“Yes, thank you.” Edward took an egg-and-cress sandwich and a slab of cake, placing them on his plate. When the maid returned, he stirred sugar into his tea, then leaned back in his chair, surprised to be enjoying himself. The room had a pleasant ambiance.
“Do you read the Romantic poets, my lord?”
Her question evoked long, dreary conversations with Olivia and spoiled his mood. “I’m afraid I haven’t as yet had that pleasure.”
The door opened and two young girls on the brink of womanhood danced in, dressed in sprigged muslin, followed by a golden-haired hound. The dog nudged the sleeping cats into wakefulness. The larger of the two cats yowled and arched its back, and the dog retreated, settling at the youngest girl’s feet with a rumbling groan. Edward watched, fascinated, for no one took the slightest bit of notice of the contretemps.
“Don’t tell me,” Edward said, confident he had been well informed. “You are Lady Mercy.” He nodded at the girl with plaits. “And you,” he turned to the slightly older girl with long blonde tresses, “are Lady Charity.”
“How clever of you, my lord,” Lady Mercy said with a giggle. She took a piece of cake from the cake stand and sank back onto the sofa beside her sister. “I’m glad you asked Cook to make this,” she said with a mouthful of cake. “It’s delicious.”
“Don’t drop crumbs, dear.” Honor handed her a plate and napkin.
Charity settled at Honor’s feet on the floor. “You promised to help me with my French,” she said. “Miss Hogg will be cross this afternoon if I haven’t finished the work she set.”
“Come to the schoolroom half an hour before luncheon is served,” Honor said.
Edward took a bite of his sandwich, finding it tasty. Lady Honor seemed enmeshed in the running of the house, and her authority was not only accepted without complaint, but also relied upon. He studied the young Baxendale girls, who gathered around Honor like the moths around a lamp. They were similar in looks, with round faces, fair hair, and pretty blue eyes. His glance rested on Lady Honor. She was the odd one out. Her hair was chocolate brown, her face thinner, with high cheekbones, and her eyes behind her glasses dark enough to be brown. She might be in her mid to late twenties, but it was hard to guess her age when she dressed like someone’s maiden aunt.
He ate the last of his cake, took a sip of tea, and leaned back. “Now, what instruments do you play, and who sings the sweetest?”
Charity and Mercy spoke together, and a heated discussion ensued. It became clear that Hope was the best at the pianoforte, Charity drew and painted well, and Faith had the sweetest singing voice. Charity’s paintings hung about the house.
“These are Charity’s, isn’t she clever?” Mercy jumped up to point at those Edward guessed were Charity’s. She twirled over the carpet. “Our dancing master says that I am the best dancer.”
“Honor is by far the best rider,” Charity said, gazing up at her sister fondly.
“Oh, yes, that is quite true.” Mercy grinned at Honor. “She rides like the wind.”
Ridges of color brightened Honor’s cheekbones. “I don’t believe his lordship mentioned riding.”
Edward was amused. It was hardly something to be ashamed of, unless she rode naked. The thought startled him. He suddenly had an urge to whip off those glasses and discover just what color her eyes were.
An hour later, riding home, an image came to Edward of Honor riding at full pelt, naked as a babe, her long locks blowing out behind her. “Merciful heaven,” he yelled and laughed. What had prompted that?
Chapter Two
Despite Lord Edward’s short visit, he had left an indelible impression on Honor. How different he seemed to most men of her acquaintance. He’d sprawled in the chair, one glossy, booted foot resting on his knee while he joked with her sisters, as if he were one of the family. She would expect to find a man of his refinement to be somewhat arrogant, but he didn’t appear so. In fact, when he’d assured Mercy with a twinkle in his eye that her dog was a special breed, Honor could almost believe he had a kind heart.
All the Brandreth men had been blessed with good looks. Two years ago, Faith had twittered on about Edward’s younger brother, Lord Vaughn. A handsome, careless fellow, he reminded Honor of a young Byron. Faith had even climbed a tree to get a better look at the youngest Brandreth male during a shoot held at Brandreth Park, and Honor had feared Faith would end up bagged like one of the guinea fowl. Lord Vaughn had discovered her in the oak tree and helped her down, sending her home before she met with disaster. He had presented her with a wildflower, which Faith had pressed in her Bible. Fortunately for her father, Faith was not yet out of the schoolroom. He would have had apoplexy had they grown fond of each other. Lord Vaughn’s reputation for falling into scrapes was the stuff of legend. Faith appeared to have forgotten him since he had taken up residence in York.
At this point, Faith wandered into the drawing room and interrupted Honor’s thoughts. “Papa has not changed his mind,” she said glumly. “Lord Edward has gone?”
“Yes. Was he annoyed to find you on his property?”
“Not at all. He is a nice man. A little forgetful. It’s his age, I imagine.”
Honor suppressed a smile. A man in his thirties would seem old to a girl of eighteen. “In what way forgetful?”
“He couldn’t remember meeting us.”
“Lord Edward is a solicitor. I imagine he has a busy life in London.” Honor had not forgotten him since the assembly in Tunbridge Wells, where she had taken note of his intelligent green eyes. With his commanding height and jet-black hair, all the ladies had their eye on him. He had not asked her to dance nor glanced her way, and while she was piqued, she had only herself to blame, dressed as she was in dull colors and blending into the shadows. Apparently, he had forgotten them all.
****
The unseasonably warm spring day matched Edward’s mood as he walked along the leafy street to his office in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. He was pleased to put his filial visit to Brandreth Park behind him and hoped that his mother had lost interest in him now that his sister Sibella was about to give birth. He metaphorically rolled up his sleeves, ready to tackle the cases awaiting him.
Entering his rooms, Edward greeted his clerk, Roland, and drew him into a discussion of matters awaiting his perusal. He headed into his office. “Coffee, Roland.”
The room had that reassuring smell of weighty legal tomes and old files of completed matters resting in pigeonholes along the walls. He sat in his leather chair, which was warmed by the sun. With a sigh of satisfaction, he began to sort through the correspondence stacked neatly on his wide oak desk.
Edward had only dealt with one letter when Roland entered with his coffee. “There’s someone here to see you, my lord.”
Edward tapped an impatient finger on the open file before him. “I have no appointments this morning.”
“The lady has asked for a moment of your time.”
“You know I never see anyone without an appointment.”
“Yes, but the lady is an acquaintance.” Roland shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry, my lord. She refuses to leave. She insists you’ll see her.”
He shut the file and sighed. “Her name?”
“Lady Honor Baxendale.”
Edward’s eyebrows rose. The last lady he expected to see. He smoothed his hair and stood. “Ask her to come in.”
Lady Honor walked into the room, bringing with her the scent of violets. “It’s very good of you to see me, my lord.” She handed her pelisse to Roland with a purposeful gesture, which suggested her stay would be a lengthy one.
Edward sighed inwardly. “Not at all. Please have a seat. May I offer you coffee or tea?”
“No, thank you.”
She wore a drab-colored walking gown and a plain bonnet. Not much improvement there.
“I did not expect to see you in London, my lady,” Edward said, tactfully refraining from adding “in my office.”
“My stepfather has agreed to Fai
th staying in town for the Season. My mother and I are here to chaperone her.”
“Lady Faith mentioned she wished to attend balls and dances. I am pleased for her.” He was pleased. He liked Faith.
“Thank you.”
“Does that mean her engagement to Lord Gillingham is no longer forthcoming?”
She settled her skirts around her. “That is so.”
“Then what might I do for you, my lady?” His gaze came to rest on her eyes. Hazel? Brown? Dashed glasses reflected light. How shortsighted was she? Ladies so seldom wore glasses; even his mother refused to be seen in them. “You have a problem?”
Lady Honor clasped her hands in her lap. “I wish you to find someone for me.”
The request seemed so incongruous that Edward found himself staring. He gathered his wits. “Someone you know has gone missing?”
“Not missing, precisely. I want to learn his whereabouts. Where he lives, what clubs he belongs to, the gambling houses he frequents, that sort of thing.”
“My dear Lady Honor, I am a solicitor, not a private investigator.”
“I am sure you know such people. I am quite prepared to pay your fee.”
“What does this man mean to you?” he asked. He relegated his files to the far corner of his desk and folded his arms. Had Lady Honor been jilted at the altar? It struck a warning, and he worked to extricate himself. “There are certain matters I will not take on. Domestic affairs, for instance,” he said in an uncompromising tone. “Who is this man?”
“Mr. Alberic Leighton.”
The name meant nothing to Edward. “You’ve only answered the second part of my question. Might this be a matter of a breach of promise?”
“It is not.”
“Perhaps you’d better start from the beginning.” He rang the bell for Roland.
“Bring coffee for Lady Honor,” Edward said when Roland entered, “and fetch cakes from the coffee house.”
“I do not wish for cake, my lord. I only wish you to agree to locate Mr. Leighton. It is a very old matter concerning my father.”
“Go on.” Edward took a sip of coffee, which failed to rival tea, in his opinion. It tasted like inky soot, but he was addicted to the boost of energy it provided, particularly at this moment. He studied her over his cup. “Your father must have passed away a long time ago.”
“Eighteen years ago this month.”
“You’ll have to give me more information, my lady.”
“After Mr. Leighton swindled my father out of his fortune, my father took his own life.”
Edward drew in a breath. A suicide cast a dreadful pall over a family. “I’m very sorry to hear of it, but it’s too long ago to bring this man to trial. Even imagining we could prove him culpable.”
She frowned. “I don’t require you to take it that far.”
“What is it you want of me?”
“Just learn his habits and his whereabouts, as I’ve said.”
Bewildered, Edward leaned forward. “Why, after all this time?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I have my reasons.”
“That’s not enough for me to take up your case.”
Lady Honor removed her glasses; her gaze dipped as she polished them with a handkerchief. Thick dark lashes swept her cheek as she blinked, then her brown eyes met his, coolly assessing.
Talk about hiding one’s light under a bushel! Edward couldn’t help staring. She had the most beautiful almond-shaped eyes beneath fine, straight brows. He wondered if they would turn to melting chocolate when she smiled. But she was in no danger of smiling now; she was frowning at him, in fact.
“He has something I want,” she continued. Her fingers trembled as she put the spectacles back on, the first sign of real emotion he had seen since she’d entered the room.
Frustrated, Edward shifted in his seat. “What is it you seek? And I repeat, why after all this time?”
Her breast swelled beneath her bodice. “My stepfather is in financial straits from a bad investment and plans to marry one of us into a wealthy family. Such a marriage will lend him weight in the City and give him the opportunity to rebuild his fortune. But I have a better plan. I intend to get my father’s money back.”
“A highly implausible plan, by the sound of it. What makes you think this Leighton still lives? Or that he might still have the money?”
Honor opened her reticule. She unfolded the page of a newspaper and held it out. “Mr. Leighton returned to England two weeks ago. He is a man of great wealth and should not be so difficult to find.”
Edward scanned the page. “And when you locate him, do you expect him to hand a good deal of money over to you without a whimper?”
“No. Of course not.”
“I hesitate to ask this, but how would you get the money back?”
“I shall win it from him.”
Edward cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “A gently raised woman like you become a gamester?”
“I am not so gently raised as you might think, my lord.”
“You have made a career of fleecing poor luckless men of their money?” Edward said, amused by the improbable conversation.
She ignored his flippant remark. “I learned the skill at my father’s knee. I know that Mr. Leighton is an unscrupulous gambler. It is how he became rich.”
She certainly knew how to adopt a poker face. What lay hidden behind that cool exterior? Was it vengeance? The thought disturbed him. “You intend to beat him at cards? How? You can hardly enter White’s and place it in the betting book.”
“As I’ve said, I have a plan.” She stood. “You have merely to find him, learn of his daily habits, the gambling houses he frequents. It won’t be so difficult for such as you.”
He searched for a reason to dissuade her from this farcical idea. Whatever she planned, it would never succeed. “He will recognize you.”
“I shall use a false name. He hasn’t seen me since I was eight years old.”
“I gather your parents are ignorant of this endeavor of yours?”
“I cannot tell my stepfather, and my mother isn’t strong. I expect you to respect the confidentially of our arrangement.”
“I haven’t said I’ll handle it, Lady Honor.”
She stilled her gloved fingers, which were digging into her reticule. “You will, won’t you?”
“What makes you so sure that I will?”
She looked at him quickly, hopefully. “You haven’t rejected the matter out of hand. I hope you will take this on. You have honest eyes.”
“And you? What if you’re lying to me?” He studied her. “Are you motivated by revenge? What if you intend to have this man murdered? Or plunge a knife in him yourself?”
She smiled thinly. “I admit it is revenge of a kind. But I am not a violent person. I could never be responsible for taking another person’s life.”
“If I refuse to help you, will you let the matter drop?”
“No. I shall find a private investigator by myself.”
Edward came around the desk. He perched on the corner and gazed down at her. Her steely resolve distracted from the fact that she was slender, fine-boned, and rather delicate. Losing her father in that way must have been difficult indeed. He resisted the urge to take her hands and reassure her, she seemed so alone. But this… “I would advise you not to. London is a dangerous place.”
“Then you will grant me my wish?” She raised her chin and searched his eyes. Unlike so many women of his acquaintance, she employed not a smidgen of charm to persuade him, but she definitely had a way about her he found damnably attractive.
Edward slid off the desk. How was she going to get money from the gamester she sought? In his opinion, this quixotic scheme of hers would likely come to naught. “I’ll find this man for you, Lady Honor. But that will end our arrangement.”
“Shall I pay you a little in advance?” She tugged at her reticule.
“I don’t charge friends or neighbors.”
“Thank you, b
ut I prefer to pay.” Lady Honor closed her reticule with a pull of the strings. She stood and shook his hand with her small, gloved one. “Please send me a bill. I shall leave this with you.” She placed the newspaper on his desk. “My parents have rented a house in Mayfair, Number Three Adam’s Row. It would be best if you didn’t come there, however. When you have news, send me a note, and I will meet you at Gunther’s Tearooms.” She turned and hurried from the room.
Edward read the article in the Times, then sat and tapped his fingers together. She was so determined that he would have to do what she wished. If he did not, then she would seek help from Lord knew where. Why couldn’t she just settle down, marry, and relegate this dreadful episode to the past?
He went to speak to his clerk.
“Roland, send a note off to Hoskin and Son Private Investigators. I need to see them forthwith.”
Chapter Three
Honor stopped at the bottom of the stairs and puffed out a breath, causing a stray wisp of hair on her forehead to flutter. She tucked the tendril back under her hat and stepped smartly out into the street. Lord Edward’s eyes had been like chipped emerald ice, his manner measured. He’d displayed none of the warmth he’d exhibited when he laughed with her sisters in their parlor. He was so, so very masculine. She’d had very few dealings with men over the years, and never with anyone quite as impressive as Lord Edward. She’d felt transparent under his gaze, and she’d had trouble hiding the whole truth from him. Dealing with Alberic Leighton would be an entirely different affair. Lying was far easier when you hated someone, and she loathed him with every fiber of her being. Already an hour late, she set off down the street to meet her mother and Faith at the dressmaker’s shop.
“Ouch!” Faith jumped as the dressmaker pinned her into the white satin ball gown, trimmed at the neckline and hem with cornflowers, which highlighted her blue eyes. Honor tried to decide if she liked the white lace sleeves over pink satin, slashed in the Spanish style.
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