My Earl's Entrapment (Wicked Lords of London Book 3)

by Tammy Andresen

  Rolling onto her stomach, she sighed. If she were going to lay awake, she should make plans on how to find her mother’s jewelry instead of daydreaming about a man who didn’t exist. Well, technically, Lord Addington existed, but her mind was creating a fiction around him where he was actually gallant and noble. Perhaps he wasn’t a thief but an agent of good, trying to catch wrong doers and the like. She sighed at her own silliness.

  Pushing off the bed, she crossed the room and sat at her dressing table to begin removing the pins from her hair. As she pulled the pins, the locks tumbled down her back. She gathered them into a thick braid and tied a ribbon at the end. She was certain she’d lost her chance to search Lord Addington’s room. Even if she could get in again when he was gone, she’d lost the element of surprise. He now knew she’d be looking and could hide anything of value.

  Nibbling at her lip, she propped her elbows on the surface of the table and rested her chin on her closed fists. Since she could no longer search his room, she’d have to follow him instead to find proof he was a thief. She ignored the tiny thrill that raced down her spine at the thought of watching him. It was a matter of finding the truth, not of observing his broad shoulders and narrow torso. She wouldn’t be distracted but his full lips on hers or his arms around her…she stopped herself.

  “Ugh,” she said aloud and then closed her eyes. Tomorrow would be a busy day. She’d need her strength.

  Sleep took a long time to come and she woke the next morning with puffy eyes and a dull pain in her temples. Lack of rest and the fact that she still had learned nothing tangible made her rather grumpy as she made her way to breakfast.

  Walking into the morning room, very few were about and she assumed that most of the assembled guests had been up late into the evening. But at one end of the table, sat Lord Addington along with her host, Lord Perrault. To Perrault’s right sat the widow, Lady Crawley. Rose stopped, dread filling her as she assessed the situation.

  Addington spotted her and gave her a slow smile. Goodness gracious but he had a handsome smile in the most infuriating way possible.

  She’d decided as she’d lain awake that she couldn’t verbally spar with him again. He always seemed to have the upper hand. Her plan, if she could ignore his lazy smiles, was to pretend she didn’t give a whit about him so that she could follow him without suspicion. She knew she was grasping at straws, but she had to try something. Her body responded to his and her mind wasn’t prepared for his blasted intelligence. It was part of the reason she’d come down to breakfast so early. She’d wanted to avoid his company. Didn’t drunken degenerates like Lord Addington sleep late?

  “Good morning, Lady Rose.” Lord Addington stood in greeting as he spoke.

  Rose stopped, cursing to herself. Then she remembered her manners and began moving again, glancing at the other people about the table.

  Lord Perrault stood as well and the widow, Lady Crawley gave her a nod.

  “Good morning,” she replied as blandly as she could to a man who had kissed her just hours ago.

  Lady Crawley sniffed. “What is good about it?”

  Lord Perrault gave a little chuckle. “Why rise at all, Lady Crawley, if you don’t enjoy the morning?”

  Rose made her way around the table to be seated next to the widow when she saw Lady Crawley give Lord Addington a long look. “I heard morning air would be good for my skin,” the woman replied. “Lord Addington, I know you enjoy the mornings.” Her pause made it clear exactly why she’d woken. She hoped to catch the attention of Lord Addington. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking me for a walk in the fresh air after we’ve broken our fast?”

  Rose digested this information. He was a known early riser? How was that possible given his reputation?

  Lord Addington gave a slight bow. “My apologies, but I’ve a previous engagement.”

  “At this hour?” Lady Crawley huffed.

  Rose glanced at the other woman. She was lovely in the way that was in fashion among the ton. Pale blonde hair and ivory skin, the woman was tall and slender making her stand out in a crowd. The lady didn’t ever have a hair out of place. By contrast, Rose had a far more honey colored hair that refused to be stay where it should, much browner skin and a fuller figure. Though her waist was tiny, her curves were rather…full. She smoothed her skirts in an effort to tame her hips as she reached the chair next to Lady Crawley. Wishing, she were taller at the very least, or thinner, or just as well put together as the other woman.

  But wishes wouldn’t help her now. As she smoothed her skirts again, she sat. Rose had been careful not to make eye contact with Lord Addington and she kept her gaze cast down at her plate but she felt his eyes upon her. Why wasn’t he assessing the widow? If there was one advantage to breaking fast with a woman who was so much more beautiful, then it was that she should distract Addington so that Rose could observe him. But he watched her all through breakfast and she looked everywhere but at him.

  Perrault cleared his throat and Rose watched as Lady Crawley fiddled with her napkin in the silence.

  With a sigh, Addington spoke. “I have always risen early, Lady Crawley. I find I quite enjoy the morning.” He paused for a moment. “What of you, Lady Rose?”

  Drat. She’d have to meet his gaze now. Glancing up, she found the dark pools of his eyes intently studying her. “I’ve always risen early as well.”

  “Even when you’re up late?” One corner of his mouth gave the tiniest quirk up and she held in her gasp. He was trying to ruin her.

  Narrowing her eyes, she looked at him for a few moments before responding. “I don’t generally stay up late but on the rare occasion I do, yes, I still rise early. I can’t sleep when the sun shines.”

  Out of corner of her eye, she could see Lord Perrault assessing them. “I didn’t realize the two of you were acquainted. I’ve been meaning to make the introduction.”

  Heat infused her cheeks as she held in a gasp. How would they explain their relationship?

  Addington gave an easy smile. “Her father introduced us just last evening.”

  “Excellent,” Perrault said.

  Lady Crawley cleared her throat loudly and deliberately. Everyone turned to her. “Now that we’ve established the people who enjoy the mornings, what is it you do at this hour?”

  Rose tried to think of an answer that didn’t sound rude. Honestly, what kind of question was that?

  Before she could formulate an answer, Lord Addington did. “This morning, Lady Rose and I are touring the gardens.”

  She whipped her head around to look at him, her face going slack. Any moment he’d announce he’d been in her room last night. What other explanation was there? But before she could reply another voice answered from the doorway. “We are quite looking forward to it, Lord Addington. Thank you for suggesting the outing.”

  She recognized the sound of her father’s voice anywhere. As she whipped her head about she was met by his calm visage. He looked quite pleased. Her father was in on this? Didn’t he know Lord Addington’s reputation? Frankly, if Lord Addington’s behavior last night was any indication, it was one to which he lived up. They’d all gone completely mad.

  Will had a small pang of regret as Rose gaped at him from across the table, her eyes wide and her skin pale. She had a reputation to maintain, putting her at an absolute disadvantage in these little conversations they had. Well, technically, he had a reputation as well as a rake and blackguard, one that he also put work into but it was so much easier to make people think ill of oneself. “It is my pleasure,” he murmured, studying Rose.

  She did look tired this morning but still as beautiful as she’d appeared in the moonlight. He gave a quick glance over to the widow and the corner of his mouth tugged down. She was not his sort at all. Though her tall and thin figure was fashionable, he found Rose’s curves so much more pleasing. They were absolute perfection both to behold and feel and his thoughts drifted to last night when she’d been pressed up against him. She’d been divine.<
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  In the light of day, her dark gold hair with its thick waves made him think of a field of wheat blowing in the wind. He’d like to see her hair completely undone. Truth be told, it appeared wild and difficult to tame, which suited him nicely. He pictured it flowing about her, a halo around her head on the pillow of his bed. Or better yet, he’d lie on the pillow and she’d be on top of him…he stopped, curbing his wayward thoughts. Not only was she a lady and insinuating he was a thief, he was at breakfast.

  Her large blue eyes held an innocence that was refreshing, though that didn’t mean she was naïve. She’d been delightful to spar with. He tried to remember the last time he’d had such fun talking with a woman. Though it had been even more fun to kiss her full lips, which practically begged for a man’s attention. His attention. If Lady Crawley was demure beauty then Rose spoke of secret, untamed desires. Which was odd considering she was the innocent and the widow was likely anything but. Regardless, in all ways, he found Rose so much more pleasing.

  His fist clenched under the table. By kissing her, he’d meant to throw her off balance but it had succeeded in completely distracting him while she didn’t seem affected at all.

  She kept to herself this morning, in stark contrast to last night, and it sent a ripple of concern through him that he’d upset her greatly by sneaking into her room.

  Which was ludicrous. It was part of his plan to keep her off balance to try and find out more about her. Well not about her, he told himself, but about why she’d been in his room. Still, she was very good at giving him details and so, he’d have to look elsewhere. Her father would be the perfect place to start.

  And he needed to do it soon. She might find herself in real trouble if she kept up her antics.

  Bloody hell, he was both attracted to and worried about this woman whom he’d known less than a day.

  The breakfast continued on with strained conversation until Rose stood. He immediately stood too, as did her father. His reaction surprised him. Manners were one of the luxuries he did not indulge in so as to keep up his rakish reputation. Why pay her so much respect?

  She started as she looked at him. Then she turned to her father. “I’ll change so that we might get this over…” she paused, “go on our outing.”

  Her father smiled. “Of course, dear.”

  Lady Crawley also stood. “Perhaps, Lord Addington, you could escort me to the library while you wait?”

  A ripple of distaste made Will press his lips together. And to think, last night, he’d been hoping for a widow, perhaps even her. Somehow, a dalliance like that now seemed tawdry. It wasn’t that he was opposed to it in general, he told himself. It was more that Lady Crawley held little appeal. She was so obvious and uninteresting. He toyed with outright telling her no, but that was rude, even for a man of his reputation.

  “I’ll meet you at the library.” Rose’s father gave him a slight wink. “After I’ve escorted Rose to her room.”

  Lady’s Crawley’s huff of breath made him bend his head and scratch his nose, to hide his smile. The woman had the subtly of a peacock.

  Her behavior only got worse as they made their way down the hall. “Lord Addignton,” she purred as her hip brushed his.

  “Yes, my lady?” He bit back a sigh as he glanced over at her.

  She gave him a cat like smile. “I must confess that I was rather intrigued to see you on the guest list. I’d been hoping to gain an introduction for some time.”

  “Mission accomplished.” He didn’t bother to look at her again. He knew where this was headed. She wasn’t the first woman to proposition him. Did she only want a dalliance based on his reputation or was she looking for her next husband? He sucked in his breath. It didn’t matter.

  She gave a contrived laugh. “Indeed. But now that we’ve met, I wonder, what shall we do…together?”

  He suppressed a shudder. Will didn’t intend to do anything with this woman. Glancing over at her with a frown, he considered how he might be rid of her as quickly as possible. “Shall we play chess?”

  She made a choking noise. “Why would we do that?”

  His eyes moved heavenward. He had a feeling if he’d said that to Rose she would have understood that he’d meant they engage in a battle of wits. Whether it was actually playing the game or in some other form. He did like the game and would have enjoyed playing with any worthy opponent. Her reaction only confirmed that he and the Lady Crawley had little in common, and he didn’t just mean a love of chess. “You don’t play games in your free time?”

  “Of course I do.” She purred again. “But I had something more interesting in mind.”

  Blessedly, they’d reached the library. “You’ll have to tell me some other time, my lady. I fear I am late.”

  He didn’t allow her to respond as he deposited her safely into the library.

  Turning he had just left the room when Rose’s father met him outside the doors. Now was the perfect opportunity to question the man on his daughter.

  The Marquess gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. “I’d like to thank you again for helping my daughter last night. Rose is a delightful girl but she does have a penchant for landing into trouble.” Lord Reagan chuckled as they began walking toward the entry to meet Rose.

  If the man only knew. “It was no trouble at all. Happy to be of service.”

  “I hope to get straight to the point and ask you if perhaps you could be of service again?”

  What the bloody hell did that mean? What was happening today that he kept having these strange conversations? But he’d agree to near anything if he could find out more about what motivated Rose. “Of course, my lord. If I am able.”

  “Rose, as you will learn, is a bright young woman. She has had her share of suitors but when my wife passed a year ago, Rose lost all interest in perspective husbands.” Reagan paused and Will turned to assess the man. His face was pinched in pain. Will’s own chest tightened. Losing a parent was never easy. “She doesn’t grow any younger and I wish to see her settled. What if something happened to me?”

  “My lord?” Will’s drew his brows together as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. Unlike his conversation with the widow, he had an urge to protect Rose. The Marquess of Reagan, however, did not want him to court his daughter. Will was sure of that. Lady Rose would have her choice of suitors and they would not include destitute earls. Not that he actually was but Reagan didn’t know this. No one did. So what was he asking?

  “Try to understand.” Reagan rubbed the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen Rose express interest in anyone until yesterday when she met you.”

  Will tightened at the thought of Rose being more aware of him than any other man. Why did that please him so much? “I am not an appropriate suitor for her, I think we can both agree on that.” He should play along. He’d get more information that way but his desire to protect her overrode his need to solve this particular mystery.

  “I don’t want you to actually court her, simply remind her of how enjoyable it can be.” He sighed. “It has been a difficult time for us. I simply want her to remember how to be happy.”

  “Admirable,” Will murmured, thinking of his own family. He had mourned the death of his parents in a cursory fashion. What might it be like to love that deeply?

  “I married Rose’s mother for love. Her father had left them in debt. Lucille had no dowry to speak of and her mother, Rose’s grandmother, had grown so desperate that she sold her prized possession, a set of diamond jewels.”

  Jewels. He schooled his body not to react. She’d called him a thief last night. And at one of the last auctions the Marquess of Highwater had held for his stolen goods, a stunning set of diamond earbobs, necklace, and ring had been sold off. “Go on,” he rumbled.

  “I tracked those jewels down and presented them to Lucille when I proposed. They were her one family heirloom and when she was on her death bed, she gave them to Rose.” Lord Reagan paused. “It was shortly after her death that my solic
itor came. I wanted my will redrafted and my assets accounted for. He took the jewels, along with several others, for appraisal.”

  He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Who was your solicitor?”

  “Mr. Winters.” Reagan answered. “Do you know him?” Then he shook his head. “Ridiculous question. Everyone knows him now. As I am sure you now know that he stole the jewels and auctioned them off.”

  “I am so sorry,” Will’s fist clenched at his side. He’d been wondering what would cause a lady with a sterling reputation to sneak into a man’s room in the dead of night. He had his answer.

  “As am I.” The marquess shook his head. “I could buy her more jewels. Have an identical set made. But it wouldn’t be the same. And though she has only ever said it once, I know she thinks constantly on getting those pieces back.”

  Will took a deep steadying breath. Did the marquess know he was involved? Did he think Will knew of the stones whereabouts? “What did you want from me?”

  Reagan stopped and turned to him. “I know of your reputation…”

  That made Will’s insides tighten unpleasantly. Why did it bother him that Rose and her father thought him a thief? He hadn’t been tempted to give up his true circumstances in a long time. “Which is?”

  Reagan gave a ghost of a smile. “As a man who is rather popular with the ladies.”

  Will reared back his head. He had not expected the marquess to say that. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I am hoping that you could pretend to show interest in my daughter. Nothing untoward. But try to engage her in a way that makes her see what she is missing. Help her overcome her grief of losing her mother and the one possession that connected them.”

  Words failed him as he stared at Rose’s father. They’d reached the entry and stood at the base of the grand stairway. He’d already been untoward, not that he would share that fact. What was more, he was certain he hadn’t deterred her in the least from her search for the jewels. She hadn’t seemed lovestruck at breakfast. If anything, she’d been even colder. But also because a man of Reagan’s position and power didn’t want a thieving rake anywhere near his daughter. “You can’t want me to court her. I’ve already informed you of my reputation…”