James, Earl of Crofton

by Rebecca Cohen

  Adam’s plan was working. And maybe James being away from the hall for a few days would be even better. At first he had thought to ask Adam to accompany him; now it made much more sense for him to remain.

  “Do you know where Mr Dowson is? I wish to inform him of my brief departure.”

  “He was in the library just before I came up. Would you like me to send him a message, my lord?”

  “No, I will talk to him personally. You need to finish my packing. I wish to leave as soon as possible. Have cook make up a hamper for the journey and have word sent to the town house that I am to be expected by evening. Send a similar message to the Duke of Marchent. I could do with His Grace’s company.”

  James left Remembrance to his duties and made his way downstairs, past the family portraits and various weapons adorning the walls. Adam wasn’t in the library when he entered, but he heard frantic whispers heading his way. One of the voices was Adam’s and, unless he was mistaken, the other was Clement’s.

  Not wanting to disturb what could be a key interaction, he triggered the false panel in the library bookcase and slipped into one of many secret passageways his grandfather had installed upon returning to the hall after the war. It was dark—not completely pitch black, thanks to a spyhole, but nowhere near enough light to see by. But the darkness didn’t concern him; he was more interested in what was going on than in his hiding place.

  The view was restricted, but luckily when Adam and Clement entered the room they stood not far from him, so he could make out enough to follow the conversation.

  “Are you sure the sheriff will leave it alone?” asked Clement, his gaze constantly flicking to the door.

  James’s father and grandfather had always counselled keeping knowledge of the passageways a secret from all but the most trusted of staff, and it was clear Clement had not made it to the trusted few. At least that was one small mercy.

  “Walter’s palm has been well greased. He knows a beneficial arrangement when he sees one. You need to keep your head and make sure nothing too conspicuous is spirited away. Crofton might not be the shrewdest of men, but he is not stupid.”

  “He can’t be that bright, otherwise he’d have never taken the idiot Remembrance as his manservant. Boy has no clue how to behave.”

  Adam laughed. “I think Crofton finds him refreshing. But the boy is easily manipulated, which is perfect for our purposes.”

  “He is certainly talkative after a cider or two—that much is true.”

  “Enough of the boy. What is it you wished to speak to me about so urgently? It can’t just be about the sheriff, and it is not prudent to meet like this over something so trivial.”

  “My brother will be passing through this way again in the coming days.”

  “What of it?”

  “He has a great need of somewhere to stay. The last couple of times he made use of the stables, but his lordship, unlike his father, is a bit too fond of riding out. He may come across things he shouldn’t.”

  “I take it there is a substantial price on his head.”

  “Enough that there are days when I think it might be worth handing him in myself for the reward.”

  “Let me know when he arrives and I will ensure Crofton is suitably distracted.”

  “I think it might also be worth your while meeting my brother Silas yourself.”

  Adam played his part well; a bit too well if James was being honest. An unease settled in his stomach. Was Adam’s reticence to get close to James not due to any noble thoughts but because he held the same contempt for James that Clement did, and instead of an ally he had invited a viper into his nest?

  He missed the final words, too wrapped up in his own thoughts, but Clement was on the move, leaving Adam alone in the library. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should reveal his hiding place to Adam. The conversations they’d shared had alluded to Adam hiding something, but despite the coldness in his belly, he couldn’t really believe Adam would be so treacherous as to really be in cahoots with Clement. However, if he was wrong….

  Before he had chance to further cogitate, Adam left the library, giving James the option to delay his decision a little longer. He slipped out of his hiding place and went to see how preparations for his journey were going.

  Remembrance had done an impressive job readying his carriage in quick time, giving James the impression he might also be looking forward to returning to London. Adam, however, seemed pained as James approached in his travelling clothes. “Remembrance has informed me of your intentions to travel to London. I hope there is nothing amiss.”

  “Nothing a few days at court will not solve. I am not one to be so sheltered—I need the bawdiness of a few nights away to lift my spirits. I meant to inform you myself, but I had not the chance until now.”

  There was a tightness around Adam’s eyes that James couldn’t decipher. “If I had known your plans, my lord, I could have aligned them to my own. I can always make use of time in London, but unfortunately I will be needed here for at least the next few days.”

  “I will be back by then.”

  “There will be much to keep you entertained.”

  Adam’s words were carefully chosen and he made to reach out, but stopped himself, and James realised Adam was hurt by James’s departure. What did Adam think James would do in London? Perhaps the talk of bawdiness had triggered a bout of jealousy. He was torn between elation that Adam might be jealous and annoyance that he thought that after so clearly setting his sights on Adam he would be so fickle.

  “The Duke of Marchent will be a fine companion, but I doubt my actions will be anything compared to those scoundrels Monmouth and Buckingham.”

  He hoped Adam would take his words as the assurance he meant. He could hardly say more out in the open. Adam still looked torn, but James was sure he would reflect on the words and come to the right conclusion. A servant opened the carriage door and James stepped aboard. “I will be back in three days, four at most. Any longer and I will send word.”

  Adam leaned through the window. “If my lord would be so kind as to let me know when you are to return, so we can be ready to receive you. Your safety is our upmost concern and I would feel better if men were there to meet your carriage at the entrance to Epping Forest.”

  Several men on horseback were gathering at the bottom of the drive, no doubt Adam’s doing, and once again James felt conflicted. If Adam was not what he seemed why go to such length to protect James’s safety? “I have heard the Chivalrous Highwayman has been sighted in these parts, and I have nothing to fear from him.”

  “It is not that rogue who concerns me.”

  “I will return before you have chance to realise I am gone.”

  Adam didn’t seem convinced, and he watched with the same sour expression as the carriage trundled away.

  Chapter 19

  James’s head swam with a delicious giddiness having lost count of the number of glasses of wine he had drunk. Marchent’s servants were ever attentive, his glass never empty and the quality of the claret beyond compare. He had spent many days at court, but he couldn’t face another parade of come-hither glances from men and women who held no interest. His heart was heavy, his mind torn, and Marchent’s townhouse had been a most welcome sanctuary.

  “You are a miserable sourpuss, Crofton. A man of your standing and wealth should be in his element at court, yet I have seen more ebullient lettuces than you.”

  “Some of us have more to worry over than whether the Drury Lane’s leading lady will be willing to lift her skirts.”

  Marchent’s indignant snorts sent a spray of red wine down his lavender jacket, and his attempt to dab up the mess only made it worse. “What rot. While I agree your life of late has not been as carefree as previous years, you have installed Mr Dowson in place to deal with your estate troubles. You need only concern yourself with the enjoyment of the flesh and perhaps, when you have a spare moment, to find a suitable match to ensure your lineage.”

&nbs
p; James emptied the contents of his glass in three long swallows. “Your words give me no comfort. What sort of friend are you?”

  “They are full of comfort. You’re a babbling drunk if you think I have any other aim.”

  “Do not blather with indignance. I am certainly in sour of spirits, and my wants in life are not the same as yours.”

  Marchent struggled to sit up in his chair. “Is this because I told you to take a wife? For the Lord’s sake man, you need not give up your lover for such a trifle. I’m sure Dowson is enough of a man of the world to understand you need a son and heir.”

  “He might understand it, but it would be no concern of his at present.”

  “Ho! So that is what this is all about—he has not succumbed to your advances, and you are melancholy and restless of the loins.”

  James sat up, which was a mistake as it took a moment for his head to stop spinning. “Why must you reduce everything down to rutting? I am in a quandary, I tell you, and your twitterpatter does not help!”

  Marchent leaned forwards and rested his hands on James’s shoulders. “Shush, shush, shush. I see you are truly distressed. Come, tell me, and I will do all I can to help.”

  “It is true that he has rebuffed me, but he says it is because I should not wish to have him—some nonsense about if I knew the real him, but of course I know not what he means.” He huffed, needing time to get his words out in the right order. “And before I left I heard him talking with my traitorous steward—as if they are co-conspirators—and I cannot help but wonder if I have given him my trust too easily.”

  “But is that not what you want him to do—be friendly with the snake to find out what is amiss?” asked Marchent, sounding as confused as James felt.

  “Yes, but he is really such a good actor. He sounded better than those on the stage. Am I being played for a fool?”

  “Pfft! No, I think he is doing as you asked, and you are troubled because he has not fallen willingly into your arms.” Marchent took another swig of wine. “Crofton, we are the closest of friends, like brothers, and I tell you this because I care for you like a brother. Dowson is a good man, probably too good for you if you think he has given away your trust so easily.”

  James sagged. He was not insulted by Marchent’s statement, but it did not really help. “Then what of the real him that I would not like?”

  “Daresay something lively from his times overseas—a tryst with someone or a deed less honourable to an older man than his younger self.”

  “He is not the type to be dishonourable.”

  “Yet that is what you accuse him of if you do believe he has turned his back on you to befriend your steward for real.”

  James could not argue with Marchent’s drunken logic, but he still could not shake the feeling there was something more behind Adam’s actions. “I really don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “There is one way you could find out and put your mind to rest.”

  “How?”

  “Ask him, you idiot.” Marchent burped loudly. It was not fair that a man in his condition spoke the truth so plainly.

  “If he chooses to tell me.”

  “Now you are pouting. Come, Crofton, you know as well as I that Dowson would rather cut out his tongue than hurt you with false words. Ask the fellow when you are back. Say what you are concerned about and ask for his explanation.”

  “I suppose that would be the simplest way.”

  “That’s the spirit. Then, once the air is clear, you can bed the fellow, get him safely secured at your side, and then find a wife and get the heir—all problems solved.”

  James knew it was common practise for men of his standing to have a wife and a lover—maybe not a male one, at least not as brazenly as Marchent was suggesting—but he didn’t think he could do that to Adam, or to anyone, if he were honest. It was one thing to flit from body to body when no expression of love had been declared, but quite another when one’s heart was freely given. He knew his father had been committed to his mother, and her to him, with no suspicion of another sullying their union. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to have the same?

  “If I were to have Adam, then I would wish to forgo all others.”

  Marchent’s jaw dropped. He scratched his head and then, recovering, let out a long whistle. “A lovelorn fool indeed. But you do realise no matter how often you bed Dowson, or how persistent your amour, he cannot bear you an heir.”

  “Ha, ha, very funny. You think I have not spent time pondering the same, that there must be fifth earl.”

  “Then you have an answer?”

  “Francis, or at least his offspring, as he has turned his attentions to a most worthy woman for his wife.”

  Marchent nodded. “Indeed, a sensible option. Who is this maiden who will bear the honour of secure the Crofton lineage?”

  James smirked. “Don’t you know?”

  Marchent scowled. “You say that as if I should.”

  “It is your sister, Emily.”

  “What!”

  James couldn’t help but laugh as Marchent slid backwards out of his chair, his friend silenced for once.

  Chapter 20

  Spending a few days in London was a remedy like no other. Sore heads and rolling stomachs aside, James felt a great uplift in his general demeanour. Marchent had even come around to the idea of his sister marrying Francis, especially given James’s drunken revelation that Marchent’s sister would most likely be the mother of the next Earl of Crofton, and of the Redbourn brothers, Francis was far more suitable to be husband to a duke’s sister.

  He had done as requested and sent word back to Crofton Hall of his expected return, wanting nothing further to cause an issue when he had the much-needed conversation with Adam. Remembrance looked almost as restored as James when he clambered aboard the roof of the carriage, and James concluded that, all in all, while Crofton Hall was his home, a trip to London and the court was needed at regular intervals to keep up his humour. Marchent’s agreement to visit in the coming days made his departure more amenable.

  The journey back, however, gave him time to think, or rather dwell, on what awaited him on his return. His discussions with Marchent had gone a long way to soothe his worries, but the lingering doubt persisted. Above all, he wanted Adam to place the same trust in him as he had done with Adam, yet there were secrets that had caused this doubt in James’s mind, and he knew until those were revealed there would be constant unease.

  A group of men he recognised were waiting on horseback as they entered Epping Forest, as Adam had promised they would be. It was certainly safer to have them accompany him; although, he wouldn’t have minded another encounter with the Chivalrous Highwayman to take his mind off what lay before him.

  Unlike when he usually arrived back at Crofton Hall, he didn’t feel the wave of belonging he associated with the red-brick beauty. The poison running below her stairs had left him with a sour taste, and he raged internally that a band of ne’er-do-wells were robbing him of more than money. They were in danger of destroying the sanity and security of his family home.

  Adam didn’t come out to greet him but was in the entrance hall as he arrived. Remembrance was quick to take his cloak, hat and gloves before scurrying off to arrange a meal to be served in James’s rooms.

  “My lord,” said Adam with a shallow bow and warm smile. “Welcome home. I trust your visit to London was a restorative one.”

  “Yes, quite satisfactory. If you would be so kind as to join me in a little while, I have several matters to discuss and would like an update of the goings-on since I have been away.” His tone was perhaps a little too tight.

  Adam’s eyes narrowed as James talked. “Oh course, my lord.”

  He left Adam in the entrance hall, heading for his rooms. Remembrance was already there, laying out a new set of clothes as if he had read James’s mind. The boy was certainly improving. Not long ago James would have had to give directions for him to do this. “Glad to be back, Remembrance?
”

  “My place is where you are, my lord.”

  “Too right. But no doubt you wish I was in London.”

  “It’s not so bad here. Air’s clean. Just some of the household leave a lot to be desired, sir.”

  “Well, that we are doing something about.”

  He changed out of his travelling clothes, pleased to see Remembrance had picked one of his nicer jackets. A maid arrived with his meal. Not quite time for supper, but too late for dinner, it was a selection of cold cuts and a slice of his favourite game pie. More than enough for one, with a jug of hock to wash it all down.

  He sent Remembrance away with instructions that he would not be needed for the rest of the day and to once again ingratiate himself with the maids, but not to be too bold with his stories from London, just enough to infer the young earl had been too busy enjoying himself to be worried about might be happening back in Hertfordshire.

  The smell of the food stirred his hunger and he thought it better to tackle Adam on a full stomach. He was replete when Adam arrived.

  “Is now a good time, my lord?”

  “Ah, Mr Dowson. Yes, come in and close the door.”

  Adam sat down opposite, hesitating before he spoke. “It is good to have you back, the hall is not the same without the earl in residence.”

  “You must realise I am not a man who can live a provincial life all the time. It was good to be back at court. If you are away too long it is easy to be forgotten.”

  “You are not someone the court would wish to forget in a hurry.”

  “I sincerely hope not.” He took a drink of his wine but did not offer Adam a glass. “How goes it here?”

  “Much the same as before you left. Clement is a calculating individual, but not as shrewd as he believes himself to be. He arranged for a few sides of meat to be misdirected, which were quickly resold and the profits split.”

  James remembered the talk between Adam and Clement about not removing anything too conspicuous, but a side of meat, while worth some money, didn’t seem enough to have paid the sheriff to turn a blind eye. “Is that all?”