He moved about the law office slowly, feeling his way to familiarize himself with the layout, and did not strike a match until he had located the bank of heavy wooden filing drawers. He lit the lamp, turned it down low, and set it on the floor so its dim glow could not be seen through the front windows.
With rigid resolve, he removed the drawer marked A, sat down on the floor next to the lamp, and methodically went through all the files until he came to the one marked Anson. He read everything in the file including two signed wills. The first named Thomas Nathaniel Anson as his father’s legal heir. The second will named his daughter Anne Frederica as his heir, with her husband, Lord Elcho, to hold the Staffordshire property in trust for her. A foul curse dropped from Thomas’s lips. Next to the wills, he found his father’s sworn affidavit that falsely claimed he was illegitimate, along with a letter of instructions that stated if Thomas married before his father died, Fowler was to burn the affidavit.
He carefully replaced everything in the file except the second will and the signed affidavit. He turned out the lamp and put it back where it belonged. Then he lifted the drawer from the floor and replaced it in the bank of wooden files. He put the papers inside his coat, climbed out the window, and carefully bolted the bars back in place.
Thomas picked up a few stones and broken bricks from the alley. He tossed one through the bars of the broken window, then with the other stones proceeded to break the windows of other offices in the building. He didn’t want Fowler to suspect that his office had been broken into, and fervently hoped it would appear that young hooligans had been on a window-smashing spree.
At least it should buy me some time before Fowler discovers that documents are missing from his files. The thought occurred to him, and not for the first time, that there could be other copies. There was little he could do about that, short of setting ablaze the building, and fire was anathema to Thomas. Perhaps there are other copies in the safe that Father keeps in his bedchamber. The wily swine has always kept the combination secret, but perhaps there is a way of learning what it is.
The following morning, Thomas left Furnival’s Inn, drove north to Hampstead Heath, where he spent a few happy hours exploring the heath made famous by highwaymen. When the sun was at its zenith, he drove his phaeton west to the Brent river, and spent the afternoon fishing. Dusk was descending when Thomas drove south on the Circular Road and entered London as if he were returning from Stafford on the last day of August.
“It’s the first day of September and it’s still warm as summer, with not a hint of autumn in the air.” For once Harry was glad to be back in England.
Abercorn’s ship had made an overnight crossing to Bristol. Lady Hamilton leaned back against the velvet squabs of the coach. “We’ll be in London tonight, and will be able to sleep in our own beds, for which I am truly thankful. Amen.”
“Harry, I’ve never visited the House of Commons. How about taking me to the visitors’ gallery one day this week?” Jane asked.
Harry hid her amusement. “I would be delighted. I’m so glad you are taking an interest in politics. Trixy wasn’t the least inquisitive about the subject. Perhaps we’ll be lucky enough to hear Uncle Johnny speak on the floor.”
“You’ll likely see Will Montagu. He’s the member for Midlothian,” her mother said.
Harry smiled. And Thomas Anson is the member for Lichfield.
Chapter Sixteen
Two days later, the Duke of Abercorn drove to his office in Westminster and dropped Harry and Jane off at Parliament. When the sisters climbed to the visitors’ gallery, they were happy to find it empty.
“Since Parliament has just reconvened after the August break, visitors will be few and far between. The first week back is notorious for being slow and boring.”
Jane fixed her eyes on William Montagu. “I’m not bored.”
Harry spotted Thomas Anson immediately. His black curly hair made him stand out from the other members. She dragged her glance away from him when Lord John Russell stood and addressed Prime Minister Aberdeen. It took her a moment to realize the topic of discussion was the Crimean War that Britain and France were fighting against Russia. Her uncle John was advocating that Aberdeen should adopt a more aggressive policy in the war.
The minute John sat down, Lord Palmerston was on his feet, criticizing Aberdeen for his policy of appeasement. Palmerston was even more insistent than Lord John that Britain must be more aggressive in the war they were waging.
Harry lost focus on the talk of war, and her glance soon became riveted on Thomas Anson once again. Jane sneezed and Harry opened her reticule to find her a handkerchief. She was surprised that none of the men below even looked up.
Her mouth curved in a mischievous smile as she took an acorn from her fringed bag.
Harry hung over the railing, took careful aim, and let it fly.
When Anson looked to see what had just fallen from above, he spied an acorn sitting beside him on the green leather bench. He glanced up and saw a dark young lady with scarlet poppies in her hair.
The audacious Irish beauty is back! My prayers have been answered.
When Parliament recessed at five, both sisters were eager to go downstairs and wait for the members to leave the floor of the House and gather in the large foyer. They greeted Lord John, and Jane hoped Will Montagu would stop to talk with them. If Harry hadn’t given up betting, she would have wagered a guinea that Thomas Anson would be drawn to her.
“Hello, Thomas.” Harry didn’t offer him her hand to kiss. Instead she spoke to her uncle. “I was delighted to hear you give Aberdeen a hard time.”
“My comments were mild compared to Palmerston’s.” Lord John kissed Harry and Jane on the cheek. “How was Ireland?”
“Eventful.”
“Indeed. Your mother wrote to tell me our sister Rachel married Lord James Butler. She also shared the unfortunate circumstances. I approve the match, and hope she is happy.”
Harry glanced at Thomas. “Rachel is exceedingly happy. Her husband loves her deeply. Jane, why don’t you tell Johnny about our visit to Kilkenny Castle?”
She stepped closer to Thomas to explain the circumstances of Rachel’s marriage.
“When James was with us at Barons Court, he received word that his brother John had had an accident and was in a coma. Before he left for Kilkenny, he and Rachel were married. He knew that if his brother died, they wouldn’t be able to marry until the mourning period was over.” It would be wicked of me to ask after his father’s health.
“Yes, I heard that the Marquis of Ormonde had died suddenly.” Her words brought home to Thomas his own dire predicament.
“You didn’t speak on the floor today.”
Thomas lowered his voice. “Lord John and Palmerston are playing a lethal game. They’re trying to bring Aberdeen down. Palmerston has ambitions to become the next prime minister.”
Will Montagu joined the group. “Lady Harriet, Lady Jane, how lovely to see you both. Were you watching from the gallery?”
“Oh yes, Will,” Jane said fervently. “I was able to see your every move.”
Montagu’s brows shot up in amusement. “All I did was observe the machinations of Lord John and Palmerston.”
His remark went over Jane’s head, but Harry smiled knowingly. Her glance moved from Thomas to Will as she compared the two young nobles.
Montagu is a gentleman with everything to recommend him. He is already Earl of Dalkeith, and heir to the dukedom of Buccleuch. His family is not only aristocratic; they are extremely wealthy and own Dalkeith Palace to boot. Will is already half in love with me, and would propose marriage if I encouraged him.
Her glance moved back to Thomas. On the other hand, Anson is not always a gentleman. He is heir to the earldom of Lichfield, though you could hardly call his father aristocratic. There is no wealth, but he will inherit Shugborough.
Harry glanced at Montagu. I’m very fond of Will—he will make someone an excellent husband, but not me, I’m a
fraid.
Harry glanced at Anson. Thomas sets my blood on fire. She realized in that moment she had fallen in love with Thomas Anson. He has stolen my heart!
“Will you need a ride home?” John asked his nieces.
“No, thank you—Father’s at his Westminster office today. If we show up, perhaps he’ll come home for the night, rather than attend Prince Albert at the palace.” As Harry bade the trio of males good-bye, Anson murmured, “Ride with me.” Their eyes met, and without further words, Harry knew when and where. Is that an invitation or a command?
She gave no indication whether she would join him or not, because she pretended that she hadn’t yet made up her mind.
At dinner that night Lady Lu had an announcement. “I sent Hobson, the footman, to Montagu House with the dinner invitation for tomorrow evening, and Charlotte immediately accepted.”
“Did you include Will in the invitation?”
“Jane, having Will Montagu come to dinner is the whole point of the invitation.” She glanced at Harry. “Did you see Will when you visited the House today?”
“Yes, we had just greeted Uncle John when Will Montagu joined us.”
“Wonderful. Now, Harry, don’t think I’m being critical of you, but when Lady Charlotte is here, I would appreciate it if you refrained from vulgar Irish expressions, and stuck to Anglo-Saxon.”
“Well, I assume the Irish expression you wish me to refrain from using is shyte. I believe the Anglo-Saxon noun would be shit. And there is a classic Anglo-Saxon verb that begins with the letter f. Would that be acceptable?”
“Depends on whether you’re saying it or doing it,” young James declared.
Lady Lu looked from her son to her daughter. “If the pair of you are trying to shock me, you will be sadly disappointed. I am thoroughly familiar with the classic Anglo-Saxon verb, both in expressing it and indulging in it. Please pass the salt.”
Abercorn grinned. “You should know better than to try to spar with your mother. She was taught by an expert.”
Lady Lu smiled. “Cocksure devil.”
Harry was up before the lark. When Jane stirred, she told her to go back to sleep. “I have an assignation to go riding and it isn’t with Will Montagu.” She slipped a snood beaded with crystals over her long dark hair and pulled on a pair of green riding gloves. She had debated whether to wear the same riding dress she’d worn last time, or don the brighter burnt orange outfit. Green is better; it won’t show grass stains.
In the stables, she assured Riley that she could saddle her own mount, and they exchanged a look that confirmed his trust that she would not indulge in foolish behavior. A thought tugged on her conscience. You shouldn’t trust me, Riley. She thrust the thought away.
When Harry arrived at the Cumberland Gate of Hyde Park, it looked deserted, and for a moment she wondered if she had misinterpreted Thomas’s words: Ride with me. Then Victorious emerged from the darkness, and she sighed with relief.
Without exchanging a word, they rode in tandem through the park, across the Serpentine Bridge, and past Kensington Palace.
“It is desecration to let the palace fall into decay,” Harry declared.
“We think alike, at least about architecture. It is far less expensive to keep a building in good repair than to let it go to rack and ruin before it gets restored.”
“For all we know, we could think alike on other matters. . . . We just haven’t explored them yet,” she said lightly.
“On the other hand, I’ve come to believe that opposites can attract to an amazing degree.”
“Mm, that’s certainly something we could explore.”
They rode toward the river, crossed the Thames on Hammersmith Bridge, and followed the river toward Richmond Park.
“Today, we’ll eat first before we take our wild gallop.”
Harry gave him an appraising look. “You never ask. You make declarations.”
“I am decisive by nature.”
“Some might call it determined . . . even dominant.”
“I am those things too.”
“It is admirable to recognize one’s faults.”
“Those aren’t my faults. They are my strengths.”
Harry threw back her head and laughed, and it felt good.
When they got to the inn, they drew rein, and just as before, Thomas dismounted in one fluid motion and held up his arms. She looked into his eyes as he lifted her down. They stood with their bodies touching for long moments, enjoying the closeness, and rekindling the intimacy they had once shared.
After the hostler came to take their horses, they walked hand in hand behind the inn, and Thomas opened the door to the walled garden. Because the season had changed, the flowers were different. Bees and butterflies were busy among the anemones, the Michaelmas daisies, and the roses that climbed in profusion up the stone walls.
They sat down at the same rustic table, and when the mobcapped maid came, Thomas ordered them a full breakfast, including fried bread and a jug of ale. When it was served, he ate quickly so he could sit back and observe Harry enjoying her food.
“Can you cook, Harry?”
“In Ireland, I sometimes go to the kitchen and try. Why do you ask?”
“Because you enjoy food. I’d like to teach you to cook. Kitchens have a wonderful, warm atmosphere that panders to all the senses.”
She remembered the smell and the taste of the freshly baked bread he’d fed her at Shugborough Hall. Panders to all the senses ... what a sensual phrase. From there, her mind flew to the scene she’d witnessed in the long grass between Rachel and her lover. A sigh of longing escaped her lips, and she was brought back to the present only when Thomas captured her hand across the table.
“Marry me.”
Her heart began to hammer. He never requests; he simply declares: Ride with me.
Marry me.
“I would marry you, if I were certain that you loved me, Thomas.” She held up her hand. “No, please don’t make another declaration. Words cannot convince me.”
“What will it take?”
“If . . . if you make love to me, I will know.” Your tenderness will show how much you love and cherish me.
He controlled his features, masking the surprise and the shock he felt. “Harry, are you suggesting that I procure a room for us?”
“No.” She was breathless. “Nature offers the most romantic setting for making love.”
He looked into her eyes and smiled. He knew she was indulging a fantasy, and he was perfectly willing to go along with it, to a point. “Drink up, Harry.”
She relished the strength of his arms as he lifted her into her saddle, and savored the power of his thighs as she watched him mount his own horse. Her excitement at what was to come made her pulse race wildly and her heart begin to sing.
Thomas led the way to one of his favorite places. He had always enjoyed it alone, but knew instinctively that Harry would be enchanted. When they came to water, they drew rein together. “This is Barn Elms wetlands. It attracts migrating wildfowl from across the world.”
Harry pointed. “Swans.”
“They are mute swans—they have black faces. This place has crested grebes, and tufted ducks, as well as teal and goldeneye.” A spotted woodpecker flitted from the trunk of one elm to another, and the leafy branches were alive with buntings and warblers.
“This is a magical place. Just look at the butterflies!”
Thomas dismounted and lifted Harry from her saddle. He pointed at some wildflowers. “That’s a golden skipper butterfly.” He tied the reins of their horses to a tree and pointed to the ivy growing up the trunk. “This is a holly blue.”
“How exotic. I’ve never seen a blue butterfly before. Oh, look, its legs are striped!”
“Dip your hand in the water and hold it out.”
Harry did as he bade and was delighted when a butterfly came to her fingers to take a drink. “It’s a purple hairstreak from Ireland, but I’ve never seen one in England before.”
He took her hand and kissed it. The butterfly moved to her hair. Thomas reached up and removed the crystal-beaded snood, and her dark hair cascaded onto her shoulders in wild disarray. He cupped her face gently in the palms of his hands and dipped his head to capture her lips in a kiss designed to steal her senses. When he finally withdrew his mouth, she raised her lashes and he saw that her green eyes were dreamy.
Thomas took her hand and led her beneath a spreading elm. As lapwings cried overhead, he knelt in the lush grass and pulled her down before him. He removed his jacket, undid the buttons on the bodice of her riding dress, and laid her back in the grass. He came over her, brushed his lips across her temples, kissed her eyelids, and trailed the tip of his tongue across her cheekbones. When he took possession of her mouth, she opened her lips, inviting his ravishment.
He did not withdraw his mouth until she had been thoroughly kissed, and her lips were bee-stung. As he gazed down at her, her tattooed wrist reached out and she undid the buttons on his shirt. He found it amazingly erotic. Her palm stroked the hard muscles of his chest and she threaded her fingers through the black hair that furred his flesh.
“I once imagined what it must feel like to have my naked breasts pressed against your wide chest. . . . At last I’m about to find out.”
He opened the bodice of her riding dress and then unfastened the ribbon on her chemise, freeing the luscious globes from their confinement. He caressed them with his eyes, then his hands. He bent slowly and anointed her breasts with his lips. Then he gathered her against him, rubbing his chest against her nipples until they stood erect with arousal.
The Dark Earl Page 21