PLAYED BY THE EARL

by Alyson Chase

  She laughed again, giving her smiles to someone other than him, and John squared his shoulders. Right. He stepped towards the door, and something small and furry tangled between his feet.

  “Gah!” John tripped, falling into the wall. A small orange-and-white kitten hissed at him before darting under a side table. “What in the bloody blazes is going on in here?!”

  “Cotton!” A tiny female child ran forwards and peered at the kitten in its hiding place. Her starched petticoat-covered bum poked up at him, and John grabbed his hair. His home was infested. No wonder Judith had ensconced herself on John’s pillow. That cat was the one sane creature left in his home. He wished that he could drag Netta away and join the feline.

  The bastard responsible for three of the havoc-wreakers strolled from the breakfast room, polishing off the last bite of a roll. Montague plucked the child from the floor and plopped her over his shoulder. “This is real life, Summerset.”

  The child kicked her legs close to her father’s face, and Montague secured them with his forearm. “And it’s pretty damn marvelous. I hope you give it a chance someday.”

  “Ooh, papa said a bad word,” the future telltale duke squealed from inside the door.

  Both men ignored him.

  “Your real life is my nightmare.” John pushed off the wall and looked for any more obstacles that could trip him up. “One month ago everything was peaceful.” Boring, but then Netta had arrived. “My home was neat and tidy.” Sterile. He quite liked finding empty wax paper bags of Netta’s sweets in his bedroom, one of her stockings strewn over a chair. “As soon as this is over, I deserve a return to normalcy.” Assuming his new normal included Netta. If she left and he remained as he was before, without occupation, without any fire in his life, he…well, he didn’t quite know what he’d do with himself.

  He set his shoulders. As soon as he had his brother’s deed returned and made Sudworth pay, he would have time to devise a plot to keep Netta in his life on a more permanent basis. He’d find lavish apartments for her, have jars full of Pomfret cakes on every table.

  “Real life is noisy. Untidy.” The child tugged on Montague’s hair, and he grinned. “And it’s absolutely wonderful. It’s family, and you’re stuck with us.”

  John sniffed, trying to look disapproving. But he supposed even though the children were irritating little monsters now, they might grow into interesting adults.

  The child lifted her skirts, exposing her undergarments, and John stared at the ceiling. It was possible.

  “In order to preserve my sanity, I want to end this tonight.” John followed Montague into the breakfast room. His servants had added a second table to accommodate everyone, and John squeezed past Netta and her sister to reach his chair. Netta ignored him and leaned in further to her conversation with Dunkeld’s wife, Winnifred. They had only met this morning but already seemed as thick as two thieves.

  John sank into his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I’ve invited Sudworth to The Black Rose, ostensibly to deliver the document from the Dutch embassy to him. I will persuade him to play for my brother’s deed, giving you and the others time to implement your plans.”

  “I think that is the cue for the children to play outside.” Colleen stood, holding an infant to her shoulder and patting his back. “And this one needs a nap.”

  “Eleanor, go help with the children,” Netta said. “You can show them your skill at lawn bowling.”

  Eleanor nodded agreeably and stood.

  John’s boot nudged Netta’s foot, and she slid it away, as though that slight contact was unpleasant.

  He wasn’t sure where Eleanor came by her amiability, but the trait had skipped her sister.

  The children ran, skipped, and tumbled out of the room, leaving all the adults minus Sutton’s wife. The noise level dropped to something bearable, and John took a deep breath.

  “Right. Tonight we strike.” He reached for Netta’s chocolate and took a sip. “Tomorrow, everyone gets out of my house.”

  Netta frowned.

  “Almost everyone,” he amended.

  “I’ve put out word that the club will be closed tonight for a private event. Most of the workers have been given the evening off.” Sutton leaned back and draped his arm over his wife’s empty chair. “I have retained the services of the girl I mentioned. With Sudworth’s predilection, I’m certain he’ll like her.”

  “Predilection?” Amanda asked.

  “He likes proper young girls,” Rothchild told his wife. “Enjoys watching them degraded. Broken. Sutton will offer him a show. We hope he’ll agree to the game of hazard with her as the stake instead of Miss…Netta.”

  Amanda looked horrified. “You can’t possibly mean to involve a child—”

  Sutton held up a hand. “Of course not. But we have a new woman, early twenties, who can still look the part. She’s agreed to a scene tonight.”

  Netta’s knuckles went white, and John eased her fist from the table and rubbed them with his thumb. With Netta, the bastard hadn’t just watched. He’d enjoyed inflicting pain himself. “He’d be a fool to gamble the ore mines for a night with a doxy. He could pay for the same for much cheaper. It’s true proper misses he wants to hurt, not a simulation. But I have an alternative if he declines.” His pulse tripped at the thought of that alternative. But he wasn’t planning on losing. The special order that had been delivered two days ago would ensure it.

  “I wish I could be there for the fun,” Dunkeld said. “But I know we all have our parts to play tonight. And I don’t trust Liverpool’s newest batch of men to pick up Sudworth’s associates and interrogate them properly without me.” He frowned. “They all seem so mealy-mouthed and… puny.”

  Anyone was puny next to the Scotsman, but John held his tongue. Times were changing, and the new crop of spies were a different breed than he was used to, as well.

  He looked around the table at his friends and their wives. His friends now, as well. There had been many years of such talks around a table. Plotting. Scheming. Having a romping-good time.

  His chest ached hollowly. He couldn’t go back and revisit the past. Those times were ending. This might be the last round-table he and his brothers-in-arms were ever to have. Next time they all sat together it might be only to compare the competence of their nurses and how much Baby Annie had grown.

  As eager as he was to take Sudworth apart, he couldn’t deny the twinge of sorrow that this could be his last caper.

  He finally had to grow up.

  “I don’t understand. What are the rest of you going to do while John gambles?” Netta bit her lip. “And how will it keep Sudworth away from my sister?”

  “The time has come for a full frontal-attack.” John twisted the ring on his thumb. “While I am winning back the deed, my friends will be dismantling Sudworth’s network. We’ve had him watched for weeks now and have noted his henchmen, his investors. If we can’t find evidence sufficient for Liverpool to move against him, we will go after his soft-underbelly.”

  Netta wrinkled her nose. “Which is?”

  “His purse.” Blunt and women, every man’s weakness. “Montague will use his contacts in shipping to spike Sudworth’s commerce. He will find that his clients in England will no longer use his ships.”

  “I’ve also spoken with the Carpenters and Brewers Guild, two of his largest sources of workers, and they’ve agreed that it is high time to press for higher wages.” One edge of Montague’s lips curled. “A strike might even be in order. His contracts will dry up. His suppliers will raise their rates. Without his money, he will in essence by neutralized.”

  “You can do that?” Netta’s jaw dropped open.

  John arched an eyebrow. “He may have money but he doesn’t have the fortune of a good birth. Our beau monde bigotry will for once serve us well. Every duke, marquess, earl, and baron will band with us and lock him out of the higher echelons of society. And business.”

 
Amanda gently cleared her throat, pushing a stray wisp of dark hair off her face. “I’m loath to ask, but are you certain your fellow peers will agree? No one here has a spotless reputation with the ton. Most look down upon us, even with the assorted titles between our families.”

  “They’ll fall in line.” Montague pressed his lips together. “I may not receive all the invitations to balls that I used to, thank God, but I am the eighth Duke of Montague, thirteenth in line to the Crown. And the five of us have enough investments spread through the country that a man would be a fool to go against us. Their fortunes wouldn’t survive long.”

  “I wish there was more we could do to help.” Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the table. “I’m not fond of the idea of us women sitting at home while you all risk life and limb.”

  Montague dipped his chin. “I fear it is ennui rather than concern that makes you eager to assist. I believe you miss the thrill of spying.”

  Netta turned her head and mouthed to John: She was a spy, too?

  John nodded. Elizabeth had been an amateur in espionage when they’d met, but a talented one. He bit back a grin at the envious pinch to Netta’s mouth.

  “Perhaps I do feel a bit dull.” Elizabeth shrugged. “I was quite good at it. I don’t find it at all fair that you and the men get to have all the fun.”

  Montague leaned forwards and pressed a light kiss to her mouth. “Next time we have to destroy a man’s livelihood and uncover his plot against the Dutch, you will be the first one pressed into service.”

  Amanda leaned forwards. “While I don’t share my sister’s sense of adventure—”

  “You and Colleen each have one child for now,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I remember that time when you could spend hours staring at the being you brought into existence. But wait until you have several. The desire to escape the house will become overwhelming, even for you.”

  Colleen swept into the room, this time unencumbered by her babe. “What’s this? Has it been determined that Max and I are to have more children already?”

  Sutton chuckled and drew her to sit on his lap.

  “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Amanda said loudly, “although I have no desire to join in this evening’s escapades, I do want to know the progress of each of your endeavors. Perhaps we could use this house as an information center. Each of you send messages here with your status?”

  “That is a good idea.” Montague nodded. “And if something goes wrong, having one command post to direct inquiries and requests for assistance is a sensible precaution. You ladies can be our overseers.”

  Netta sighed. “I love directing a show. I hate to miss it.” She turned to John. “Perhaps I should send a note to Lady Mary, tell her Cerise and I can’t perform this evening as we agreed. Cerise, after all, has just had a fright. It is not unreasonable to cancel.”

  “And Wilberforce told me this morning that your friend sounded eager to act in the small performance.” John raised her hand to his lips. “He thought that it would do her good, help her take her mind off of last night.”

  Wil had sent Cerise and Netta’s apologies to their stage manager. Effective immediately, they were no longer employed at The Burns. Both women had argued that such unprofessional behavior would harm their future employment, but had eventually understood that their safety would be harder to secure at that location.

  “It will do you good, as well,” he told her. “You should be performing instead of sitting about worrying when there is nothing you can do.”

  “I know.” She slouched in her seat. “That doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

  Nor was he in particular. He’d prefer Netta to stay at home with the other women and a host of servants surrounding them. But he’d spoken the truth that it would help her to perform that night. It wouldn’t do for her to worry herself sick. Or to hare off and do something foolish. An unoccupied Netta was a menace.

  “I would suggest you take your sister with you, but until we get her situation sorted, it’s best she not show her face outside this house.” The last thing he needed was a Bow Street runner at his door. After Sudworth was dealt with, John would move on to Viscount Darby. It shouldn’t present a problem. The man was eager to sell off his daughters. John would pay to take the chit off his hands and place her under her sister’s care.

  “What of Sudworth after tonight?” Sutton rested his chin on Colleen’s shoulder. “There are times when Liverpool finds it more convenient not to press charges.”

  All the better for John. “You don’t have to worry about it. Leave him to me.”

  “John.” Montague’s voice was quiet. “Executions aren’t our style.”

  “I think we all have blood on our hands from our past association with the Crown.” John’s body tensed. “And my style has always been different from yours.”

  “Not this different.”

  John’s body heated. He dared any of his friends to claim he wouldn’t do the same if a man had hurt their wives. Not that Netta was his wife, but still, there was a principle to uphold. The hypocrisy wouldn’t be tolerated.

  Netta squeezed his hand under the table. “I don’t know how I feel about someone being killed on my behalf. I don’t quite think I’d like it.”

  Her gaze was steady, without judgment, and John sighed. His job would be much easier if she were his bloodthirsty Netta today. This softer woman, showing compassion for a man who deserved none, complicated the issue.

  He ran his thumb along the soft skin of her palm. “What would you have me do? Let him roam free? Go on as before?” He didn’t think such an act of forgiveness was possible on his part.

  “There are other ways to punish a man besides prison,” Rothchild said. He didn’t bother to say ‘or death,’ and for that, John was grateful. “We use the talents around the table. I can break into just about anywhere. Take anything of his you’d want. Or plant evidence against him, as well.”

  Sutton tugged on his beard. “I’ve seen most of his properties in London. Dry wood. Poor construction. Sadly for him, very susceptible to fire.” He grinned, his eyes lighting up at the thought of arson as they always did.

  “A man such as he has his self-worth wrapped up in his wealth,” Elizabeth added. “When you strip that away, there will be nothing left of him. You might even be able to arrange a cell for him in debtor’s prison.”

  “Yes.” Montague buttered a roll and handed it to his wife. “The ways to destroy a man are limitless.”

  John’s chest expanded until he found it difficult to breathe. He might lack the strong bonds of affection most men had with their brothers, but he had never lacked for family.

  He looked around the table. Their plan was neat, with alternatives and redundancies. There was no possible way for Sudworth to escape ruin. If he wasn’t put away tonight, the man would wish he had been.

  John rubbed his hands together. He almost wished this last adventure would present more of a challenge. A victory he could take pride in and reminisce over next to a crackling fire with Netta curled by his side.

  “Oy, what about me?” Dunkeld asked, frowning. “I don’t think I have any special talents that would help to destroy a man’s livelihood.”

  John rose to his feet and stretched. “Your talent is obvious. Beat the hell out of anyone that gets in our way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Netta sat with one leg over the armrest of the settee, a glass of wine resting on her stomach. Members of The Minerva chattered excitedly about her, asking questions about being an actress, about performing, but Netta let Cerise respond.

  She fingered the emerald pendent John had given her the night of the masquerade. It rarely left her neck these days. It made her feel closer to him to wear it.

  Where was John right now? Had he left for The Black Rose? Was he even now sitting across from Sudworth, playing for his livelihood?

  The thought of seeing Sudworth again made her palms swea
t and stomach cramp. And she knew she couldn’t assist John. But it didn’t feel right her drinking wine with Mary and Cerise while he faced down the devil.

  Cerise shot her elbow into Netta’s ribs.

  “Gah!” Netta dropped her leg to the floor and straightened, rubbing her side. “What was that for?”

  “Lady Walpole just asked us a question which I feel you can answer best.” Cerise’s smile was all clenched teeth.

  Netta recognized that look. It was one she’d learned to be wary around. Her friend was nearing the end of her patience.

  “I apologize.” She turned to Lady Walpole. “What was the question?”

  The middle-aged woman leaned forward in her chair, the feather in her turban bobbing. “Whether it was true that actresses took a different lover each week. My sister said that they did, but I said that it would be too exhausting.”

  A muffled cough drew her gaze to the far wall. Wilberforce sat as sentinel in the one hard-backed chair in the room. His position hadn’t changed. He’d sat in that spot through her and Cerise’s performance on the small stage. He remained in that spot as they chatted after the show. The man sat and watched, and apparently tried his best not to laugh at the impertinent questions.

  “Lady Walpole,” she began.

  “There are no ladies in The Minerva.” Mary swept into the room, John’s grandmother at her side. Mary arranged a pillow on the wingback chair next to Netta and helped Catherine to sit down. She took her own seat and shook out her skirts. “Titles are dropped at the door. I believe I shall have the next person who breaks that rule needlepoint it into pillows as reminders.”

  That horrifying threat stilled everyone’s tongues for a moment.

  “Now.” Mary accepted the glass of port a footman brought over. “Do you want to answer questions on the sexual customs of actors or do you consider that a boorish inquiry? I, for one, would have adored having a different lover each week when I was younger. Although coordinating the liaisons with so many men would be difficult. They are such sensitive creatures.”