A Lady of Letters

by Andrea Pickens

  The other papers on her desk were ignored, along with the unlocked drawer sitting slightly ajar.

  It was a tad early for a morning call, yet Sheffield was too impatient to wait any longer. He had already drawn a number of puzzled looks by driving twice through the park at such an unfashionable hour. No doubt, he thought rather uncharitably, by next week every young sprig would be tooling his phaeton along the Serpentine at some ungodly hour, thinking it all the crack to be doing so.

  The Earl mounted the marble stairs as his tiger led the team to cool down. The door opened to the sound of the heavy brass knocker and he was ushered inside. To his chagrin, the elderly butler informed him in a doleful voice that Miss Hadley had gone out.

  For a moment, he hesitated. "Have you any idea when she might return?"

  The man gave a solemn shake of his head. "Miss Hadley does not always see fit to inform us of her intentions, my lord."

  Hah! Of that he could well believe. His lips tugged downward and the ebony walking stick in his gloved hand began to tap with some force against the side of his well-polished Hessian. It looked as though there was no choice but to try again later—

  "Jenkins, I wondered if you might help me with—" Marianne stopped short on catching sight of the Earl in the entrance hall.

  "I beg your pardon for calling at such an early hour. I was hoping I might find your sister at home," said Sheffield, making a slight bow in her direction. With a cursory glance he took in the softly rounded curves of her petite figure, the halo of golden curls framing her delicate features and had to admit that if one favored young misses straight from the schoolroom, the girl was indeed a real beauty.

  Intimidated by the rather grim scowl on the Earl's face, as well as recalling his unflattering assessment of her passed on by Augusta, Marianne's mouth opened and closed several times before any words came forth. "She is... out."

  "Yes, so I have been informed," he answered dryly.

  Marianne colored slightly. "Oh, now you truly think me an idiot, and this time with reason." she blurted out. "I don't usually act as bird-witted as this, but... you took me by surprise, sir."

  She was not the only one to feel a flush of heat steal to the cheeks. "Forgive me for startling you, Miss Hadley." He cleared his throat. "And it appears I have a good deal more for which to offer apologies, though I must say, it was not terribly diplomatic of your sister to repeat certain unfortunate remarks. I fear I was not in the best of humors that evening and was moved to voice sentiments that were most unfair."

  A bit of a twinkle came to Marianne's eyes. "I imagine you have now come to realize that diplomacy is not a trait often associated with my sister."

  Sheffield repressed a twitch of his lips. Despite the difference in physical appearances, the family resemblance was quick becoming obvious. He was indeed wrong to have thought her a vapid milk and water miss. It was clear she had at least some of the same sharpness of wits as her sister "Still, she might have done better to hold her tongue."

  "Oh, Gus tells me everything." There was a brief pause after which she added under her breath, "And if she doesn't, I can usually find a way to worm it out of her."

  His scowl had by now been replaced by a ghost of a smile. "Did she by chance tell you when she might return?"

  "She rode out with Jamison a short while ago, but did not leave any word about when she might be back." A frown came to her face. "Good Lord, she couldn't possibly be trying—" Suddenly aware of what she was saying, her words cut off sharply.

  "No, I doubt even your sister would attempt anything really illegal in broad daylight."

  Marianne looked a trifle relieved. "I suppose you are right, sir. She may have Jamison twisted around her little finger, but he is not entirely without sense." She paused. "And surely, if she was expecting you—"

  The Earl gave a slight cough. "As to that, I merely stopped by in the hopes of borrowing a book that I know your sister recently purchased at Hatchard's. It was the last copy, you see."

  "Oh." Marianne considered the matter briefly. "Well, I cannot see why she would object to that. If you wish to follow me to her study, I am sure you are welcome to take it with you now—that is, if you can locate it among all the others."

  It was clear her sister didn't tell her quite everything, else she would scarcely think that the elder Miss Hadley would find anything about him welcome, least of all his presence. He hesitated a moment, reason warring with curiosity. Perhaps it would be the polite thing to return at a later time, when the lady in question could decide for herself what she wished to do. That such an action would also afford him an opportunity to converse with her was, of course, only of secondary consideration.

  However, he had to admit he was intrigued by the idea of seeing her private study, and the sorts of reading material and personal things she surrounded herself with. And after all, he really needed that book. He would have all the more reason to explain his actions to her when he came to return it....

  "I should be most grateful," he replied.

  "Please follow me then, my lord."

  He wasn't quite prepared for the sight that met his eyes when Marianne pushed the door open. The desk, nearly as large as his own, was not at all the delicate gilt creation he imagined a young lady would favor. The wide expanse of polished oak was, as Marianne had warned, stacked with a number of weighty volumes, as well as what looked to be a thick manuscript, a large inkwell and an assortment of pens. Books were also piled on the carpet by her chair and on the settee near the window.

  Marianne gave a wry grimace. "I did warn you, sir. Gus is, ah, making a few notes on something that interests her."

  "So it would appear."

  "Perhaps if you were to tell me the title of what you are looking for I could—"

  "Miss Marianne!" Her mother's maid appeared at the doorway, her thin face looked more agitated than normal. "Your Mama swears she shall fall into permanent decline if she doesn't locate the special lavender and rosemary vinaigrette she ordered from Gillen and Trout immediately. She seems to think you might have an idea where it is." The tone was more plea than question.

  Marianne bit her lip.

  "Do not let me keep you, Miss Hadley."

  She looked around uncertainly. "Oh dear, I have no idea where to start. Perhaps it would be best if—"

  "I shall just take a quick look around. If I cannot find what I am looking for, I shall come back when your sister is at home."

  "You are sure you don't mind?"

  " Not at all."

  She flashed him a grateful smile. "I shan't be long, my lord."

  Sheffield's gaze traveled slowly around the room once the younger Miss Hadley had left. The wallpaper was a pleasant cream and sage stripe, not some flowery confection, its hues picked up by the subtle patterns of the oriental carpet. The simple drapes were pulled back to allow the sunlight to wash over the carved floor to ceiling bookcases, each shelf filled to capacity with all manner of leatherbound volumes. Several watercolors hung over the mantel. They were landscapes, showing a bold use of color and unusual technique. They were interesting choices, and ones that revealed a discerning and sophisticated eye.

  He turned his attention back to her desk and his mouth quirked upward. A few notes? That appeared to be a vast understatement, though why she was engaged in making such copious jottings was a bit puzzling. However, that was none of his concern, he thought, as he approached the cluttered top. He would just peruse the spines of the books and see if the one he wished to borrow was close at hand.

  His fingers ran over the small gold leafed spines of first one stack, then another. Having no luck, he moved around to the other side of the desk and bent over slightly to check the titles of the third stack. He moved some of the papers aside to have a look at the bottom book and it was then that his gaze fell on a sheet of cream colored stationery lying among the larger pieces of foolscap. Though folded in half, an edge curled up, just enough to reveal several lines of the handwriting.

&n
bsp; His handwriting.

  The Earl froze in disbelief. After a moment, he gingerly lifted the paper open completely, as if to assure himself he was not hallucinating. But there was no doubt—letter for letter his words stared back at him.

  It suddenly felt as if Gentleman Jackson had landed a punishing blow smack in the middle of his chest. Sucking in a deep breath, he sunk into the desk chair.

  What the devil was his letter to Firebrand doing on Miss Hadley's desk? It made absolutely no sense. None whatsoever. His hand came up to rub at his temple and his eyes fell half closed, barely taking in the other papers lying face up on the ink stained blotter. It was some moments before they slowly focused on the distinctive script that covered each sheet, a script that had become nearly as familiar to him as his own hand. In some confusion, his gaze slid to the open drawer, where he spied the rest of his letters, tied in a neat bundle with a length of ribbon.

  The awful truth finally hit home.

  For a brief second, the room appeared to be spinning. Good Lord, he was hallucinating—no, more than that, he was going stark, raving mad! The world was turned totally on its ear, with Miss Hadley writing as a man, and he about to fall away in a dead faint, like some excitable schoolroom miss. That abominable thought helped him get hold of himself.

  Then shock started to give way to anger. Why, the nerve of the outrageous chit, to attempt such a colossal masquerade as that. To pretend to such wisdom and insight! The oaths that tumbled from his lips would have scorched the ears of even the most grizzled stevedore. Just wait until he got his hands around that slender little neck of hers, he fumed, and then—

  The sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway caused his head to jerk up.

  "I shall be just a minute. Tell my mother I will be upstairs shortly, as soon as I straighten up some things in my study. Er, what was that, Jenkins?" The brass knob turned with some force and the door was flung open. "You will have to speak up...."

  The words cut off abruptly as Augusta caught sight of the Earl seated at her desk, the telltale letter still grasped between his fingers.

  Her hand came up to her throat as she closed the door behind her. "How dare you, sir!" she said in a strangled whisper. "How dare you break into my private study and paw through my things. Get out! Get out at once!"

  "Not until I have some answers from you."

  "I have nothing to answer for."

  "No?" He rose, as did his voice, and held the piece of paper with his handwriting on it up in the air. "What of this?"

  "What of it?" Her eyes dropped to the ground.

  "You impudent chit! I cannot believe it! You... you tricked me."

  "Oh, and how do you figure that? Did I give you false advice? Did I betray your confidences? Did I do anything but... act as a true friend?"

  He had the grace to color.

  "I certainly didn't know either, sir, if that is what you mean," continued Augusta. "Not until very recently." Her eyes were alight with sparks. "Good Lord, you cannot imagine I should ever have written such things if I had any idea it was... you!"

  Sheffield found himself staring at the molten hazel, flecked with amber, and growing hot all over. He took a step closer to her. "Why not?"

  "You just answered that yourself, sir. You said you couldn't believe it—you have made it clear that you could never accept that your learned... friend was a female."

  "Damnation! All the same, you should have told me!"

  "Why?" she cried, anger mixing with some other emotion. "What does it matter that we don't like each other in the flesh, when something that was of real value to both of us might have been saved?"

  The Earl took a deep breath." Is that why you chose to quarrel with me last night?"

  Augusta didn't answer, but turned her head to avoid meeting his gaze. He was surprised to see a glimmer of wetness in her eyes. "On top of everything, I suppose you are now going to reveal the true identity of Firebrand and ruin everything I have been working for."

  "I should hope you know me better than that," he said in a low voice as he moved even closer.

  Her mouth quirked upward in grim humor as she considered his words. "It does appear we know each other very well."

  "Hmmm. Very well, indeed." Sheffield was now standing quite close to her and could breathe in the faint scent of lavender and lemon from her person.

  "Yes, well, er, if you are not going to unmask me, what do you suggest we do about this unfortunate mess?"

  "This."

  His mouth came down upon hers, with an urgency that nearly scorched both of their lips. She struggled to speak but instead of allowing a word, he slipped his tongue deep inside her, twining with hers in a most intimate kiss. All attempt to elude his arms ceased, and with a low cry, she melted against his chest. Tentatively, she began to return his embrace, her fingers stealing up to brush the hard planes of his cheeks.

  Her untutored response to him only stoked the fires of his passion. Wild thoughts flamed in his head as his hands pulled her close, molding every soft curve to his body. At that moment, he wanted nothing so much as to strip off all her clothes, lay her glorious body on the carpet before the crackling fire and make passionate love to her, uniting them physically as one, just as they were joined in thought.

  A groan escaped him as her thumb ran along the line of his jaw. Never before had his self-control gone up in smoke like this. Her simple touch was threatening to burn away every last vestige of the defenses he had carefully constructed around his soul, leaving him naked in his need. Good Lord, in another second he would—

  "Lord Sheffield, have you had any luck in—" Marianne's words ended in a squeak of surprise as she clutched at the polished knob to keep the door from swinging open any farther. Eyes widening slightly, she stared in some fascination at the scene before finding her voice again. "Er, well, it seems you are in no need of my help." With that, she pulled the door shut.

  Augusta pulled away from Sheffield's chest. "Marianne knew you were here?" she managed to stammer.

  "Er, yes. I came here this morning in hopes of borrowing a certain book. She let me in... to look for it." His voice sounded equally dazed.

  "What book?

  He told her the title.

  She moved rather unsteadily to the stack of books by the window and took up the one on top. "Here," she said, hurrying back and thrusting it in his hands. Without waiting for a reply, she continued on in a rush of steps and disappeared into the hallway.

  Sheffield followed behind her.

  They caught up to Marianne in the entrance foyer. "Lord Sheffield has found what he was looking for," announced Augusta in an overloud voice.

  Her sister kept her eyes averted from both of them. "Yes, so it seems," she murmured.

  Augusta shot her a withering look, then bit her lip.

  The Earl remained silent as he accepted his curly brimmed beaver hat and walking stick from the elderly butler, who was appeared to be staring at his disheveled locks and creased cravat with great interest. Then he cleared his throat with some awkwardness. "I shall return at four, to take you out for a drive in the Park."

  "I'm afraid that may not be convenient—"

  "At four, Miss Hadley." The tone of his voice left little doubt as to whether it was a request or a command.

  "Oh, very well."

  As soon as the Earl was gone, Augusta took her sister by the arm and drew her none too gently into the drawing room. For yet another time that morning, a door was pulled firmly shut.

  "I vow, I shall strangle you if you ever mention a word to anyone—including me—about what you witnessed back there," she said through gritted teeth. "It was not as it might have seemed. As usual, we started to argue over, er, a certain matter, and I'm afraid Lord Sheffield had become rather furious with me !"

  Marianne arched one delicate brow. "I'm not sure I would have described the Earl's emotional state as furious, Gus."

  Her face turned a distinct red. "You don't understand how things are between us," she
muttered. "Trust me, what was happening back there—"

  "It's called kissing, Gus." There was a twinkle in Marianne's eyes. "And it looked like Lord Sheffield was doing it very well indeed."

  "If he is very good at it, I imagine it is because he has had a great deal of practice." She let out a ragged sigh. "His kiss did not mean, well, what kisses usually mean. As I was saying, what happened back there had nothing to do with whether the Earl feels any attraction for me, but rather with...." Her voice trailed off in some confusion.

  "Lust?" suggested Marianne.

  Augusta tried to appear shocked, but the twitch of her lips gave her away. "Really, Marianne, it's all very well for me, who has no wish to be part of the Marriage Mart, to voice ideas that no proper young miss should be aware of. But you, who have such great prospects, must have a care what you say, even in private, lest you let such words slip out in public."