewel’s father was arrested the very day she set sail for England. That sort of coincidence is better called suspicious. Jewel mentioned to me that the last time her father was in England was for his sister’s marriage to Dunwoody.”

  “So?” Penry erased his smile and rejoined the conversation.

  “What if her father knew about the diamond? Suppose he saw it but kept his mouth shut in deference to his sister’s happiness in marriage. How our father got it, I still haven’t worked out, but once he began demanding ransom, Dunwoody panicked. His panic set everything in motion. First, Father was set up in a card game and the false deed was produced. When Father died before returning the diamond, the plot to have me shuttered up in Bedlam and Penry married off to his daughter was hatched.”

  “I still don’t see what the girl has to do with it,” Bartleby said.

  “Dunwoody had to get rid of the one person who knew he had the diamond long ago, back when it was used to help finance the Scottish uprising. That’s why he had Jewel’s father arrested, to divert the stain of treason off himself and onto Mr. Latham. Sending Jewel to Scotland to be married off was payment for someone else to keep their gob shut.”

  “That’s an interesting interpretation. Why didn’t the rebels cut the stone into smaller valuable bits and sell them off? It would have become unrecognizable and untraceable.” Interested now, Penry began pacing the floor again.

  “They borrowed against the intact stone. If they had won, that big, lovely rock would have been quite the prize for Bonnie Prince Charlie. He’d probably have had it set into a nice, shiny, new crown.” More and more puzzle pieces fell into place, but there were still too many missing. Oliver joined his brother in pacing across the room. “I still haven’t figured out how Father came to have it.”

  “Maybe he pinched it.” Penry offered his opinion as their pacing brought the brothers together in the middle of the room.

  “I’d like to be able to say stealing was beneath him, but we both know his character.” Having come to terms with his father’s shortcomings many years ago, Oliver still wished for the loving father he never had. “However he came to have it, I’m sure wine, women, and cards were involved. Dunwoody was never the rightful owner of the Cheenee, but it wasn’t exactly a crime he could report to the authorities.”

  “I’m willing to entertain your theory of events, my lord, but my opinion stands on negotiating with Dunwoody. Give the man a way to salvage something of his reputation and he’ll walk away thinking he’s won. Convince Miss Latham to continue her charade until after the hearing. If she will not do so, we’ll proceed with whatever we have.”

  “I know where she’s staying, or at least where she was staying. If she’s still in Town, I’ll speak to Miss Latham about continuing our charade for a while longer. With no nibbly fishes, thank you. She’s a reasonable person, she might readily agree.”

  “Reasonable?” Penry sputtered, half rising from his chair again. “A reasonable person who lied about being affianced, took off with your horse whilst wearing your clothes, and broke into a lord’s office to steal a letter? If your hopes are resting on those slippery shoulders, God help us all.”

  “I never said I trusted her, but there is a certain logic in her actions, even if outrageous. She makes things happen, and I am envious of that ability. Perhaps waiting for the post all these years has made me a little too patient, too complacent. I should have…well, I should have done a great many things over the past few years. I should have followed your advice, Pen, and tried harder to sweep her off her feet and convince her to marry me as quickly as possible. Now that chance is gone.”

  “Shite. You’re in love, brother,” Penry said, shaking his head. “There’s nothing for it.”

  “It’s horrible.” As much as it hurt now, Oliver knew the wound would fester, throbbing with pain whenever something reminded him of the brief time he’d
had with her. “I won’t let it interfere with the matter at hand. I’ll convince Dunwoody to drop the complaint.”

  “There’s still the issue of the signed deed,” Bartleby reminded them. “Your brother tells me you may have found a witness in Cheltenham.”

  “Yes,” Oliver replied. “A Mr. Hatch was the fourth player in the card game with our father, Smith, and Gatts. I was able to convince him to admit that the entire game was set up as part of scheme to trick Father out of the house on Clifford Street. He told me he heard Smith and Gatts mention the name of the man who put them up to it—Dunwoody.” Oliver could still hear the sound of the man’s nose breaking under his fist. Talking about the information he learned from Hatch rubbed his conscience raw over the manner in which it had been obtained.

  “Will he swear to it? Put it in writing? Testify, if needed?” Bartleby rattled off the questions as if they should be obvious to all that a man’s word wasn’t quite enough in a court of law.

  “If properly persuaded,” Oliver replied. Let Penry and Bartleby interpret that as they may. He’d not tell them what he had to do to get the man to spill his secrets. “I have his directions if you need him.”

  “If it comes to that, I’ll send a clerk. I have the feeling he wouldn’t be too happy to see you.”

  “I don’t think we need him,” Penry chimed in. “His words are another bargaining chip. Dunwoody doesn’t know what the man told you, Oliver. Drop a few hints about the game and the scheme and see how he reacts. Just don’t persuade him the same way you did Hatch.”

  “Any man who was willing to go this far to get what he wants isn’t going to scare easily. Especially by a man who might be certified a lunatic by the end of the month.” Oliver waited for his brother’s next joke. Penry didn’t understand what these past few weeks had meant to him. How he still waited for the screams and listened for the taunts. Jewel had forced him out into daylight. Just thinking of her had allowed him to walk busy streets with his head held high. Left to his own devices, he’d acted the beast and nearly killed a man.

  “Mr. Bartleby?” Bartleby’s clerk, Grisham, poked his head just inside the door. “There’s a young lady to see you. I told her you were busy, but she insists on coming in.”

  “Who is it?” Bartleby asked, gathering up the papers and preparing to shove them into a drawer.

  “Says her name is Latham-Soules. Julianna Latham-Soules.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Feet throbbing, head pounding, and corset damp with sweat beginning to itch, Jewel waited to be granted entrance to Mr. Bartleby’s office. If Bartleby’s clerk didn’t return soon, she’d sit herself down on the floor in the outer office, kick off her shoes, peel down her stockings, and wiggle the cramp from her toes. If Bartleby wouldn’t see her, surely Oliver would come out to speak with her.

  Encouraged when the door opened, she smoothed her skirts and adjusted the bow on the bonnet hiding her short hair. But the clerk shimmied out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him, allowing her no view and no room to slip by him.

  “Mr. Bartleby will call for you when they’re ready to meet with you.”

  “You did tell him my matter was urgent, did you not?” Smiling sweetly as she waited for the clerk to walk away, she had no intention of waiting one more minute to find out how to get her funds. As soon as the clerk sat down behind his desk, she’d rush to the door and let herself in.

  “Tea, miss?” One hand on his desk, the clerk stopped to make his query.

  “That would be lovely, thank you.” Preferring a beer or hard cider after walking across Covent Garden, she would send the man on any errand that would keep him from guarding the door to his superior’s office. She waited for the clerk to distance himself from the door, then measured the distance and bet on determination to quicken her steps one last time that afternoon.

  As the clerk turned to hang the kettle over the fire, she ran for the door. Unlatched, it opened easily, and she burst into the room, bumping into a large wooden desk. Staring at her, openmouthed, sat Oliver, Penry, and the man behind the desk she just ran into.

  “There you are!” She said the first thing that popped into her mind once she saw Oliver. One by one, gaping jaws closed and, yet, no one stood to greet her. “You won’t believe what a day I’ve had.”

  “Miss Latham,” Oliver said, standing. Taking his lead, Penry and Bartleby found their manners and stood as well. “I believe felicitations may be in order. Hmm. Best wishes…”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve spent the afternoon traipsing across town looking for your lawyer. There was an accident,” she added breathlessly. “I know I should have been driving. The horses looked okay, but Elvy took them to a stable to have them looked at properly. I have no idea where your curricle is, one of the wheels was broken and—and I…”

  “Accident? Wait,” Oliver said, coming to her side and reaching for her hands. “Are you harmed?”

  “I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, and my feet hurt.” The days’ frustration formed tears in her eyes, and she tried to sniff and wipe them away. “Elvy was going back to Canary Court. I’m worried about her.”

  “I’ll send Dobbs,” Oliver offered. “Penry, you go, too, and figure out what’s going on.”

  “Have a seat, miss, and tell me why you were in such desperation to see me today.” Bartleby said as he offered a chair.

  “I need your help in obtaining a sum of money my father put aside for my use. My uncle, Lord Dunwoody, has the money, and I don’t think he’ll surrender it willingly.”

  “Lord Dunwoody is your uncle?” Bartleby asked, while looking pointedly at Oliver.

  “Miss Latham, as you may recall, is my false fiancée.”

  “The one who dresses in men’s clothing and was betrothed to someone else just this morning?”

  “The very one.”

  “What?” Jewel looked from Oliver back to Bartleby. “I did for a short time, for reasons of safety in travel, dress as a young man, but as you can clearly see, I am properly dressed now.” Men’s clothes were so much more comfortable, it was no wonder they were so stingy with sharing them. “Hold on, what do you mean by the last bit?”

  “I saw you in Berkeley Square this morning,” Oliver said, taking a seat. “You and Eldridge. It was Eldridge, wasn’t it?”

  “What do you know about that? Were you spying on me?” She wasn’t sure whether to be touched by his concern or outraged by his impertinence. “Explain yourself, Lord Winchcombe.”

  “Explain yourself, Miss Latham.” Oliver folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.

  “Excuse me,” Bartleby said as he stood behind his desk. “You two need to work this out. You,” he said, pointing at Oliver, “require her to keep up the pretense of being your affianced through the end of the week. And you,” he added, looking to Jewel, “can be betrothed to only one fellow at a time until next week. I urge you to make up your mind.” His piece said, Bartleby walked to his office door and opened it. With a stern look at both of them, he said, “You have a quarter hour to work this out.”

  “You should let Eldridge’s lawyer handle your affairs now.” Oliver spoke only after Bartleby left and closed the door behind him.

  “Silly me,” Jewel said as soon as she was alone with Oliver. “I didn’t realize I was under surveillance. I thought we trusted each other and you’d be as happy to see me as I was to see you.”

  “My pleasure must be tempered against my knowledge of your recent change in circumstances. I was across the street in the Pot and Pineapple. I saw it all. The old beau you reached out to, coming to your rescue. The kiss, the gift, and the laughter.” Walking around the room, he put as much distance between them as was possible. “Just curious, why would you accept his offer? I would have sent you back to Boston.”

  “You idiot.” If the bucket of coal was within reach, she’d have thrown it at him. “I
t never once occurred to you to show yourself? Eldridge’s offer was…” Finding it hard to even say the words, she let her voice trail off. “It wasn’t what you thought it was.”

  “I don’t care what it was. You are free to associate with whomever you please. I would ask, beg, in light of favors previously granted you, that you honor your agreement to pose as my affianced until the question before the Committee of Privileges is dismissed.”

  “You idiot.”

  “You’ve already said that.”

  “He wasn’t making an honorable offer.” Lowering her voice in case Bartleby’s ear was pressed against the other side of the door, she explained her worst nightmare. “He was offering me carte blanche as his mistress. You saw me laughing at my own stupidity, the horridness of his bargain, and my realization that I didn’t give a fig for him anymore…because I have feelings for you.”

  “I’ll kill him.” Clenching his hands into tight fists, Oliver’s face contorted into a sneer. “I’ll call him out and run him through for the insult to you.”

  “You’ll do no such thing! Don’t give my uncle any more reason to have you removed from Winchcombe Abbey and hauled off to Bedlam.” Touching as it was that he would defend her honor, she was still annoyed that he believed her to be so inconstant in the first place. Hadn’t she so much as admitted she loved him? Even though she’d never said the words—she was waiting for him to say them first.

  “I’ll run him through when this is all over. As a peer, I doubt they’d punish me for ridding England of one more colonial mushroom trying to marry his way into Society.”

  “Colonial mushroom? Like me?” Placing her hands on her hips, she studied his face carefully. Whatever Oliver might think of her and her of him, she’d never be accepted here. What good was it to love him and get his title sorted if she would always be seen as a colonial mushroom with a treasonous father? After he recovered his life, would she become an anchor around his neck?

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”