Even worse was the idea of running into Charles. Each time she ventured out, she watched for him, and tonight was no exception. He would appear sooner rather than later.
“Don’t you look lovely this evening.” Julia took her gloved hand and squeezed.
“As do you. That color suits you.” The pale blue made Julia’s eyes all the brighter. Or perhaps that was due to the man standing at her side.
“Good that you could come.” Viscount Frost glanced at his betrothed as though seeking approval for his greeting. The large man was formidable in many ways but his tendre for Julia was heart-warming.
“According to Julia, this is a party not to be missed.”
Frost leaned closer. “Between you and me, she says that about every party.”
Grace chuckled as Julia playfully elbowed Frost in the ribs. “That is not true. At least not all of them.”
The deep connection between the pair made Grace sigh with longing. And hope. Theirs was a unique relationship from what she could see, as was Captain Hawke and Lettie’s. They seemed to understand each other on an elemental level. Electricity sizzled between them as well.
Grace’s thoughts immediately jumped to Tristan, and she glanced over the crowd, wondering if he might be there.
“He is not here,” Julia whispered in her ear.
“Who?” Grace asked, hating to think she was so obvious.
“Adair.”
“What makes you think—”
Julia waved her gloved hand in the air. “Don’t bother. It is quite all right. You are among friends.” She stepped closer. “I was a bit tongue-tied when I first met him. All that serious demeanor wrapped up in a handsome package.”
“Humph.” Frost seemed none-too-pleased with her comment.
“Which were the same qualities that appealed to me about you.” She looped her arm through his as she smiled up at him. “You were so dark and mysterious.”
He frowned. “That isn’t how I remember our first meeting. I think time has addled your brain. We were at that little book shop, and you refused to give me the book I wanted.”
Julia chuckled. “In those moments, what is happening on the inside is what matters.”
“Ah.” Frost nodded in understanding. “Would you care to enlighten me as to what that was?”
His smile widened as Julia’s cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. “Perhaps another day.”
Grace laughed. Frost and Julia were adorable together—opposite in many ways yet the perfect complement for each other.
“Oh, dear.” Julia’s expression sobered as she looked across the room.
Grace turned to see Lady Samantha arrive and groaned inwardly. Though she didn’t truly think the woman would make a scene, Tristan’s warning was fresh in her mind. It looked as though she’d taken great care with her appearance. Her hair was intricately woven and drawn back to leave a cascade of curls over one shoulder. Her gown was a primrose color, the same as many debutantes might wear. But that was no debutante’s gown. The low neckline left little to the imagination, and the bodice appeared overly tight as though to emphasize her curves.
“I do wish she wouldn’t try so hard,” Julia whispered. “I don’t think men find it appealing in the least. It almost makes her look desperate.”
Grace felt sorry for the woman. To have been so close to marrying Tristan only to lose him must’ve been a terrible blow.
“No need for sympathy,” Julia whispered as though reading her mind. “She brought it on herself.”
Grace turned back to her. “Why do you say that?”
“I shouldn’t speak ill of her.” She tightened her lips as though resisting the urge to do so.
Grace waited, certain she intended to say more.
“She just isn’t very nice.” Julia’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “No. That is not true. She is often deliberately cruel, and that I cannot abide.”
“Adair seems happier since the engagement ended,” Frost added. “I saw him at the club yesterday briefly. He actually smiled at me.”
“How odd.” Julia looked puzzled by his observation.
“He smiles quite often,” Grace argued.
“You obviously know a different side of him.”
A sudden ringing filled Grace’s ears as she caught sight of someone on the far side of the room. A familiar sick feeling made her swallow hard.
“Grace, what is it?” Julia’s hand gripped hers. “You’ve gone pale.”
“My husband’s cousin, Charles Stannus, is here.”
“Am I given to understand that is a bad thing?”
“A terrible thing.” Grace turned her back to him when she saw him approaching, hoping he hadn’t seen her. She was torn between wanting to scream at him like a shrew for his latest act or hiding with the hopes of avoiding a confrontation. “I am going to leave.”
“Are you sure? We would be happy to serve as your support if necessary.”
Frost straightened. “If he has given you cause for alarm—”
While the idea of Frost confronting a much smaller Charles nearly made her smile, she had no desire to witness such an event. She feared that would only escalate Charles’s animosity toward her. “Thank you both, but it would be best if I departed.”
“Grace, dear, is that you?” Charles’s tone grated on her, bringing forth a terrible mix of anger and past feelings of incompetence.
Oh, no. She drew a quick breath, reminding herself she was with friends. He couldn’t hurt Matthew or her. Then she turned to face him. “Charles. Lynette.” She nodded at each coolly, aware Charles would be delighted if she caused a scene.
Charles looked with interest at Julia and Frost, but Grace didn’t bother with introductions. She didn’t want him to touch any part of her new life in London more than he already had.
Which brought to mind what he’d done to her son. “How dare you tell Matthew he should venture out on his own.”
Triumph gleamed in his eyes even as he shook his head. “What on earth are you going on about?”
“You know exactly to what I am referring. Speaking to Matthew through the garden gate is a new low, even for you.”
He shook his head with a sheepish grin at Frost and Julia. “You will have to forgive the viscountess,” he said to them. “She is still so distraught from grief that she often gets confused and forgetful.”
Grace felt the telltale heat of embarrassment sting her cheeks. She glanced at Julia and Frost, hoping they didn’t believe Charles.
“On the contrary,” Frost said, his voice cool. He offered his free elbow to her, and she took it like a lifeline. “I think she clearly knows her own mind.” He turned with both her and Julia holding his arms and moved away.
Grace was shaking by the time they reached the door.
“I think we will be leaving as well, don’t you?” Frost asked Julia. “That was enough excitement for one evening.”
“Yes. That man is horrible. Did your son listen to him?”
“Unfortunately, yes, but we found him.” Grace couldn’t help but look back over her shoulder. Charles and Lynette were standing where they’d left them. The animosity on Charles’s face caused a frisson of fear to jolt through Grace. Lynette stood at his side, saying nothing, as always. Why the woman put up with her husband’s behavior, Grace didn’t know.
Anxious to leave before Charles attempted to say anything more, Grace turned toward the door with Frost and Julia, only to nearly run into Lady Samantha.
Grace offered a polite nod but the woman glared at her in return. Then her gaze eased past Grace’s shoulder. Grace knew without a doubt that Samantha was looking at Charles and had witnessed their brief conversation. Her cool gaze shifted back to Grace, but it was the expression of malicious interest that made Grace’s fear increase three-fold.
She shuddered as the footmen retrieved their cloaks. Surely she was overreacting. Samantha had no cause to learn more about Charles or Lynette. Did she?
But Grace couldn’t se
t aside the worry of Samantha speaking with Charles. Nothing good could come out of such a conversation. It would be a terrible nightmare, indeed.
Tristan turned to Nathaniel as they walked along a crowded street in the East End the next morning. “Thank you for accompanying me.”
He’d invited Nathaniel along as he knew his brother was far more familiar with this area of the city than he.
Tristan wanted to see if he could find anyone involved in the plethora of advertisements in the news sheets that appeared to be scams for begging in one form or another. Several had noted an address in this area.
While he doubted they’d find anything, it wouldn’t hurt to try. Perhaps word of their inquiries would get to those involved, and they’d stop advertising their lies of misfortune that encouraged others to send money to them. Lord Jackson was still shaken by his experience. If Tristan could prevent that from happening again, it would be well worth the effort.
Nathaniel, cane in hand, gave him a puzzled look. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
The heat of embarrassment made him uncomfortable. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“You are changing before my very eyes.”
Tristan scoffed at Nathaniel’s jest but didn’t further respond. Part of him wanted to share with Nathaniel how hard he’d been trying. That of late, life seemed different. That anger wasn’t his first response to uncertainty or other stressful situations anymore.
“No comment?” Nathaniel prodded.
“None.” He couldn’t bring himself to explain. Not yet anyway.
“Mother called upon me,” Nathaniel said as they walked along, speaking when the passersby permitted them to walk side-by-side. “She seems to think you have lost your mind.”
“And you?”
“You are no more crazed than you were last month.” Nathaniel tilted his head to the side as though giving his statement thought. “In fact, I’d say less so. You are finally coming to your senses.”
“We are going to lose Crawford House.” Tristan wasn’t certain Nathaniel understood the seriousness of the situation. If he wasn’t so selfish, they wouldn’t be in this position.
“Very well.”
“That is it? That’s all you have to say?”
“What more would you have me say?” Nathaniel asked. “I know the terms of Father’s will. This was no surprise.” He came to a halt, blocking part of the walk despite the glares they received from others hurrying by. “I know you enjoyed spending time there. I am sorry you’ll lose that.”
“Nathaniel, this will significantly reduce the income of the holdings.”
“I suppose Mother didn’t take that news well.” He started forward again. “Good thing you are clever enough to find other ways to make more money. You realize Letitia and I do not require any funds.”
“But I would like—”
Nathaniel’s expression darkened. “As I said, I know the terms of Father’s will. It didn’t include me, nor does this matter to me now.”
“Why do you think he was such an ass?”
“To me or in general?”
“He didn’t restrict his unfortunate behavior to you exclusively.” Tristan scowled. “Though I will be the first to admit you received the brunt of his temper.” He paused, wishing he’d said this a long time ago. “I am sorry I didn’t do more to prevent that.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “Any time you stepped in, it only made him worse. I appreciate all you did. I used to wonder why Father acted as he did, but I confess I no longer do so.”
“I have recently come to that conclusion as well. Forgive and forget?” Tristan waited, wondering what his brother’s response would be.
“Hmm. I am not sure what I feel is forgiveness so much as I don’t want to be bothered with all that anymore. No one’s childhood is perfect. The only thing I can do is make sure my children never feel as I did.”
“That is incredible.” Tristan was stunned.
“I’m not successful at those intentions every day, but I am trying.”
“Thanks to Letitia,” Tristan added with a smile.
“Yes. She is a big part of it. Along with the happiness that comes with her.” Nathaniel sent Tristan a long look. “Which is why I was opposed to your engagement to Lady Samantha. I don’t think she would have brought you happiness.”
“You are right.”
“What of Viscountess Chivington?”
“Grace?” He asked the question more to give himself a few moments to decide how to answer. At Nathaniel’s nod, he added, “She is showing me how different life might be than I ever thought.”
“Excellent.” Nathaniel slapped his shoulder. “She seems lovely, inside and out.”
“She is, but I must tread with caution. I don’t want to cause any harm to Samantha with my behavior.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. She will manage to do it without your help. She has a tendency to place her foot in her mouth.”
“True. But moving too quickly with Grace would be unfair. She is only now learning to enjoy London and all it has to offer. I wouldn’t want to—”
“Can you hear yourself?” Nathaniel interrupted. “Do you intend to give some other man an opportunity to sweep her off her feet instead?”
“No,” Tristan denied. The very thought had his stomach turning, as did the memory of all those flowers in Grace’s home from admirers. “Of course not.”
“Then all this sudden patience on your part is only wasting time. Trust me, the good ones don’t come along often. Carpe diem.”
“Seize the day?” Tristan asked, confused at his brother’s Latin reference.
“I don’t remember what ‘lady’ is in Latin.” He stopped abruptly, looking up at the two-story building before them. “I believe this is the address for which we are searching.”
Tristan stared at the structure, having nearly forgotten why they were in this rough neighborhood. He brought his focus back to the task at hand—searching for beggars, or at least, those posing as beggars. They’d made an occupation out of it, so he supposed that made them ‘professional beggars.’
The wooden door’s bright red paint had seen better days, peeling in many places. The brass knob perched at an odd angle. The window panes near the door were coated in grime and hid the interior. It was difficult to tell what the purpose of the building was, but perhaps that was their hope.
Tristan raised his hand to knock on the door, only to have Nathaniel growl under his breath as he reached for the knob and turned.
“No point in warning them of our arrival, is there?” Nathaniel asked. He tossed open the door, which smacked against the far wall.
A man, sitting at a rough wooden table, popped up in surprise, a letter in one hand and a small knife in the other. A pile of unopened letters sat to one side with opened ones on the other. “Here now. What do you think yer doin’?”
“Well, well, if it isn’t our old friend, Culbert Rutter.” Nathaniel placed both his hands on the top of his cane as he studied the tall man with the bowler hat. “I wondered where you had gone.”
Rutter scowled in response then set the letter on the table.
“A friend of yours?” Tristan asked his brother.
“An acquaintance might be a better term. ‘Friend’ suggests a certain fondness, which I don’t feel. Rutter was an associate of Jasper Smithby, who currently resides in prison. I am sure you remember me telling you of Smithby’s activities.”
Tristan watched as Rutter’s face flushed at Nathaniel’s words. “The bloke who was responsible for not only running a ring of thieves, but selling young girls to brothels, if I am not mistaken.”
“The very one,” Nathaniel confirmed. “Rutter was the second-in-command of the operation.”
Rutter’s mouth gaped then closed as though he wasn’t certain if he should puff out his chest with pride or deny all Nathaniel said.
Finally seeming to regain his wits, Rutter shook his head. �
��I don’t know what yer talkin’ about. This is a legitimate place of business.”
Tristan scanned the contents of the table. Amidst the piles of opened letters peeked several pound notes. He dearly wanted to read some of those letters. A glance at Rutter revealed that he had yet to put down the small blade he’d been using as a letter opener. Tristan didn’t care to be stabbed.
Nathaniel stepped farther into the small room on the other side of Rutter and looked around. “Running this operation all by yourself?”
Pleased when Rutter turned toward his brother, Tristan eased closer to the table, hoping to reach the letters.
Rutter glanced back at Tristan then at Nathaniel as though wondering who to watch. “Yer both trespassin’. Get out.”
“I thought this was a legitimate business?” Nathaniel asked. “If so, the public should be welcome here.”
“The public might be, but yer not.” Rutter lifted his blade. “Leave.”
“I believe placing fraudulent ads in news sheets with the intent of collecting money under false pretenses is illegal.” Tristan shook his head. “Tsk. Tsk.”
Rutter licked his lips, obviously uncertain as to how to respond. “Ye can’t prove anything.”
“Except the fact that you assisted Smithby with his many illegal ventures.” Nathaniel shared a glance with Tristan. “I believe the police are still searching for you.”
With a muttered oath, Rutter grabbed both piles of letters from the desk, his knife held high, swinging between Tristan and Nathaniel. “Stay back,” he ordered.
Tristan wanted to stop him but not at the price of he or Nathaniel being stabbed. He sent a warning glare at his brother.
Nathaniel’s resigned expression filled Tristan with relief. Yet as though he had to try, he demanded, “Drop the weapon and the letters, Rutter.”
Tristan shifted to block the door, muscles tensing as he braced for a fight.
Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3) Page 21
