Earl of Darby: (Once Upon a Widow #4) (Wicked Earls’ Club Round 2)

by Aubrey Wynne

  “Aunt Bertie, I thought Lady Darby would faint just now. Always a trick up your sleeve, eh? She had no idea you were on speaking terms with Almack’s royalty.” Hannah searched the room for a familiar face. “I thought Gideon might be here.”

  As she spoke the words, another face appeared in the sea of bodies. A golden head with a cleft in his chin and smiling blue eyes.

  “What luck! The four most beautiful ladies in the room all in one spot. My search is over.” Lord Darby bowed before them.

  Hannah was surprised to find herself blushing again. He was not what she typically considered handsome, preferring Gideon’s dark handsome looks to such blond, fair features. Yet, the attraction was undeniable. Considering his reputation, she decided he would be a safe flirtation. Heaven knew she needed the practice, her only experience being with the young village boys or a couple of squires’ sons. “Will you be dancing tonight, Lord Darby?”

  “I believe that is a prerequisite to any bachelor who crosses the threshold. Perhaps I shall be fortunate enough to stand across from you.” Another gentleman waved to him from the side of the room. “If my ladies will excuse me, I must speak with someone.”

  Again, Hannah met so many people during the next few hours; she was thankful for Aunt Bertie, who never forgot a name or a face. She and Mattie had been assigned the second set, and Hannah found herself dancing a quadrille with a young baronet, tall and lanky with a long face that reminded her of a horse. When he smiled, his teeth were almost as large.

  After a second dance, Mattie begged her partner for a cup of lemonade and Hannah asked for the same. Her present dancing companion was pleasant enough, with a round face and kind brown eyes. He had not stepped on her foot or missed a step throughout the dance, unlike her first partner.

  As they waited, she saw Gideon. Waving over the crowd, almost hopping on her tiptoes, she caught his attention. His smile sent her stomach tumbling. “Lord Stanfeld! I am so happy to see you. I’ve been wondering when you would make London.”

  “I’ve only arrived this week, dear lady, and planned on calling soon.” He bowed to Mattie. “Lady Matilda, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

  They traded news of their respective families, and then Hannah inquired about her competition. “I heard you brought someone back from Scotland.”

  And with that, the quiet and thoughtful earl launched into a ten-minute description of the glorious, intelligent, sweetly demure, and most beautiful Scottish lass he had met in the Highlands. The wings in her stomach turned to stone as she watched his eyes and heard the affection in his voice. He was in love with her. It was obvious to anyone who knew him. Gideon would not gush over an infatuation. No, this was genuine love.

  As he walked away, Hannah blinked rapidly, pushing back the disappointment. She had thought she would be angry with him, jealous of this widow who’d stolen his heart. Instead, her heart was heavy, but she was happy for him. Gideon had never looked so vibrant. Did he have any idea how his news had affected her? She took a deep breath and raised her chin, determined to never let him see her disappointment.

  As they sipped lemonade, another attractive dark-haired man approached them. His black eyes glittered, his raven hair slicked back and perfectly in place. His features were chiseled and as his eyes traveled over her, a chill went through her despite the warmth in the crowded room. He stood next to them without speaking, but she knew he studied them. The scent of lavender and peppermint assailed her, and she wrinkled her nose. What an odd combination.

  A warm breath tickled her ear when the stranger whispered, “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

  She gave him a side glance and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. So we’ll have to wait until formally introduced.”

  At that moment, the horse man, her first dance partner, arrived. The dark stranger seemed to know him and introductions were soon made. At the mention of the Duke of Colvin, Mattie clutched Hannah’s arm. She turned to her friend and was appalled to see her so pale, her eyes wide as she stared at the nobleman.

  “My apologies, Lady Matilda,” he said with a formal bow. “I did not realize who you were or I would never have put you in such an awkward position.” He turned to Hannah. “It seems the son will always be punished for the sins of the father.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that Your Grace,” Hannah murmured as she tucked Mattie’s arm in hers. “If you’ll excuse us—”

  “He should be excusing himself,” Darby interrupted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed at the duke.

  “As I told the lovely Miss Pendleton, I did not realize they were in your company. However, I do not think you have the authority to restrict where I go or who I converse with. Beware of your tone and remember who I am, Lord Darby.” His black eyes glittered and a humorless smile curved his lips.

  Though Colvin’s manners had been acceptable, she had the impression he’d known exactly what he was doing. He’d gotten under Darby’s skin with a look and a few words. The earl’s jaw clenched, his amiable expression gone and replaced with something akin to hatred. An emotion she’d never felt toward another person. While the circumstances indicated a son wronged because of his father’s actions, this scene spoke of other past sins. She put her arm around Mattie and was thankful when Lady Darby and Aunt Bertie appeared.

  “My dear girls, shall we get our feet and see what stale repast might be offered?” asked Aunt Bertie. “It’s all part of the experience, don’t you know!”

  Nicholas struggled to calm his temper, but the scoundrel had gone too far. What in God’s name was he doing here? Colvin had no interest in debutantes or Almack’s. And to approach his sister… Oh how he wanted to draw his cork. A vision of blood spurting from the man’s nose gave him some calm. What did he know? Or suspect?

  Walters had kept someone on him, detailing his movements, hoping to find something, anything to bring against him. So far, the duke’s weekly trips into St. Giles had produced nothing. Colvin would emerge from a nondescript coach, enter the slash house, and go to a private room. He would quietly drink his ale and be shown several different boys. So far, the duke had not gone any further. Darby was patient.

  Then tonight he showed up here. The thought of that sordid ogre in the same room as Mattie terrified him. With an effort, he sucked air into his lungs and forced a smile on his face. He would need a long session at Jackson’s to expel this tension. In the meantime, he’d find Stanfeld. The man always had a flask in his pocket for such occasions.

  A few swallows of whiskey and several thin sandwiches later, Nicholas had relaxed and was enjoying a description of Miss Pendleton’s two dance partners. She had a way of describing a person or situation with humor without being hurtful, usually beginning or finishing a story by making fun of herself. He found himself chuckling despite the previous incident and realized he liked this girl.

  It startled him, for it had been a long time since he’d even considered another female in such a way. As a possible friend. She was enticing tonight in a champagne gown that matched her eyes, and garnets gleaming a deep red brown in her hair and at her throat.

  Later in the evening, a waltz was announced. Miss Pendleton seemed to search for someone, before her eyes darkened and she looked down as if remembering something sad. He bowed. “Miss Pendleton, I believe you promised me the first waltz.”

  She looked at him, blinking several times, and gave him a watery smile. “Yes, you are correct, my lord.” She laid her fingers on his sleeve, and he guided her to the dance floor.

  As his arm went around her waist, their eyes locked. “My lady, I am usually adept at making women laugh. Yet, I glimpse a melancholy in your eyes. Are my charms fading?”

  She laughed softly, a husky sound that made his heart pound. “No, my lord, your appeal is strong. I was just thinking of someone.”

  “Stanfeld, perhaps?”

  “Horsefeathers! My brother told you!” Her features hardened in mock anger, but the unhappiness had lifted
. “I realized that my first love has found another. I’m not sure if I’m more disappointed about Gideon or the fact that I’m truly one of those girls searching for a husband.”

  He put his head back and laughed. “What an awful thought. And here I thought myself extremely clever at avoiding those girls. You’ve trapped me, Miss Pendleton.” He grinned, enjoying the feel of her hand in his, her waist as they moved and swirled together.

  “Don’t look down, my lord,” she said with a smirk. “You’ll see the leg shackles I secretly attached.”

  He cocked his head. “Ah, that was the faint rattle of chains I heard.”

  Her laughter filled him with…contentment. There was an easiness in her company that made him want spend time with her, banter with her, watch her. The way her eyes lit up when she thought of something clever, or the way she chewed her bottom lip when she was deep in thought. As Nicholas turned them from the path of another couple, he spotted Colvin leaning against the wall. His eyes followed them, a faint smile on his lips. What was he up to?

  The music ended and Hannah stilled, her hand on her chest as she caught her breath. Her flushed face, her mouth slightly opened, her heaving chest, all had a devastating impact on Darby. His eyes moved from her full lips to the creamy mounds below her neckline, and back to her face. Shock flared in her eyes and he realized his hand was still on her waist. If they’d been alone, he would have pulled her to him and tasted the sweet temptation before him. His friend’s words echoed in his head.

  I need you to protect her, not ogle her.

  He dropped his hand and bowed deeply. “Miss Pendleton, I hope I did justice to your first waltz.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly, sending fire to his loins, “more than you know.”

  * * *

  Nicholas had sent the ladies on their way and was waiting for his own coach. His mistress would be at the Wicked Earls’ Club, and he needed a release. And brandy. Lots of it.

  “Your sister is quite a pretty little thing, Darby. A bit too mousy for my taste, though.”

  The voice of the duke behind him sent a wave of disgust through Nicholas. “Stay away,” he grumbled through gritted teeth.

  “Stay away. Seems like excellent advice a man should keep for himself.” He stepped up next to Nicholas. “I’m wondering why an earl would have me followed. Hmm. I highly doubt it has to do with a card game my father played.” He put his hat on and pulled on one glove. “No, I think it might be a bit more personal than that.”

  Nicholas stood rigid, cursing the driver for taking so long with the coach.

  “So I ask myself, could he possible know about”—the duke leaned close to Nicholas’s face—“sweet Alice.”

  Darby swung around but Colvin had already stepped back, his white teeth showing in a cruel resemblance of a smile. “Ah, I think he might. Well,” the duke continued as he put on the other glove, “I should warn you that I may be getting a craving for that kind of thing again.”

  “If you ever touch a hair on my sister’s head—”

  “Oh, no. As I said, she’s not quite my type. I prefer a little more fight. It’s Miss Pendleton I have my eye on.” Colvin’s carriage pulled up. “Let’s make a truce. I’ll stay in my neighborhood of choice, if you stay in yours.”

  “Keep away from what’s mine.” Nicholas had grown cold. The thought of an innocent in the duke’s hands sickened him. He wanted to wrap his fingers around the nobleman’s throat and squeeze the life from him.

  “Oh, so now she is yours? Hmm. I’ve found myself to be quite adept at reading people. I saw what passed between the two of you during the dance. I hadn’t realized your affections had progressed so far.”

  “She is under my protection.” He took a step closer, nose to nose to with Colvin. “In your own words, I do not think you have the authority to restrict where I go or who I converse with. Beware of your tone and remember who I am, Your Grace.”

  “It seems we are at odds then,” the duke relented. “Just remember, to the victor goes the spoils.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Time heals griefs and quarrels, for we change and are no longer the same persons. Neither the offender nor the offended are any more themselves.'”

  Blaise Pascal

  Wicked Earls’ Club

  Mid-December 1819

  Nicholas sank into the leather chair, the cheerful fire irritating his foul mood. His mistress had left the upstairs room in a storm when he’d cut it off with her. He hadn’t wanted to end it so suddenly, though he’d been thinking about it for the last few weeks. But his conversation with Colvin had hurried the matter along. If the duke was having Nicholas followed, she could also be an unintended victim. It was better to send her off now.

  “Darby, you’re foxed again.” Stanfeld sat down next to him and picked up a decanter of amber liquid sitting between them on the floor. “I realize it’s a festive month, Christmas and Yuletide and all that, but have a care. You almost knocked this perfectly good bottle of brandy on the carpet.”

  Nicholas grunted. “I’ve had enough, so help yourself. I need to find my way home tonight.”

  “You’re back to staying at the townhouse?”

  “My mother doesn’t want any kind of scandal during Mattie’s first season. So, I’m staying in my father’s rooms for now. I shan’t quit the club.” Nicholas had never stepped foot in his old rooms since his wedding night. He doubted he ever would.

  Stanfeld poured himself a glass. “Giving up this club is almost a reason not to get married. However, I think I’ll be lured into the parson’s trap by this time next year. Perhaps a best friend’s wedding in December will give you better memories.”

  Nicholas grunted again. “You broke Hannah’s heart tonight.”

  “It’s Hannah already, is it?” Stanfeld asked softly.

  “Only in my mind.”

  “I broke a little girl’s heart tonight, not the woman you danced with.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nicholas wasn’t in the mood for riddles.

  “I was what the five-year-old Hannah always wanted. Like the fox kit she thought she wanted to tame when she was ten. Once it bit her, she realized what she really wanted was a dog, a companion or pet.” Stanfeld grinned. “While the child may have dreamed about Gideon, the woman will be dreaming about Darby tonight.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “As I’ve said, I’ve known her since she was five. You seduced her with a waltz.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how, but one dance and I saw it in her face. I was nothing but a memory after all these years.”

  Nicholas laughed. “You are as fickle as a woman. Make up your mind, you bufflehead.”

  “I’ll say the same to you. As a friend.” Stanfeld’s voice lowered. “She’s Pendleton’s sister, remember. Don’t play with her affections unless you are serious.”

  “I know, I know.” Nicholas leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. “She is special, though. And Mattie adores her.”

  “Then get over your dead wife and stop blaming yourself for what you couldn’t control. It was a tragedy and you, my friend, were as much a victim as she was.”

  He felt a hand grip his shoulder.

  “Forgive yourself,” Stanfeld said, “and then forgive her. Or you’ll never be able to love another.”

  Later in his father’s rooms, Nicholas sat slumped in front of another hearth, the rest of the brandy gone, a paper in his hand. His vision blurred as he looked at the writing, but he knew what the words said. He’d memorized Alice’s last note long ago. Retribution was close, so close. But now others were involved. Could he risk the safety of someone like Hannah in order to bring down the duke?

  The man was as slimy and slippery as the back alleys of the rookeries. He needed to find evidence of a crime and stop this noxious worm. When Colvin had moved on from decent society and satiated himself in gin houses, Nicholas had breathed a sigh of relief for the innocents of the ton. The
harlots of Covent Garden made their own decisions and were well paid for their discomfort. Not that he agreed with any of it, but it was the way of the world.

  Now the fiend was going after children. His heart of stone was cracking as he thought of the children so often abducted in the streets and alleys of the city. Or worse, sold by the crooked orphanages or parents to feed the rest of the family. He couldn’t save the world; he couldn’t even save most of those children, but he would keep them from the hands of that evil monster Colvin. He would give them a fighting chance to survive.

  Pendleton townhouse

  * * *

  Hannah settled into the overstuffed chair and picked up her book of poems. Shelley was one of her favorites, and it was a perfect afternoon for reading. Aunt Bertie worked on a dissected map puzzle of Africa.

  After an hour of companionable silence, Aunt Bertie called her over to the table. “Come help me with this puzzle, my dear, and we can talk. We need to discuss some things you might overhear in the future.”

  “Yes, Mama said to ignore any gossip about our family.”

  The older woman rolled her eyes. “Your family skeletons have long been swept under the carpet. There have been hundreds of scandals to replace the Pendleton’s Public Disgrace as it was once called.” She gave Hannah’s fingers a squeeze as she sat down in front of the lower half of Africa. “One day, your mama and I will sit down and have a long talk. It’s past time she put aside her resentment of my brother and myself.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Hannah. A nervous excitement filled her. Would she finally learn the details of her father’s death? Of the whispers that had made her mother avoid London as if the plague still lurked in its streets and alleys?

  She only knew the barest of facts. Father had been unfaithful to Mama, caught with a married woman, and challenged to a duel. Since he’d never been a good shot, it had not ended well. He’d died a few days later from a chest wound.