How to Climb a Lady’s Tower

by Wolf, Bree

  Zach had almost punched him in the face then and there!

  Still, in the end, it had become quite clear that the new Lord Mortimer would not be of any help; for one because he thought this matter unimportant and foolish, and two, he apparently had not yet looked through all possessions bequeathed to him upon his cousin’s demise. Frankly, he had no idea where the ring could be if indeed it still was among his belongings.

  Despite his initial frustration, Zach had soldiered on, trying his best to speak to his peers and learn what he could about the deceased man who’d brought this mess upon them all. It had been rough going, and all Zach had been able to discover so far had been that Lord Mortimer had favored gambling of any kind, cards, dice, horses, anything that could win or lose him money and – as it seemed – jewels.

  Venturing around the large hall, Zach watched those around him dance and chat and laugh and, in a word, enjoy themselves, and he wondered if he would be able to join in if it weren’t for this dark cloud hanging over his head. Or had he forgotten the meaning of fun? Or was it simply that his idea of fun differed greatly from the one these people favored? Was he truly the only one who found these events mind-numbingly boring?

  Turning a corner, Zach stopped as his gaze fell on a young lady who, in that very moment, turned slightly from the gentleman by her side and rolled her eyes in a rather exasperated fashion. Auburn curls framed her face which, despite its soft contours, spoke of a fierce will. Her lips were taut, and he could see the muscles in her jaw work. The image made him think of a caged lioness, and the moment her gaze rose and her fiery green eyes met his, Zach knew his assessment to be correct.

  A smile teased his lips, and he delighted in the way the corners of her mouth curled up in answer. In an odd way, Zach felt as though he knew her.

  Not her specifically.

  But the vivacious spirit she possessed. A spirit that felt smothered by all these rules and restrictions. A spirit that longed to be free, longed for adventure.

  “Your uncle and I have agreed upon the day after tomorrow,” the young man beside her said, and Zach drew carefully closer to listen. “I shall call upon you at 3 o’clock.”

  The young woman swallowed, then nodded her head dutifully in acceptance, but not delight.

  The man beside her continued in a monotonous, somewhat sleep-inducing voice, droning on about someone named Rufus who, as it turned out, was a dog. Frowning, Zach watched the two, delighting in every roll of her eyes whenever the young gentleman was not looking, his thoughts clearly focused on the darned canine. What a fool!

  Shaking his head, Zach chuckled.

  Instantly, her green eyes shifted and, looking over the man’s shoulder, met his own, wondering, assessing…asking? Was she pleading with him to…?

  A devilish thought entered Zach’s head, and he could all but picture Gusford’s lips thinning as the old man shook his head in disapproval. Still, Zach could not resist. After weeks of conforming behavior, every fiber of him itched to do something…un­conventional, daring, unusual.

  Something people would frown upon…if they knew his intention.

  Something that would inconvenience one of his so-called peers.

  However, without destroying all the hard work he’d put in thus far.

  After casting a meaningful look at the auburn-haired beauty, Zach ventured toward the refreshment table and picked up a glass. He could feel her watching him out of the corners of her eyes as he strolled back over, the expression on his face one of nonchalance as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Allowing his gaze to sweep over the ballroom, he took a sip and fought the grimace that threatened at the sickeningly sweet taste of whatever drink he’d reached for. Then he abruptly turned and spilled its contents – good riddance! – over the young man’s jacket, ensuring that every drop found its mark!

  The man flinched and jerked back, but before anger could contort his features, Zach apologized profusely, assuring the man that it had been an honest mistake.

  Wiping his handkerchief over the wet stain, the young man nodded. “There’s no need. It was an accident.” Then he turned to the young lady, who’d been watching with wide eyes and a somewhat delighted smile tickling her lips. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Miss Hawkins. I shall be back in but a minute.”

  “There’s no rush,” Miss Hawkins assured him, her features now more alive than Zach had seen them up to this moment. “I shall not venture from this spot.”

  Satisfied, the man nodded and then left to seek out the powder room.

  The moment he vanished in the crowd, Miss Hawkins’ fiery green eyes swung back around and met Zach’s, a glow in them that matched the deepening smile coming to her lips.

  Zach inclined his head to her, a grin gracing his own features. “Miss Hawkins, I presume?”

  She laughed, a melodious, warming sound. “You presume right.”

  “I hope you do not hold my clumsiness against me.”

  Something daring came to her bright green eyes. “I have yet to see it.”

  “Are you suggesting I acted with malice?” Zack teased, curious to see whether his assessment of her character was accurate.

  Again, she laughed. “Not at all.”

  “But with intention?”

  Her smile became mischievous as she stepped closer, her eyes sweeping his face the same way his were looking upon hers.

  Zach drew in a slow breath, suddenly fearing that he’d overstepped. “Are you displeased?”

  “Do you truly have to ask?” she whispered, her lips quivering with humor held at bay. “Perhaps I was being too subtle then?”

  Zach laughed. “So, I was not mistaken? You wished to be liberated from this man’s company?”

  Again, her eyes rolled sideways in that way they did when she was terribly annoyed or irritated. “Lord Tedious is quite…well, tedious,” she huffed, and the expression upon her face relaxed as though she, too, had been wearing a mask for far too long.

  “Lord Tedious?” Zach inquired, amused by her sense of humor.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Would you fault my observation?”

  “Not at all. I’m merely surprised by your frank expression of it. Generally, I’ve found that people tend to—”

  “Lie through their teeth?” Miss Hawkins offered with another roll of her eyes.

  All but gawking at her, Zach shook his head in utter delight. “I must say you’re quite the breath of fresh air, Miss Hawkins. How on earth did you end up in the company of this utterly tedious man?”

  She heaved a deep sigh. “Not by choice.” For a moment, her gaze sobered, and Zach felt his heart twist at the thought that this vivacious, young woman was forced to hide her true self in such a cruel way. “You must be that American people talk about,” she finally said, her eyes once more lively as she waited for his reaction.

  Zach grinned, enjoying the frankness that seemed to be as much a part of her as her auburn curls. “I’m afraid so. What awful stories have you heard?”

  “Oh, none at all. I—”

  “What happened to Lord Coleridge?” a bespectacled, elderly man demanded, his face rather red as he kept glancing in the direction the young man had departed. “What did you say?” Then he took note of Zach’s presence. “If you’ll excuse us.” He grabbed Miss Hawkins’ arm and pulled her away.

  Zach felt an almost overwhelming need to stop them. Not only had he thoroughly enjoyed himself for the first time in weeks thanks to Miss Hawkins’ unconventional character, but the way she gritted her teeth in order to hold back whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue seemed almost an affront against nature.

  Yet, Zack held back, not wishing to complicate matters for her. Still, he could not bring himself to look away until the crowd had swallowed the last of her.

  In that moment, a deep chuckle drifted to his ears from behind, and Zach turned to investigate its origin.

  To his surprise, it belonged to a black-haired man about his own age, dressed in
fashionable evening wear. He stood tall and with wide shoulders, his posture marking him not as a stuffed lord, but as someone who simply stood out. The spark of something daring, dauntless flashed in his brown eyes, which to Zach’s relief did not hold the usual arrogance or snobbishness he had come to expect. In consequence, Zach did not feel his teeth grind together as they usually did when in the company of one of his peers.

  In a word, this man was different.

  But different in what way?

  “Are you that American I’ve heard about?” the man asked with a grin, repeating Miss Hawkins’ earlier question.

  Feigning a laugh, Zach shook his head, then stepped closer, watching the man carefully. “Would the crème de la crème of London society not consider eavesdropping ill-mannered?”

  The man chuckled again. “They certainly would, and yet, they’d do it nonetheless.”

  Holding the man’s gaze, Zach tried to gauge whether or not it would be wise to continue this conversation. There was something dangerous in the man’s gaze that no doubt warned many away, urging them not to place trust where it would not be rewarded. “Would you see yourself among them?”

  “When it suits me,” the man said, shrugging. “People whisper. They always have and they always will. Why worry about something one cannot change? Why not rather make use of it?” One brow rose in question, and Zach realized that he, too, was being weighed and measured.

  Linking his hands behind his back, Zach straightened. “Do they whisper about you as well?”

  Again, the man laughed. “I’ve heard that you seek information about the late Lord Mortimer.”

  “You’ve heard?” Zach asked, growing concerned with the way his intentions might be spreading through the ton.

  The man’s gaze remained steadfast, almost unblinking. “It’s not common knowledge,” he then assured Zach as though he’d read his mind, “however, if secrecy is of import to you, I suggest alternate means of obtaining the required information.”

  “What do you know about the man?” Zach asked, deciding to seize this opportunity.

  A sly grin came to the man’s face. “He was one of many, bored by a life that demanded very little of him, forever seeking new thrills.”

  Zach gritted his teeth, once again regretting that Fate had robbed him of the chance to repay Lord Mortimer for his deceitful ways.

  “He wronged you,” the other man observed, his eyes slightly narrowed as he watched Zach. “Your affront with him is personal. Quite personal.”

  Zach swallowed, still uncertain whether or not he ought to say more. If indeed this man could assist him, he’d be a fool not to accept his help. If other motives had urged him to address Zach, then perhaps it would be prudent to remain cautious. “Mortimer stole from me,” he finally said. “An heirloom.”

  The man nodded, his gaze thoughtful, no doubt aware that what Zach had told him was not all there was to know. “As far as I know he had no financial problems, which is why it is far more likely that it was simply one of the many idiocies the upper ton commit in order to distract themselves from their meaningless lives.”

  Seeing the man’s lips twitch with humor – dark humor! – Zach frowned. “Would you count yourself among them?”

  The man scoffed. “I’m doing my damndest not to!”

  The outburst held something utterly truthful and, for the first time, Zach thought to recognize something in the other man that felt familiar. His muscles relaxed, and he found himself more inclined to continue this conversation.

  Obviously noting the change in Zach, the man grinned. “I’m Lord Markham,” he introduced himself before a teasing smile drew up his lips and he leaned closer conspiratorially, “but behind my back, people call me the Black Baron.”

  Chapter Five

  In Hyde Park

  It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining overhead in a clear, blue sky, its heat made pleasant by the slight breeze that toyed with Rebecca’s curls, gently brushing over her sun-warmed skin. Birds twittered nearby as the phaeton rolled through Hyde Park at a leisurely pace.

  Today could indeed be a perfect day…

  …if it weren’t for the tedious man sitting beside her, going on and on about his darned dog, a creature so ugly it had taken Rebecca’s breath away when she’d first spied him. Currently, the adored canine trotted next to the phaeton, loyal to a fault. If only he were to run off!

  A small smile teased Rebecca’s lips at the thought of Lord Tedious’ shocked face, his eyes wide with alarm as he jumped from the phaeton to chase after his disobeying mutt. It would serve him right!

  “Is he not magnificent?” Lord Tedious asked, adoring eyes on Rufus, his mud-brown head held high as though he knew of his master’s sickening reverence toward him. “He’s of excellent breeding. One of a kind in all of England.”

  Rebecca mumbled something unintelligible under her breath, knowing from past experience that Lord Tedious required very little response from her to keep a conversation about his dear dog going. Fortunately, that gave her the opportunity to let her gaze sweep her surroundings as her mind searched for something else to dwell upon, knowing that the time away from her uncle’s house was precious…and short-lived.

  As much as Rebecca detested Lord Tedious’ monotonous voice and poorly chosen topics of discussion, her uncle had forbidden her any outing not in the young man’s company. She was essentially a prisoner and every day, it became clearer and clearer how desperately her uncle wanted the match between her and Lord Tedious.

  Rebecca did not know what to do. She knew she did not want to marry him, and yet, she wondered about the choices she would have if she dared refuse a potential proposal. What would her uncle do? Would he send her from his house? She wouldn’t put it past him. Why her parents had made him her guardian she would never understand. Perhaps they had simply not seen the scheming mind behind the man’s inconspicuous facade. Still, whatever the reason, nothing good would come from knowing their motivation.

  The question was, what did Rebecca want? Certainly, she had her list. As much as her heart picked up a pace or two at the mere thought of experiencing each and every point on it, she knew that questions still lingered. After all, the last point on her list did include a wedding. But a wedding to whom? What would married life be like? Was there a man out there who would not make her feel trapped? Imprisoned? Devoid of choices?

  Not once had she come across one such ma –

  Rebecca paused, and her thoughts traveled back to the American who’d come to her rescue two nights past. He’d swooped in as though out of nowhere, his ocean-blue eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief Rebecca had often hoped to find in those around her. An easy smile had rested on his lips, and she’d felt herself breathe easier in his company.

  Without thought, she’d spoken her mind, and although he’d seemed surprised – shocked even! – he’d not minded. In fact, he’d seemed just as relieved to have come upon someone with the same teasingly wicked streak he called his own.

  Rebecca sighed, remembering that although he had not had a chance to introduce himself, he had to be the new Earl of Pembroke. The American who had inherited Eugenie’s late father’s title. The thought of her friend and the circumstances she now found herself in further dampened Rebecca’s mood. Perhaps she truly ought to visit her. That, too, would be tempting fate! What would her uncle do if she were to go against his instructions? If only she could know if the reward would be worth the risk!

  Rebecca was well aware that her desire for adventure was nothing more than a girlish dream of someone who’d been denied too long, too many times. Her heart yearned for something daring. How would it feel if that dream were to become reality? Would her heart truly rejoice? Or would it relent, realizing that some dreams were meant to remain just that, dreams?

  If only she could taste freedom without ruining every other chance for a life within society’s demands! To know if she truly desired what she thought she did. To know if it suited her. To know if what a
different life had to offer her would be worth offending her uncle.

  No matter what her choice, there would be no way back.

  She needed to be certain.

  But how?

  Lord Tedious pulled the phaeton to a halt and then climbed down, scratching Rufus affectionately behind his ears as the Great Dane thrust its wet nose into his master’s face.

  Rebecca grimaced.

  Patting his thigh, Lord Tedious strode back toward the phaeton, Rufus on his heel.

  Rebecca’s eyes widened. Oh, he wouldn’t –

  “That was enough exercise for one day,” Lord Tedious told the dog, then patted the cushioned seat beside Rebecca. “Hop in, Rufus. Hop in.”

  Staring at the ugly canine, Rebecca scooted to the far side of her seat, squeezing into the corner as far as possible. Still, the moment Rufus thundered into the phaeton, the whole thing swayed and the darned dog ended up lying half-across her lap.

  Taking his seat, Lord Tedious smiled at her, then brushed an affectionate hand over Rufus’ head as it came to rest on his thigh.

  Rebecca glared at him with every ounce of vexation and outrage she possessed, and the dratted man didn’t even notice!

  “What a wonderful day!” Lord Tedious exclaimed on a deep sigh, his eyes brushing over her only in passing before they settled on Rufus, all but snoring contentedly in his lap.

  Staring blankly at her companion, Rebecca wondered why on earth he had asked her on this outing, why on earth he was seeking her attention. After all, he didn’t seem to care about her in the least. All he cared about was the darned dog!

  How insulting was that!

  “Will you join me at the theater next week, Miss Hawkins?”

  “Huh?” Lost in her vexation, Rebecca had barely heard him, surprised that he had not all but forgotten her presence.

  A smile played across his features as he looked at her. “I hope you don’t think me too forward when I say that I find myself enjoying your company immensely.”