All I Ever Needed

by Jo Goodman

  Eastlyn's half smile was not a proper smirk, but it edged very close to that disrespectful line.

  Blackwood noted the look but made no comment. To his way of thinking it was further proof that the marquess was no longer in command of his faculties. "Perhaps it is sheer weariness that makes one eyelid droop a definite degree below the other or your head list to the side, but I have known you to go two full days without sleep and still be able to negotiate a settlement. At the moment I doubt you could negotiate a path to the door."

  East turned his head slightly and eyed the exit with his hooded glance. "I could make it."

  "It was not a challenge, though you are welcome to try. I was speaking metaphorically."

  "I'll stay where I am, then, if it's all the same to you."

  The colonel's eyes narrowed at the faint slur in East's speech. "When did you last eat?"

  "Haven't." His eyelids fluttered briefly, then closed.

  "Nothing at all?"

  Eastlyn managed to shake his head, but it was with noticeable effort.

  Blackwood's brow furrowed with considerably more than avuncular concern. He was charged with the care of the men under his command, and he took this obligation seriously. In the case of East and the rest of the Compass Club, it no longer felt like something dictated by duty. He had long ago acknowledged his genuine affection for them. "What have you had to drink, East?"

  The marquess made to reach for the glass of whiskey that was no longer on the table at his side. His fingers closed around air before his arm fell heavily to his side.

  The colonel put his glass down and rang for his butler. It wasn't possible the whiskey had put East in this state. He hadn't had sufficient libation to hammer his senses.

  "Lemonade," East said.

  At first Blackwood could not make sense of what he'd heard. He pushed himself closer to Eastlyn's chair and leaned in. "How is that again, East?"

  "Lemonade... with Lady Sophia."

  "Of course," the colonel said dryly. "Lemonade. I could more easily credit the lady herself doing this to you."

  East roused himself to offer up a lopsided smile. "She made me lose my balance."

  "Indeed." It was satisfying to know East had not lost his sense of humor. "Then all is explained." The colonel watched Eastlyn drift into a sleep that had more in common with a drugged state than exhaustion. When the butler appeared, Blackwood directed Eastlyn be made comfortable in one of the bedchambers with a physician's visit to follow.

  * * *

  Sunlight slipped through a part in the heavy velvet drapes and slanted lengthwise across the four-poster. Eastlyn looked down at the bar of light lying against his wrist like a golden shackle. It had been a near thing yesterday, he thought. Had Lady Sophia not exercised some remarkably good sense in turning down his proposal, he might have found himself shackled to her in a permanent fashion.

  Groaning softly, East pushed himself upright. The pillow behind his head slipped to the small of his back. Eastlyn plumped it once for a better fit and responded to the scratching at the door.

  One of the colonel's servants entered the bedchamber carrying a breakfast tray. She bobbed a curtsey as soon as she settled the tray on the bedside table. "Colonel Blackwood was most particular that I bid you good morning, your lordship, and inform you that he selected your food himself. He will see you in the library once you have broken your fast."

  Eastlyn nodded. "Prettily said."

  She bobbed again, and bright yellow wisps of hair fluttered around the ruffled trim of her cap. Her eyes darted between the covered dishes on the table and the marquess. "Do you require assistance, m'lord?"

  "Did the colonel suggest you inquire or are you improvising?"

  She frowned, uncertain of his meaning.

  Watching her befuddlement, Eastlyn sighed. "It is of no importance. Please tell the colonel I will join him in short order."

  "Very good, m'lord."

  Eastlyn waited until the pleasant rustle of crisp skirts passed into the hallway and the door was closed before he pulled the tray onto his lap. He had never been one to dally with the servants, even when he was a much younger man. It had been a critical part of his father's instruction that one did not use one's position to take advantage of others. If position came with certain privileges, then it also carried the equal in responsibilities. Influence could be brought to bear, but only when the other party was truly free to choose. Had Eastlyn closed his eyes just then, he could have easily brought the exact nuance of his father's tone to mind, instead of the young maid's agreeably husky voice. It was an unfortunate truth, Eastlyn supposed, that the privileges of his title did not relieve him of responsibility to the servants, even when those servants were not in his employ. The colonel's coquettish upstairs maid might give the appearance of one able to make her own choices, but Eastlyn could never be certain that he had not subtly forced her hand.

  Far better, then, to stay in one's class in matters of the flesh. In matters of the heart... well, it was only commonsensical that one simply stayed away.

  Eastlyn uncovered the dishes Blackwood had chosen for him: a soft-cooked egg, toast, two thin slices of tomato, and a single strip of blackened bacon. The selection was exactly right in content and quantity, and East imagined that his disposition—and his rumbling stomach—would be much improved after he'd eaten.

  He had a vague memory of last evening's ending; the question of balance that had been put to him by the colonel echoed faintly in his head. He recalled the overwhelming pressure of weariness, but something more than that also, the intuitive awareness that he was not only weary, but weak. There was a slippery difference in the two that he could not quite define, yet he knew it was so. It did not bear thinking what Blackwood would make of it, so East applied himself to his meal instead.

  The colonel was waiting in the library as promised. In spite of the warmth of the day, a rug covered his thin legs, and a small fire had been laid. His chair was situated close to the fireplace, and he held a poker across his lap. Eastlyn dutifully stepped inside the room when he was gestured to do so and shut the door behind him, also at the colonel's prompting.

  "It keeps the heat in. Deuced warm for you, I'll wager, but I find I'm often cold these days." Blackwood pointed to the same chair Eastlyn had occupied last evening. "Sit. We'll see if you can manage the thing without sliding to the floor this time."

  Eastlyn raised an eyebrow but did as he was told.

  The colonel's soft grunt was approving. "You seem to be all of a piece."

  "And I was not last night?"

  "You were liquid last night."

  "Foxed? I confess I don't remember anything beyond a single drink."

  "You had hardly more than a single swallow. You were not foxed, East."

  "Then tired beyond my experience and feeling every one of my two and thirty years."

  "I doubt that your journey from Battenburn explains what befell you last evening. Until my physician assured me otherwise, I was in fear that you had some seizure of the brain."

  Reflexively, Eastlyn touched the side of his head with his fingertips. "Not a fit, then?"

  "No. Nothing like that. Doctor Keeble suggests you were drugged."

  Eastlyn smiled crookedly and allowed his hand to drop to the arm of the chair. "You should not allow the quack to treat you."

  Blackwood did not mirror East's good humor. "Belladonna, he says. It would explain your symptoms. Perhaps a tincture of opium. Your pupils were dilated and your muscles were inordinately weak."

  "But I didn't eat yesterday. There was quite a row at Battenburn before dawn, and it was every bit loud enough to rouse me from my bed."

  "Pistol at the ready, no doubt."

  "Of course." Eastlyn made no apology for it. "The baroness was in quite a state because her bedchamber had been invaded by the Gentleman Thief, and it was her very shrill contention that the scoundrel had taken his leave with her favorite necklace. I joined North in a search that came to nothing, except t
hat it deprived me of a decent breakfast. I took my leave soon after and came straightaway to London."

  "And?" The colonel drew out the single word, making it a question that prompted Eastlyn to continue.

  "And I went to Number Fourteen Bowden Street," he said. "That is where Lady Sophia resides with her cousin and his family."

  "There is nothing more?"

  "Well, she told me she'd have more success making me a pigeon than a happy man."

  "I believe you mentioned that."

  "Did I?" He tried to recall, but his conversation with Blackwood was still blanketed in fog. "I left her shortly after that, on civil terms, I thought. I went home, bathed and changed my clothes, then came here. I admit things are not entirely clear after that."

  "The belated effects of the drug. Apparently you did not take it in sufficient strength to cause you immediate distress. Doctor Keeble surmises that your symptoms were magnified by your fatigue and mental confusion."

  "I was confused?" Eastlyn sifted backward through the snippets of conversation he could recall and found himself once again squarely set in Lady Sophia's garden. "The lady, you mean," he said, his half smile edging upward. "I suppose I cannot disagree. She was completely diverting."

  The colonel allowed that this was an understatement. "She offered you lemonade, I believe."

  "Yes. How did you know?"

  "You mentioned it last night."

  He must have, he thought, for there was no other way the colonel could have happened upon that information. What Blackwood was making of it, though, Eastlyn had no liking for. "You think Lady Sophie drugged me?" The absurdity of it was rife in his voice. "It was presented to me in a pitcher, and we both poured from it."

  "And drank?"

  Eastlyn remembered eventually draining his glass. He could not say if the same was true for Lady Sophia. In his mind's eye he could see her replacing her glass on the tray, but could not sharpen the image to know whether it was still full, half full, or empty. "We both drank," he said at last, unwilling to cast suspicion on the lady when his memory was at fault.

  The colonel considered this as he tugged absently on a forelock of black hair. He swept it back with his fingertips as he came to a decision. "I did not think it was possible that the lady could be at fault, but it is the sort of thing that bears investigating. I will also make appropriate inquiries regarding the state of her health." He held up a hand as Eastlyn made to interrupt. "Never fear. It will be done discreetly. No one in the family will know they are being questioned. It's her cousin, did you say? Colley is the family name?"

  "You will not make inquiries."

  Blackwood's glance narrowed, and his eyebrows rose a fraction. "I won't?"

  "No. What is between Lady Sophia and me is of a private nature, Colonel. It has nothing to do with any assignment you have ever given me. She is no threat to the peace or dignity of society—any society—and I do not want her treated as one. It is not possible that she was in any way responsible for my regrettable condition last night."

  The colonel's dark hair was liberally salted with gray, and the line of it was receding. These things could be explained by the natural progression of age, except that Blackwood preferred to blame Eastlyn, Northam, Southerton, and West. This moment was one of many supporting that view. "I cannot persuade you?"

  "No."

  Blackwood picked up the poker in his lap and used it to stab at the fire while he considered another approach.

  "I am set on this," Eastlyn said. He understood his mentor's silence and knew that he could expect a change in tactics. In point of fact, Eastlyn realized he could not stop Blackwood from doing as he wished; yet something between them would be altered if the colonel made his inquiries. "Can we not leave it?"

  The poker went still in Blackwood's hands. "If you are wrong about the lady, then your life may be forfeit. Do you expect that I should make no effort to protect you?"

  "I am not wrong," East said with quiet conviction.

  "Who is she, East?"

  "No part of my life. And it is better that she remain so."

  The colonel reset the poker with the other fireplace tools. "Can you not humor me in some small way? Tell me at least how this engagement came to be. I heard of it, you know, but you had already left for the Battenburn estate when the news came to me."

  "You were surprised?"

  "I was skeptical."

  Eastlyn felt himself relaxing. His fingers eased their grip on the arms of the chair, and he offered up a small smile. It was so very like the colonel not to accept the town gossip as gospel. "I took quite a ribbing from the others."

  Blackwood nodded. "I should be something close to astonished if they passed on the opportunity."

  "So would I." He rested his head against the back of the wing chair, and his chin came up slightly. "There is no engagement, sir."

  "I am beginning to appreciate that, yet it has become what passes for common knowledge among the ton."

  "I believe Lady Sophia's family encouraged the rumor once they heard of it. At the very least, they did not deny it."

  The colonel rubbed his chin as he considered this. "Her family?" he asked. "Not the lady herself?"

  "I accept that she is without blame in this." Eastlyn did not expect Blackwood to be so easily convinced. It was in the man's nature to probe at all aspects of a problem. "I heard nothing about my supposed engagement while I was in London. I imagine the rumor was just taking substance and strength as I was taking my leave for the Battenburn rout. I first learned of it from some of the baron's guests." He sighed, remembering the confusion he was forced to mask as he was congratulated for his good fortune. "They were tripping over themselves to wish me happy."

  "Then you did not deny it either."

  "Only to North, West, and South. To let it be acknowledged as a falsehood would have cast Lady Sophia in an unfavorable light. She did not deserve to be treated so shabbily. The trick that was played was meant to make things uncomfortable for me."

  The colonel's eyes narrowed as he considered Eastlyn's assertion. "I take it you have a suspect for the source of the rumor."

  East nodded. The tips of his steepled fingers tapped lightly together. "I have had no opportunity to confirm it yet. My first responsibility was to Lady Sophia."

  "She has absolved you?"

  "She was everything gracious."

  "How fortunate for you. It could have been difficult to extricate yourself if she had been in expectation of a proposal."

  Eastlyn's gaze fell to his hands, and he stared at them a long moment, saying nothing. "Yes," he said finally. "It was as you say, fortunate." He looked up and caught the colonel still watching him closely. He smiled easily, stretching his long legs before him. "I suppose I've always been lucky that way, haven't I?"

  Blackwood was struck by the tone that was a bit off the mark for one reveling in his luck. It made him more curious about the lady. "I do not believe I am at all familiar with her," he said. "How long have you been acquainted?"

  The question forced Eastlyn to recall again the circumstances of his first introduction to Lady Sophia. "It was at one of Lady Stafford's musicales. Mozart, perhaps. Or Bach. I don't know. It was a tedious affair, but then they often are. Dunsmore was in attendance with his wife and—"

  "Dunsmore?" the colonel asked, interrupting. "Dunsmore is Lady Sophia's cousin?"

  "Yes. A second or third cousin, I think. I'm not certain. I have never made a point to inquire."

  "Then Tremont is—"

  "Her cousin also. The earl is Dunsmore's father."

  "Of course." The tumblers fell into place in the colonel's steel-trap mind. "Lady Sophia is the daughter of the late earl. Francis... Franklin..." He held up his index finger to stop Eastlyn from supplying the correct name. "Hah! It was Frederick Colley. A thorough bounder if there ever was."

  "I take it you were acquainted with him."

  "No. Good heavens, no. My acquaintance is with his reputation. You're familiar, no
doubt."

  "I am not," Eastlyn admitted. "My knowledge of Lady Sophia's family is slight."

  "You should have found out more before you got yourself engaged to her."

  "Amusing," Eastlyn said sarcastically. "I hope you do not mean to entertain me with your wit this morning. My headache of last night will most certainly return."

  The colonel apologized easily. "Forgive me. As you noted, it was a poor attempt at levity." He adjusted his spectacles, pushing them down the bridge of his nose so he could peer at Eastlyn over the gold rims. "I suppose the particulars of the late earl's life are unimportant now that you have settled this matter with Lady Sophia." He fell silent, his features perfectly neutral, while he waited to see if Eastlyn would take the dangled bait.

  East did not. What he did was find the humor of the situation and offer up a slim, slightly mocking smile. "How little I would have learned from you if I snapped at that. Confess, you would be disappointed."

  Blackwood sighed. "Hoisted with my own petard."

  Eastlyn's smile widened a fraction. It was not often that he could catch the colonel out so neatly. "Tell me about the late earl, or not," he said. "But I will not inquire because it is of no consequence to me. I doubt I will have reason to seek Lady Sophia's company again. After speaking with her yesterday, I am free to deny the rumors without causing her distress. She, of course, has always been free to do the same."

  "Her family might be of a different mind."

  "They are. But I believe she means to rein them in."

  "You are highly eligible. Tremont has—"

  Eastlyn shook his head, interrupting the colonel. "Lady Sophia doesn't think so."

  "What?" Blackwood pushed his spectacles back up over the bridge of his hawkish nose and regarded East intently. "How is that again?"

  "Lady Sophia doesn't think we would suit, though I think she means I would not suit her. I have a vague recollection of telling you that she called me a murderer. And a gambler. A drunkard also."