How to Entice an Earl

by Manda Collins

  Maddie’s spine stiffened at the description. She knew she was short, of course, but she disliked being reminded of her lack of inches. Especially by blowsy widows who ran gaming hells. Not that she’d ever encountered any before.

  “Allow me to introduce m’sister, Mrs. Bailey,” Linton said, giving Maddie a sharp look, doubtless because he knew of his sister’s tendency to annihilate anyone with the temerity to mention her small stature. “Lady Madeline Essex, meet Mrs. Emma Bailey, our hostess.”

  “Charmed,” Maddie said with a grudging curtsy. She was not pleased to see Mrs. Bailey’s amusement at her annoyance.

  “Welcome, Lady Madeline,” the older woman said. “I’m so glad you were able to attend my party this evening. I do hope you will enjoy yourself.”

  If the widow suspected that Maddie had ulterior motives for visiting her home tonight, she kept her suspicions to herself. It was not at all unusual for ladies of the ton to seek out a bit of excitement by attending such parties, Maddie knew. They might tarnish their reputations a bit by doing so, but the damage was hardly irreparable.

  “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Bailey,” Maddie replied, mindful of her brother’s warning not to draw attention to herself. “You have a lovely home.” Which was not a falsehood. The row house on the outer fringes of Mayfair was tastefully decorated and but for the tables set up in the drawing room might have passed for any other modestly well-to-do home in London.

  Something flashed in the other woman’s eyes—shame? Maddie was unsure. Before her hostess could reply, a servant appeared at her elbow with a note. With a brisk nod, she excused herself, leaving Linton to lead Maddie to the hazard table.

  To her surprise, she was already acquainted with several of the gentlemen who crowded round the table. Mr. George Vinson was losing quite badly, which didn’t surprise Maddie in the least, since despite his affability he was not very bright. Lord Tretham, a friend of her brother’s, seemed to be in good spirits despite his poor luck. But it was neither of these young men who drew Maddie’s attention. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the Earl of Gresham on the other side of the table.

  Was she to be exposed to him at every turn? she wondered in frustration. Meeting Gresham’s eye across the table, she refused to let him see how annoyed she was. Instead she held her back ramrod straight and offered him a pitch-perfect curtsy. To which he responded with an elegant bow. Determined not to let him ruin her enjoyment, she moved closer to a table where a few gentlemen, and several ladies, were playing vingt-et-un.

  Spotting Mr. John Tinker, whom she’d known for several years as a friend of her brother’s, she took a place between him and Lady Emily Fielding.

  “Hello, Mr. Tinker,” she said, trying to cultivate an air of ennui rather than the excitement and curiosity that she felt. “Are you enjoying your game?”

  As if startled to hear her, Tinker turned, his eyes widening. “What are you doing here, Lady Madeline?” he asked. “Never say your brother brought you.”

  “You needn’t sound so astonished, Mr Tinker.” Maddie laughed. “I enjoy the occasional social outing just as much as my brother does.”

  “You must excuse Tinker, Lady Madeline,” Lady Emily Fielding said from Maddie’s other side. “I fear he has rather shockingly traditional ideas about where ladies do and do not belong. It is an argument of long standing between us.”

  Maddie turned to look at the other woman. She had seen her from a distance at various ton parties, but had never really had the opportunity to look at her up close. She was every bit as beautiful as she was reputed to be. Her deep brown hair shone in the candlelight, and the crimson gown she wore fit her curvaceous figure like a glove.

  “Yet you still remain friends?” Maddie asked, fascinated by the other woman’s words. “That is quite a feat.”

  “I daresay it is because I cannot be bothered to maintain a grudge when Tinker is such a very good whist partner,” Lady Emily said with a grin. “What can I say? I am easy to please.”

  Tinker bowed to acknowledge the compliment, then turned back to the baize table where a dealer called out the cards as he turned them over before each player.

  As she watched the table, Maddie felt a male body step up close behind her. Startled, she jumped and turned to look up into a familiar green gaze.

  “Lady Madeline,” Gresham said, stepping back to allow her to turn. “I would like a word.”

  Annoyed, but knowing that she would have to speak to him sooner or later, Maddie excused herself to Tinker and Lady Emily. Grudgingly she followed the earl to an alcove on the edge of the chamber.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded in a low tone that only she could hear. She could feel the frustration emanating from him in waves. “More importantly, what the devil was Linton thinking bringing you here?”

  “You know perfectly well why I am here,” she said in an equally low voice, trying to ignore the jolt of attraction she felt despite her anger. This is not how you are supposed to respond to Gresham, she informed her pounding heart. “I told you last night that I needed to be here so that I might write about a gaming hell in my novel. And what business is it of yours that my brother brought me here? I do not see you ringing a peal over the heads of the other ladies here.”

  “They are not related to my best friend’s wife,” he hissed, apparently unaware of the response his nearness was causing in her. “And their presence here will not somehow end up biting me in the—”

  “Oh, do not be melodramatic,” Maddie interrupted, annoyed both at herself and him. Leave it to Gresham to be attractive to her even when he was setting her back up. Curse him. “You are not responsible for my presence here. My brother is, and as he didn’t seem to find the idea overly disturbing, I do not see why you should.”

  Gresham shoved a hand through his light brown curls. “You’ll pardon me,” he said, “if I do not use your brother’s behavior as a guide for my own. He is not best known for his moderation or good sense.”

  At the slight against her brother, Maddie’s attraction transformed into anger. It was all well and good for her to criticize a member of her family, but Gresham had no right to do so. “How dare you speak of my brother in that way, you … you … hypocrite!” Bristling with anger she continued, “If you are such a paragon of virtue, what are you doing here?”

  Though they had started out speaking in undertones, both Maddie and Gresham had allowed their voices to rise a bit in their exasperation with one another. So much so that Linton, his luck at faro having run out, turned his attention away from the gaming table and hurried over to the bickering couple.

  “Madeline,” her brother said in a hiss, conveniently ignoring Gresham and addressing himself to his sister. “You are causing a scene. Do you not recall the terms of our agreement?”

  The injustice of being taken to task by her brother, whose behavior—despite Maddie’s defense of him to Gresham—was frequently outrageous, made Maddie’s teeth clench. “Yes, I remember, but that was before I knew that I would be accosted by this interfering baboon.”

  Gresham raised his brows. “Baboon? Really?”

  “Be quiet,” Maddie ordered. She was thoroughly sick of both of them. There were reasons that ladies continued to press for emancipation from domination by men, and these two were prime examples.

  Gresham, however, had not forgotten his quibble with the young viscount. “Linton, what do you mean bringing your sister to a place like this?” he demanded. “It’s not as if her reputation is flawless to begin with.”

  “Oooh, you … you…” For once in her life Maddie found herself at a loss for words and had to vent her frustration by stamping her foot instead of shouting as she wished to do. The nerve.

  “If you dare to ask me that,” Linton said with a shake of his head, “then I’ll wager you’ve never tried to convince Maddie to abandon a scheme. I’d have had more luck convincing the sun to rise from the west.”

  “Her persistence notwithstanding,” Gresham s
aid with a twist of his mouth. “Are you really claiming to have no control over your own actions? You could certainly have left this evening without bringing her along. I cannot imagine you’ve brought her with you all the other times you came here.”

  “Pardon me,” Maddie interrupted, “but she is here and quite capable of speaking for herself.” If she let them they’d make arrangements between them to have her home and she’d be in bed before the clock struck midnight. And she had only just got here.

  “Yes, I know you are,” Linton said through his teeth. “And you promised not to bring attention to yourself if I brought you along tonight. You were supposed to be quiet and to keep to the background as much as possible. You swore to me.” This last he said with a pout in his voice that reminded her of their childhood tiffs.

  “But I didn’t know Gresham would be here scolding me like a disapproving governess,” Maddie said hotly, angry that her brother cast the blame on her rather than on Gresham where it belonged. “I can hardly be expected to refrain from defending myself.”

  “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Mrs. Bailey asked, stepping up to the threesome, her brows raised slightly.

  “Not at all, ma’am,” Linton told their hostess, masking his annoyance. “We were merely discussing an upcoming race at Newmarket and my sister became incensed. She does have strong feelings about the races.”

  “Especially when she’s backing the wrong horse,” Gresham said grimly.

  Madeline, realizing that it might be best to remain silent before their hostess, said nothing.

  “Interesting,” Mrs. Bailey said, glancing from one to the other of them. “I hadn’t suspected that Lady Madeline was a racing aficionado. You must let me show you my stable one day, my dear. I think you’ll find it quite amusing.”

  Somehow, Maddie got the feeling that Mrs. Bailey wasn’t talking about horses. She would have asked for clarification, but just as quickly as she’d approached them, Mrs. Bailey left them again. Which was frustrating since Mrs. Bailey’s use of metaphor was something that might work well in her novel. Yet another crime to lay at Linton’s and Gresham’s doors.

  “If it would be all right with the two of you,” Maddie told them, “I believe I will excuse myself to repair my coiffure.” Never mind the fact that her hair was just fine; Maddie wanted to be away from her annoying brother and her equally annoying … annoyance, or whatever it was that Gresham was to her. Perhaps a few minutes alone would allow her to calm down and remember why she was here in the first place.

  Not waiting for a response, she strode to the doorway and asked a lurking footman for the direction of the room set aside for the ladies.

  * * *

  Christian bit back a curse as he resumed his position at the faro table—watching, not playing. He might have known this mission wouldn’t be as uncomplicated as Leighton had made it out to be.

  When he’d agreed to keep an eye on Lord Linton and Mr. Tinker, he hadn’t thought his acquaintance with Lady Madeline would turn out to be quite such a complication.

  He’d known she would not be pleased, of course, to learn of his suspicions about her brother, but if things worked out as he hoped they would, she need never know about them. There was a fifty-fifty chance that the man who met with the Citizen’s Liberation Society operative tonight would be John Tinker and not Lady Madeline’s brother. He sent up a silent prayer that it would be the case, because if he had to face Maddie after he informed on her brother for treason, whatever one could call their relationship would cease to exist.

  Aside from the problem of Maddie, he had also discovered, as he trailed Lord Linton and Tinker from gaming hell to gaming hell these past couple of weeks, that he no longer found that kind of life enjoyable. He wasn’t sure if it was his recent inheritance, or a newfound sense of maturity, but whatever the case the sight of young men losing their family fortunes on the turn of a card made him slightly ill. Just this week, in between more genteel ton gatherings, he’d seen Lord Linton lose a small fortune at various entertainments. And the more he lost, the more fevered his gaze on the cards became.

  He wondered if Maddie was aware of her brother’s gambling obsession. Doubtless her parents were since no one could lose that amount of money without needing to apply to a parent for more. Recalling her defense of him earlier, he hoped that she was not. He would not like to see that sibling relationship jeopardized.

  Even so, he wished that Linton had not been quite so easy to persuade when it came to bringing Maddie to Mrs. Bailey’s tonight. He knew of course that Maddie could be determined, but he hadn’t dreamed that she’d be able to convince her brother to bring her along.

  Granted, it was mild so far as gaming hells went. Mrs. Bailey ran a tight ship, and was quite strict about what she did and did not allow to happen within the walls of her establishment. She kept the doors leading abovestairs locked so that amorous couples wouldn’t be able to wander about in search of privacy. And she did not allow just anyone to enter the place. Entrance was by invitation only, and she was not above turning someone—even someone with pockets full of the ready—away should she dislike the look of them. Even so, he certainly would not have brought his own sister to such a place.

  A familiar pain struck at the thought of Clarissa, but he dismissed it. This was about Maddie and her brother, not him.

  Just as soon as she returned from the retiring room, he would suggest strongly to Maddie that she return home. If her brother chose to escort her, then he would know for sure that it was Tinker who was to meet the contact from the Citizen’s Liberation Society. And that would reassure him on two fronts.

  Three

  Maddie was still fuming as she pressed through the doors of the chamber Mrs. Bailey had set aside for ladies. What right had Gresham to read her a scold? He was nothing to her. So what if he was concerned that Winterson or Cecily might chide him for her presence here? That didn’t mean that the blame lay with him and not with Linton. Not that she was saying blame needed to be ascribed at all. She was perfectly capable of making her own decisions and she had chosen to come here tonight. Linton had simply agreed to be her escort. That her parents would be less than pleased should they learn of her visit here was beside the point.

  And Gresham! Was there ever such a man for plaguing a young lady? One minute he was giving her looks that would scorch the paint off a fence, and the next he was reading her a scold. It was enough to make her wish to cut his acquaintance altogether.

  She should have known he would be here tonight, she fumed as she removed her gloves and stared at herself in the cheval glass Mrs. Bailey had provided. Why was it that the only gentleman who roused her to any sort of passion was Gresham, of all people? She already knew from their time spent together this season so far that he was as stubborn as a mule. And he was constantly jesting and poking fun.

  As the thought flitted through her head she met her own gaze in the mirror. So, this was what it had come to, she thought on a sigh.

  She was siding against fun.

  That was what attraction could do to a person, she thought wryly, tucking a wayward strand of blond hair behind her ear and surveying her low-cut gown in the mirror.

  Deciding that she would have to do, Maddie turned to leave the retiring room.

  Unfortunately the door was blocked.

  Thinking that her brother or Gresham was playing a joke on her she called out, “You have amused me to no end! Now kindly remove yourself so that I may exit the room.”

  But there was no response from the other side of the door. Telling herself not to panic, Maddie considered the situation. If she were to shout, no one in the other part of the house would be able to hear her.

  Taking a few steps back, she threw herself against the door—which hurt, dash it!—and was rewarded with movement. Squeezing herself through the small gap between the door and the jamb, gulping in air, she leaned against the wall, grateful for her freedom.

  Looking about to see what had blocked the door in the fi
rst place, she saw a crumpled form pressed against the lower portion of the door.

  “Good Lord,” she gasped, squatting, and then kneeling to grasp the figure, whose features she recognized in the dimness of the corridor as her brother’s friend Tinker.

  “Mr. Tinker,” she said, rolling him with some difficulty to his back. “John! Can you hear me?” She stared down into his face, noting his paleness and lack of consciousness.

  Patting him on the cheek, she tried to rouse him once more, and was rewarded not by a response from her patient, but a trickle of blood burbling out from between his lips. It was then that she noticed the knife protruding from the man’s chest.

  She did what any sensible young lady would do when confronted by a dead man on the floor of a gaming hell.

  Maddie screamed.

  * * *

  Christian was nearly ready to declare the evening a complete disaster, since Tinker had apparently left and Linton was engrossed in a game of whist, when he heard the scream.

  Maddie’s scream.

  A rumble went through the room. The denizens of Mrs. Bailey’s might be here for a brush with the dark side, but none of them was so jaded as to ignore a scream of terror when they heard one.

  Along with several other gentlemen, Christian hurried into the hallway leading to the retiring rooms. There were gaslights on the walls, but they weren’t nearly as bright as the ones in the main rooms of the house. Still, he was able to make out Maddie, kneeling on the floor next to the crumpled figure of a man.

  He reached her first, and seeing that it was Tinker there on the floor beside her, a knife protruding from his chest, he glanced hastily around at the rest of the observers. One of them might be the operative from the Citizen’s Liberation Society, and right now that unknown person was his prime suspect for the crime here.