Dread of The Earl (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  Colby’s gaze narrowed. He swung from Mr. Maltsby to Kent. “Can you remind me again, why you are doing this?”

  Kent grinned. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Maltsby explained himself. He gets my money, and I get the boy.” While the very thought of buying a child didn’t sit well with Kent, it was not at all illegal. Parents had been selling their children into workhouses and apprenticeships for years.

  For the first time since he entered, Maltsby looked nervous. He was the one who should feel shame. “Mr. Harris, I had no idea you were in the room.” He looked at Kent. “There was no need for you to bring your brother into this.”

  “My brother in my solicitor.” And one of the only men Kent trusted completely. “And he’ll be making sure everything in the papers is in the right order. Otherwise, you get no money.”

  Colby held out his hand.

  Maltsby’s pretended civility vanished as he gave the paperwork over. He turned to Kent. “Very well, but you remember. If I don’t get your investment, I take the boy and no doubt the little woman will follow behind. A foolish creature, that woman. She’ll do anything for that bastard, and he’s not even hers. Terrible logic, that one.” Then he looked at Colby. “This meeting, I suspect, doesn’t leave the room? Confidentiality and all that?”

  “It sickens me that you’d sell your own little brother.” Colby sat in another chair, close to Kent. “Family should be more loyal to one another.”

  Maltsby looked Colby over and said, “And I’m sure you learned that lesson from your own mother, didn’t you?” His smirk was a punch to Kent’s gut.

  And confirmation that his mother had been involved in his kidnapping.

  Kent struggled to keep his face from showing his outrage. His pain. He gripped his chair to keep from wrapping his fingers around Maltsby’s throat. Kent had never felt so weak. Not even in the face of Mr. Goody. All for the sake of a small boy, he’d have to let Mr. Maltsby leave just as he’d come. Stupid, but whole.

  Colby glared at Maltsby. “And exactly what is that supposed to mean? That reference to my mother? What’s she done that you deem disloyal?”

  Maltsby’s smile fell and his nervousness returned. He glanced over at Kent, to see if his words had registered. They had. Maltsby was caught.

  He knew exactly what his father had been up to. Now, all Kent needed was proof.

  “Yes, Maltsby.” Kent said. “Why don’t you tell us what your words were supposed to have implied?”

  Maltsby waved his hand. “They meant nothing. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? I want the money you previously had in our accounts.”

  “No.” Colby answered. He and Kent had had a long discussion before Maltsby’s arrival. “My brother was taken and held captive for three years. The money your bank held did not reflect what the numbers would have been had Kent been free to live as he chose.”

  Maltby frowned. “My father grew your brother’s money. He grew all their funds, but instead of being grateful—”

  Kent grabbed Maltsby and slammed him down on the tea table before he could blink. The table collapsed, and the china broke under the force of the throw. “You will not praise your father in my company ever again. Is that understood?”

  Maltsby’s eyes flashed like those of a man who knew he was close to death. He winced and struggled. “Please, please. I…let me go.”

  “This is my house.” Kent said. “You’ll not soil it with the worship of a criminal.”

  “Kent.” Colby grabbed his arm. “Let the man up.”

  But Kent couldn’t hear. “Your father took three years from me. Mention him again and we’ll see how many you have left.”

  Maltsby gasped. “I’ll call the authorities. I’ll say you threatened me.”

  Kent leaned in close. “I dreamed of you last night. Of the many ways I could make you disappear.”

  Maltsby whimpered. His eyes glittered.

  Colby stood. “Kent, let him go. He’s a despicable man, yes, but don’t let him get the best of you. You’ve a wife who loves you and a boy who is counting on you. Don’t risk losing your happiness over this man.”

  Kent took a breath and then yanked Maltsby to his feet before letting him go.

  Mrs. Barton bustled into the room then, a broad smile on her face. “Oh, what a mess. I’ll straighten it for you, my lord. Not to worry. More tea? Another table?” She all but skipped from the room when she left.

  Kent took his seat.

  Maltsby glared down at him and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his handkerchief. “If the bank didn’t need your backing so badly—”

  “Mr. Maltsby,” Colby cut in “if you care at all for your life, I would suggest you shut up and have a seat.”

  Maltsby glared at Kent’s younger brother, but neither man missed the shiver before the banker retook his seat in silence.

  Then Colby began to read again.

  Kent and Maltsby either glared or avoided looking at one another. In the quiet, Kent wondered where Lucy was and prayed she’d only gone to visit a friend, but who that friend would be, he didn’t know.

  He admitted he didn’t know his wife, because before recently, he hadn’t wanted to know her. Kent needed her to forever be the maid who betrayed him in his mind in order for his revenge to work. He was almost ashamed at how easily she’d dismantled his plans. Pleasing her felt so much better than anything else, and now he wanted to know everything about her.

  She was from London. She’d been a lady. Surely, she knew people and her way around the city. She could be anywhere, and he’d never know it. She’d taken his carriage. Hers would take some time before it was completed. He was glad she’d felt confident enough to take it without asking, but he hated not knowing his own wife’s whereabouts.

  Thinking of the way she’d held him, nearly cradled him to her bosom through the night, had Kent’s heart racing. If he ever lost her, if she was ever hurt…

  She and George were the only reasons Maltsby still drew air for the moment…but he would be taken down as soon as possible.

  Colby finished reading and then spoke to Maltby about the great revisions that would need to be taken. Then Colby turned to Kent. “There is a part in here that states you must tell others where you bank and publicly encourage them to do the same.”

  Kent had thought there would be something like that. He shrugged.

  Maltsby took the papers. “Had I known there would be negotiations, I would have brought my own lawyer. I’ll have him make the adjustments and send it back to you this evening. I’m sure you can sign it before the night is through?”

  Kent nodded and stood. “We’ll have a toast to this new arrangement.”

  The comment startled both men.

  Kent moved to ring the bell.

  “A toast?” Maltsby asked. Then he grunted. “Why not?”

  Mrs. Barton came.

  “We need port,” Kent said “also, tell Mr. Charles that he is free to leave.”

  No one in the room would know what that meant, but Mr. Charles, who was overseeing the searches at Maltsby’s home and bank, would know it meant to send men to clear the properties before Mr. Maltsby could reach either one.

  Once Maltsby departed, Colby turned to Kent. “It’s a good thing you’re doing for that boy. He’d have likely suffered greatly under Mr. Maltsby’s care.”

  Kent nodded and tried not to think of his own upbringing, but it was hard.

  Colby smiled. “I didn’t know you had a soft spot for children. Or does this have to do with your wife? She has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

  The comment reminded Kent of what Colby had said earlier, about Lucy loving him.

  Colby clearly knew nothing, was likely blinded in a way that only allowed him to see what he wished to see. And Kent admitted to aiding in building the protective world his brother resided in. No matter what, Kent had never let Colby see what their parents had done to him, keeping it a secret just as much as they had.

  He lik
ed how whole his brother was. Unbroken by anything, except for when Kent tried to push him away. He wouldn’t do that anymore.

  But there was another matter he’d forgotten to speak to his brother about. “Are you aware of any connection between Lady Teresa and Lord St. John?”

  Colby nodded. “Yes, the two are friends.” Then he narrowed his gaze slightly. “Why?”

  Kent shrugged. “They seemed to be having some heated discussion at the house the other day. Lady Teresa didn’t want to trouble you with it, but I thought you should made aware.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Colby grinned. “But I shall ask about it.”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 4

  * * *

  Kent saw his brother away and then went to see how George’s day was faring, all the while telling himself not to be troubled by Lucy’s disappearance.

  He found George in the nursery with Miriam. The two sat in a bay window with a book across their laps. George was reading aloud, but their heads came up when they noticed Kent.

  George smiled and closed the book. “Uncle Kent, what are you doing?” Miriam’s expression matched his brightness. She was beginning to accept Kent, if only because George did.

  Kent returned his smile. “I was about to go for a walk.”

  “Can I come?” George asked anxiously. His blue eyes were wide with hope.

  Lady Nora, who was busy with a needlework in the corner of the room, said, “It’s nearly time to nap.”

  At those words, the children acted completely different. Miriam yawned and her eyes drooped slightly. George’s expression became nearly pleading as he focused on Kent.

  Kent turned to his governess. “I’ll take George.”

  “Hurrah!” George jumped from his seat and ran to Kent.

  Kent couldn’t remember the last time anyone had run to him and been as excited to see him. Likely Colby when they’d been younger.

  “What were you reading?” Kent asked as he closed the door behind him.

  The question prompted George to begin speaking a mile a minute, which Kent enjoyed since he needed something to distract his worrying mind.

  Where was Lucy?

  * * *

  Lucy’s heart raced as she waited in the keeper’s house, the part of the prison where the main warden slept.

  Deciding at the last minute not to go to Maltsby’s bank or house, Lucy had taken Kent’s carriage across town to Newgate Prison.

  She was sure the carriage would draw some attention, along with the new dress she wore, which had just arrived that very morning. She’d wrapped the authority that came with wealth around her yet used every ounce of feminine charm to convince the jailors to allow her to see Lord Maltsby.

  At first, they’d seemed hesitant, but then, after she’d paid what amounted to half her savings, they’d showed Lucy to a private chamber where she would wait.

  An hour later, she was still waiting. She stood, ready to remind someone that she was still here when the door opened.

  She gasped at the sight of Lord Maltsby, not because he looked terrible, but because he looked quite the opposite. Whole. His clothing was clean as well. It was as though prison hadn’t touched him at all. He grinned, clearly knowing her thoughts, as he crossed the room and took the seat across from her.

  Lucy fell into her chair. She’d been so sure Lord Maltsby would look like some of the other prisoners she’d seen while walking through the halls, but instead, she was forced to face a man who looked every bit as intimidating as he had before his incarceration.

  “Lucy.” he murmured. “What a pleasant surprise. Dressed as you are, you nearly remind me of your sister.” He closed his eyes dark eyes and groaned in pleasure. “Jessica. She was taken from us far too soon, wasn’t she?” Those eyes opened again, their gaze direct.

  Had they never met before, Lucy could almost understand Lord Maltsby’s strange appeal. His eyes were a calming brown, which matched the shade of his hair except for where he was graying at his temples. He looked clever and distinguished. He had a quality about him that said he was never satisfied and if one could get him to smile, they’d just won the greatest prize in the world.

  Jessica had been obsessed with him. She’d adored him, and he’d betrayed that love.

  “She was taken from me. Lucy snapped. “You did nothing but use her. She meant nothing to you.”

  Lord Maltsby frowned in a way that made her heart jump. “That’s not true at all. I loved Jessica with my entire soul…” Then he calmed. “But there were other powers at work that may or may not have kept me from making her mine in every sense of the word.”

  That surprised Lucy. “Other powers?”

  Maltsby smiled. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know their names, or at least one. I know you saw the correspondence. You never gave me them all of them, did you? Lord Van Dero has written me since my arrest but won’t reveal to me the blackmail that he revealed in his first letter. He won’t risk being caught aiding me, but I believe he wishes to hang onto it now just in case Ganden goes after him. I’ve made them too much money in the past for them to act against me. They owe me.”

  They.

  Lucy didn’t know all of them, only Lord Van Dero, who’d been bold enough to meet with Maltsby on occasion at the bank and in his home. Van Dero had even spoken to Lucy a few times during George’s early years, before she’d been sent to live with Mr. Goody. Their conversations had been discreet of course.

  The other two men who worked with Maltsby and Van Dero had been wise enough to use abbreviations when writing their letters to Maltsby.

  “Tell me what the letter about your husband said.” Lord Maltsby said.

  “Never.” Lucy said.

  “Fair enough.” Lord Maltsby said. “Yet you’re clearly keeping secrets from your husband. Why have you not shared my connection with Lord Van Dero as of yet?”

  Lucy looked down. “I don’t want Ganden to be charged with his or your murder. But one day, when I’m sure he can handle it, I’ll tell him everything.”

  “Well, I thank you for waiting.” he said plainly.

  She frowned. “I don’t do it for you.”

  “Then do you do it for Jessica?” Lord Maltsby asked. “For George?”

  She gasped. “How dare you speak his name? You despise George.”

  “Yes.” Maltsby straightened. “He killed your sister. I told her to get rid of the child and...” He shook his head. His visage hardened. “Now we see the consequences of what happens when no one listens to me.”

  Lucy had never seen George’s existence that way. “You can’t blame a child for his own birth.”

  “Can’t I? I believe I’ve been doing so for ten years and will continue to do so, as long as Jessica is gone.” He looked Lucy over again and then met her eyes. “You’re quite stunning outside those maid uniforms.” The subject change was startling. “Though, you were always so very pretty, and you have her eyes.” Now the change in topic made sense. His eyes fell blatantly to her chest before lifting again. “You’re not as curvy as your sister but beautiful in your own way. Why have you come? Have you finally decided to offer yourself to me? I never cared for you before, but seeing as I am locked away here...”

  Lucy had to stop herself from vomiting at his feet. “I am not here to offer myself to you. I am here to see if you can be reasoned with.”

  “Is this about George?” Lord Maltsby asked. “I believe my son is handling the matter.” He grinned. “The bank should be back on its feet within a year or so. I have every faith my son will accomplish that.”

  Lucy took a breath and knew she’d have to use all her smarts in order to win this mind game against Lord Maltsby. “He can’t resurrect your bank if he becomes locked away as well.”

  Maltsby’s entire body stilled. “What did you say to me, Harlot?”

  The term triggered fear within her, taking her back to a place she hoped to never return. “I’m Lady Ganden now.”

  Mal
tsby blinked and sighed. “Oh, yes, I did hear something about that. Congratulations, Harlot—”

  “Your son knew what you were up to,” Lucy said “and I can prove it.”

  “Can you?” Maltsby tilted his head and looked Lucy over. “I doubt it. There are very few who knew my son knew anything. My…private investors would never give you the evidence you need in order to prove that claim. Doing so would only hurt themselves.”

  His private investors.

  She knew one of them. It had been Lord Van Dero’s letter that had spoken about Kent’s true father. Did Lord Van Dero have evidence to have Mr. Maltsby imprisoned?

  It was what Lord Maltsby just claimed.

  So how did Lucy get a hold of it?

  Maltsby glared at her. “If you’re thinking to do something stupid, I would advise you against it.”

  Why were men always advising her to not act on her thoughts?

  “You had a painting of Jessica commissioned just months before her death.” Lucy said. “I wish to have it and give it to George, so he can know what his mother looked like before she died.”

  “No.” Maltsby said swiftly. “It currently sits in my cell. It is one of the few luxuries I have here.”

  The man didn’t deserve any luxuries. How powerful were the men who protected him?

  Lucy swallowed. Had Lord Maltsby really loved her sister? “I have…Jessica’s journal. It speaks highly of you. The words are…full of love and not ones I would ever share with George, even if he were a full-grown man. They are private thoughts. I will give the journal to you in exchange for the painting.”

  Lord Maltsby closed his eyes and was silent for a long time. A pained expression came across his face and he whispered, “I don’t want you to think me a horrible man—”

  “Too late.” she whispered. “I already know that is exactly what you are.”

  Lord Maltsby looked at her. “I kept those lords alive, didn’t I? I kept them fed and housed—”

  “With their own money.” Lucy glared. “If you are looking for sympathy or to ease your own conscience, don’t look for it with me. Jessica loved you, but if she’d seen the way you’ve treated George or knew the many things you’ve done since her death, she’d have despised you.”