Intellect was a rare thing to find in London. Most men were concerned with the cut of their suit, their next night at their gentlemen’s club, or finding a way under the skirt of an unsuspecting woman. Cart was different. Certainly, she’d noticed the way he’d taken in her charms, but he did not limit their visits—as odd as they were—to matters of the weather or talk of insignificant gossip.
Jude did not consider herself of high intellect, though she knew her tastes ran deeper than most men of the ton were willing to embrace. A woman who was learned in history, culture, and the arts was not something the beau monde normally found appealing.
The lords of her acquaintance favored debutantes whose interests lie in current fashion trends, needlepoint, and other household matters—all things that would make a suitable wife.
Or men—certainly many that Sam had turned her eye to—were looking for women interested in the darker side of London living. An improper night at Vauxhall Gardens, strolling down the unlit paths where many turned a blind eye to unchaperoned women and the men who accompanied them. Jude had even witnessed men arriving at Craven House with scantily clad women, who certainly weren’t their wives, dressed in attire not befitting anyplace outside the bedchambers. The women would sit on the men’s laps as they played hand after hand, drinking themselves into a stupor. The females would giggle and fuss when the men’s hands roamed over their bodies, lifting their skirts to touch the secrets hidden below, but Marce would quickly shoo them from the house when they took things too far and crossed the line of decency.
Sam and Jude had spied activities such as this at a tender age. Jude had found the touching uncomfortable to watch, while Sam had been captivated by the scenes before them. Another difference between them—matters of the flesh enthralled Sam, while Jude took more of a cautious stance on them.
Their nightly escapades down the servants’ stairs to spy on the nightly carousing ended not long after it had begun when Marce had stumbled upon them. They’d been punished and sent to their room, forbidden from leaving the upstairs of their home for nigh over a month’s time. When their sister threatened to lock them in their room for the next decade, it was no empty promise.
“Jude?” Sam called, craning her neck to see her twin. Jude stood a few paces inside their room, stuck in the many thoughts going through her mind. “You know Garrett best. How can we keep from his notice?”
Jude shook her head, dispelling her worries and bringing her thoughts back to their current situation. “I think the vase is safe where it is and we must continue as we’ve been. Marce is convinced we are making a successful splash in society. We are attending gatherings, acting the proper, demure misses. We shall continue in that vein.”
Sam pursed her lips.
“Today we will prepare for our ride in Hyde Park. Lady Chastain was kind enough to allow us use of her open carriage. We will mingle, be the proper young misses, and if Lord Cartwright shows up, I will do what I can to help solve our dilemma.”
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise as Jude heard the door behind her swing open.
“I would favor a ride in Hyde Park,” Payton gushed entering the room. “Why was I not told?”
“You are not tagging along,” Sam and Jude said in unison.
Payton set her hands on her hips and glared at her sisters. “We will see what Garrett has to say about that—and that pretty vase that appeared in Marce’s private salon. I am certain you have both noticed it, that quiet, ugly thing. My, but it looks old. Far too old for Marce’s tastes—and the colors are all wrong. I thought to ask her if she wanted me to dispose of the obnoxious thing while she was gone, but—“
“You are not to touch it!” Jude said, raising her voice and exposing their secret.
Payton smirked.
“What do you know of that vase?” Sam asked.
“Oh, only that I saw you sneaking in late one night with it tucked under your arm. And then Garrett summoned Marce early one morning and they departed in haste, returning later with Jude in tow—but I guess our dear sister knows nothing of the vase, am I correct?” Their youngest sister was known for her watchful eye, which suited her best at the card tables, though obviously not as good as Jude had thought, judging from Marce’s earlier comment to the contrary. “You think your activities have gone unnoticed, which may be the case with Marce, but not me.”
“You know nothing,” Sam accused.
“I suppose that is possible, but I may also know far more than the pair of you think.”
“What do you want, Pay?” Jude’s mouth suddenly went dry.
“I shall continue to cover for you, but sometime in the future, I will need the pair of you to cover for me—no matter the situation.” A gleam entered Payton’s eyes, knowing she had her sisters exactly where she wanted them.
“We cannot allow you to put yourself in peril and not say anything.” Jude loved the girl, but her antics were far more treacherous than theirs—if Marce’s comments of gaming debts were to be believed.
“At this point in time, I do not see that either of you have any choice but to surrender to my demands.” She remained silent until both twins nodded. “Oh, and I shall accompany you to the park today.”
Sam moaned, burying her face in her pillow.
“Come now, Sam,” Jude prodded. “It is a little ride in the park. She cannot annoy you overly much in such a short period of time.”
It was advantageous for Jude to have their youngest sibling along for the ride. It would allow her a bit of time with Cart, without Sam keeping too close of a watch on them—if the man showed up, that was.
“Now that that is all settled, Garrett sent me to inform you that Lady Chastain’s carriage has arrived to collect us.” Payton turned to leave the room, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “I will meet you in the carriage, do not keep me waiting…there is never any guarantee what I might say or do when I am bored.”
“Meddlesome imp.” Sam pushed from the bed, smoothing her skirt and glancing into the mirror above her dressing table. “I was hoping to re-pin my hair, but time will not allow it.”
Jude took in her own appearance. She was not one to don a morning dress only to have to wiggle out of it two hours later in favor of a walking dress. In that vein, Jude had dressed for their ride in the park before taking her morning repast—and now, she was happy she had.
She hoped Lord Cartwright favored the paisley print she’d selected for the day.
Chapter 12
Cart resisted the urge to fan his heated face or remove his overcoat. He’d never understood the need for ladies to carry hand fans with them at all times, but the insufferable afternoon heat was enough to have him hoping that a fashion trend started, allowing gentlemen to tote them, as well.
Not a breeze moved through the trees as the sun beat down on him. Unlike the garden party, where gusts of wind had rolled across the open areas lifting the pockets of muggy air above the crowd, no such weather pattern was evident today. Cart moved between the hordes of finely dressed women with elaborate headpieces and men dressed as if they were peacocks with their feathers on display. The scene before him was shockingly absurd. The sheer amount of fabric adorning the thousands of ton members milling about on foot, on horseback, or in carriages, would take several large merchant ships to import.
He’d dedicated his time and energy to antiquities, but the far safer—and more lucrative—venture may very well be imports. Textiles in particular. The utter vanity Cart witnessed made him question his desire to be a part of it all. By birth, he was an earl, one of London’s elite, but by nature, he would not allow that to define him and his future.
The crowd surrounding him moved at a snail’s pace, no one being in any hurry. His mother had spoken of the benefits of daily walks in Hyde Park, gaining a turn of exercise, but not a single person moved fast enough to increase their heart rhythm. In fact, many stood slightly off the paths, socializing in groups.
Clearly, Cart had been misinformed about the ton’
s reasoning for visiting the park.
Not that any of that mattered to him—he was here for one reason.
To see Jude.
Miss Judith Pengarden.
It was odd to call a woman by her given name. Their acquaintance had moved so quickly and had turned to a sort of friendship where one was given permission to address another so informally. He’d convinced himself that their relationship was founded on nothing more than a mutual interest and possible future dealings. That was where her interest in him ended—and his as well if he were smart.
He must remember to address her properly before her sisters, so as not to cast any doubt on the nature of their association.
If he were ever to locate Jude—the park was far grander than he imagined.
It had been years since he’d scoured the terrain with his father, bringing his archery bow and taking to the less populated areas to hone his skills. That had been over fifteen years ago, and his bow had been long forgotten—likely stolen by his uncle.
Surely the foliage-covered area hadn’t grown in size. He scanned the park once more, his eyes settling on no one in particular, lest they recognize him and insist on conversing.
He reminded himself yet again that he was not against idle conversation. But he was here for a purpose, which was not empty discourse.
Jude had mentioned arriving by carriage, so he’d found a path—a large loop—where many open-air conveyances traveled at a slow pace, allowing their inhabitants to talk to friends and acquaintances in other vehicles as they drove past. Several were stopped, their occupants in conversation, others pulled to the side to allow men and women to depart and continue on foot.
At this rate, Cart had a slim chance of spotting the one carriage he searched for, especially from his low vantage point on foot.
He hadn’t any idea the color of her horses or carriage. For a man who prided himself on being well informed, Cart was lacking exponentially today.
Veering off the path, Cart moved to a small rise that would enable him to reach a higher lookout point. The short climb left him short of breath and wishing it were acceptable to remove one’s coat and shirt during times of overexertion.
The view was unquestionably better than from the base of the parkland.
Once again, he scanned the crowd, his eyes passing quickly over blonde and brunette heads, also uninteresting were the women who wore extravagant headpieces with plumage and frills, for Jude was not a woman to don such frivolous attire.
He stopped short at the thought.
Cart did not know her well enough to put stock in his reasoning. True, they’d spent time together on three separate occasions and not once had Jude donned a silly hat, but that was in no way proof that she would not on a trip to the park.
Thoughts of Jude were clearly muddling his mind…he only hoped they didn’t cloud his judgment in the same manner.
The idea of returning home and sending Jude a note of apology was tempting, removing his coat and untying his neckcloth.
A spot of auburn with the barest hint of gold laced through it caught his eye.
A closer look showed not one but two women with matching hair, a brunette between them.
Cart issued a wave, feeling foolish for attracting the stares of so many people as he attempted to flag down Jude’s carriage. The open carriage was directly before his elevated position on the rise when the occupants finally took notice. The woman closest to him leaned forward—likely issuing a command to stop the carriage—and they pulled to the side, allowing others to continue on.
Smiling, Cart traversed back down to the path where he saw all three of the women departing the conveyance. His stomach clinched. It was only proper he entertain the trio of sisters. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? It was trying enough to gain the nerve to speak with Miss Jude, but her sisters, too?
His only meeting with Miss Payton had gone dreadfully. The young woman had seemed uninterested in his presence at Craven House and had gone so far as to mock him while he awaited entry. Jude’s eldest sister had scolded the girl and sent her away, but Payton’s rationale for her harsh jests were blurred to him.
“Lord Cartwright!” Jude called as he arrived before the party.
“Miss Judith. Miss Samantha.” Cart nodded to the pair and finally turned to their younger sister. “Miss Payton. It is lovely to see you all. Such a clear, bright, inviting day. Is it not?” He suspected the women noticed his discomfort—with both the weather and all their presences.
“It is a fine day, my lord,” Miss Samantha greeted him. “Jude was starting to worry you hadn’t come.”
Miss Samantha’s sly smile and Payton’s snicker told him the pair was making light of their sister, which irked him for reasons unknown. Another thing he might want to scrutinize more in his leisurely time.
“Miss Jude has nothing to fear on that score,” Cart attempted to rebuff Miss Samantha’s comment. “I am an honorable, punctual gentleman. If I give my word, I will always follow through.”
Miss Payton gave her sister a peculiar look before slipping her arm through Miss Samantha’s. “Ah, well, I am desiring a stroll around the water—and since Lord Cartwright likely seeks to remain dry, we will meet you back here after our walk.” Payton chuckled once more at her jest as the pair smiled to Jude and gave a small hand wave before starting on their way. Apparently, the twins had told their younger sister of his debacle in the pond.
Cart eyed the pair as they retreated, their heads bent together in conversation, Miss Samantha’s strides much longer than Miss Payton’s short ones. “Have I offended Miss Payton?” he inquired.
“Why would you think such a thing?” Jude set her hand on his arm and they started toward a path that kept them far enough from the pond Jude’s sisters were now heading toward.
“She was not”—he paused, fearful of insulting Jude’s sister—“the most welcoming when I arrived at Craven House for our visit.”
Jude laughed—a light, airy chuckle much the same as she had at the garden party—and patted his arm with her free hand. She continued to stare ahead at the path before them.
“Did I say something humorous?” He’d feared insulting her kin. She had laughed instead of being offended. “I apologize—“
“Lord Cartwright—Cart,” she corrected. “Do stop apologizing for any little affront you perceive and worry over.” She smiled at him and his worries, indeed, melted away, much as he feared his body was from the heat. “Pay thinks you are grand—never fear.”
Pay—short for Payton—Cart found he enjoyed their shortened names, much as he and Theo had pet names for one another. “I would never seek to slight or cause insult to your family, Miss Judith.”
They continued in a comfortable silence as they meandered down a shady path, out of the late afternoon sun. Jude nodded to acquaintances as they passed, but at no time stopped to engage people further.
As the silence lengthened, Cart couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ruined something, destroyed their companionable association with his tendency to continually fret and evaluate his surroundings.
He concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other as they ventured down a path less traveled—keeping his eyes from straying to the way Jude’s gown lay delicately across her breasts—many would say a fraction too constricting. As before, their strides aligned as if they spent every day walking side by side.
The crowd of ramblers trickled down until they’d trekked for several minutes without encountering another soul. The branches from the low-hanging trees and the overgrown shrubs began to narrow their path, causing Jude to walk closer to his side to avoid snagging her hair or dress on the encroaching plant life. The soft fabric of her gown pressed to his arm and he tried to convince himself he hadn’t drawn her closer, allowing the side of her bosom to touch him, but rather that she’d moved ever closer of her own volition.
She slanted her head to avoid a branch and one hanging curl brushed his face.
“My lord?”
she said on an exhale, returning to their formal address.
“Yes, Miss Jude?”
“Have you had more time to think about the vase?” She kept her voice soft and low as if fearful someone would overhear their discussion. Her whispered words had foreshadowed a request of great import. However, her inquiry took him off guard. Had he wished for her to ask something of a far more intimate nature?
Cart was certainly interested in the piece, if not for his own collection, then as an item for a client who favored the time period and crafting details.
Though he did not seek to give her the impression that his interest in her began and ended with antiquities. The odd somersaults of his stomach and tingling at the spot her hand rested on his arm pointed to his interest in her being much deeper than mere relics of historical value.
“I have thought about it a great deal.” Lie. Truth: he’d thought of her a great deal. “Is it possible for me to see the vase? It would be far simpler for me to ascertain its origins and provide you with an accurate assessment of its value if I were to examine it.”
Finally, she looked away from the path before them, smiling at his attentiveness. “I pondered bringing the vase today, but did not want to risk any bump in the trail jolting the piece. It is very delicate.”
Cart concentrated on his mother’s calendar of events and when she’d be away from home next—when Jude could bring the vase and they’d have a spot of privacy. After their stroll, he’d be tasked with meeting a local curator to assess selling several items to collect the funds requested by his mother.
“Please let me know when you are available. I have a sizable catalogue of research materials at my home—“
“Would you mind meeting at Sir Edwin’s Circulating Library?” she asked.
Cart hadn’t thought of the possibility of her being agreeable to meeting in public. Nonetheless, Sir Edwin’s was highly preferable to anywhere his mother’s prying eyes could be. “I haven’t visited the library in several years.”
Thief Steals Her Earl Page 12
