“I wouldn’t go that far.” He tried to keep the patronizing tone from his voice, but truly, the description of the robberies struck him as simple paranoia. “You’re a landowner in Lincolnshire. Highwaymen rob wealthy travelers, so more of your guests than—”
He shook his head. “Only my guests, Chesney. No one else.”
Well, that was odd. Still…“It doesn’t mean you’re being targeted.”
“When the carriages are stopped, only the men are asked to hand over their valuables. And one man in each coach, no matter how many other men are inside, and never anything from the women. Not even when openly displaying diamonds and pearls.”
A highwayman who robbed only one man per coach and left jewels? Finally, Thomas was intrigued. He leaned forward. “How long has this been happening?”
“On and off for the past two years.”
He arched a brow. “You’re just now noticing the pattern?”
“I’ve noticed, I’m ashamed to say.” Royston glanced down at the whiskey in his glass. “But it never needed to be addressed until now.”
“What’s changed?”
“I have hopes for the Lords next session. Some important positions will be opening, and I want to make my mark. You of all people should understand that.”
Thomas stared at him inscrutably, wondering exactly how much the earl thought he knew about him, then lied, “I’m afraid I don’t.” He set his whiskey aside. “Besides, I’m not involved in anything of importance in the government.” Not anymore. “So why did you seek me out?”
Royston leveled his gaze on him, and his face took on a hard expression. “I know things about you,” he answered quietly. “I have connections in the War Office who have vouched for your…special skills.”
Thomas remained silent, unwilling to either deny or validate the earl’s assumptions about him. Those special skills they’d assured Royston he possessed were the same ones they no longer wanted.
“I want you to come to Blackwood Hall and investigate this.” Asking for help from someone twenty years his junior was clearly difficult for the proud earl, but judging from the exasperated look in his eyes, he’d found no other solution. “I want this stopped, no matter the cost.” His gaze dropped unassumingly back to his drink. “And if it goes well, I see no reason why I shouldn’t put in a good word for you with Lord Bathurst, assuring him that you have my full support and confidence.”
Bathurst. Thomas froze even as a shot of adrenaline jolted through him. This could very well be the opportunity he’d been seeking. Royston wasn’t wrong—he possessed a set of finely honed talents that had served him well as an agent, and he ached to use them again, even for something as small as this. Something that could bring purpose back to his life.
“Do we have an agreement, then, Chesney?”
Thomas nodded slowly, outwardly calm despite his racing heart.
“I’m hosting a party next week.” Royston set aside his glass and stood. “A fortnight at Blackwood Hall and a chance for a group of peers to gather to break up the boredom of the country season. An irresistible target for the highwayman, I presume.”
Nodding, Thomas rose to his feet. “Make certain the guest list is common knowledge to your household staff.”
Royston hesitated, incredulity flashing over his face. “You think it could be someone within my own house?”
“I think it could be anyone.” Thomas slapped him on the shoulder and walked him downstairs. “See you next week, then.”
He took his hat and gloves from Jensen and left the house. “My thanks, Chesney.”
And mine to you. More than the earl would ever know, because this might just prove to be his opportunity to show the War Office that he was not only fully healed and ready for another field assignment but that he was just as sharp and vital as ever. If not more.
His body pulsed with excitement and the first real hope he’d had in a year. Arresting a highwayman in Lincolnshire certainly wasn’t on par with the spying he’d done before, but it might just get him noticed. And at this point, with all other avenues blocked, he would claim whatever small victories he could.
Small victory? He laughed at himself. Who was he trying to fool? He knew the truth, no matter how reluctant he was to admit it.
Two weeks at a boring Lincolnshire party might just save his life.
“Business concluded, then?” Emily looked up from her book as he sauntered into the morning room and slumped down heavily next to her on the sofa.
“Not business.” He grinned, feeling like the cat who’d gotten into the cream. “Pleasure.”
Her lips twitched. “And here I’d thought Lady Humphrey had already departed.”
He shot her an icy look that made grown men quake in their boots but only seemed to amuse her. Brat. “Royston invited me to a party he’s throwing next week at Blackwood Hall.”
“Oh?” Her bewildered expression spoke volumes, incredulous that her brother would so eagerly gallop off to a party certain to be filled with dull dandies and old gossips.
He dissembled, “Apparently, the earl has political aspirations and wants counsel on some recent matters that have been troubling him.”
“And he picked you?” Astonishment rang in her voice. “He wants to succeed at these aspirations, does he not?”
He grimaced at the teasing insult. She was needling him, trying in her own fashion to get the truth from him, but he would keep this investigation to himself. Emily was one of the few people who truly knew of the hell he’d gone through—was still going through—and he didn’t want to concern her. If the trip to Lincolnshire went as well as he hoped, he would tell her afterward when all was set to rights again.
And if not…well, there would be little she could do to help fight back the anxiety he knew would come, the clawing blackness that would eventually devour him whole.
“You know, getting away from London might do you good,” she added thoughtfully. “You might be introduced to a whole new group of potential wives.”
Stifling an exasperated groan, he kicked his boots onto the tea table. “You know, brat, when you were a child, I sold you to the Gypsies,” he told her bluntly. “I’m still waiting for them to take you away.”
Emily laughed, her brilliant blue eyes shining with affection, and offered him a cup of tea.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
“You think I want to kiss you?”
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
A Preview of “How I Married a Marquess”
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Newsletters
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Anna Harrington
Excerpt from How I Married a Marquess copyright © 2016 by Anna Harrington
Cover design by Christine Foltzer
Cover illustration by Chris Cocozza
Cover copyright © 2016 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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ISBN 978-1-4555-3405-0 (mass market); 978-1-4555-3404-3 (ebook)
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