The Earl's Secret

by TERRI BRISBIN

  Ellerton faced him now, too, and nodded. “We are just arrived. However, since your servants are the consummate staff you expect them to be, one of your coachmen brought a copy back with him yesterday on his return from here. So, here we are to offer what support we can in your attempts to flush out this Goodfellow scoundrel…and to return directly to London and all the pleasures it has to offer.”

  He watched as Ellerton circled the desk and shifted a few of the papers, uncovering the as-yet-unanswered invitation to a ball to be held in the Assembly Rooms. Ellerton’s face lit when he realized what it was.

  “So! There is entertainment here after all.” He held the parchment up so Hillgrove could see it. “You see, he has been here enjoying the cultural life of Edinburgh while we have been sitting in the mountains hunting and fishing wild game.”

  “I think it might have been safer to seek the refuge of the mountains,” David muttered under his breath. He pointed at the invitation and raised his voice to be heard. “I am not attending and will send my regrets. It is too much a risk to go to a party where the leading members of Scottish and any English society in the city will show up in droves.” The two men nodded in understanding.

  “So, what is your plan, then, Trey? Do you leave for London soon? Or return to the hunting box?” The grimace on Ellerton’s face when he mentioned the Dursby’s mountain retreat spoke eloquently of his lack of tolerating the box’s distant location and spartan living conditions.

  “I have a few bits of business and the like to finish here and expect to leave for London in a few days,” he answered. He crossed the study in a few paces and lifted the invitation out of Ellerton’s hand. As nonchalantly as possible, he slid it back into a pile of other correspondence there. “There is no need for you two to be cramped into this house until then. I will send word to Dursby House and you can enjoy the comforts there.”

  “Excellent!” said Hillgrove. “I for one am pleased to accept the hospitality of your family’s establishment on the other side of town.”

  Ellerton glanced down at the desk once more and then met his gaze. David recognized the glint in his friend’s eyes as the perception of the situation as it was. Despite Ellerton’s occasional lapses into ridiculousness, he was a thorough and insightful judge of character. “It is not far if you have need of us, Trey.”

  “I, too, am anxious to be on my way home.” He clapped Hillgrove on the shoulder and nodded to Ellerton. “Now, if I can confirm Goodfellow’s identity while I am here, well then, it is all the better.”

  “The marquess expects nothing less,” Hillgrove replied. “Have you any ideas about how to do that?”

  “There are two people who know my true identity here in Edinburgh and I plan to avoid them. It is those of the fairer gender who I think can be persuaded into revealing some details about the elusive Mr. Goodfellow.”

  “Is Miss Fairchild one of those you hope to convince to reveal her truths?” Ellerton asked quietly. David did not sense teasing in the question, only concern.

  “Much as I would hope so, I fear she does not trust me enough to share her truths with me.”

  “And should the lady do so when you do not trust her with your own?”

  David met his friend’s gaze and shook his head in answer.

  No.

  “Is this woman the one, or of the many?” Ellerton asked, his scrutiny intensifying. The question, developed through their years of friendship, was their private assessment of the importance of a particular woman, or relationship, to their lives.

  David cleared his throat, giving himself a moment before making a declaration that he had only just stumbled upon himself. “In spite of my wishes in this, she cannot be.”

  His avoidance of saying it outright was more telling than any declaration he could have made. Ellerton nodded and walked to the door.

  “Then perhaps it is a good thing to be leaving soon.”

  David watched as Harley showed them out to the waiting carriage. When the house was once more drenched in silence as the city was smothered in the heat and humidity of a late summer afternoon, David allowed himself to contemplate the truth he would rather not face—that Anna Fairchild was the perfect woman for the man known as David Archer and the most impossible choice of a wife for the Earl of Treybourne.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Anna turned in her bed and pulled one of the pillows over her head. Even tugging the bedcovers over the pillow, she discovered, did nothing to block out the light of day. The terrible storms of yesterday had given way to an apparently glorious today and all Anna wanted to do was avoid it. The continued knocking on the door of her bedchamber spoke of Aunt Euphemia’s dedication and endurance to her chosen course of action which was, in this instance, forcing Anna from her seclusion.

  “Anna, dear, you must get dressed,” she called from the other side of the door.

  More banging followed and then her aunt gave up her efforts. At least the ones from outside the room. Now, the door opened and Anna peered out through a small opening in her fortress to see Aunt Euphemia, Julia and the maid enter. In spite of being completely garbed in a walking dress with matching bonnet and gloves, Julia immediately climbed into the bed and burrowed her way under the covers until Anna realized there was no hope of a quiet, private day to spend soothing her nerves and sorting her feelings. Her aunt’s protestations went ignored until Anna pushed the covers aside and gave Julia a playful shove to get her to her feet.

  “Lady MacLerie’s coach will arrive shortly for us, my dear. The storms have washed out to sea and a magnificent day has dawned. Come quickly now, for we do not have much time.”

  “Time for what?” Anna asked as her aunt and the maid each took an arm and tugged her from the bed.

  Fighting them off was not a viable choice, so she allowed them to guide her from the bed. At least they allowed her a moment of privacy as they chose her dress and accessories. As she washed her face over the basin of cool water, she repeated her unanswered query.

  “Time for what, Aunt Euphemia?”

  Her aunt shooed away the maid and walked over to Anna, taking hold of her hand.

  “I know that your experience yesterday was terrifying and you would like to do nothing more than to hide away from the world for a bit. But, Anna dear, you know that you always face life and its challenges straight on. I think Clarinda’s idea of a short excursion and a brief period of relaxation is just the thing for you to recuperate from your traumatic event.”

  Anna tried to smile at her friend’s and her aunt’s attempts to help, but they did not know half the trauma of what had occurred yesterday. And the near-death episode of the falling stones was the least of it.

  Anna had fallen in love with the enemy.

  Worse, when she finally realized that she was prey to the same emotional weakness of all women, it was with the one man who she could never have. For, although she might be an acceptable wife for a working man like David Archer, Anna knew clearly that her involvement in charity work and the Gazette, lack of family connections and the unfortunate incident in her past all placed her firmly outside the limits of suitability for the Earl of Treybourne.

  Not that an offer of any kind had been tendered. Of all people, and after working so closely with the girls at the school, she knew that a few kisses, a caress or two and a few whispered exclamations did not an offer of marriage make.

  Clarinda may have guessed at Anna’s inclination toward Mr. Archer, but she would know better than to encourage a match with the earl. As would Aunt Euphemia. Even Julia at her young age understood the rules of polite society and the lines that were drawn regarding marriage. The only person not listening to the rules of the world in which she existed was her.

  And the foolish heart that beat inside her, telling her even now to hope for a chance at something between them. Even as her mind knew of his deception. Even as she accepted their differences in opinion and values and rank and status. Even as the unworthy part of her past reminded her of
the reason she could not marry someone like David, her heart beat out a steady rhythm of encouragement.

  Foolish heart! If she kept going in this direction, she would lose the drive to use her knowledge of his true identity to gain an advantage in their war of words.

  Anna looked up to see Aunt Euphemia’s concerned expression and smiled. “An outing sounds wonderful.”

  If her acceptance lacked enthusiasm, her aunt plowed ahead without noticing. Calling the maid over, they helped her into her undergarments, then the outfit they had chosen without her, and soon Anna found herself dressed, coiffed and ready to leave the house. With Julia leading the way, they climbed into Clarinda’s carriage to find her there already. Soon, they were on their way out of the city and in the direction of Arthur’s Seat, high above Edinburgh.

  Doubtful that the day would stay as clear and pleasant as it began, Anna worried about the choice of location. Julia continued to chatter all the way along their journey. Arthur’s Seat was a favorite place of Anna’s, for one could see the entire city of Edinburgh and all the way to the Forth and almost into the Borders to the south. If the day were a clear one…

  The carriage pulled to a halt and the coachman jumped down to assist them. No sooner had she stepped out and straightened her clothing and bonnet than Clarinda called out greetings to someone waiting.

  “Ah, Mr. Archer! This is a splendid location, after all.”

  Anna grabbed for Clarinda’s arm, missed and instead took hold of her skirts. Holding her from moving forward, she whispered in her ear.

  “Clarinda! What do you think you are doing? Why is he here?” Anna dared not look at him. Trying to muster her anger, she tugged again until Clarinda turned to face her. “What is this about?”

  “Mr. Archer leaves for London shortly and I thought you might need more time and exposure to make certain you wheedled enough information from him regarding Lord Treybourne.” Clarinda whispered her words, but then shot a smile over Anna’s head to the man no doubt approaching them.

  “I have changed my mind over this matter, Clarinda,” she whispered through her teeth now, for the earl was coming closer and would soon be able to hear her words.

  “The hero!” Clarinda called out, smiling as he walked up to them and bowed over her hand, treating her as though she were superior in rank to him. And Clarinda had no idea. “I have heard a full report and so you cannot deny that you gallantly saved my friend’s life in the storm yesterday.”

  He moved to greet her next, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. If he lingered over it a few seconds more than he had spent on Clarinda’s, no one mentioned it. For her part, Anna was finding it difficult to remain aloof, and when their gazes met, she held her breath.

  “Miss Fairchild,” he said softly, not quite releasing her hand. “I am pleased to see that you felt up to joining us today.” He held her hand out to the side and examined her from head to toe, all in a polite guise that did not seem untoward at all. “I see no sign of lasting injury from our run-in with the storm and its fury. I am glad.”

  Her mind willed the rest of her to accept his words as the polite bantering that they were, but her body blossomed with heat at the very sight and sound of him. The skin on her hand where his lips had touched seemed sensitive, as did her own mouth and the place on her neck where he had caressed as he held her face and kissed her. Finally, the sound of intense coughing pushed through her reverie and gained her attention…and his.

  “Miss Julia,” he said, moving to her side and offering a warm greeting her sister. “And how do you fare on this beautiful day?”

  Julia smiled and made her curtsy. “I am well, Mr. Archer. And you?” Anna noticed the pleasure in her sister’s expression as she spoke with him and as he directed his full attention on her.

  “Very well, now that the rains seems to have ended. I began to think I was going to sprout roots and grow leaves with all the water.”

  “Is what Lady MacLerie tells us true? Do you leave for London soon?”

  How had she heard that when Clarinda had kept her voice down? Julia seemed quite capable of ferreting out information. Perhaps Anna should turn her loose to practice her skills on Lord Treybourne?

  “I fear it is. I have left matters behind that must be handled without delay. I leave in the morning.”

  Now that she knew who he was, Anna picked up on all sorts of double entendres in his words. Even in his tone of voice.

  “Oh, Mr. Archer!” Julia moaned out. “But we were just truly making your acquaintance.”

  Lord Treybourne laughed then, his face looking younger and full of life as he did. “Ah, Miss Julia. I think I will miss you most when I leave Edinburgh.”

  Aunt Euphemia muttered words under her breath at that comment and Anna strained to hear them. Lord Treybourne noticed them as well.

  “I will miss all of you, and especially you, Miss Erskine.”

  The nerve of the man, flirting with her aging aunt as though he meant it. The strange thing was that she believed he was sincere in his liking, or in Aunt Euphemia’s case, abiding, each of them.

  Her aunt turned a becoming shade of pink and smiled at him. “Mr. Archer, it has been a pleasure to meet you during your stay here. Will you return to Edinburgh?”

  “I believe I will, Miss Erskine,” he said. Turning to look at her now, he continued, “There is so much beauty here, I do not think I could resist another visit.”

  Anna watched as Aunt Euphemia’s bosom began to heave and she blinked rapidly at the man. Surely she did not believe such folderol? When he turned his gaze back to her and his intense blue eyes turned her stomach to mush, she understood her aunt’s reaction. Just as he began to speak to her again, Julia grabbed his arm and tugged him in the direction of the last rise of the hill.

  “Come, Mr. Archer. I want to show you where scholars believe the Votadini built a hill-fort centuries ago.”

  Anna watched as the two walked off together, Julia pointing out several piles of stone and Lord Treybourne nodding and looking as she did so, and considered that Lord Treybourne had been a willing participant in it. He did not seem false in his treatment or attitude toward Julia.

  She let out a sigh as she realized that she knew not where the line between the truth and falsehoods lay. Did she judge him by his actions? His words? He had convincingly spoken of Lord Treybourne as a separate person from himself during their conversations. He had listened and discussed how he disagreed with the earl about the subject of the essays, even the basic tenets of society and the conditions of all His Majesty’s subjects.

  But, where did Lord Treybourne begin and Mr. Archer end? And the question that struck fear deep in her: Which man had she fallen in love with?

  “You did not tell me he saved you during yesterday’s storm,” Aunt Euphemia huffed out as though insulted.

  “Actually, I spoke to no one about what happened yesterday.” She turned and looked at Clarinda, who was examining a rock near her foot with a newfound interest. “How did you hear about the incident?”

  Clarinda directed her servants to begin setting up the meal and guided Anna and her aunt to a place more suited for a private conversation. From that spot, they could watch as Julia led Lord Treybourne along the highest parts of the hill.

  “Mr. Archer sent word to me last evening about your near-brush with death, Anna. Although, and I must say he is admirable in his humility, he did not say anything about his role in your escape from that crumbling building that was struck by lightning.” Aunt Euphemia gasped, pulled her handkerchief from the reticule dangling on her wrist and dabbed at her forehead.

  “So, if he did not disclose the incident, who did?” And what did they say about the rest of what had happened between them?

  “Mrs. Dobbs sent word that you had been in the midst of the storm and that you were distraught upon your return to the school. Anna, she worries about you and only brought it to my attention because she feared you suffered some harm.”

  Aunt Euphem
ia gasped again at this disclosure and Clarinda directed one of the servants to assist her to one of the chairs they had brought with them for just that purpose. Once the older woman was settled and being served something cool to drink, Anna turned to Clarinda and pursued the matter again.

  “Obviously, Mrs. Dobbs imparted something to you that you wish to ask me to clarify.”

  “She said that your mouth, ahem, your lips were swollen. Now, how did she put it in her earthy way? Ah, yes. From the way your hair was loosened and your mouth appeared, she thought ‘ye looked as though ye’d been weel-kissed.’”

  She had been. Well-kissed. Though she could defend the way in which her hair came loose from the tightly wrapped style she favored most days.

  “I was caught in the middle of a storm, Clarinda. I gave no thought to my appearance when the lightning bolts and rain were erupting around us.”

  “Us.”

  Anna wanted nothing so much as to reach over and wipe the smug expression from Clarinda’s face, but her friend knew exactly what had happened. She just did not understand all the problems involved.

  “So you were well-kissed?”

  “That is not the point….”

  “What is, then?”

  “He lied to me. He continues to lie to me,” Anna whispered even while she watched the man under discussion run across the hill with her little sister.

  “And have you told him your truths?” Clarinda asked, meeting Anna’s gaze evenly when she faced her.

  That took the argument out of her. It was true. She was expecting him to divulge who he was and what his plans were without thought of exposing her own secrets. Clarinda, she was certain, referred to a particularly humiliating ordeal that Anna had faced in her first placement as a governess near Inverness. Not that it had left her unscarred, but it was one she knew Clarinda was familiar with, having witnessed the aftermath firsthand.

  “Come now, Clarinda. Despite the rather lax approach to the rules of polite society that sometimes exists here in the north, not even you can tell me that explaining to a virtual stranger the loss of one’s virtue to the master of the household while in his employ is a suitable topic of conversation.”