The Beauty and the Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  Archie frowned, and let her go. “I will not have you remove his arm. If that must happen, I will turn him over to the authorities and let them handle it.”

  “I don’t like the idea, either,” Cornelia admitted. “It scares me that I may not have the skills to keep him alive, prevent him from bleeding to death. I do not want his death on my conscience.”

  “It will not be, I promise you. I expect you’ll demand I feed him better?”

  Cornelia grinned. “Ask, not demand.”

  “Yes, of course,” Archie replied, impatient. “All three will be provided proper food, but I will demand, not ask, that you have only minimal contact with him.”

  “Mr. Anders already offered to care for him, change his bandages, and clean his wounds twice a day.”

  “Excellent. He is a good man, I like his incentive. If he keeps up his work and his loyalty to you, I might have to promote him.”

  “Might I inquire what you said to Barrett this morning?” Cornelia asked.

  “Oh, the usual,” Archie replied with a light laugh. “Threatened to stop him from ever setting up his show anywhere in the realm to hanging. I ordered him to issue my personal challenge to the man he sold you to.”

  A chill ran down Cornelia’s spine. “Archie, you did not.”

  “Of course I did. If his mutts cross the boundary of my lands, I will kill them, and Barrett, too.”

  Cornelia turned around, staring at the shelves in growing horror, in near panic. “Archie, you should not have done that.”

  “Why ever not? I can get rid of Barrett easily enough, but I cannot persuade this buyer fellow to leave you alone if I don’t know who he is. What is the matter?”

  Spinning around, Cornelia faced him. “He will kill you.”

  Archie scoffed. “You don’t know that. I am hardly defenseless, Cornelia.”

  “We are all defenseless against evil, Archie,” she whispered. “All of us.”

  * * *

  More disturbed about Cornelia’s proclamation than he liked, Archie entertained Richard in the drawing room over drinks. Permitting a footman to serve them, he pondered her words, only half listening to his guest. “I’m sorry, er, what did you say?”

  Richard eyed him with disillusion. “I asked you what reason Miss Hill gave for not wishing to see me.”

  Archie waved his hand. “She craves her privacy,” he replied, not wanting to offer up her true reason. “She has spent her life in display, and now wishes to not be examined like a two headed cow.”

  “That was not my intent,” Richard protested.

  “I know. But her wishes are to be respected.”

  Richard sank back into his chair, nursing his brandy. “And I shall. I say, how well does your staff treat her?”

  “Well enough now,” Archie answered with a shrug. “A little trouble at first, but now she is accepted as one of them.”

  Richard nodded. “It seemed to me that in talking to the workers at the circus that she was not truly one of them. She had few friends.”

  “I believe she told me the same.”

  “A pity. A beautiful creature scorned by her own kind.”

  Archie’s eyes sharpened on his friend. “Are you calling her a freak?”

  “Hardly, old chap.” Richard smiled sardonically. “I merely mean the people with whom she was raised and who should love her do not. They turned their backs on her.”

  “I also find it interesting that you have yet to refer to her as a young woman. She is always a ‘creature’ to you.”

  “A mere affectation, old chap. No reason to be offended.”

  There is, whether it is intended to be or not. Smiling blandly, Archie asked, “Will you be staying to supper?”

  “No, no, old chap, I have stayed longer than I originally intended. As I said, I was passing nearby and wished to merely stop and pay my respects.”

  Archie stood when Richard did. “I am always glad to see you, my friend.”

  “And I you. Please offer my deepest respects to Miss Hill? I will show myself out.”

  After he had gone, Archie sat in his armchair, thinking. At last, he rose and left the drawing room to stride to his study. Seated at his desk, he wrote a quick letter, folded it, and sealed it, pressing his personal crest into the hot wax. Leaving his office, he found Noah closing the front doors.

  “Has the Royal Mail coach been by yet this afternoon?” Archie asked him.

  “No, My Lord, it is due at any moment.”

  Archie handed him the letter. “I want this on the coach to London. Today.”

  “I will see to it personally.”

  A few hours later, just as Archie had begun to worry about him, Latham returned, smelling of sweat and horses. With a grin and a bow, he handed Archie back the leather pouch, half full of coins. “It would appear mercenaries are not as expensive as I thought.”

  “What did they say?” Archie asked, leading him into Latham’s own office where they could talk privately.

  “They are on their way,” Latham replied, pouring them both wine from a decanter. “A dozen of them, My Lord, they are mounted and well armed. They will stop and detain anyone approaching the estate, with force if necessary. But, as they do not know Isaac Caine and may not believe him if he explains that he works for you upon encountering them, I have taken the liberty to warn him to remain at his cottage until told otherwise.”

  Archie nodded with approval. “Good thinking. I do not need him harmed if he were to come here without knowing of them.”

  “They are hard men, My Lord,” Latham said, gulping his wine thirstily. “Ex soldiers for the most part. Your gold buys their loyalty until this is over.”

  “As long as they protect my people, I will consider it coin well spent.”

  A discreet knock came at the door, and Noah entered at Archie’s call. He bowed. “Two constables are here to see you, My Lord.”

  “Send them in, please.” Archie glanced at Latham with a grin. “Perhaps they have the names of our guests.”

  “Let’s hope so. From there, we can discover who hired them.”

  Entering the small room, the two constables bowed, removing their caps of office. “My Lord,” said the one Archie knew was named Jacob. “We have learned the name of the man in the drawing. He is one Ralph Larson, a man who spent several years in Newgate Prison for theft, burglary, and assault.”

  “He is from London, then?” Archie asked.

  “Yes, My Lord. We made inquiries regarding his companions, and we believe one of them to be James Mulkey, another criminal recently released from prison. There is little doubt they knew each other, and made little secret that they came north at the behest of someone.”

  “And the third?” Latham gazed at the constables eagerly. “Did you find out his name?”

  “Edgar Jones.” Jacob smiled thinly. “A bully for hire who is fairly well known between here and Berwick-on-Tyne. He was seen with the other two in the village, and immediately recognized by some of the locals.”

  “Why haven’t I been told there are men such as this Jones fellow lurking around?” Archie complained.

  “We have had no reason to investigate him before,” Jacob replied. “But now that we know he is causing you problems, we will find and arrest him immediately.”

  “Oh, don’t bother,” Archie replied with a grin. “All three are currently languishing in chains down in my cellar.”

  Jacob laughed. “Do you wish us to take them off your hands?”

  “Not yet. And it will require more than the two of you, I believe. Right now, I wish you to notify the royal courts in the district that I have three criminals in my custody, and that they need to face charges. However, I promised Ralph Larson that because he cooperated with me, he can expect some leniency.”

  “Very good, My Lord. We can return with an enclosed wagon and several stout lads in a few days, and lock them up until they face trial.”

  “Edgar Jones is badly injured,” Archie added, lifting his finge
r. “We are caring for him, but you will need him seen by a physician.”

  “I will arrange it before we come to fetch them.”

  Archie shook their hands with a grin. “Thank you for your diligence in finding out who these men are.”

  “You are welcome, My Lord.”

  After Noah saw them out, Archie shared a glance with Latham. “If you do not mind staying dirty a few moments longer, would you come to the cellar with me?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Mr. Anders, Archie and Latham walked down the steep steps into the dank, now smelly cellar, and across to the prisoners. The big man, Edgar Jones, eyed him sourly, and Archie observed the dark stain on the bandage covering his upper arm. “What do you want?” Jones sneered. “We still aren’t talking.”

  Archie grinned. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind? Edgar Jones?”

  Chapter 29

  Edgar Jones gaped. “What?”

  “Oh, I know all your names.” Archie pointed to the man in the middle. “James Mulkey. And you are Ralph Larson. You two spent time in Newgate Prison, is that not correct?”

  Ralph, the mute, nodded slowly, nearly as stunned as the other two at Archie’s information.

  “Is that where you lost your tongue, Mr. Larson?” Archie asked, pacing in front of the three with his hands behind his back.

  Again, he received the nod. Edgar Jones glared furiously at his one-time companion. “Now you just quit answering his questions, Ralph. I swear, you’ll pay for it.”

  For answer, Ralph made an insulting gesture not commonly seen in noble houses. Archie laughed. “Now, Mr. Jones, you shouldn’t be so belligerent. From where you sit, you are in no position to be making threats. You can expect some leniency from me if you and Mr. Mulkey here were to, say, tell me the name of your employer.”

  “No.”

  Jones’s expression lost its anger, and he looked away. “I can’t do that. It’s more than my life is worth to tell you. He will kill us.”

  “He cannot do that while you’re in custody of the constables,” Archie replied. “You’re going there anyhow. It’s simply a matter of whether you and Mr. Mulkey are returned to Newgate or not.”

  “You don’t understand,” Jones snapped, jerking on his chains. “He can get to us. No matter where I am, he will find and kill me if he learned I talked. James and Ralph, too, even though they don’t know who he is.”

  Archie exchanged a look with Latham. “I can protect you,” Archie told them.

  Jones shook his head emphatically. “No, you can’t. No one can. This man is cruel, calculating, evil. He can reach his long arm even into Newgate and have us killed. And not a swift death, either.”

  “Are you that afraid of him?”

  “Yes, and so should you be. This fellow is not one you want to mess with.”

  “I already am.” Archie turned to go. “In a few days, you will be turned over to the constables and the courts. Good luck to you.”

  Leaving the cellar, Archie locked the stout door behind them, and nodded dismissal to Mr. Anders. Glancing at Latham, he asked, his voice low, “What do you think?”

  “I’m very glad I hired those mercenaries. My Lord, I think you and Miss Hill are in greater danger than we realized.”

  “What can this man do that I can’t?” Archie asked, exasperated. “He can’t march in here and start shooting.”

  “No doubt he has other resources,” Latham argued. “He will try something and soon.”

  Dragging his hand through his hair, Archie asked, “Did you happen to see if Barrett Hill is moving his circus?”

  “It did appear to be so, although the whole thing is still on the royal highway. Please do not say you are planning to pay him another visit.”

  “No. Not yet. Perhaps later if he continues to defy me.”

  “His tents were coming down, so please, My Lord, give him time to move on. I do not like you exposing yourself. Not after hearing what Jones had to say.”

  “Very well, Latham. I will lurk in my house. Except when I visit the stables. Which I will do.”

  Latham caught his eye and sighed. “I will watch your back, then.”

  “Good. Now get cleaned up. I want you and Miss Hill to both join me for supper.”

  Like Latham, Cornelia did not hesitate to voice her concerns about him going to the stables. “You are exposed there, Archie,” she said, her light colored eyes on his. “Please reconsider.”

  “Not with Latham and fifty grooms keeping an eye on me I’m not,” Archie replied easily. “With Latham’s mercenaries watching for trouble and me inside the stables? Please do not be concerned.”

  “I feel like this man has tricks up his sleeve that we have no idea about,” she went on. “If we could just learn who he is, then everything will be so much easier.”

  “Jones refuses to say,” Archie replied, eating his soup. “He is terrified of this enemy of ours.”

  “He terrifies me, too.”

  “Now that my challenge to him has been issued, he will be forced to come from hiding.”

  Latham shook his head. “That is only if he thinks the same way we do, My Lord. He may not. Like Miss Hill says, he may have certain cowardly tricks to show us.”

  “Then we must be prepared for anything. Meanwhile, the constables will be returning to remove the three from the cellar, so we will be rid of them in a few days time.”

  “No,” Cornelia said, her tone urgent. “They must remain here a while longer.”

  Archie shared a glance with Latham, frowning. “Why? We have nothing to gain by keeping them here. They belong in the custody of the constables.”

  “What if this evil man’s arm is long enough to kill them while in gaol?” she asked, her hands on the table clenched. “Even if Jones had not talked, this buyer may not care. Please, Archie, keep them here until this is all over with.”

  Shaking his head, Archie wanted to argue. Cornelia’s fears exactly matched those of Edgar Jones, who said this man could reach all the way to Newgate in London and kill them. Would my turning them over to the constables actually sentence them to death? He met Latham’s steady gaze.

  “I agree, My Lord,” he said without being asked the question. “If this man’s arm is that long indeed, then they are dead the minute they leave here. What harm to keep them a while longer?”

  Archie tapped his fingers on the table, shifting his glance between the two. “Very well,” he replied. “They remain here until we catch this maniac.”

  Cornelia smiled. “Thank you, Archie.”

  “I should make you clean the cellar, angel,” Archie snapped, but with a grin. “They’re stinking it up.”

  “I will happily clean it. I could not live with their deaths on my conscience.”

  “Nor mine,” Archie agreed. “I did promise Ralph leniency and I must keep that oath.”

  “My Lord, we must consider what this enemy might do.” Latham glanced up as Noah set the second course in front of him. “Try to anticipate his next move.”

  “We know he wants me dead and Cornelia alive,” Archie replied, cutting into his hot roast. “We have his henchmen, and he knows by now that we do. Where will he get more?”

  “Barrett employs men of less than stellar reputations,” Cornelia offered. “He might recruit a few of them.”

  “Possible. Then what? Try sneaking into the tunnels again? They will be expecting a trap, and will not likely try that avenue.”

  “Secrecy,” Latham suggested. “Infiltrate the house somehow.”

  “How can they get past your mercenary guards?” Archie shook his head. “We are dancing with phantoms, getting nowhere. We will simply remain on guard as best we can.”

  * * *

  Barrett never liked eating alone. Though he despised Mortimer, he preferred his odious company at the table as opposed to eating by himself. They sat at a small table outside Barrett’s pavilion, the last of the circus tents to come down. Most everything had been packed away, a
nd his workers and performers ate their own meals while sitting on chairs in the open. Small fires for cooking had been lit, and the people would sleep next to them.

  Early dusk had settled in, the descending sun cast long shadows across the packed dirt road. All around, the fields emptied as the tenant farmers shouldered their hoes and walked along the rows to home and hearth. An owl coasted low overhead, its huge eyes meeting Barrett’s briefly. He shuddered, not knowing why.