A Lady of Letters

by Andrea Pickens

  "What were you doing out there?"

  Augusta lifted her eyes. "Since I know you are not a complete imbecile I shall refrain from answering that I was dancing."

  "You said you never dance."

  "I danced with you." She paused a fraction, as if considering the matter. "Ah, but of course that was different...."

  He looked as if to speak.

  "You forced me. The other gentleman did not."

  His brows drew together in an ominous line. "Miss Hadley—"

  "I am teasing you, Lord Sheffield. Does no one dare tease you, or are you the only one allowed to indulge in such behavior?"

  "I am not in the mood tonight," he snapped. Nor, it seemed, was he in the mood to picture some gentleman's hand at the small of her back, or his artfully arranged curls bent close to hers.

  "Oh? Bit of a headache? Knee throbbing? Ribs feeling a touch sore?" she inquired with feigned innocence.

  "It is my patience that is frayed. Dangerously so. I should like to get down to business," he said in a scathing tone. "That is, if you are not too busy having a good time."

  She folded her hands primly in her lap. "Then pray, do go on, sir."

  "I think I am in need of a glass of champagne first. May I fetch you something as well?"

  "Yes, thank you. I shall spend the time that you are gone thinking of something creative to do with it." She ran an appraising eye the length of his person. "Let me see, burgundy and forest green—no, a splash will never show to best advantage on your waistcoat. But the cravat has possibilities. Could not you have tied it in a Waterfall for tonight?"

  The Earl had to choke down a bark of laughter.

  Augusta smiled on seeing his scowl disappear. "That's better, sir. It is much too intimidating trying to converse with you when you are wearing such a menacing expression."

  "Why is it I have a feeling precious little intimidates you, Miss Hadley," he murmured. "Most especially not my phiz, menacing or otherwise?" He signaled to a passing footman and returned in a moment with two glasses of champagne.

  "Now that you have been coaxed out of your sullens, may I ask what it was that had you looking as if you wanted to plant someone a facer?"

  He took a long swallow from his glass. "I suppose I was a tad out of sorts because I was thinking of someone I have not heard from in some time." On seeing the look on her face, he made a wry grimace. "It is not that sort of acquaintance. It is merely a good friend, someone I trust and whose wise counsel and insight I miss."

  Augusta's face became rather pensive. "I too—that is, I think I understand what you mean, sir. It is so rare that we may be honest and forthright with our feelings that to find someone with whom we can share our thoughts, with no fear of censure or ridicule, is special indeed."

  The Earl stared at her, suddenly wondering just what sort of thoughts were hidden behind those intriguing hazel eyes. To his surprise, he also felt a slight stab of jealousy at the fellow lucky with whom she might chose to share them.

  The intensity of his gaze caused her to drop her head in some confusion. "I... I hope that all is well with your friend and that you hear from him soon." For a moment she studied the tiny bubbles in her glass as if wondering what odd chemistry produced such effervescence between the two elements. "I take it you have had a chance to read the papers I gave you. What do you make of them?" she asked abruptly.

  He moved closer to her chair and turned his back to the line of dancers capering through a lively country dance. "I assume you are referring to the columns listing transfers, dates and amounts."

  She nodded.

  "Well, he seems to be talking of wheat, corn and rye."

  "Yes, but his estate raises only sheep!" she said with a note of barely contained triumph. "Those headings could be a code for something else. I have read of such things in... a book."

  One dark brow arched up. "The Dark Lord of Trieste. Yes, I've read that one too. Really, Miss Hadley, so you do prowl the aisle with the horrid novels."

  "I never said I didn't read them," she muttered.

  He gave a slight chuckle. "Well, in this case I am afraid that wheat means wheat. You see, Dunham has just entered into a partnership with a Cit to trade with the Americas, though he'd cut off his right hand before he would ever admit it to his friends. You saw the condition of his garden, hidden away from the public eye. His father drained the family coffers and though he's been struggling to keep up appearances, he's in desperate need to replenish them. So, by teaming his connections with certain people in Boston with the merchant's money, the two of them have a decent chance of being successful."

  "How did you find out about it?"

  Sheffield paused. "Gentlemen may not reveal certain things to their friends, but they tend to talk rather freely with their ladybirds, especially at the end of the evening's activities."

  Augusta's lips compressed. "Just as I thought. Men get to have all the fun—"

  He nearly choked on his champagne.

  "What I meant was... investigating interesting things."

  His look of unholy amusement only increased.

  She made a sound suspiciously like a snort. "Oh, do stop that, sir. This is no laughing matter." Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. "It seems that if you are sure we may rule out Dunham, then I will have to figure out how to proceed with the others."

  All traces of humor were quickly wiped from the Earl's face. "What others?"

  Her jaw clamped shut.

  "I trust that does not mean you are contemplating another late night burglary."

  "Well, since some other types of inquiry seem out of the question for me, it does seem the most effective way of discovering secrets."

  "It's much too dangerous. Miss Hadley, have you any idea how close you came to being caught?

  "It was only because you made such a racket when you tripped over the edge of the desk," she said under her breath.

  "I didn't trip. If you care to remember correctly, I was pushed. Rather hard." He took a step closer, forcing her to look up at him. "In any case, a repeat of that evening's adventure is out of the question. I absolutely forbid you to consider it."

  Augusta's features scrunched into an expression unbecoming to a properly bred young lady. "You do? And just how do you presume to order me about, sir? You are not—" Her words cut off sharply.

  "No, I am not your brother. But I'm damn sure Edwin would have locked you in your room—or worse—had he known what sort of trouble you were courting."

  Her chin came up a fraction. "Edwin would have understood that I would never abandon my friends, sir."

  He gave an exasperated sigh. "I am not expecting you to do so. I told you, I am quite willing to pursue this matter, and even you have to admit that so far I have managed not to make a complete mull of it—despite being a pompous ass and indolent wastrel."

  Augusta had the grace to color.

  "As I have also said, I could be a good deal more effective if you would see fit to explain to me what crime has been committed."

  There was an awkward hesitation before she replied. "I fear this is not the best of places to go into the whole thing, sir."

  "Quite right. I shall call on you tomorrow afternoon at three. My phaeton should afford us enough privacy for such a discussion. Does that meet with your approval?"

  She nodded.

  "Good." He started to move away.

  "What are you doing!" Augusta suddenly found herself on her feet, the glass carefully removed from her hand and placed aside.

  "I am forcing you to dance, Miss Hadley."

  Before she could protest, the Earl's arm was firmly around her waist, and her feet were moving of their own accord in perfect harmony with his. For a short time they danced in silence. Sheffield closed his eyes and found himself marveling at how light she felt in his grasp, how utterly unique was her scent of lavender and lemon.

  "My Lord..."

  He forced his lids open.

  "I feel I must warn you o
nce again."

  "Of what, Miss Hadley?"

  She drew in a breath. "Of the gossips, sir. I was not entirely in jest the other night when I mentioned that people were talking about the fact that you seem to be paying attention to me. Since no one has any notion of the real reason, it is bound to cause some discussion. In fact, I have already overheard more than one reference to it, and I should not wish to see you... embarrassed in any way by the connection. So you might want to avoid any further conversations in public with me, and certainly any further dances."

  His lips came to within an inch of her ear. "May the gossips all be turned into goddamn poxed sons of whores, Miss Hadley."

  The clock had long ago struck midnight, but Augusta still sat in her study gazing into the flickering flames, her heavy silk wrapper pulled tightly around her shoulders. Sleep had proved impossible. She couldn't help but feel her decision to take the Earl of Sheffield into her confidences was going to prove a most dangerous one. It was not that she didn't trust him. Rather it was her own confused reaction to him that were in question.

  Drat the man!

  She didn't know quite how it had come about, but somehow she no longer thought of him as odious and overbearing but clever and compassionate. It was abundantly clear he had a keen intellect as well, along with the sort of humor and strength of character that she could admire in a man

  Not to speak of what she felt at his physical touch. It was as if someone was holding a match to her skin every time his hand brushed against her. And the sight of those chiseled lips when his face bent tantalizingly close to hers made her mouth go dry. Why, every time she looked at him it was becoming more and more difficult not to imagine how it might feel if he... kissed her.

  At that, her own lips twisted into a mocking smile. Well, that was not ever likely to happen. She might harbor insane fantasies, but she was not a candidate for Bedlam. If even half the rumors were true, the Earl had his choice of most any lady—and quite a few who were not. All of them undoubtedly had the sort of lush feminine charms that could attract an experienced rake. She grimaced. The only thing he noticed about her was her sharp tongue, advanced age and hoydenish behavior. Now what man would want to kiss a female who had verbally raked him over the coals, knocked him on his rump, punched him in the ribs and caused him to fall into a desk? Oh, and then of course there was the little matter of the lemonade.

  Her eyes pressed closed. And that was not the half of it. If the Earl knew what other activities she was engaged in, he would no doubt think her an even more unnatural sort of female than he already did. Despite his words on forming hasty judgements, it was quite clear he thought her—or any of her sex—incapable of reading anything more strenuous than a horrid novel, so if he ever discovered that she wrote....

  Not a chance!

  Her jaw set. He had shown he was adept at discovering certain intimate details about other people, but she would make sure he never learned her secret.

  When the butler announced the arrival of the Earl the next afternoon promptly at three, Augusta had managed to put her personal feelings well under control. She greeted him with a cool nod and allowed him to hand her up to the perch of his smartly appointed phaeton with nary an outward hint of the frisson his touch sent along her spine.

  They did not speak until he had guided his team into the park and past the occasional carriage to a less traveled path. It was still some time before the fashionable hour to make an appearance, so there was no one else around them. He slowed the horses to a leisurely walk, and although Augusta had made a point of not looking at him during the trip, she couldn't help but notice the sure command with which he handled the reins. She bit her lip and forced her eyes away. There was important business to attend to. It would not do to let her thoughts start straying to where else she might like those long fingers to be touching....

  "You are looking as though you would like to take that dainty parasol of yours and bat someone over the head with it."

  Myself, she thought with an inward grimace.

  Sheffield ran an appraising eye over her rigid profile, taking the dark circles under her eyes and the tautness of her mouth. "You also look as if you have had precious little rest lately."

  She flushed slightly, grateful he could not guess the cause of her sleepless night. "How gentlemanly of you to notice, my lord," she snapped. "But I have little need of you to tell me my looks do not match up well with those of other ladies of your acquaintance."

  His brows drew together, but he refrained from any response. Instead he merely pursed his lips, then went on. "I believe you were going to tell me the whole story of the crime you are seeking to solve."

  "Yes." Augusta let out a sharp sigh. "That is, forgive me if I seem on edge. I... I have been very busy these days."

  "No doubt," he murmured. "Doing the job of Bow Street is deucedly hard work, as I have also discovered."

  She stole a glance at him to see if he was mocking her, but it seemed his blue eyes held only a glimmer of sympathy, or as close to such a softer sentiment as the Earl was capable of. To mask the effect that look was having on her insides she forced a scowl and a sharp retort. "Harder work than being a rake?"

  "Much. And the rewards are less immediate."

  That drew a grudging laugh. "You are impossible, my lord."

  "Well, that is a step up from being insufferable, I suppose." A smile twitched on his lips. "Now that I have returned the favor of coaxing you out of your sullens, shall we get on with the matter at hand? I admit, I am quite anxious to know all the facts."

  Augusta seemed to hesitate. "My lord, before I tell you everything, there is still one question I should like for you to answer. What is the real reason that you have spoken out on the issue of child labor?"

  His face hardened. "Ah, you think it still the result of a drunken wager, or mere whim? Are my ideas so lacking in merit that you find them a joke?" There was no mistaking the growing edge in his voice. "It's clear you think it unfair that people do not believe you capable of understanding intellectual concepts or forming opinions simply because of who and what you are. Has it ever occurred to you that I might feel the same?" He paused. "You want to know why I have spoken out? Because I read things too, Miss Hadley. Does that shock you, that I am capable of turning back the covers of more than just a bed? Or is it that you think an—how did you put it—indolent wastrel could not possibly care about anything more than his next mistress or hand of cards?"

  She swallowed hard, surprised as well as puzzled that he had remembered to the letter her harsh words of the past. For some reason, he seemed truly upset that she might see him as the rest of Society did, and yet she could not fathom why. "It has been quite some time since I have thought of you in those terms," she said very softly.

  "Oh, and just what terms do you think of me now?" His eyes had taken on an even more intense shade of blue.

  "A... friend, I suppose. Because of Edwin." She twisted the pearwood handle of the parasol in her hands. "You told me before that you felt some debt to my brother, so that, I imagine, is why you are offering to help me."

  "Ah yes, brotherly friendship," he muttered through gritted teeth.

  "I did not mean any insult by my question, my lord. Truly I didn't. I merely want to be assured that your feelings on this matter run deep. For if I decide take you into my confidences, I should not want to discover my trust was misplaced."

  "I may appear shallow to you, Miss Hadley, but rest assured that the current of my convictions is stronger than you imagine. When I set my mind to something, I am not easily put off course."

  Augusta drew in a deep breath. "Very well then, sir. The whole thing started six months ago, with the disappearance of a child from the fields. That was terrible enough, but soon after, another went missing. The third was abducted just a month ago. There was sign of a struggle, and I found a scrap of expensive silk fabric, the sort of material used to make up a gentleman's waistcoat."

  "Do you think this certain gentle
man is the sort of monster who has an appetite for murdering children? Have any bodies been found?"

  She shook her head. "No. Nor do I think any will be."

  His brow arched in question.

  "I cannot help but think the disappearances have to do with some other reason, which is nearly as appalling. In the course of my readings, I have come across mention of how some of the mines in the north are getting child labor from unscrupulous sources—that is, children stolen from their homes." Her mouth twisted in some disgust. "It is cheap, for the owners don't have to pay even a paltry wage, and effective, for the small bodies may wriggle in where a man cannot. And it is, sir, little more than slavery."