“My feelings are irrelevant.”
Ellen released a frustrated sigh. “Of course they are. Excuse me for thinking otherwise.” She took another sip of her sherry before asking, “Is Worthington innocent?”
“Not entirely. He did pass information on to Standish, but apparently it happened only once and when he was in his cups. I’m inclined to believe him.”
“The poor fool. Will you be able to do anything for him?”
That was the question really. He honestly didn’t know. “If I can get Standish, maybe. I’d have to prove that it happened only that one time. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do that. Even if I find concrete evidence that Standish is the person selling secrets to the French, I’m not sure I’d be able to get him to admit he played Worthington for a fool.”
Ellen frowned. “Maybe if we threaten someone he cares about in turn? It worked for Worthington.”
“Standish doesn’t have a heart. I’m beginning to think he belongs in Bedlam. I doubt he’s capable of caring for anyone.” He paused, wondering if Standish had met his real mother when the old earl had sent him to the continent, but discarded the thought almost immediately. In all likelihood, he blamed her for abandoning him and wouldn’t lift a finger to help her if he thought her life in danger.
“Well, I see I’ll get nothing more out of you,” Ellen said, standing. She placed her unfinished glass of sherry on the desk. “Should we expect you later today?”
Brantford nodded. The sooner he had Rose under his protection, the better.
Chapter 9
As the carriage wheels clattered along the cobblestone streets later that afternoon, Brantford laid his head against the thick squab and closed his eyes. He’d been unable to shake the awareness that silent eyes were watching his every move since leaving his town house. Of course, that was normally true. He couldn’t go anywhere without curious onlookers staring at him. Some tried to hide their curiosity, but many watched him openly. The more remote he became, the worse they gawked.
Normally he could shake off that awareness, refusing to allow it to affect his actions or his mood. But not that afternoon.
Since the matter of his wedding to Rose Hardwick couldn’t be postponed, he’d visited Doctors Commons to procure a special license right after speaking with his sister. The archbishop hadn’t raised a brow after learning the reason for his visit. He supposed the man had seen more than one elusive member of the ton enter his office over the years. But Brantford wasn’t quite so composed once he had the license in his possession. For the first time in years, he was feeling out of sorts, as though the very ground beneath his feet was shifting and each step threatened to send him tumbling.
He flexed his fingers and shifted his shoulders as the carriage drew ever closer to Overlea’s home, trying to work out muscles that had become tense, and told himself things would go back to normal once he was done with this task. Marriage was a momentous change of state, and it was normal to feel a small amount of… something. He refused to name it as anxiety. Or anticipation. Whatever was wrong with him, he’d work through it and push it into the background where it belonged. Nothing had to change. Many men went about their daily routine, rarely even seeing their wives.
Although it would be a shame to marry Rose Hardwick and then deposit her somewhere he’d rarely have occasion to visit.
Gritting his teeth in annoyance at the wayward thought, he forced his mind to go over what he’d learned so far about Standish and what steps he needed to take next. He and Rose needed to pay a visit to her mother, and this time the woman wouldn’t be able to turn him away. He tried not to think about the trip to Essex, during which they’d need to share the intimate confines of his carriage.
Worthington hadn’t told him much. He’d kept written notes about each of his conversations with Standish though, and Brantford needed to get his hands on them. Apparently he’d asked his wife to keep them safe. He insisted that the documents were sealed and that his wife wouldn’t have read them. Brantford hoped that was true. If Standish even suspected that Lady Worthington had knowledge about their conversations, she wouldn’t be safe anywhere.
Worthington had also told him that he’d used his friendship with Admiral Heddington to unearth some information of his own about Standish. What, the man wouldn’t say. Only that he’d planned to use it after the season was over and Rose successfully wed.
The admiral wasn’t currently in England or Brantford would have contacted him directly instead of having to chase down these hidden documents. But if the admiral knew anything about Standish’s crimes as a young man before his father had sent him away, Brantford would find a way to leverage that proof against him. The privilege of peerage didn’t extend to murder. Standish could still be hanged for that crime even if they couldn’t connect him to the charge of treason. If he couldn’t prove Worthington’s innocence, they’d both hang. He hated thinking about how distraught Rose would be if that happened.
Brantford sprang from the carriage when it drew to a halt, eager to get this task over with. He’d sent word ahead that he needed to speak to Overlea, so when he entered the town house, the butler informed him that the marquess was waiting for him in the library.
Feeling eyes on him once again, Brantford halted and glanced up. Rose stood, frozen, at the top of the stairs. Her hand had fluttered to her chest, her eyes wide with surprise. It appeared no one had told her he would be paying a call.
Ignoring the unease that was now a constant companion since he’d spoken to Standish the night before, he offered her an abbreviated bow and followed the butler to the library.
Overlea stood and extended his hand when he entered. Brantford couldn’t help but recall their meeting the previous fall, when Overlea had looked deathly ill. Of course, that was to be expected when one was being poisoned. Unlike with Overlea’s father and brother before him, however, the culprit had been caught in time and he was now back to his normal self. Brantford had played a small role in finding the person responsible, and he knew he could count on the assistance of the man before him.
“You’re looking hale and hearty,” Brantford said.
Overlea’s lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. “That was a nasty business. I’m just glad it’s over and that gossip about the incident hasn’t spread.”
Brantford tipped his head in acknowledgment of the unvoiced thanks. “We aim to serve.”
A sound at the door had Brantford turning to see Kerrick sauntering into the room.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Overlea said, “but when I received word you wanted to speak with me, I thought Kerrick should join us. He knows more about this whole situation than I. I only know that Miss Hardwick needs someone to protect her, and as she is a close friend of Catherine’s, I’m more than happy to provide that protection.”
Brantford hid his annoyance as he spoke to Kerrick. “For a man who wanted nothing more to do with this matter, you seem to be deeply embroiled in it.”
Kerrick smiled. “It’s good to see you too, old chap. It’s been what… one day? Two?”
Brantford ignored the man and turned back to Overlea. He’d hoped not to have to do this in front of Kerrick, but apparently, as was ever his lot in life, he’d have to deal with having his actions scrutinized yet again.
“Would you care for something?” Overlea asked.
Brantford gave a sharp shake of his head. “This will be a short call. I’m here to let you know that there has been a change in plans with respect to Miss Hardwick.”
Overlea raised a brow in answer to his statement, but of course Kerrick couldn’t remain silent on the subject.
“What do you mean by ‘a change of plans’? As far as I know, Rose has no intention of joining her mother in the country, and she can hardly return to her town house alone.”
Brantford tossed an assessing glare at the other man, wondering briefly when Kerrick had become immune to his censure.
“No, of course not,” Brantford said. “If you’
ll allow me to continue?”
Kerrick crossed his arms over his chest. “By all means.”
Brantford turned back to Overlea. “I’ve spoken to Worthington, and we’ve agreed that Miss Hardwick needs more protection than you can provide her here.”
“With all the men you’ve added to my staff, the only place more secure than my home at the moment is the Tower.” He frowned briefly. “You’re not intended to keep her there, are you?”
“Of course not,” Brantford said. “Gone are the days of housing royalty or other nobles in the Tower for their safety.”
“Then where will she go?” Overlea asked.
Brantford studiously ignored Kerrick, hating that he was witnessing this moment given the man’s recent encouragements about Rose, and continued. “She’ll come with me. I’ve decided that the only way to keep her safe is to give her the protection of my name.”
Silence descended after his statement. He’d expected Overlea to be surprised by his announcement, but instead he saw only speculation on the other man’s face. “Indeed. That does seem to be the best route forward.”
“Devil take it,” Kerrick interrupted. “Is that all you’re going to say? You’re going to marry Rose just to keep her safe?”
“You offered to do the same not that long ago. And if memory serves, you had every intention of going through with it to keep Rose and her mother safe.”
Kerrick pointed a finger at him. “That’s not the same thing at all, and you know it. Rose and I were maneuvered into a compromising position, and I had no choice but to announce we were betrothed so she wouldn’t be ruined.”
Brantford raised a brow and waited, unwilling to explain himself to Kerrick. He knew the other man would get to the logical conclusion of this argument on his own.
“You’re infuriating, Brantford. You can at least admit you have feelings for Rose.”
Brantford somehow kept himself from snarling at the other man. Every time Kerrick used Rose’s Christian name, it was a reminder of just how close they had become.
Instead, he lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “For the sake of expediency, it only makes sense that I keep Miss Hardwick close. As my wife, I can protect her where Overlea cannot. I can also stop the unseemly rumors that are swirling about concerning her.”
“You’ve heard those?” Overlea asked. “Never mind, of course you have. There is quite a bit of money wagered in the betting books at White’s about who will be the first to have Rose for their mistress. I, for one, am glad she’ll be avoiding that fate.”
“Indeed,” Brantford said, although inside he was seething. He’d have to stop by White’s to see who had added their names to that wager.
“About that,” Kerrick said, reaching into his coat pocket and producing a piece of paper. He held it out to Brantford. “Here you go.”
Brantford took it, a quick glance revealing it was a list of names. Many of those names belonged to the young men who’d surrounded Rose wherever she went that season.
“I took the liberty of having a look at the betting book,” Kerrick said. “That’s a list of all the men who took part in that wager.” Brantford looked at him, unable to hide his surprise, and Kerrick continued. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“Yes. Thank you for this.”
Overlea made a soft scoffing sound, and Brantford turned back to face him. “You wanted to add something to this discussion?”
“Not at all. I was just imagining all the ways you could make those young idiots suffer for their presumption.”
“Indeed,” Brantford said, allowing himself to share in the other man’s amusement. “I can be quite imaginative.”
Kerrick laughed out loud. “See, Nicholas,” he said, turning to Overlea. “I told you he had feelings, much as he would have everyone believe that wasn’t the case.”
Brantford narrowed his eyes at the man, refusing to be provoked. Kerrick didn’t so much as flinch.
“Chin up, old boy. It will hardly be a hardship—”
“Yes,” Brantford said, cutting him off. He’d said much the same thing to Kerrick when he’d asked him, at the start of the season, to court Rose so he could get closer to Worthington to investigate him. It wasn’t the first time Kerrick had repeated them in his mistaken belief that Brantford had tender feelings for Rose. “You can stop throwing my words back in my face now.”
Instead of being put in his place, Kerrick seemed to take enjoyment from his annoyance, and Brantford cursed himself for rising to the other man’s bait after all.
Chapter 10
More than anything, Rose hated waiting. Her parents had often chided her for her impatience, and right now she wished she’d made more of an effort to curb that flaw.
When Brantford had headed down the hallway, she’d wanted nothing more than to follow him and listen in on whatever conversation he was having with Catherine’s brother-in-law.
To keep from being found with her ear pressed against a door, she went immediately in search of Catherine. Now they waited in the drawing room. Brantford would have to pass the room to leave the house. If he didn’t come see her, Catherine assured her that she would ask Overlea what had taken place.
For surely something must have happened for Brantford to visit the marquess instead of her. Her mind whirled with all sorts of horrible possibilities. Perhaps even now they were trying to think of some way to break the bad news to her. She stared blindly out the window, taking in the quiet street outside.
She jumped when Catherine touched her shoulder. “Try not to worry. It might be nothing.”
Rose gave her friend a wry smile. “That’s easier said than done. Since this whole thing started, everything seems to have gone from bad to worse. I don’t think I can take more bad news.”
“It might not be bad. You said yourself that Lord Brantford told you your faith in your father wasn’t misplaced. He might have discovered something that would prove his innocence.”
“If that was the case, why would he be speaking to Lord Overlea and not to me?” She moved away from the window toward the door, then stopped. “It is taking everything in me not to listen in on their conversation. Do you think they’re in the study? Maybe you could ask a footman. It won’t seem so odd a question coming from you.”
At the sound of voices and footsteps, Rose froze, nerves overcoming her. Catherine took her by the hand and led her to the settee, then tugged her down next to her. Rose didn’t turn to thank her friend. Her gaze was riveted on the drawing room door as she wondered if Brantford would stop to speak with her.
The voices stopped just before three men entered the room. Rose frowned in confusion when she saw Kerrick. She’d seen Brantford arrive but hadn’t realized that Catherine’s betrothed was also present. He must have arrived when she’d gone in search of Catherine.
Lord Overlea bowed in their direction. “Miss Hardwick, Catherine. I hope you don’t mind, but I have other business to attend to right now. Besides, my presence here is decidedly de trop.”
Was that amusement she saw in his eyes as he took his leave? Rose had no doubt he was going in search of his wife, and she felt her nerves begin to settle. Catherine’s brother-in-law wouldn’t be amused if something bad had happened. He wasn’t one to take pleasure in the misfortune of others.
But her curiosity was still firmly in place, especially when Kerrick made a comment about taking in the garden with Catherine. She didn’t miss that he pulled the drawing room door closed behind them.
Before she knew what was happening, Rose found herself alone with Lord Brantford. He seemed more remote than ever this morning, and her nerves returned.
She rose swiftly to her feet. “What has happened?”
“Please,” he said, sweeping a hand toward the settee.
Rose did as he asked, hating that she couldn’t read the man. She expected him to take one of the other seats and let out a soft sound of surprise when he settled on the settee next to her, although he was careful to maintain a
respectable distance.
She couldn’t wait any longer. “Do you have news of Papa?”
“Nothing has changed with respect to you father.”
Brantford’s eyes went to her hands, which she realized were clutching the fabric of her dress. She relaxed her grip, forcing herself not to shake the elusive man sitting next to her.
“My nerves can’t handle all this secrecy.”
His eyes met hers then, and she saw a hint of amusement before he carefully masked it. That, more than anything else, helped to settle her fears.
“I’m here today not because of your father but because of you.”
“Me?” She had no idea to what he could be referring. “I’ve already told you everything I know, which I’ll admit isn’t very much. I wish I did have more information.”
“Again, you’re assuming this has to do with what is happening to your father. But as I’ve already said, I’m here for you.”
And just like that, her heart started pounding in her chest. The way he’d phrased that, it almost seemed… No, she was imagining things. Allowing her foolish infatuation with Brantford to make her see things that weren’t there.
“I’m listening,” she said, afraid to say more lest she betray herself in any way.
“After speaking to your father the other day and discovering some things on my own, I’ve come to realize that the danger to your life is very real.”
Rose could only stare at him. Would Brantford lie to her about this to get her to join her mother in the country?
“I’m not leaving London,” she said, annoyance flaring that they kept returning to this subject.
“No, of course not. Nor do I expect you to. But it has become clear that Overlea can’t provide you with the protection you require.”
The Unaffected Earl Page 8