Once Upon an Earl_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book

by Eleanor Meyers

  Mr. Reed didn’t even shift in his seat, but Nash noticed the change in his breathing, making him believe he was right about Mr. Reed’s connection.

  Nash sipped his drink and decided what to say. He didn’t know the answer to the question. He wasn’t even sure a servant had left him at the house. It had only been said so he could see Mr. Reed’s reaction. He pulled his glass from his lips. “I don’t know.”

  Reed ran a hand through his hair.

  “Is there a reason you wish to know, Father?” Karl made it sound as though he were only teasing, but Nash knew instinctively he wasn’t.

  Brandell paced, and then stopped to look at Nash. “I’m sympathetic to your plight. Perhaps, if you told us more, we could find your parents.”

  Karl laughed. “Is that the BBC’s new mission, Father?”

  Nash wanted to laugh as well. Chris had wanted the earl suspicious, and he certainly was.

  Brandell narrowed his gaze at Karl. “The less orphans in the country means less people to rise up and take titles. It could at least lead to the leaders of the nation to act more responsibly.” It was a lovely explanation, as explanations went, but Nash knew the truth.

  “Some might think killing the babe, the responsible thing to do,” Nash said, more calmly than he knew he felt. It was strange to be openly discussed this way, but he knew how the beau monde thought. He was little more to them than an animal, or rather, an exotic object without feeling, that could therefore never be embarrassed.

  Brandell narrowed his gaze. “No gentleman or lady would kill their own child. It’s unnatural.”

  Yet they took no issue with ordering the execution of their nephew.

  Mr. Ogden said, “Perhaps we should discuss something else.” He seemed rather tired of the conversation, but still turned to Nash. “All that matters, is what he’s become now.” He lifted his glass to Nash. “I know how hard Iverstone works his employees.” He clearly knew more than that. “Would you say you’re a hard worker?”

  The question baffled Nash, and he wondered what Ogden wanted from him. He’d only mentioned his connection to Iverstone so the men would think twice before attacking him.

  Lord Brandell cut in. “I’m sure Mr. Smith doesn’t wish to speak about his work for Lord Iverstone.”

  That drew Nash’s attention back to Brandell, and he struggled not to lift his brow. It was clear the two men shared a secret, and perhaps that secret was Lord Selby.

  Departing from the parlor to rejoin the women couldn’t have come sooner. Lady Selby looked anxiously at him, and he wondered if she feared that he’d revealed anything. Lady Brandell was watching him, but he hadn’t a clue to her thoughts. Sam stared at him outright, with a look that instructed him to come to her side... as though he’d have ventured anywhere else.

  He made his way over to her, while Mr. Ogden requested Lady Selby to play the pianoforte. She agreed readily, but with the first strike of the keys, whispers began around the room. Lord Brandell was speaking in a rush to Ogden. Reed stood by the door, as though fearing he’d need to make a quick escape. Lady Brandell went to stand by her friend.

  Sam spoke to Nash first, while she kept her eyes directed on Lady Selby. “What happened? What’s going on?”

  He took on a pleasant expression, pretending to enjoy the music, while he murmured, “I’ve no idea.”

  She cut her eyes to him. “You lie. I know something is happening, and I want to know.”

  He glanced at her without turning his head. “It’s not about Lord Selby.”

  Her eyes glittered with exasperation. “Clearly.”

  He arched a brow. “So, what do you believe our discussion to be about?”

  “You.” She turned fully to him. “What’s happening? What was Karl alluding to about your past?”

  He debated his reply. He couldn’t keep his secrets to himself forever, but he wasn’t ready to let her or Lady Brandell go, which was likely what would happen once they knew the truth. It was one thing to befriend a common man, but quite another to befriend a criminal. He was still mildly surprised that Karl hadn’t shared what he clearly knew, with his aunt or Sam. Either he didn’t care for the women, or he trusted Nash, but neither option seemed right.

  “You want to know about me?” he asked her.

  She held his gaze and slowly nodded. “Yes, I want to know.”

  He leaned closer, breathed in her fine scent, and whispered, “I told you once before, I’m not like the men you’re used to. You might not like what you discover about me.”

  Her eyes became full of quiet sorrow. “There’s so much I already know that troubles me.”

  He leaned away, stung by her words, but stopped at the brush of her hand. She trailed it away before she spoke again. “I don’t mean it that way.” Her brows furrowed. “I mean that my heart breaks when I think of what you’ve been through.”

  He was warmed by her words, even if his pride detested the pity. “Don’t feel anything so great as a broken heart for me, Lady Samantha.”

  Her small smile was coated in anguish. “Too late.”

  His heart seemed to shake within him.

  The music stopped.

  She turned to applaud, as did the others in the room.

  Nash turned, to find Lord Brandell standing next to Reed. Only Mr. Ogden dared to glance at him, anymore.

  “Tomorrow,” Sam said. “Lady Brandell and I are going shopping in St. James. Shall we meet where you first found us?” She looked at him. “Will you come?”

  “I will.” He’d tell her and Lady Brandell, if Lord Karl didn’t do so by tonight. If they showed up for the meeting, it would mean Karl had kept his mouth shut, for another night.

  Karl approached him at the door when Nash made ready to leave. “Glad you could come. Hopefully this won’t be the last time.”

  More than irritated with Karl’s games, Nash glared at him. “What is this act you do? You’ve no idea the dangerous games you play.” Bringing Nash to dinner made little sense, especially when Lord Brandell was a member of the BBC, who clearly hated his family.

  “Oh, you’re likely right,” his cousin said with a grin. “But you must admit the chaos makes for great entertainment.”

  “I admit to no such thing, and you should have a care.” And he didn’t bother to say anything else as he left the house.

  Karl surprised him, when he followed. One hand was thrust into his pocket. He carried a cane in the other, barely tapping the ground as he went. “I should have a care? Is that a threat?”

  “I wouldn’t hurt you.” Yet even as the words left his mouth, Nash knew them to be correct. Something about Karl was definitely… wrong, but the man was a friend to Sam, when it seemed the rest of the ton looked poorly at her, and he’d seemed to care about Nash’s mother. Lady Brandell needed someone around who did.

  Karl tapped his cane. “If not you, then there is someone else you think might hurt me.”

  Nash arrived at the hack stand and turned to him. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you think it,” Karl said. “My father is a dangerous man, after all, or so they say.” His smile remained, but became hard as topaz stones. “But don’t you worry over me. Most people fear what a madman is capable of.”

  Nash narrowed his gaze. Was that his game? Karl played the madman to control his father. Well, Nash wasn’t sure if Brandell would kill his own heir, but if Karl believed so, then Nash thought even less of his uncle. The thought of simply ending his life crossed his mind again, but then he shook it away. He wanted his uncle to suffer.

  “Good night, Mr. Smith.” Karl turned, and walked back toward the house.

  Nash glanced around, to see if there was anyone about that seemed suspicious before he got into the hack, himself.

  He might never grace his cousin’s table again, but he had a feeling he’d be seeing his uncle soon. Or rather, Mr. Reed, if the man dared to finish the job.

  * * *

  14

  CHAPTER

  F
OURTEEN

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  Sam answered the knock on her door, and her eyes gaze widened at who was on the other side. Usually, she’d have bid entrance to anyone who dared to come to her room around midnight, knowing it was a servant who was likely arriving to stoke the fire.

  But the dark eyes that held hers from the darkened hall belonged to Lord Brandell.

  She pulled in a breath and used her other hand to tighten her robe about her. “My lord, what are you doing here?”

  “I know it this unconventional, but I must speak to you now, my lady.” He looked around in the dark. Usually, the lamps in the hall remained lit, so she wondered if he’d put them out in order to not be discovered by the servants, or anyone else who would happen to be up at this hour.

  Samantha, herself, was usually asleep since she liked to go to the garden at first light, but tonight, she’d stayed up to read, thoughts of Nash and their meeting on the morrow on her mind.

  Her heart raced as she thought of all the reasons a lord would visit a woman’s bedchamber so late. The taste of steel touched her tongue as fear seized her. “W-what is it you want?”

  “Might I come in?” His gaze didn’t look expectant. There was some agitation, but she didn’t think it related to her. He glanced around again. “I’d rather not have someone find us this way.”

  Then why didn’t he wait until morning?

  “My lord, perhaps—”

  “Lady Samantha, I’ve a carriage waiting for me outside. I’m set to leave London for a day or more once our conversation is over. Please, let me in and hear what I have to say. Then I’ll leave.”

  She listened and could hear servants in the foyer.

  If a carriage waited for him, she supposed it all right to let him in. Besides, she didn’t want anyone to know he’d come to her room either; but leaving him in the hallway would ensure more gossip.

  “Come in.” She stepped back, and he seemed to fill the room. Like all the Wolfgang men, Lord Brandell was a large man, of athletic proportions. Had he been a different man, she might have thought earlier to charm him into a proposal, but she’d not trade in one devil for another. If that were the case, she’d marry Mr. Green, and be done with it.

  His eyes were set on her, even as he moved to the other side of the room, sweeping fully down her body with open desire.

  Sam tightened her robe and crossed her arms over her breasts.

  He spoke before she insisted. “You and Mr. Smith seemed to have struck a friendship. What do you know about him?”

  She appreciated that he’d called their relationship a “friendship” without even the slight hint of sarcasm, or suggestion that they were more. “I know what you know, what he said tonight at dinner. In fact, I don’t know him all that well, my lord.” Why was he asking?

  He stood by the fireplace and turned to stare into it. “Karl said you and Lady Brandell met him when he stopped her purse from being stolen.” He turned to her. “Convenient, don’t you think? Perhaps, he set the thief upon you, to get close.”

  She grunted. “No, I wouldn’t agree.” Especially when one considered the fact that Lady Brandell went hunting for the danger. It was she who’d called the man from the alley, not Nash. Had Nash not been there, Sam wasn’t sure she’d still be alive.

  Brandell frowned, but again, not at her, at his own thoughts. “You should be careful where that man is concerned.”

  She should be careful where Lord Brandell was concerned. He was the only murderer she knew. She swallowed. “All right.”

  “But if you see him again, I’ve a favor to ask of you.” He started toward her.

  “What?” It took everything within her not to run away.

  He stopped less than a foot from her and held her gaze. “I’m concerned for Lady Brandell. She seems to like Mr. Smith, but something about him doesn’t seem right. I would appreciate it if you could find out all you could about the man, and then tell me upon my return. He could be dangerous. You want to protect Lady Brandell, don’t you?”

  I’m not like the men you’re used to.

  Why Nash’s warning to her would come to her at that moment, she didn’t know. What had he meant? He was obviously hiding something. Could Lord Brandell be right? Was Nash just as dangerous as the man who stood before her?

  If that was so, then why didn’t she fear the thought of being alone with Nash, as she felt it with Lord Brandell? No, instead of fear with Nash, Sam felt something else. Longing.

  She gasped as Lord Brandell grabbed her arms.

  “Do this for me, Lady Samantha.”

  Her blood pounded, and she took deep breaths to keep her tears away. “All right.”

  He cupped her cheeks. “Thank you, my lady.” His gaze moved past her eyes and down her body. “Do what you must, get the answers I seek.”

  She covered his hands with her own, pulling his hands away. Anger burned away her fear. “I know what society may think, but I’m not a whore, my lord.”

  “Oh, I know.” His eyes remained warm. “I’ve known you’ve not been touched in that way. Your father and I have known one another for years. He sent me a missive when you came to live with me, explaining the circumstances of your ruined reputation.”

  Sam’s eyes widened. “And you believe me?”

  He frowned at her. “Of course, but that changes nothing. You know how society thinks. They adore their gossip, but I know what a treasure you truly are, beautiful and rare.” He touched a stray curl and took a deep breath. “You’re a very desirable woman, Samantha. There’s no need for you to marry Mr. Green if you do not wish it.” His gaze returned to her. “Why settle for a sailor when you could be a countess?”

  She held still. “A countess?” He was jesting. Why would he ask for her hand, when he’d already offered her a lower position, in his bed? And she wasn’t fool enough to want what he offered, anyway. At least with Mr. Green she’d likely remain alive.

  He continued to play with her hair, staring at the golden strands. “Find out what you can about Mr. Smith, and we’ll discuss it further.” He let his hand trail down her arm before he pulled it away. That touch, to a woman who didn’t know better, might have been pleasant, but the shiver that went through Sam had nothing to do with enjoyment.

  Still, Lord Brandell caught it and grinned. “I’d best go.”

  “Where?” She didn’t know what prompted her to ask, or stop him, when all she truly wanted was for him to leave.

  He looked over his shoulder. “I’ve a friend to see about, and then I’ll return.”

  A friend. A woman? Maybe. Or perhaps…

  “Are you going alone?” She gathered the collar of her robe between her fingers and pulled it up to her neck.

  He lifted a brow. “Why? Do you care to join me?”

  She took a step back. “I was just—”

  “If I were alone, I would take you.” He was still smiling. “But alas, we’d have company. Mr. Ogden will be travelling with me.”

  Then perhaps their friend was Lord Selby! Lord Brandell had come to gain information from her, but perhaps Sam could gain it from him.

  “Good night, my lady.” He grabbed the doorknob.

  She rushed over to him and placed her hand on his.

  His eyes widened at the contact. It was forward, and her quick movement made her robe gap slightly. His eyes went to her exposed skin.

  She swallowed against a lump in her throat. “What if I find out something very dangerous about Mr. Smith? I wouldn’t want to wait for your return. Should I call for a watchman?”

  His eyes at been at her mouth, but at her final words they widened and looked at her. “No. Don’t speak to anyone but me, my lady.” He moved away and went to her writing desk in the corner. “I’ll leave you the address where you can send me a letter.” Once he finished writing, he returned to her and touched her cheek. “Will you keep this between us, my lady?” />
  She just stopped herself from cringing. “Of course.”

  His eyes darkened. “So obedient. You’ll make a fine countess.” Then he leaned forward and brushed his mouth against hers before departing.

  Sam closed her eyes once the door was shut, and struggled to keep the remains of her dinner down. Then she went over and stared at the address Lord Brandell and left. It was to an inn south of London. She’d give it to Nash tomorrow.