The Earl's Secret

by TERRI BRISBIN

  The issue was ready except for this one piece and would be printed in the next two days and hit the streets the day after that. He debated on when to forward a copy of it to Trey as he’d agreed to do and decided to wait until the issue was complete so the essay could be read in the context of the other pieces.

  Now, all he could do was sit back and wait—wait for the issue’s release and the reaction to it, wait for Trey to hie himself back to London as promised and wait for Anna to come to her senses. Oh, and wait for any information about Trey’s past to arrive from the man Robert had commissioned to seek it out.

  And with the usual storminess and heat of Edinburgh at the end of August, waiting was something he could do. There was little else of interest in the city at this time. Except Anna, of course.

  The waiting was interminable. Letters came from Ellerton and Hillgrove at the hunting box asking for his return, but David dare not leave yet. Neither man seemed in a hurry to return to London or even to visit Edinburgh, so he wrote of his arrival soon and sent it off.

  The marquess’s missives found their way to him and those demands were not so amiable. This summer break from sessions was a time to shore up support for several bills his father planned on introducing in Lords and he ordered his return to London to participate, as agreed. David felt the chain tightening around his neck and being yanked across several hundred miles.

  Thomas had not yet discovered the depth of the links between Anna and the Gazette, but he continued to ply financiers and banks across Edinburgh to free up someone’s tongue. Their contingency plans were also vague at this point, for David’s request to be able to continue maintaining his current commitments without additional funding made the usually calm Mr. Forge lose his composure and pound on the desk in protest. David did not doubt the man’s resourcefulness, if given time, so he urged him on in both tasks.

  And he waited.

  The three days until the expected release of Goodfellow’s latest passed more slowly than many years of his life to date. Would the writer follow Nathaniel’s request? Would he strike out with words and make the situation worse? If that were the sorry case, would Nathaniel have the backbone to intervene and make the changes necessary to quell the hostilities?

  He was tired. He was cross and short-tempered. He missed Anna. And the thought that he would be leaving Edinburgh and her did not sit well with him. He needed to get back and handle all the business in his control and, for the first time in the years since hatching these plans, he did not look forward to it. Now, he would return knowing that there was a woman out there who was perfect for him, who agreed with his politics, who would support those endeavors he did and one who he could not have.

  David looked over at the cabinet and noticed that the decanter of whisky was gone. Damn Harley! His valet was much too efficient to miss such a thing, so David knew he’d done it on purpose. A message that he was drinking too much these last few days. He rubbed the ache in his head and wondered if Harley was too smart for his own good.

  He paced over to the window and peered out. In anticipation of the next edition of the Scottish Monthly Gazette, Edinburgh was drawing all sorts of visitors from the south. Too many who knew him on sight. Too many acquaintances who would question his presence there. So, he was banished to this house to wait.

  Finally, a messenger arrived from Nathaniel with a portfolio and a brief scribbled note. “As promised.” David slammed the door of the study behind him and opened the magazine. Searching through it, he found the essay and began to read it. Shorter than most of the others in the ongoing series, this was more to the point.

  Blood will Tell, My Lord?

  It Certainly will and it Certainly has in this Series of Exchanges. But it has also Spoken Most Eloquently in many Matters that the King and His Government seem Eager to Ignore. Allow me to Remind His Lordship about Blood that will tell—

  The Blood of those who Honored the King and this Country with their Lives fighting against the tyrant on the Continent. The Blood of Those Loyal Soldiers who Returned to find only Poverty, Death and Disregard as Their Reward for such Service.

  The Blood of the Innocent Children of the poor and unfortunate who ask for Nothing More Than Bread to Eat and Water to Drink.

  The Blood of Those Killed in Riots over the Price of Food, the Price of Farmed Goods, even the very Price of Living in His Majesty’s Kingdom.

  Blood Will Tell, My Lord, and the Needless Spilling of Blood will not be Washed away or Ignored so easily.

  Instead of Demonstrating your Righteous Indignation at my Challenges to your Sensibilities and Accusing Me of Having No Honor—an Accusation which I will hold him Accountable for—I would urge My Lord Treybourne and Those with Whom he holds sway to Consider what must be done to Stop the Bloodletting and to proceed in this Prematurely Bemoaned, but not yet lost Age of Enlightenment so that King and Country may Benefit.

  Bring your Attention back to the issues at hand—parliamentary and social reform—and leave the name-calling to Lesser Men. The good People of our Country would be better served if we did not allow such Distractions to pull us from our discourse. So, I urge you, My Lord Treybourne, be the Better Man and put forward ideas and not insults, suggest Enhancements not Hindrances to the common good and Promote Progress and not Stagnation.

  His Majesty’s and Yr. Servant,

  A. J. Goodfellow

  He read it again to make certain he’d not missed a word, just as, he suspected, everyone would do so in the coming days across Britain. Then he read it for the subtleties and nuances not apparent in simply reading the words, but there in the context of the essay.

  Simply put, it was brilliant! Goodfellow had done it! Exactly as they needed. Exactly as he’d asked. Exactly what all parties concerned needed to get back to the substance and away from the distractions.

  David read once more to be certain he’d not missed anything and then let out some of the tension that he’d been holding inside. The loud yell brought Harley and Thomas to his study.

  “My lord?”

  “This might work, Harley. It just might work out after all.”

  “Very good, my lord. Does this mean I should begin packing for our return to London?” he asked.

  “And civilization, Harley?”

  “Just so, my lord.” Harley had made no secret that living here was like living in some foreign land. His valet could not understand the other servants they’d hired, nor the tradesmen they dealt with.

  “Soon, I think, but not just yet.”

  “My lord?”

  “Thomas, are you any closer to finding anything about what I asked you to look into?” He turned and faced the man. “That is most important to me.”

  “I have made some progress, but it will take another few days before I have it complete, my lord.”

  Harley let out a loud, exasperated sigh, letting him know that every day here was a trial to his patience. At his look, Harley nodded and bowed. “Very good, my lord.”

  David was restless now that he knew what was coming. Something bothered him though and after he dismissed Thomas and Harley, he picked up the Gazette again.

  The first thing he recognized were his comments about the soldiers who’d returned from the war on the continent to no place and few jobs to employ them. Then he saw his own observations about the price of goods and food staples. David had made both of those comments during discussions at Lady MacLerie’s dinner and Goodfellow had used them against him in the essay!

  As he suspected, Goodfellow had been present and listening—it was the only explanation. So close to his quarry and not successful yet at flushing him out of the bushes!

  Turning back to the wording and the content, he noticed that Goodfellow had chosen a key phrase from the last one of his to use as the centerpiece around which he built his article.

  “Blood will tell” was the telling one. The problem was that he’d never used those words.

  Raking his hand through his hair, he closed his eyes
and thought back to the original essay. Going over it in his mind, David knew that his father had altered his words. And, if he sent his next essay ahead of his return and lingered a bit longer here as he’d been toying with the idea of doing, his father would turn that one into something guaranteed to begin the personal conflict anew.

  His return to London must indeed be soon. He shook his head. Regret over so many things filled him, but the one most in his mind was Anna. Regret over all the things that could have been for them and yet could not be.

  If he could find a way to free himself from the devil’s bargain with his father. If he could convince her that his charade had been the only way he could handle the situation. If he could allow Anna to know that the real Lord Treybourne was him and not the man she thought him to be.

  He threw himself back into the chair, knowing the foolishness of such wishes. His personal wealth could not be touched until he gained control of his inheritance from his grandfather on his thirtieth birthday, another year away. Ending the bargain with his father was not possible until then.

  Well, his time here was nearly over, so David decided that he would see her as many times as he could arrange before leaving. Although he was certain she would be angry and hurt when she found out his identity, he would remember her spirit and her beauty always. And most likely, he’d long for what could have been between them.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nathaniel had not shown up on her doorstep after all. Neither had “Mr. Archer.” Instead, the two nemeses to her peace of mind had absented themselves for several days after she’d turned the essay in to Nathaniel. Anna went about her various duties and did not seek either man out, waiting for one or the other to reveal their hand first. Her strategy worked, for Nathaniel appeared without warning at her front door just two mornings after the newest issue of the Gazette arrived in the hands of anxious readers across Edinburgh. Londoners would be receiving their copies this morning.

  “Anna!” he said as he entered, and hugged her. “Goodfellow’s latest is a smashing success!” He lifted her from her feet and twirled around with her in his arms as though doing a waltz in her drawing room.

  As difficult as it was not to join him in his excitement, Anna waited for him to notice that something might be awry. She closed her eyes and did allow a moment of weakness as she floated in his arms and felt his support around her. Then, she took a deep breath and pushed out of his embrace.

  “Is something wrong, Anna?” he asked. Nathaniel took a step or two back and, still holding on to her shoulders, examined her stance. “Something is wrong.”

  She offered a smile, a weak one that did not sit comfortably on her face. “Will it satisfy Mr. Archer?”

  “Absolutely it will. Have no fear on that account, Anna. You, er…Goodfellow walked the very fine line as he needed to, neither capitulating nor antagonizing Lord Treybourne personally. This skirmish belongs to Goodfellow.”

  Anna backed out of his grasp and it was she who walked a few paces away now. Grasping the back of a chair, she met his gaze and waited for him to understand. When his eyes widened and the smile he wore froze in place on his face, she knew he’d comprehended the situation.

  “Anna,” he stuttered, reaching out toward her. “I…”

  “You can explain, Nathaniel? I am certain you can and I am simply holding my breath in anticipation of it.”

  Anna evaded his grasp as he strode to the front of the chair and reached for her hand. He took a step to the side and she countered with a step away. She shook her head at him.

  “Stay there. I have no wish for you to touch me while you explain the reasons behind your betrayal.” It was how she felt about his compliance with Lord Treybourne’s obvious plan to keep the truth from her.

  “I was attempting to protect you until he left. Nothing more than that. I saw no reason—”

  “No reason to enlighten me to his true identity? No reason to share this valuable information with me? No reason to tell me the truth when I stumbled near it?” Her voice rose and Anna trembled at the strength of her anger. “I thought that this was a partnership, Nathaniel. I expected better of you than this.”

  Now it was her turn to stalk him, taking several steps closer until she could poke her finger in his chest. “You took a stranger’s side in this over mine. What did he promise you? What did he threaten you with?” Then she stopped and considered the worst of it. “What did you tell him?”

  “Sit, please. Can we not talk about this calmly?” Nathaniel asked as he pointed to the chair they circled. He walked to the couch and waited for her to move. “There is much to say.”

  Anna debated for a few minutes and thought about everything that existed between them. As angry as she felt, she would not turn her back on their years of friendship. She nodded and slid onto the chair, arranging her skirts while gathering her thoughts and letting her anger calm.

  “I have told him nothing of our arrangements. Indeed, his interest in you lies in a completely different area.”

  Startled at the implication, she frowned. “What does that mean, Nathaniel? What interest does he have in me?”

  Could it be that he was planning on using the information she revealed about the connections between the charitable endeavors and the magazine? Now, thinking back to Nathaniel’s objection over that course of action, it made sense. And she’d given the very man who could harm them the most the weapon with which to do it.

  “Come now, Anna. He is attracted to you as any man with eyes and a brain would be. You are a lovely young woman, in spite of your attempts to ignore it, and one who has the appealing ability to carry on conversations that are not about gowns and balls.”

  She felt the hot blush move up on her cheeks. He did not compliment her often and now, with Lord Treybourne in the mix, she felt embarrassed by it.

  “So intelligent that I could not see through this deception or yours,” she muttered.

  Nathaniel stepped over to where she sat and knelt before her, lifting her chin with his fingers. It reminded her of another’s touch. Now, she saw only her dear friend.

  “I beg your forgiveness for not disclosing his identity. I took his word as a gentleman that he had only one task and then he would leave. Since we have worked so long to cover Goodfellow’s tracks, I saw no reason why that task would take more than a few days or a week.”

  Torn between her anger and his words, Anna considered them for a moment. Nathaniel then added the maddening words that always made it impossible for her to refuse him.

  “You know my feelings toward you, Anna. I did it only to protect you in the best way I could. At the time, when he first arrived, I thought it best to go along with Lord Treybourne to get rid of him sooner rather than later.”

  This time, she could hear Clarinda’s words in her head about Nathaniel’s true feelings about their relationship. Although it faded into more a familial one for her, from the soulful expression in his eyes and the soft caress now of her face, he still thought and expected more.

  “Nathaniel, I have been honest with you about our relationship,” she began. He dropped his hand, drew back a bit and narrowed his eyes.

  “Then…you are taken with him?”

  “Taken with? Whatever do you mean? Surely you do not refer to Lord Treybourne?” Anna pushed past him and walked to the window. Peering out, she took a deep breath and tried to refute the feelings she knew to be true. “Is a woman not permitted to appreciate the handsome visage or fine figure of a man? Or to enjoy a few meaningless conversations with the old acquaintance of a trusted friend?” Turning back, she cleared her throat and offered the last lie. “That is all that happened.”

  Whether it was the tone of her voice or the unfamiliar quality that entered her gaze, Nathaniel knew her words for the lies that they were. Treybourne had made more than a passing effect on Anna and an unusual jealousy tore through him at the realization of it. But, before he could act on the impulse, the true affection between them flared as well.

/>   He stood and straightened his waistcoat. “There could be no more between you and him than that, Anna. Surely, you understand?”

  It would not do to get her hopes raised, if she had succumbed to those customary feminine ones regarding men and marriage, for Treybourne’s position as earl now and marquess later put him far above her in social status and expectations.

  “Oh, I understand my standing completely, Nathaniel, and I would not have presumed otherwise if I had known his identity.”

  Had she even noticed the slip? Did she realize the truth she’d just exposed to him? Damn! She did have tender feelings toward the blighter!

  “Anna,” he said as he approached her, “Treybourne will be gone soon, for his every effort to discover Goodfellow’s identity is without success. In spite of my failure to grasp the danger of his presence at the first, I will not fail to protect you now.”

  “Actually, the truth would have offered me any protection I needed from him, Nathaniel. As it will now that I know.”

  The steely glint that foretold trouble entered her gaze now and Nathaniel shook his head. “Anna, you cannot mean to engage him now that you know? Now that Goodfellow’s essay is published, his return to London is imminent.”

  He watched as the hurt young woman turned into the warrior before his eyes. When her chin lifted and she placed her hands on her hips, he knew nothing good could be heading his, or Treybourne’s, way.

  “Other than Lord MacLerie, with whom have you shared Lord Treybourne’s secret?” she asked, her voice deceptively low and even. “Clarinda?”

  He knew she could be more determined when she was calm. Perhaps he should have tried to make her angry? When she raised her voice, it did not signify imminent danger for anyone, especially not the target of her ire.

  “I did not tell Robert or Clarinda.”