An Earl To Remember_The Yorkshire Downs Series_Love, Hearts and Challenges_A Regency Romance Story

by Jasmine Ashford

  He inclined his head. Then he glanced to his left as if checking for people on the path, and cleared his throat.

  “Lady Emilia. You are aware by now that those men are after the debts being paid.”

  “Yes,” she said desperately. “But what debts? Oscar, I do not know anything! I never knew aught of my husband's investments. It could be anything!”

  Oscar looked grave. “I have suspicions as to what they seek, but I cannot say I understand completely. I am trying to find out more, and as I do, I will tell you. Only if I think it is safe, though. I do not wish to endanger you by passing information someone might kill for.”

  Emilia swallowed. “These men are dangerous, are they not?”

  “The very definition of dangerous.” He inclined his head again.

  “Oscar...” she paused. “If they are so dangerous, then why are you following them?”

  Oscar looked at his hands. “It was...an accident,” he said slowly. “I cannot say more now. I will tell you one day. When I can. I swear.”

  Emilia nodded. “Thank you.”

  He shook his head. “I hope to deserve the opinion you have of me.”

  Emilia fixed him with a look. “All you need to do is never lie to me. I want to trust.”

  Oscar nodded. “That I can promise, my lady. All that I will tell you will be the truth.”

  Emilia inclined her head. “That is good.”

  He chuckled. “It's a beginning.”

  They both stood quietly a while, listening as the wind slowly rustled the treetops and, somewhere, a light rain fell. They saw two boys rushing for shelter under the trees, laughing and jostling each other playfully. Somewhere on the lawns the croquet group packed away and made ready to leave, grumbling about the scores and laughing happily.

  Emilia turned to him, the wind ruffling both their hair. They stood together on the hilltop. Time stood still, or so it seemed.

  “I should go,” Emilia said, sighing. “I'll be missed.”

  Oscar nodded. “You're right.”

  Neither of them moved. Out in the park the drizzle slowed and stopped, and the sunlight shone on raindrops, casting warm gold light. Couples walked along the paths and children played with a ball.

  “My cousin will expect me – it must be midday now.”

  He looked at his watch. “Exactly five minutes past, my lady. Well spotted.”

  She blushed and looked at her hand. “It's not difficult to guess,” she demurred.

  He smiled. “You are as modest as you are wise.”

  Emilia swallowed. No one had ever spoken to her like that. Complimented her for anything but her looks or musical skills.

  “And you, my lord, are as good a judge as you are an honest one.”

  He blinked then, when he followed her reasoning, laughed aloud.

  “My lady,” he bowed. “Remind me to always speak plainly. Or you shall assuredly talk circles around me and tie me up.”

  She laughed, then. “I will remind you often.”

  They stood a moment longer in the sunshine, and then she turned to him, about to sketch a curtsy. He sighed.

  “I ought to leave,” he said gently. “But first, promise me: If you are in any danger, please. Come here to the park. I will wait every day from nine till ten. If you can reach me, tell me what is amiss. I will help in any way that is possible.”

  Emilia felt tears flow into her eyes. It had been so many years since someone had pledged her help – if it had ever happened. “I will.”

  He bowed to her then, and she curtsied.

  “Goodbye, Lord Oscar.”

  “Goodbye, Lady Sumpter.”

  That formal greeting over, they walked their opposite ways from the copse of trees, Emilia blind with tears.

  She did not know if she believed him. She did not know if she trusted him. All she knew was that she had never met anyone who affected her as he did.

  Emilia could not say if she feared him. However, she knew he moved her more than anyone alive had ever done, which worried her in itself. Oh, Lucian, she thought desperately. Could you ever forgive me for how I feel? She sighed out loud. She could not know – all she could know was that she was as confused as she had been when she arrived, simply about different matters. These ones were matters of emotion. She had no easy answers, and no way of finding any.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AN ABSENT GUEST

  AN ABSENT GUEST

  By the time Evelyn left Henry's small, hospitable home, the rain had begun to fall. The carriage ride back to Chelsea house was short and uneventful. That did not mean that Evelyn was any less disturbed by the time she arrived at the front door.

  “Thank you, Jarvis.”

  “Very good, madam.”

  She waved to the carriage driver and then headed briskly up the steps, mind turning over facts as she did so.

  Wallace, their retainer, answered the door and she greeted him, and then headed inside, already taking off her slate gray coat and satin-trimmed bonnet. “Any visitors, Wallace?”

  “No, milady,” he said, and then stopped. “Someone came to deliver a card, but that was all.”

  “Oh,” Evelyn shrugged. In itself that was not remarkable. “It wasn't for a ball?”

  “I do not know, milady. Janet took it in.”

  “Thank you,” Evelyn said lightly, passing him her bonnet and heading up the stairs. “Let me know if anyone calls. I shall be in my chamber.”

  “Very good, madam.”

  Evelyn headed upstairs, wanting to write down everything that she learned before she forgot it. She sat at her desk, quill in hand.

  Henry's man is dead. He was the only person who saw the three men searching for Lucian. Was he really killed in a brawl? Or was it them, to avoid his identifying them?

  She thought about it. If it was them, that meant they knew she and Emilia had both visited Henry, and would have had to guess that they asked him about the murder. Or, simply that they would have guessed that he would have passed the message on to his sister, the wife of Lucian, when she visited. In which case, surely they wanted her to know?

  Whoever visited the house must have known Emilia spoke to her brother recently.

  That was the only thing she could deduce for certain – or almost certain. Always assuming the steward's death was somehow related and not a result of an attack by street thugs.

  Assuming the death was caused by the three men, why would they have killed him?

  There was only one reason – because they did not wish anyone to know their identity.

  In which case, if they want no one to know who they are, they must want to hide something.

  That also made sense. If they were hiding something, what was it? Was it something to do with Lucian's death? Or his debt?

  I need to know how he might have been in debt.

  That piece of the puzzle could make everything obvious. Whoever it was Lucian owed money to must have been the people who abducted Emilia. Were they the same people who were responsible for Lucian's death though?

  Emilia decided to write down the facts in two lists. The first pertained to the men who visited Henry. The second, to those who questioned Emilia.

  Men with masks, she wrote as the heading, and couldn't help smiling wryly about that. It sounded like a book.

  Men with masks. There are five such men, at least. They wanted Emilia to pay the debt. They may or may not know Lucian passed away. Therefore, they may or may not have killed him. Motive? To have the debt paid.

  Men without masks, she wrote to head her new list. That made her sigh. However, what else could she call them? All she knew that was different to the five men who talked to Emilia was that they had not hidden their identity.

  Men without masks. There are three such men, at least. They were searching for Lucian. This was three months ago, so they did not know he had passed on. Therefore, they did not kill him. Why were they looking for him?

  If she could answer that question, she might be abl
e to discern who they were. However, the only person who might have known was Harrogate, and he had not. Besides, even if he had known enough to make an educated guess, he had passed away too.

  I have two questions, she wrote.

  Why were the unmasked men looking for Lucian?

  Who did Lucian owe?

  The last question was one she could more easily answer. Someone would have to know the state of his accounts. His steward. His solicitor. His relatives. His friends.

  His friends!

  She suddenly remembered something. Lord Everett was his friend. Lord Everett was his partner in many ventures – ventures that included investments. What had they invested in?

  Evelyn suddenly went cold. Lord Everett. It all made sense. How could she have forgotten? He had a blue badge. He lived in London. He knew Lucian and would have known better than anyone of his debts, and may have been owed money by him, for all she knew. Lucian might not have borrowed money from anyone else, but from his closest companion? Perhaps.

  She thought about it, and the more she thought about it, the more she thought she was right. A horrible realization was starting to make itself noticed. There was only one person who knew anything about Emilia's husband's passing: Lord Everett.

  She had to go and visit him if she wanted to find the truth.

  Feeling cold and worried, Evelyn covered her page with sand to set the ink, then dusted it back off again and lay the page in the top drawer of her desk. She stood, feeling a cramp in her neck.

  She headed up the corridor, shutting the door to the lavender haven quietly behind her. She would go and find Emilia – talking to her would make her feel much better.

  If Emilia is not resting, she thought, walking lightly down the corridor to where the guest quarters were, on the floor below her own room. I do not wish to disturb her.

  When she reached the door it was almost open. She knocked twice, but there was no answer. She knocked again, more softly, and pushed the door slightly ajar.

  There was no one in the room. Everything was neat and in its place. The bed was made. The curtains were wide and Emilia's coat was missing.

  “She must have gone out,” Evelyn guessed.

  She tried to find calm. There was no reason why her cousin would not choose to go out about town on her own – it was quite possible someone invited her to a cafe or some recital. She was a grown woman with her own friendships – why should she not go out?

  I cannot help being worried, Evelyn thought to herself. My cousin was recently held captive in the forest by some louts who threatened her life! Of course I am worried.

  She headed down to the parlor. Perhaps her cousin was in the house after all. She might have gone out and hung her coat up by the door. She pushed the door to the parlor open, but there was no one there. She glanced around, trying to guess how recently someone had been there.

  Everything was in its place. Except the scrap of paper. It lay on the windowsill, folded twice, neatly left there as if meant for someone to find it. A letter? From Cousin Emilia?

  Feeling her hand shake and her heart beat faster, Evelyn lifted the letter. When she saw her cousin's curly, neat script, she let her breath out in a rush. It was a note from Emilia! Thank goodness.

  My dear cousin, she read. I am visiting the park to meet with an acquaintance. I expect to return before midday. Please do not fret – I am certain I am much better. I trust you had a pleasant outing. Yours sincerely, Emilia.

  Evelyn looked up, feeling sudden relief. At least Emilia was safe. She glanced at the clock and noticed it was just after midday. Emilia should be back soon, by her reckoning.

  Feeling slightly less uneasy, Evelyn headed up to the drawing room. It was the ideal time to practice on the pianoforte. She might be called on to play at a gathering or recital, so it always helped to keep up her practice.

  As she finished a particularly nice Mozart sonata she heard a footfall at the door. She looked up to see her cousin there, eyes wide and shoulders bent, as if she was unsure of a welcome.

  “Emilia!” Evelyn stood up at once and walked briskly to the door, arms outstretched. “My cousin. I was just starting to worry about you! Though I must thank you for leaving the note. I know I am silly,” she added, laughing. “You are more than capable of looking after yourself for two or three hours!”

  Emilia smiled. She still hung back a little. She had a scared look, those big blue eyes harboring some fear or concern, but Evelyn decided it would be best not to question her too closely. She would let her know if there was something she wanted to tell her. Nothing could be gained by pressing her on the matter, except to make her withdraw even more.

  “Thank you, cousin,” she smiled. “I am glad someone worries, actually. If I were to disappear, at least you would send someone to search for me!”

  Evelyn embraced her fondly. “I would be far from the only one to worry, dear. But yes, I would certainly do so. The problem would be stopping Bronson, your mother, Henry, Lord Grey and Heaven knows who else from mustering every platoon in the country to search too!”

  Both women laughed. “Thank you, Evelyn. You know how to cheer me up,” Emilia said affectionately.

  “I tell the truth, dear,” Evelyn said firmly. “Now. Have you dined? I am sure Cook has something delicious planned for us – I tend to let him run wild when Bronson is out for luncheon. So, if you are ready for a surprise, we could head to the dining room soon?”

  Emilia laughed. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” she said. “I am quite hungry.”

  “Good!” Evelyn smiled. “I myself could eat two luncheons and still find space for dessert...”

  Evelyn linked arms with her and they walked downstairs, chatting excitedly. If the conversation strayed to Henry, Evelyn diverted it tactfully away. There was plenty of time to tell Emilia her concerns without worrying her. Evelyn had enough information to take the next step: to visit Lord Everett and discover what he knew.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  COMING TO A DECISION

  COMING TO A DECISION

  Emilia woke. She sat up in bed, sweating. Something had woken her.

  It was pitch dark in her bedchamber and she strained her eyes in the darkness, feeling her heart pound in her chest. She could have sworn she heard a noise outside the window. She looked around the room wildly. Her vision slowly adjusted and she began to make out the shapes of furniture, the outline of her dressing table, the dull glow of the mirror where it reflected the wan light of stars.

  As she sat there, had on her chest over her thudding heart, she heard something again.

  “Accident on Lamp Street! Hear ye!”

  She collapsed against the pillows. It was only the bellman, clanging down the road, proclaiming some notice or other.

  She tried to settle again. It was neither hot nor cold in the bedchamber, but still Emilia could not return to sleep. She tossed and turned a while and then sat up again. She reached for her night robe. Shrugging her shoulders into the silk robe, she found the single candle on the dressing table and lit it with the tinder. The pale, flickering light showed the shapes of furniture and curtains in the gloom.

  Emilia sat down at her desk, feeling restless. The clock showed it was six of the clock in the morning. If she listened, she could hear a cart rumbling into town, and somewhere a cook stoked ovens, singing under her breath. She heard a dog and the sound of feet, running.

  I can't sleep.

  She rested her head in her hands. She simply had too many things to think about and all of them were torturing her. One thought tortured her more than all the rest: Oscar Hampton.

  She could not stop her mind from returning to his face, thinking through their exchange and remembering the sound of his voice. Did she trust him? No. Not at all. He had still told her too little. However, she could not help that he made her feel as no one had in three years. Indeed, as no one had ever made her feel.

  Her love for Lucian had been different, she realized as she watched the
flickering lamp cast its wan light. It had been gentle, caring. A sisterly love. It had deepened into a close friendship but it had never been passionate, had never swept her away like this had.

  She sighed. She needed to talk to someone. Would anyone understand, though?

  She reached for pen and paper, hoping to commit her thoughts to words. Yet even that did not seem to help. Feeling even more restless, she stood and, drawing her robe tightly around her, walked quietly downstairs. She went into the drawing room and sat opposite the window. The night was softening into pale gray already, and she could see rooftops and, far in the distance, spires and the tracks of dew-damp roadways, shining in the growing light.

  The sight of the city eased her heart. She saw a flock of pigeons take off over the rooftops, angling their flight into the breath of air that stirred, ruffling the one tree she could see from the window. More carts started to roll down the street, and she heard a man shout and another man reply loudly back.

  London. Gritty, glittering and gaudy, London was everything rolled into one.

  Thinking about the city eased Emilia's heart. Within this huge collection of people, there must be someone who would understand her concerns!

  She felt the tension drain from her slowly, the drowsiness returning. Whatever happened, she would find a solution. She had Oscar on her side, and he knew more than she did. He had sworn to protect her from whatever it was. But what was it?

  She had to find out.

  Yawning, Emilia stood and walked back to her bedchamber. She had made up her mind. She would try and rest for another hour or so, and then go to St. James' park to meet Oscar. She had to talk to him.

  Emilia walked quietly back upstairs and slipped into her bed once more. She looked at the clock. It was seven of the clock. She would rest for an hour or two and then slip out to the park. Evelyn and Bronson would probably not wake before nine. And I should try and sleep – we are supposed to attend a recital this evening.