An Unexpected Earl

by Anna Harrington

  “And Scepter thinks it has the men in place to control a revolution?” Businessmen, wealthy landowners, high-ranking political figures…the English aristocracy. The revolution Scepter planned would be top down and not at all organic. That was why Scepter wanted its men in government positions. But turnpike trustees to lead the overthrow of a monarchy? “How?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Then you’ll swing for—”

  “I can’t tell you,” he repeated, “because I don’t know. I was the one able to blackmail Howard, so I was given a list of men to pass along to him. I don’t know what Scepter wants from them.”

  “Surely you know something about their plans.”

  “Generals never give their battle plan to foot soldiers.” His mouth twisted wryly. “You were a former soldier. You know that better than I.”

  Clayton bit back a curse. Damn him, Varnham was right. “Then tell me who gave you that list.”

  “Would you ever be disloyal to your generals?” He shook his head. “Shot in battle by the enemy, shot after battle by your own men for retreating…either way, shot dead.”

  The two men stared at each other in quiet understanding. Clayton knew then that he’d get no more information from Varnham. The interrogation was over.

  * * *

  Several hours later, long after dawn had broken across London and the city was on the move into another morning, Lord Sidmouth, the Home Secretary, arrived at his office.

  He stopped in the doorway and stared, blinking in bewilderment. “What the devil…”

  Arthur Varnham, younger brother to Sir Charles Varnham, sat tied to his desk chair, gagged and wearing a red monk’s robe. Around his neck hung a handwritten sign…

  Bound for Botany Bay.

  Twenty-seven

  Amelia said nothing as Pearce led her inside the Armory, silently letting herself take it all in, this place that had become a second home to him and to his former brothers-in-arms. He’d described the building when he’d taken her home after leaving the tunnel, explained what the men of the Armory’s plans were, waited for her to bathe herself and dress, and insisted that she eat something although she had no appetite. And not leaving her side the entire time.

  She knew what to expect now that they were here, yet she couldn’t stop a shudder when the outer iron door banged and screeched as it opened. Or the tremble of unease as they passed beneath the twin portcullis that guarded a second inner doorway. But Pearce was at her side, and with him, she could bear anything.

  Even facing down her brother.

  He glanced at her fingers as they tightened on his arm. “Are you all right?”

  She gave a single determined nod. “I will be.”

  He squeezed her hand and escorted her into the building.

  The central octagonal room opened before them, its imposing size and shape taking her breath away. But so did the three men who were waiting inside, all of them on their feet and facing the door as she and Pearce entered—the Duke of Hampton, Merritt Rivers…and Frederick.

  Straightening her spine, Amelia slipped her hand away from Pearce’s arm. He stopped at the edge of the room and let her walk on alone.

  “Amelia!” Frederick started forward. He held out his arms to embrace her. “Thank God you’re all—”

  She slapped him. Her hand cracked across his face so hard that the sting of the blow pulsed up her arm and the sound echoed off the stone walls.

  He glared at her, rubbing at the red mark already forming on his left cheek. “What the hell—”

  She slapped him again, this time with her left hand to the opposite cheek. Even harder than before. So hard that she staggered sideways from the exertion of the blow.

  The duke and Merritt both stiffened. Merritt started forward a single step before stopping and shooting Pearce a look questioning whether he should intercede.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Pearce faintly shake his head, to let her confront her brother on her own.

  “I know what you did,” she rasped out, the feeling of betrayal in her so intense and raw that she shook.

  “Damnation, Amelia!” Frederick hissed. “Control yourself. You are in the presence of a duke.”

  She didn’t care. She’d spent too much of her life cowering in front of the Howard men. No more. “I know what you did.”

  “Of course you know.” He slid a grim glance between the duke and Merritt. Apparently, they knew, too, having put him through an interrogation after freeing him from the New Prison. Most likely they were simply waiting for her and Pearce to help them decide what to do with him. “You heard the charges that Charles Varnham leveled against me when Bow Street arrested me. I told you about them when the blackmail—”

  “My marriage.”

  The accusation hit him so forcefully that his mouth fell open, and his eyes flared wide. Shock radiated from him.

  The duke and Merritt turned to leave the room. But she held up a hand and stopped them.

  “No, stay,” she ordered softly. “Please.”

  The men awkwardly exchanged glances but did as she asked and remained.

  “I’ve had enough of secrets. I’m living my life out in the open now for all to witness. Starting immediately.” She took a step forward to close the distance between her and her brother. For the first time, he wasn’t at all intimidating. Up close like this, cornered by his own devices, he was simply weak and self-serving. Pathetic. “I know what you did. I know how you schemed to steal my money, the lengths you went to, all the lies and humiliations.” Her voice choked, and she forced out in a rasping whisper, “Damn you…damn you to hell for what you put me through!”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he countered, far too calmly. “Aaron Northam fooled me as much as he did you.”

  “Stop the lies!” Consumed by anger, she didn’t step away or back down. “You hired Aaron to pretend to marry me so you could have both my money and your revenge on me for inheriting Papa’s fortune. You couldn’t stand that he passed you over for his daughter.”

  “That’s absurd! For you to make those accusations, when I’ve done nothing but help you—” Self-righteous indignation hardened his face. “You know everything I did to pursue Northam. I hired accountants, lawyers, investigators—how I worked to keep your elopement secret so you wouldn’t be ruined socially as well as financially. For God’s sake, Amelia! I took care of you. I did everything I could to make you happy.”

  “You mean like the letters I wrote to Pearce, the ones you made certain never reached him? Did they even leave the house, or did you simply burn them in the fireplace the moment my back was turned?” Her words emerged so softly that she barely heard them herself. But if she spoke any louder, she would have screamed. “Is that what you mean by taking care of me?”

  “Pearce was nothing then! You deserved better, Amelia. I will not apologize for keeping you from throwing your life away on an army officer.”

  Around her, she felt all three men stiffen at that insult. Marcus Braddock slowly folded his arms over his chest in such an imperial posture that the air inside the room turned cold. But Frederick was too wrapped up in saving himself to notice his blunder.

  “You lied to me.” She blinked, her eyes burning with furious tears at all he’d cost her. “Just as you’re lying now.”

  “I am not—”

  “I saw the contract you made with Aaron! I know you paid him—and Arthur Varnham told me the rest. That’s what he used to blackmail you.”

  He glared at her, his jaw working in anger, no longer attempting to defend himself. Thank God. At least he wasn’t that much of a fool.

  “You must have had such a great laugh at my expense when you planned out how Aaron and I would meet that day in the park, when you gave him information about all my favorites so he would know exactly how to win my affection.
” Fresh pain simmered inside her. But she needed to walk through the fire until it seared her heart to him and never let him inside there again. “How did you keep a straight face that day he came to the house to call on me for the first time, watching me beside myself with nervousness as I introduced you, when you’d known each other all along? Or the day you pretended to take him to our banker to introduce them?” The words strangled in her tightening throat, yet she forced them out, needing to utter them. “To go that far for money and revenge… Do you really hate me that much?”

  “Yes!” he bit out. “Yes, I do.”

  Something deep inside her shattered. Something she knew could never be mended.

  Slowly, she nodded, accepting this final destruction. “Then if I were you, Frederick, I would leave England and never return.”

  “Self-exile?” he drawled sarcastically, rubbing at the red handprint marking his left cheek.

  “Mercy,” she corrected. “That you don’t deserve.”

  He gave a scoffing laugh. “You really expect me to do that? To walk away from the life I’ve created here, the power I have as an MP—”

  “Yes,” Pearce answered for her, still waiting on the other side of the room. “Or I’ll make certain that you never see the light of day.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You’ll not come anywhere near her again.”

  Frederick leveled a murderous glare at Pearce. All the hatred and disdain he’d always held for him surged unchecked to the surface. “I won’t go to prison. Varnham will protect his brother. He’ll have no choice but to rescind all the accusations he’s made once everything his brother has done is revealed. He’ll be the one in prison, not me. He’ll be at the center of talk across the empire, and no one will care what I’ve done.”

  “I never said prison.” The threat in Pearce’s voice cut like ice, made all the more murderous by the calm way he issued it. “I’ll put you into your grave.”

  “Why, you worthless, arrogant brute—”

  Pearce dove across the room and grabbed Frederick by the throat, pinning him to the wall. He dangled there, his feet barely touching the floor. Frederick’s eyes grew wide, and gurgling sounds came from him as he tore at Pearce’s arm. But Pearce never moved a muscle to release him.

  “No!” Amelia placed her hand on Pearce’s shoulder to hold him back. “He isn’t worth it.”

  Pearce released him and stepped back. Frederick slumped against the wall, his hand going to his throat.

  “You will swear out a statement to Mr. Rivers that you tricked me into a fraudulent marriage,” Amelia ordered, her gaze darting to Merritt, who nodded his agreement to assist her. “Then you will leave on the first ship for America.” She linked her arm through Pearce’s, not yet trusting him not to pulp her brother right there on the Aubusson rug. Frederick deserved exactly that—and more. But she simply wanted all of this to end, as quickly as possible. “Go home and pack your trunks. Take anything from the house you want, including whatever banknotes you’ve hidden in your study. And never come back.”

  Defeat dimmed Freddie’s eyes. His shoulders sagged.

  “I’m free of you now, do you understand? You and Papa have no more power over me.” A sensation she’d rarely known in her life struck her—freedom. “You can never hurt me again.”

  Frederick’s jaw worked as he stared at her, wisely saying nothing. She was certain he didn’t recognize the sister he knew within the woman confronting him. Most likely because that girl was gone. In her place was a strong woman who would never again let anyone control her.

  He pushed himself away from the wall and hurried from the Armory. The duke and Merritt followed to make certain that he truly was gone. And to give Amelia and Pearce time alone.

  Pearce turned to her and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. His eyes shone with love. “I’m so very proud of you for what you just did.”

  “And me of you for not hurting him.”

  He forced a half grin. “Only because I thought you might want to hurt him yourself.”

  “He isn’t worth it,” she repeated, then closed her eyes when Pearce placed a comforting kiss to her forehead.

  She stepped into his embrace and welcomed the strength and warmth of his arms as they encircled her. She rested her cheek against his chest and felt the soothing beat of his heart. This was where she belonged, right here in his arms.

  Always.

  Epilogue

  Three Weeks Later

  “To Pearce and Amelia.” Marcus Braddock stood at the head of the table in the dining room of Charlton House and lifted his glass. “May your life together be filled with happiness and love.” His eyes shone, while beside him the duchess dabbed at hers with a napkin. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

  Around the table, the close friends whom Danielle Braddock had gathered to celebrate with them raised their glasses to join in the toast. Rounds of congratulations followed.

  Beaming with more happiness than she’d ever thought possible, Amelia wrapped her arm around Pearce’s as he sat beside her. She briefly rested her head against his hard bicep in a small gesture of affection, one he returned with a tender caress to her knee beneath the table.

  Amelia hadn’t wanted this dinner. When the duchess first proposed it, she’d declined. She wasn’t eager to announce her engagement to the world when she wasn’t yet officially free to remarry, when the wedding might still be a year or two away. After all, she’d willingly signed her name to the parish register when she’d married Aaron, and even though she could claim grounds of fraud, legalities had to be met, investigations made, intent publicly declared…scandal to survive. A conversation with Merritt Rivers about what was in store for her legally proved how very long she would have to wait before she could become Pearce’s wife.

  But Pearce had persuaded her into accepting the duchess’s invitation.

  He wanted this for her, a happy celebration with the people who had become family to them. Marcus and Danielle, the duke’s sister Claudia and her husband, Danielle’s Aunt Harriett, Clayton Elliott…even little Pippa, Marcus’s niece, had joined them earlier before being whisked up to the nursery by her nanny. The only person missing was Merritt, who had suddenly left London two days ago without explanation, except to say that he’d return in time for the party. Unfortunately, he’d missed it.

  Amelia hadn’t realized until that evening how much this new family meant to her. Frederick was the only blood family she had, and now he was gone. America or the Continent, India or the moon—she had no idea where, but she knew he would never return. Despite the hell he’d put her through, she’d done him one last favor by convincing Charles Varnham to rescind all of his accusations and saved her brother’s reputation in absentia. Varnham reluctantly agreed, his decision helped along by assurances from Marcus Braddock and Pearce that Frederick Howard would never return.

  “Before we allow Miss Howard to be formally engaged,” Clayton Elliott piped up, “I think she needs to know about that time in Spain when Pearce kidnapped General Pemberton’s dog and held it ransom for its weight in whiskey.”

  Amelia stifled a laugh at Pearce’s expense. All evening they’d been regaling her with stories of his army days, and she’d joined in with stories of her own from their youth in Birmingham.

  “It was top-notch whiskey, I’ll have you know.” Pearce stretched his arm across Amelia’s chair back. “And why does she need to know that about me, exactly?”

  “Because it proves you can’t be trusted with small animals,” Clayton answered.

  “Or whiskey,” Marcus interjected.

  When unchecked laughter bubbled up from her, Clayton arched an exaggerated brow in her direction. “We only want to protect you, to make certain that you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “I know exactly who I’m marrying.” She dared to touch Pearce’s cheek. “My soul mate.” Her voice sof
tened as she looked deeply into his eyes. “And I love him with all my soul.”

  At that, Aunt Harriett let out a sob, and both Danielle and Claudia reached for their husbands’ hands. And their handkerchiefs.

  “Well then, on that happy declaration,” Danielle announced as she rose to her feet, bringing everyone in the room to theirs, “shall we venture to the drawing room for coffee?”

  “If you don’t mind, Duchess,” Pearce said as he took Amelia’s arm and looped it around his, “I’d like to steal Amelia away for a moment alone.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. The library should be lit. Join us when you’re ready.” Danielle’s eyes gleamed knowingly as she added, “Take your time.”

  Amelia dug her nails into Pearce’s forearm as he led her down the hall. “You said a moment alone.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the perceptive smiles the women wore as they left the dining room, the men lingering behind for a glass of port. “They all think you meant…a moment alone.”

  “Yes, they do.” He grinned as he led her inside the library and closed the door, then backed her across the room until her bottom hit the back of the settee. He leaned in, his mouth lingering temptingly above hers. “But while I would love nothing more than a moment alone…” He kissed her heatedly and groaned against her lips. “Several moments, in fact…” He broke the kiss and stepped back, sucking in a deep breath of restraint. “What I need is to talk to you privately.”

  Dread twisted inside her. “Is something wrong? Is it Scepter?”

  The men of the Armory were getting closer in their hunt for the group’s leaders, but progress had been slow. Clayton Elliott and his Home Office agents were going through the list of men Frederick had placed into government positions and those men Pearce had seen at the Hellfire club to track down any with ties to Scepter, but so far little had turned up. Arthur Varnham had covered his tracks well, as had Marigold Humphries, the prostitute who had given him the information with which to blackmail Frederick. She’d completely disappeared, in fact. The men believed that she’d fled to escape Scepter, but Amelia knew better. She’d told Frederick to take anything he wanted with him when he left. Most likely he took her, too.