A commotion at the french doors saved her from having to make a verbal reply. Voices were raised and a number of gentlemen, as well as several ladies, stepped onto the stone terrace.
"I tell you, I heard a crash, Haverlock."
Augusta straightened and waved the crumpled handkerchief. "Over here, everyone. I'm afraid there has been a slight accident."
The group rushed en masse over to where the two of them were standing. One of the ladies shrieked while the evening's host blanched at the sight of the Earl's blood-streaked face. "Good heavens, Sheffield, what the deuce happened?"
Sheffield shot Augusta a brief warning look, then pulled a wry face. "It would seem one of the stones on your roof was loose. A gust of wind must have dislodged it."
Her face betrayed no reaction to his explanation.
Lord Haverlock sucked in his breath. "Why, you could have been serious injured!"
The Earl shrugged. "Yes, well, I suppose I was lucky. No real harm done." He brushed aside the suggestion of having a doctor summoned and refused the offer of assistance back into the ballroom. "If you would kindly send round for my carriage, I think, given my current state of appearance, I should prefer to simply leave by the garden entrance and take myself home. I've had quite enough entertainment for one night." He brushed at one of the thick smudges of dirt on his sleeve. "Good evening, gentlemen. Ah, and good evening, Miss Hadley. I thank you for your assistance."
His voice did indeed convey a note of gratitude but the look in his eyes as they held hers for the briefest instant told her things were far from settled between them.
The valet gave a violent start at the shout of laughter that came from the tub behind the screen. His employer had taken a nasty crack on the head and perhaps his wits were seriously addled. He peeked around the corner.
"Is... is everything alright, my lord?" he ventured. "Perhaps I should send one of the footmen for a doctor or—"
Sheffield let his aching body sink even deeper in to the hot, sudsy water, then waved the man away. "Don't bother, Tebbins. I haven't taken leave of my senses. Just set the decanter of brandy by my bedside and then you may retire."
The man looked unconvinced, but did as he was told.
As soon as his head disappeared, Sheffield let out another chuckle. "Goddamn son of a poxed whore," he repeated aloud. The chit was utterly, maddingly impossible! But try as he might to remain extremely angry with her, he felt a grudging admiration nudging in as well. Along with her willful obstinacy, she had displayed quick thinking and a keen power of observation. At the sight of blood, she hadn't screamed or fainted, but had handled the situation with cool aplomb. And there was no question that she possessed a sharp intelligence. She hadn't failed to put two and two together just as quickly as he did, nor had she missed his signal not to say anything about the suspicious nature of the accident. On top of all that, she seemed to appreciate the dry sort humor he liked best.
He paused for a moment in his assessment. How had he ever thought her bird-witted or boring?
Or unattractive. Somehow, those interesting hazel eyes, and graceful curves were having more and more of an unsettling effect on him every time he came in proximity of them.... Damnation! He reached for the pitcher of cold water and doused it over his head, though perhaps it was best dumped somewhere lower. He'd not let such thoughts distract him from the fact that she still had given him no explanation for her unusual nocturnal activities. It was unfortunate that his interrogation had been cut short this evening, but she wouldn't wriggle out of it quite so easily another time.
But that would have to wait for their next meeting. A more immediate concern was who had pushed the stone, and why. Another chuckle escaped the Earl's lips at the thought of her suggestions. It was remotely possible, he imagined, but not very likely. He had not been as, er, active as she seemed to think. In truth, he had not even looked at a woman since... why, since he had met her.
His lips pursed in thought. The only recent activity of his that had raised any heated reactions had been his two speeches in Parliament. People may have disagreed with his point of view, but that should hardly have been the sort of thing to get a fellow killed. The more he considered it, the more it made no sense—none of the pieces seemed to fit together. Giving up, he stood up to towel off, then pulled on his heavy silk dressing gown.
But somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that Miss Hadley and the papers she had stuffed down her shirt were key parts of the puzzle.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Hell and Damnation, my friend. Forgive my strong language but it is deucedly difficult trying to help you if you will not tell me all the facts! I implore you to take me into your confidences—surely I have shown that I may trusted. I feel I am close to making an important discovery that will greatly aid your endeavor, but I must know more in order to proceed."
Hah! thought Augusta with a twitch of her lips. If Tinder considered those rather tame words worthy of apology he had obviously never come in contact with the Earl of Sheffield! Then the expression of wry humor faded as she considered his request. It was ticklish dilemma. On one hand, he had certainly proven both his loyalty and his practical skills by tracking down the vital information she had needed. On the other, she still feared exposing him to danger. It was all very well for a tall, lean, powerfully built gentleman like Sheffield to suffer a few cuts and bruises, but in all likelihood her friend was not cut from the same cloth as the Earl.
Few men were.
Another faint smile, this one more wistful than amused, flitted across her features on remembering the feel of those broad, muscled shoulders against her bare arms. The heat from those chiseled planes had seared her, even through the layers of linen and wool. She could even recall the exact shade of his eyes—a blue the color of the sky at twilight—and every intriguing curve of those sculpted lips, fascinating to look at even when they were busy mouthing some unflattering comment at her.
She squirmed in her chair. Really, the nerve of the man, to imply that she was any more at fault than he was for the injuries he had suffered in their earlier encounters. At least he had admitted she could not possibly be blamed for this latest assault on his person.
That gave her pause for thought. But who could? Despite her comment to the contrary, she, too, doubted any affair of the heart—or other anatomical part—had prompted an attempt on the Earl's life. And there was no doubt that the stone had been launched with lethal intent. The question was why.
A sharp rap at the door of her study interrupted her train of thought. She pulled a face, then quickly tucked the letter into her desk, realizing with a start that she was still undecided as to how to answer it.
"Augusta!" Her mother came in without waiting for a reply to her knock. "You have a caller. A gentleman caller."
Augusta's face took on a guarded expression
"Lord Sheffield wonders if he might be allowed to take you for a drive in the park."
"I'm busy. Tell him to come back some other time."
Her mother's mouth began to work but it was several moments before any words came out. "Perhaps you did not hear me correctly. I said, the Earl of Sheffield wants to take you up with him in his high perch phaeton and join the rest of the ton in promenading in the park. Surely you would not be so willful as to refuse such an honor and blight your dear sister's chance of making a splendid match this Season?"
Augusta was not quite sure she followed her parent's logic, but decided arguing was useless. No doubt neither her mother nor the Earl would shrink at the prospect of using physical force, if need be. With a weary sigh, she straightened the papers on her desk and rose. "Oh, very well."
Lady Durfee looked down her nose at the simple slate grey muslin day dress that her daughter chose to work in, its unadorned long sleeves bearing several smudges of ink at the cuffs, and gave a slight shudder. "Pray, go upstairs and change. And make it quick. You would not want to keep His Lordship waiting."
Like fish she didn't. However, a short time later she appeare
d in the drawing room, attired more properly, if not fashionably, for the outing.
Sheffield rose. "How gracious of you to accept my invitation, Miss Hadley," he said smoothly on noting the jut of her jaw.
Augusta bit back a retort on seeing the look on her mother's face. "How kind of you to offer, my lord," she replied through gritted teeth.
There was a flash of amusement in his eyes as he offered her his arm. She had no choice but to take it. They proceeded in silence out of the townhouse to where the Earl's small tiger was struggling manfully to keep the spirited team of matched greys in check. Once settled in the driver's seat, Sheffield gave them their head and the phaeton sprung forward at a good clip.
Augusta made a point of not meeting his gaze, though from out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but notice the discreet patch of sticking plaster on his brow peeking out from under the thick raven locks. It prompted her to finally speak up. "I should have thought you would have stayed home in bed today, sir, after what happened last night."
"Ah, well, since it was empty save for myself, there seemed little reason."
There was an audible intake of breath. "Are we going to have another pointless conversation where we end up hurling insults at one another?" she demanded.
Sheffield guided the high strung team through the entrance to the park with consummate skill. "I should hope not, Miss Hadley, for we have far more important things to discuss."
She didn't answer.
The Earl drove on through the normal crush to a less crowded path before slowing the horses to a sedate walk. "As I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted last night," he continued, "I think it might make sense for us to be forthright with each other."
"I am willing to listen to your explanation, my lord."
He muttered something under his breath.
"What was that? I am always interested in expanding my vocabulary."
"I think it is stretched quite far enough as it is," he growled. His hands tightened on the reins. "Dash it all, you are truly the most stubborn, willful, provoking chit I have ever encountered—"
"I thought we were not going to indulge in such childish fits of pique, sir."
His jaw clamped shut.
"Now let's get down to business. Are you going to tell me what you were up to in that study? If not, then let us not waste each other's time and drive me home at once."
For a moment she thought he was going to urge his team into a dead gallop. Instead, a reluctant smile toyed on his lips. "I have to admit it is rather refreshing to be around a female who is not coy about what she wants."
"Lord Sheffield, I am not the least interested in your preferences regarding a lady's deportment!"
"That's quite obvious." His hand came up before she could snap out another retort. "Very well, very well. I don't suppose I have any other choice. Er, do I?"
Her scowl answered that question.
"I thought not." He cleared his throat. "Recently, I have come to suspect that a certain gentleman is involved in some very unsavory doings. I was attempting to, er, verify my suspicions when you appeared and caused things to go awry."
"Me! You were the one clumsy enough to fall and cause such a racket as to raise the dead—" She stopped in mid-sentence. "How did you come to be suspicious of the gentleman in the first place?"
"That's not important. What matters right now is what you were doing there. I've been forthcoming, Miss Hadley. Will you be the same?"
Augusta stared down at her lap where her hands were balled together into a tight fist. After a considerable silence, she let out a sigh. "I am looking into a... crime committed against one of our tenants at home." That was close enough to the truth, she decided, without revealing the whole.
"A crime? Why haven't you simply gone to the authorities?"
"Because the authorities don't give a fig for a lowly tenant, in case you haven't noticed! But then again, you've probably been too busy with other pursuits to have a care for how those less fortunate live."
He flushed slightly, but didn't respond to her harsh words. Instead he asked quietly, "Can't you voice your concerns to... some male member of your family?"
"My father is away indefinitely in Vienna and my brother is dead!" She sought to control the tremor in her voice. "I'm the only one who can help."
Sheffield was silent for a moment. "Did you learn anything definite from the papers you took?"
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "There are certain accountings which look rather incriminating to me, but the way they are written, it would be hard to say they are conclusive evidence."
"Would you let me have a look at them?"
She hesitated.
His jaw tightened and he felt a sudden flare of anger at having his offer of help spurned by yet another person whose opinion he cared about. "I see," he said with some asperity as he made ready to turn the phaeton around. "It seems that in addition to being stubborn, willful and provoking you are also opinionated, unbending and unwilling to accept that you may be wrong about anything. Come, I will take you home."
Augusta‘s hand reached out to stay the reins. "Lord Sheffield, why is it you are taking an interest in all of this? Why are you offering to help me?"
"Why ask? You do not wish to hear aught but what may reinforce your own smug assumptions."
She was startled to hear the raw edge in his voice, as if she had scraped some vulnerable spot. "I... that is, if I have truly been so blind and stupid, then I deserve your scorn, sir."
His head jerked around in some surprise.
"Please accept my apology, " she went on in a near whisper. "I suppose you are right and I have been just as guilty as those I rail at. I shall try not to be so quick to judge in the future." She drew in a breath. "But you must understand that my reluctance to discuss this matter stems not from any disrespect for you sir, but from a desire not to expose anyone but myself to whatever danger there might be. Since I believe the person responsible for these crimes is a gentleman of some rank, I am well aware that I must be very, very careful who knows of my suspicions—any misstep or slip of the tongue could ruin all efforts to bring about justice, and perhaps even put those who have helped me at risk."
"I am glad to see you show that much sense at least. However you may rest assured I can take care of myself." The Earl's tone was still a bit strained, but rigid set of his features had softened somewhat. "Who else knows about what you are up to?"
"I've spoken only to my sister and Jamison about it." That, she told herself, was not actually a lie. Though she had decided to reveal certain things to the Earl, her correspondence with Tinder she meant to keep secret from anyone.
"I suggest you keep it that way. You are quite right in believing that this is no mere game." He regarded her intently. "You know, it seems to me there is a possibility that, for whatever the reasons, we are in pursuit of the same man. It might be to both our advantages not to be at daggers drawn and to share our information."
Augusta's lips compressed in a tight line, then she made what she hoped was not a foolish decision. "If you are coming to the Turnbridge's ball tonight, I shall bring the papers."
"Thank you, Miss Hadley," he said quietly.
Some others words sounded under her breath.
"What was that?"
"I said, I hope I shall not live to regret this," she said in a louder voice.
The corners of Sheffield's mouth twitched upward. "May the Good Lord turn me into a goddamn son of a poxed whore if I give you any such cause."
Augusta scanned the crowded room yet again, wondering whether the Earl had succumbed to seconds thoughts about the whole matter, when a low voice sounded close by her ear. She started, nearly spilled the contents of her glass.
"I took the precaution of approaching from the rear," said the earl with a chuckle.
"Coward," she replied, though there was little sting to the word.
He nodded toward the open double set of doors. "Shall we take a stroll?"<
br />
"As long as this time we stay well out of range of any falling projectiles."
"I'll not argue with you over that. I would prefer that the precious few parts of my anatomy still unscarred to remain that way."
Though resolved to say nothing that might be considered provoking, Augusta couldn't help but murmur, "I'm sure to you they are precious indeed."
He only chuckled again, low and so close to her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath on the nape of her neck. "Why shame on you, Miss Hadley. Are you thinking improper thoughts?"
It was she who was put to a violent blush.
He guided her out the doors and down a graveled path toward the center of the garden. "By the way," he continued, seeming to take no notice of her flaming face. "I seem to recall having failed to thank you for last night. My headache might have been a great deal more severe had you not acted so quickly."
A Lady of Letters Page 10
