Earl of Kinross

by Meara Platt

  She nodded.

  “I’ll call on you at your home later today. I need to make a few stops first.”

  “Where? Oh, sorry again. It isn’t any of my business.”

  “No apology required, Lara. This has everything to do with you. I’ll use the morning to engage the Bow Street runner I mentioned earlier, and also make a few inquiries among trusted friends.” If he was to put fear into these villains seeking to destroy the Le Brecque family, he had to come at them fast and not show any weakness.

  But he did have a weakness. Lara. He dared not call what he felt for her love. But it felt like something he’d been searching for throughout his adult life, something he’d hoped for but did not think he would ever find.

  The moment they realized how he felt about Lara, she’d be in greater danger than ever before. Yet, without his protection and perceived infatuation to make them hesitate, they would come after her and do whatever it is they already had planned. “Come on then, let’s get you home.”

  He took another moment to hastily wash and finish dressing, then strode back downstairs. Calloway handed him his cloak.

  In turn, he helped Lara into hers that had dried sufficiently by the fire. He then helped her into his carriage, knowing he was about to walk into a very different sort of fire. The Le Brecque enemies were ruthless and determined. He could deal with them.

  But how was he to deal with Lara? A jolt of heat shot through him the moment his hands wrapped around her waist to lift her inside.

  It was a worry, this unexpected need to touch her. Were it merely a physical ache, he could have controlled it, kept his hands off her. But this girl affected him in ways far beyond the physical.

  He refused to dwell on his feelings now.

  With a grunt of dismissal, he climbed in after Lara and settled on the seat opposite hers. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask her, but he could see that her spirit was drained.

  They’d speak later, he’d promised to come around this afternoon.

  She broke the silence after a few minutes. “I used to be afraid of you, Marcus.”

  He frowned. “Did I ever give you cause to be?”

  “No.” She laughed lightly. “I think I’m still afraid of you, but this is how I prefer it to be. You are the god of vengeance and shall smite all those who wish to destroy the house of Le Brecque. It feels good to have an untamed beast on my side.”

  “Lara, is this what you think of me?” He wasn’t pleased about it. Braydens were military men and knew how to fight battles. But the battlefield was never brought into the household. He fought fiercely to crush his enemies, but he loved his family just as fiercely and would never, ever hurt them. “Untamed beast?”

  “I meant it as a compliment.”

  “I am neither untamed nor a beast. I am always in full command of my thoughts, actions, and feelings.”

  She cast him a thoughtful smile. “Even in the bedroom?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  BLESSED SAINTS! THE girl was a spitfire.

  The image of her in his bed ignited him once more.

  He blinked, actually blinked, in a desperate attempt to stomp out the renewed fire and regain control of his body. “Bedroom discussions are off limits. You are to behave yourself.”

  “Are you embarrassed? I think you’re blushing.”

  “I do not embarrass, nor do I ever blush.” He frowned, finding her curiosity about his bedroom activities not at all amusing. “Lara, do not goad me. I want you to stay home for the next few days while I work with my Bow Street runners to gather whatever information I can.”

  He leaned forward as the carriage rolled to a stop behind the mews adjacent to the Le Brecque townhouse, meeting her steady gaze. “I want your agreement on this.”

  Lara was an innocent, he could tell by the way she’d kissed him earlier when sealing their bargain. That she knew nothing of men was not surprising. But he was not concerned merely with her ignorance of the sexual aspects. The girl did not understand the ruthlessness of men. Despite having experienced the hurt of a broken betrothal, she was still too trusting. “There’ll be no more going out unless I accompany you. Understood?”

  In truth, he was starting to worry that their kiss had been her very first. He didn’t like to think it was, for a young woman’s first ought to be something quite special.

  Theirs had been a negotiation over terms.

  He didn’t know which was worse, hoping Wexley – the coward – had given her a proper kiss when they’d announced their betrothal, or hoping Wexley hadn’t. It troubled Marcus that he might be the only man ever to have tasted the soft temptation of Lara’s lips.

  Yet for his sake, he wasn’t troubled by it at all.

  He felt unexpectedly possessive about this girl and wanted to be her first and only.

  But if he was the first to kiss her, then it meant Wexley was truly after her dowry and cared nothing for Lara. Marcus felt his rage begin to brew like the storm threatening overhead. The bounder would have hurt this innocent, trusting girl so badly.

  “You won’t forget to come around later today to call upon my father, will you?”

  “I won’t forget.” He cast her a tender smile. “I doubt you’ll let me.”

  She shook her head and laughed. “I suppose not.”

  “Now that I’ve agreed to help you, I’ll come by as often as I can. I want Dunning and his cohorts to know I’m going after them. My aim is to deflect their attention off you and onto me.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t you prefer to go about your work quietly?”

  “No. I want these scoundrels to be worried about me, to fear me and attempt to stop me. It is the best way to draw these men who wish to ruin your family out into the open.”

  She nibbled her lip, obviously fretting. “But you’ll be putting yourself in danger. I only meant to have you help me sway the House of Lords and Privy Council. I–”

  “I’ll do that as well, but that’s only half the battle campaign. I mean to deal them a death blow.”

  Lara was still fretting, but he supposed his words heightened her fears rather than allayed them. He was a battle-hardened general and had seen some very ugly things go on during the war. What these villains were doing to the Le Brecque family was just as ugly. In battle, everything was out in the open, men going at each other often face to face.

  The villains going after Lara’s family were insidious, sneaky scum who hid behind corrupt underlings. “You have to trust me, Lara. Allow me to handle this in my way.”

  “Very well, I won’t interfere. But they’ll be riled. If they come for me, I will not agree to sit home and allow them to grab me.”

  “No, of course not. I wouldn’t want you to.” He thought on it a moment. “Lara, I have private rooms at a club on Bedford Place. It’s an exclusive haven of a sort. No one but earls may be members, and no one but members are ever allowed unrestricted access.”

  She tipped her head in question. “Why do you mention it to me?”

  “You may need to hide there. It isn’t the sort of place a young lady of good character would ever enter. I doubt anyone would think to look for you there. If they do, the staff will protect you. They’re used to keeping out irate husbands…and that sort of thing.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, is this where you hold your wicked assignations?”

  “I do not…” He sighed because yes, he did indulge in discreet liaisons from time to time. He was a bachelor and not courting any young lady. He owed nothing to anyone. His private life was none of Lara’s business. However, he wouldn’t be doing any of that while he was watching over Lara.

  She nibbled her lip, not so much in thought as to hide the grin threatening to cross her lips. “On Bedford Place, you say? What is the name of this club?”

  He gave her the name and direction.

  “The Wicked Earls’ Club!” She gasped and put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “How deliciously naughty! Marcus, I never knew you had such…procli
vities.”

  Lord, why had he mentioned it to her?

  However, he knew this was an excellent sanctuary for her. She’d be safe and out of the way if things got too dangerous, and he was afraid they would.

  She was still grinning at him.

  He didn’t want her running off to the club on a lark. “Lara, enough. This is not a holiday destination. This is to be your safe harbor, your sanctuary, and to be used only under dire circumstances. Do not go there unless you are in imminent danger.”

  “I understand. You needn’t worry. But do let me have a little fun at your expense. I’ve had so little of it for a very long time.”

  He sighed. “I know. I hope to change this. Tell no one, not even your father, about the club. If you run, I must be the only one able to find you. And as I said, once there, you’ll be surrounded by people who will protect you. Many of the footmen who work there are former soldiers. Some have served under my command and others have served with the other earls who are members. They are loyal to us and will fight to the death to protect you.”

  She sobered as he spoke his warning. “I understand, Marcus. Thank you for giving me this information. That’s where you’ll find me if I must go on the run for my life.”

  He caressed her cheek. “Good. But if you should ever find yourself there, don’t go wandering about the club either. Just ask to be escorted to my private chambers.”

  Her response was another irritating smirk.

  He sighed. “I’ll escort you through the mews now.”

  “I’ll manage on my own. You’re too big. They might notice you. I’ll slip back in through the servant’s entrance.” She started to climb out of the carriage as soon as he’d opened the door, but paused suddenly and turned to him. “Marcus, one more thing.”

  “What is it, Lara?”

  She flung herself into his arms and hugged him fiercely. “Thank you,” she said with a heartfelt sincerity that left him aching for this girl. “For the first time in years, my father and I might have a happy Christmas. All because of you.”

  The hug lasted only a moment before she hurried off, but the impact to his body lasted far longer.

  Fireworks went off inside him.

  They were still going off when he returned home.

  Lara had the sweetest, softest body.

  He meant to go straight up to his bedchamber, strip out of his clothes, and soak in cold bath water until these explosions inside him subsided. But Calloway had a look on his face as he opened the door. “My lord, you have company.”

  Damn, had this diabolical judge caught on to him already? He couldn’t think of anything worse. Then Calloway explained and he knew it was worse. “My lord, your mother and Lady Miranda are here.”

  “Blazes,” he muttered. “Tell them to go away.”

  “LARA, ARE YOU expecting someone?” her father asked, watching her curiously as she marched back and forth in front of the parlor window later that afternoon. The clatter of carriage wheels filtered into the room, but they all rolled on, none of them stopping in front of their townhouse.

  Would Marcus come by today as he’d said he would?

  “No, just bored.” But her father wasn’t fooled, not only because she could not tear her gaze away from window which afforded a view of their street, but because she’d also donned one of her finer gowns and done up her hair.

  The window was firmly shut, but the cold breeze still managed to seep in, chilling her hands and ears. She didn’t mind the prickles of cold, for she felt warm and alive for the first time in a very long time.

  “Cook picked up some chestnuts at the market this morning. I know how much you love them, Lara. Shall we roast some over the fire? Perhaps we ought to put up some Christmas decorations. Your mother loved this time of the year. Do you remember how you and Hugh used to help her put up the sprigs of holly and all those velvet ribbons?”

  “No chestnuts, thank you. Nor do I care to decorate. It isn’t the same, Papa. Hugh has disappeared. Who knows what will happen next? We’ll need a miracle to put things right.”

  Instead of responding morosely, he chuckled. “That’s what Christmas is all about, child. It is a season of miracles. If you believe, just make a wish and it will come true.”

  How could she believe in anything anymore? She’d lost faith and did not think it would ever be restored. But it would only distress her father if she told him so. “We’re not supposed to decorate the house until Christmas eve anyway.”

  Her father settled in his favorite chair beside the hearth, a maroon wingback chair that was comfortably padded, and resumed reading a book on farming that he must have read five times over during his confinement. On the small table beside him was a bottle of his favorite brandy. Lara noticed that he’d refilled his glass too many times today. It was not yet four o’clock. “I think you’ve had enough for now, Papa.”

  He often tried to hide his despair from her, but their troubles weighed heavily on him. Even her broken betrothal had hit him hard, perhaps harder than it had hit her. She was not surprised when he brought it up with his next breath, for it was constantly on his mind. “I’m truly sorry Wexley did not stand by your side. You are better off for untangling yourself from that family.”

  “Wexley untangled himself from me.” She lightly clutched the ivory silk drapes hanging on the window. “I know, Papa. I don’t miss him.”

  “Good, good,” he said absently. “We’ll get through this, my dearest girl. Then you’ll have more gentlemen callers than you can count lining up in front of our door.”

  She laughed, hoping she sounded merry. But they both knew that among the ton, a young lady with a broken engagement was no longer considered respectable, even if she’d done nothing wrong. If her father and brother were ever cleared of the charges against them, the broken engagement would not go away. Men would offer for her, but they’d be fortune hunters. No worthwhile gentlemen would consider offering for her.

  Well, Marcus was the exception. However, once the Le Brecque family name was cleared, he would no longer feel duty bound to protect her. He’d be off as soon as the ink was dry on the writ exonerating Hugh and her father.

  The five o’clock hour rolled around.

  Lara sighed at the sound of the clock chiming.

  She had all but given up hope of seeing Marcus today, and was about to pick up her embroidery, something she detested, for she truly had no talent for it, when Sykes, the so-called butler hired by Lord Dunning to replace their old butler who had suddenly given notice and disappeared, entered the room to announce him.

  Her father leaped out of his chair with delight as Marcus strode in. “Kinross! It’s good to see you, my boy. What a pleasant surprise. Are you just back from the Continent? Come in, come in. We have a lot of catching up to do.” He glanced at Lara. “You remember my daughter, don’t you? Lara’s grown up quite a bit since you last saw her. What do you think? She’s turned into a pretty, little filly, hasn’t she?”

  Lara wanted to melt into the walls. She could have done it, for her gown was cream silk, not far off in hue from the ivory drapes.

  Marcus regarded her a little too keenly, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Quite pretty, Stratton.” He crossed to her side and lifted her hand to his lips. “Lady Lara.”

  She held back a sigh.

  Dressed in dark superfine, pale gray silk cravat and vest, and a crisp, white shirt that was in stark contrast to his dark hair and dark attire, he looked quite intimidating. Quite stunning, actually. She stifled yet another sigh. Marcus looked like an avenger. Deliciously daunting and dangerous.

  She had expected no less, for he’d never been a peacock, even when younger.

  Smiling, she bobbed a curtsy. “Lord Kinross.”

  She met his gaze, hoping to silently convey her gratitude for the help he’d agreed to give her family.

  He pressed a kiss to her hand, his lips warm and exciting. But he released her quickly and turned back to her father. “I’ve heard some dist
urbing news about your family. Lord Stratton, tell me what’s been going on.”

  “Lara, dear. Perhaps Kinross and I–”

  “I’m staying, Papa. Tell him everything. I’m not ashamed of anything we’ve done. Lord Kinross and Hugh have been best friends forever. I know he’ll help us in any way he can.”

  Her father frowned. “No, Lara. We cannot demand it of him.”

  “Yes, we can.” Lara knew she was irritating both men, but what was the point of having Marcus visit if they were to waste time on niceties? “Have a seat, my lord. We have much to discuss before Dunning brings his bailiffs down here to break this up. He has spies in our midst. Sykes, for one. I’m sure he’s already sent one of his weasel footmen off to tattle on us. Go on, Papa. Tell him all.”

  Her father was hesitant, but relented upon Marcus’s prodding. “Very well, I’ll tell you. But by the time I’m through, you’ll wish you hadn’t asked. The first hint of trouble occurred several years ago,” he said, sounding quite weary. “Someone made up evidence linking me to a rebel plot. It was amateurishly done and riddled with inconsistencies, but the accusation having been lodged–”

  “Anonymously,” Lara chimed in, taking the seat on the sofa beside Marcus.

  “Nonetheless, the Crown had no choice but to launch an inquiry.” Her father offered Marcus a brandy which he declined. It troubled Lara that he then poured yet another one for himself and drank much of it down before continuing. “I should have been cleared of the charges. I would have been cleared, but more evidence was planted to implicate me. Hugh was outraged. He suspected a relation of ours, Edward Montvey. The man is next in line after Hugh to inherit my title and the entailed estates attached to it. He is the logical suspect, of course. But he’s Lord Governor on a distant outpost, some islands north of Australia. Somewhere around the China South Seas. How can he cause this trouble from across the world?”