An Earl to Enchant: The Rogues' Dynasty

by Amelia Grey

  “Yes?” she said with a smile for the tall, slender woman with small eyes and thin lips.

  “Mrs. Pepperfield is here to see you. I hope it’s all right that I asked her to wait in the drawing room for you.”

  “Yes, of course. I wasn’t expecting her, but I have time to see her before I must leave. Beabe, I’ll let you add these bottles I’ve lined up on the table to that shelf in the cupboard that I designated for healing aids.”

  “Yes, Miss Ari.”

  Arianna left the kitchen and headed toward the small drawing room of the house. She was indebted to Constance, too, for all the help she’d given her. Arianna knew she had packed some exquisite fabrics in the storage barrels, and after all of them had been unpacked, she would pick out a trio of the finest and present them to Constance as a gift.

  Constance rose from the settee when Arianna walked in.

  “How lovely to see you so soon,” Arianna said.

  “I would never have called on you this early if I didn’t have good news.”

  Arianna’s breaths shortened. Did she have word from Morgan?

  “Nonsense. You can call on me at any time. Sit down and tell me,” Arianna said. “May I get you a cup of tea or other refreshment?”

  “No, no, I can’t stay. I’m not even going to sit down again. I only wanted you to know that I’ve set up two appointments for you next week to meet prospective companions.”

  “So soon. How wonderful,” Arianna said, hoping disappointment that the news wasn’t about Morgan didn’t show as much on her face as it felt in her heart.

  What was she thinking?

  Constance would have no reason to come rushing over to tell her anything about Morgan, even if she had heard from him. And Arianna would have loved to ask her if she had, but she didn’t.

  “I wrote down the dates and times. I hope they work for you.” She handed the folded paper to Arianna.

  “Thank you. I’ll make sure they do. I’m at a loss for how to deeply thank you for all you’ve done.”

  Constance smiled. “I was happy to aid you for Morgan. He and his two cousins have been my friends for a long time.”

  “Yes, of course,” Arianna said.

  “But had I not liked you the moment I saw you, I would not have done as much as I have. There’s something about you that I find intriguing and deserving of help.”

  Arianna stared into Constance’s sympathetic eyes. For a moment, she had the desire to drop to her knees and pour out to Constance what had happened to her father and the fear she had that Rajaratnum would sell the formula to someone who would make it known to the world before she could find it and present it in her father’s name. But Arianna swallowed hard and let the moment pass.

  She simply said, “Finding this house for me, helping me get to the freight company, all the things you’ve done. You have been my salvation, Constance.”

  “What poppycock.” Constance’s green eyes sparkled, and she laughed. “But I do like for people to lavish praise on me. It was destiny that you should have this house. I had nothing to do with it. Now I have one other thing to ask, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Arianna smiled. “What?”

  “Lord Windham and her ladyship are having a party on Saturday night, and I want you to go with me. We will be companions for each other.”

  “A party? I’m not sure. I’m certain I don’t have proper clothing for a party, and I—”

  “Of course, you do,” Constance said, interrupting her. “You just don’t know it yet. Why do you think I wanted to borrow your green dress with the gold threads circling the hem of the skirt?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “To give it to my modiste, of course, so she would have your measurements and could start making your gown.” Constance started walking toward the doorway, and Arianna followed her. “I’ll pick you up at half past eleven tomorrow to take you to your first fitting.”

  “Ah—I… but you don’t understand. I have other things to do. I… my father’s papers. That is, I won’t feel right about going to parties until I have certain things completed.”

  Constance stopped walking. “You seem flustered.”

  “Maybe a little. I, you’ve been so kind to me. I hate to tell you no.”

  “I hope I wasn’t too forward in having the gown made. I meant it as a good surprise, not a bad one.”

  Arianna hesitated when she saw concern on Constance’s face. “Of course you did. All right, I will go with you to this one party. But I must get my father’s work finished before I start spending my days with a modiste and my evenings at parties. I hope you understand.”

  Constance smiled kindly. “I understand. In fact, I think I rather like the idea that you attend only one party, and then you won’t be seen again for a time. That will certainly add a bit of mystery to you. Everyone will be asking about you and wondering when you’ll reappear.”

  “They will?”

  “Absolutely. If there is anything Londoners love, it’s a mystery. Look how the entire Town is in a dither over the twins.”

  “The twins?”

  “I don’t have time to explain about them or their older brother Viscount Brentwood right now, as I’m late for an appointment.” Constance headed down the corridor toward the front door. “See you tomorrow.”

  Arianna slumped against the door after she shut it behind Constance. Attending a party was the last thing she wanted to do, but how could she decline after all Constance had done to help her? Arianna looked at the tall clock in the vestibule. Thankfully, it was time for her to go see Mr. Warburton.

  ***

  An hour later, Arianna sat in the drawing room of Mr. Robert Warburton’s house, waiting impatiently for him to see her. Beabe had perched herself on the farthest window seat and was quietly working on her knitting. Arianna had already finished two cups of tea and had nibbled on an apple tart.

  She wouldn’t have minded so much the man being so terribly late had she not had an appointment with him. The first day she arrived in London she had written to Mr. Warburton, asking for a scheduled time to see him. She explained that she was most anxious to meet with him but would be available for whatever time and arrangement best suited his schedule. He had given this date and time.

  “Miss Sweet, pardon my tardiness,” Mr. Warburton said, walking into the drawing room. “I was rushing to get here, but the traffic in London has become ridiculously heavy. Sorry for the delay.”

  Mr. Warburton was a tall, robust man with a thick gray beard. The crown of his head was completely bald, but the sides and back of his head were covered with bushy gray hair. She had first met the man before she and her father left for India. While there, her father allowed her to read Mr. Warburton’s letters, and by the time he first visited them in India three years ago, Arianna felt as though she knew him. Mr. Warburton and her father had worked on many research projects together over the years.

  “Please sit back down. I trust your journey from India was uneventful.”

  She hesitated and then without compunction said, “Yes. It’s a long and tiring journey, of course, as you know, but not too many eventful things happened.” She had nothing to gain by telling the man she had almost died more than once.

  Mr. Warburton seated himself in an upholstered side chair near the settee. “I was devastated to get your letter with the news of your father’s passing. Albert Sweet was one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he’ll be missed by me and the Royal Apothecary Scientific Academy members.”

  “Thank you for the kind words about my father.” Arianna moved to the edge of the settee. “Mr. Warburton, I must tell you that my father didn’t just pass away.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “He was—my father was murdered.”

  The man jerked back and blinked rapidly. “My goodness, Miss Sweet, surely you don’t mean that.”

  “I do. My maid and I came home one afternoon to find his bhagida
r, Rajaratnum, standing over his body. The man stole my father’s private journal before he fled.”

  Mr. Warburton shook his head and made a clucking noise low in his throat before saying, “I find that difficult to believe. As you know, I met Rajaratnum when I visited your father in India a year ago. He was very respectful and, perhaps, even in awe of your father.”

  “Nonetheless, it’s true. My maid and I saw him standing over my father’s body.”

  “Good heavens! But why? Why would he do it?”

  “I can only assume it was because my father was working on a formula that he had kept very secret. I think Mr. Rajaratnum killed my father and stole his journal with the formula in it because he wanted to sell the formula to someone else.”

  “I knew your father was working on something he considered extraordinary, but then Albert worked on many different experiments, so I’m not sure which one you are referring to.”

  Arianna felt a moment’s hesitation now that it had actually come to the point of her telling Mr. Warburton about her father’s discovery. But she had to put jumpy feelings aside and remember that her father had trusted this man, and she must trust him, too.

  “My father had discovered what he thought could be a cure for consumption.”

  Mr. Warburton moved to the edge of his seat. “My dear girl, that would be a very important find.”

  “My father knew that, which is why when he was killed, we were already making plans to return to England for him to present his findings to the Academy. I believe Mr. Rajaratnum stole the formula either to sell to someone else or to present the findings in his own name in a country other than India.”

  “That seems farfetched to me, child.”

  Arianna bristled. “I am not a child, Mr. Warburton. And I can come up with no other reason why my father’s partner would betray him, kill him, and steal his private journal of formulas.”

  Mr. Warburton sat back in his chair and pulled lightly on his beard. “You are right. You are not a child. I do keep up with the latest discoveries in remedies, medicines, and the like, and I can assure you no one has come forward with anything to do with consumption. That kind of news would travel very fast.”

  “Good, that means Mr. Rajaratnum hasn’t managed to sell the formula, or if he has, whoever has it isn’t ready to make the formula known.”

  “If anyone does, of course I’ll be the first one to go to the Royal Apothecary Scientific Academy and object to the claim on your father’s behalf.”

  Arianna smiled and relaxed a little. “Thank you, I appreciate that. I hope there is something else you can do to help me, that is, for my father.”

  He held up his hands. “If I can help, I will, but I have no desire to get embroiled with intrigue,” he said and shook his head, letting Arianna know he had little patience.

  “Mr. Warburton, I have all my father’s research papers, books, and journals, except, of course, the one Mr. Rajaratnum stole. I was hoping you would go through them and help me either find or reconstruct the formula, and then present it to the Academy for him before someone takes the credit my father deserves.”

  “Do you have all his notes from this particular experiment in one journal?”

  “No. All I know is that the formula is somewhere in his papers, and they are quite extensive.”

  The old man chuckled. “I would think so. He was in India a long time.”

  “I was my father’s assistant long before Mr. Rajaratnum came along, and even after he joined my father, Father still allowed me to rewrite some of his papers and notes for him in a neater hand during the evenings. I can read everything, but much of it I don’t understand. I need your help to find the right formula among all his written experiments.”

  “That seems as though it would be a huge undertaking, Miss Sweet, and I have my own research going on that takes so much of my time. I’ve gotten old, and I’m not as fast as I used to be.”

  Arianna leaned forward in desperation, feeling her best chance of finding the formula slipping through her fingers. “But you must, Mr. Warburton. If you won’t, I will have to struggle through his papers on my own or go to someone I don’t know. I shudder to even think about my father’s life’s work being handled by a stranger.”

  His eyes softened, and he pulled on the end of his gray beard again. “I understand your reluctance in doing that. Let me think on it, and maybe I can come up with the name of someone trustworthy who might be able to help you.”

  “No,” she said firmly, resignation setting in. “I really can’t trust anyone but you not to take my father’s discovery and make it their own.”

  He sighed heavily. “I’m afraid that’s the best I can do for now.”

  “Thank you, but I think I should like to try finding it on my own first.” She rose. “I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

  He stood up. “You are no trouble, dear girl. I wish I could be of more help. I’m more than willing to make inquiries for you.”

  ***

  Overton, Gibby’s stiff butler, stood to the side and allowed Morgan to walk into the house.

  “Would you like me to make you a cup of tea, Lord Morgandale, or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger?”

  “No, thank you, Overton. I’ll just sit in the drawing room and wait for Gib.”

  Morgan had sent Gibby a note yesterday, saying that he would be around to see him late in the afternoon today. But sometimes Sir Randolph Gibson lived by his own rules. He was just as likely not to be home, even if he knew to expect you. But thankfully he hadn’t played the disappearing act today.

  Morgan rounded the doorway into Gibby’s drawing room and was immediately struck by all the bright colors he saw in the room. The bold, cheerful fabrics immediately brought Arianna to his mind. Not that she wasn’t already constantly in his thoughts and had been since the evening she arrived at his door, looking like a weary waif.

  He didn’t know why, but he’d never really noticed the décor of Gibby’s drawing room until today. It was spacious and filled with dark wood furniture that was covered in embroidered silk fabrics of astoundingly vibrant colors and patterns in shades so rich and striking that he decided they must have come from the Orient.

  The only window in the room was framed with a strikingly bright shade of red draperies. Each velvet panel was tied back with large gold velvet tassels, exposing fancy lace panels covering the panes.

  Morgan sat on the chair he had always used, but this was the first time he’d ever noticed that the bright green fabric had a red and black embroidered dragon on the seat and back. He tried to remember the last time he’d been in Gibby’s home; it had been several months at least.

  Looking around, he wondered if he’d been inattentive of his surroundings through the years or whether the old man had recently redecorated. And if he had, why had he gone to the brilliant colors of the Orient? Morgan remembered the life-size statuaries of Venus and Athena that held up the marble mantle that graced the ornate fireplace. The gold-framed mirror over it was shaped like a large pagoda, so if he had refurbished the house, he hadn’t changed those. Morgan couldn’t remember ever having seen such vivid reds, yellows, and greens in upholstery before. But with a closer inspection, he could see the fabrics showed signs of aging. Most were frayed and worn.

  Suddenly, Morgan knew Gibby hadn’t changed anything. He had the same furniture, the same paintings and sconces on the walls, and the same figurines and lamps on the tables that he’d always had.

  Morgan had changed. He never noticed color until Arianna. Because of her, Morgan was looking at everything in a new light.

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew the empty bottle of perfumed water that he carried with him. He pulled out the stopper, closed his eyes, and inhaled the scent of Arianna. He chuckled to himself and recapped it. Every time he opened the small jar and breathed in, he swore it would be the last time.

  Had she left the container on purpose to remind him? To tempt him? It was almost empty. Maybe Arianna l
eft it because she had another, or several, and didn’t need it. Maybe she expected the maids would simply throw it away. Or had Arianna known the servants would give the remnants of the perfumed water to Mrs. Post and that she would bring the bottle to him for direction? Had she wanted to leave a memento of her time with him? She needn’t have bothered. There was no way he could forget her scent or the taste of her.

  He looked closely at the bottle for the hundredth time. It had strange writing on it. He could only assume it was the contents of the bottle written in one of the languages of India. When he left Gibby’s house, he planned to take it to his apothecary and have the man find someone who could read it, and then have more made for her.

  Whenever Morgan thought about the last thing he said to Arianna when they were on the coast, his gut wrenched. Had he really told her to find someone else to take her maidenhead? What kind of fool was he? What madness had possessed him that night? That kind of folly was taking honor too far. She had been in London over a week now. What if she had taken his words to heart and had already found someone to oblige her? His stomach tightened with anger.

  What if she…

  “Morgan, what’s wrong?” Sir Randolph Gibson said, striding into the room with a curious expression on his face and looking as fit as a man half his age.

  “What? With me? Nothing!” Morgan said, rising from the side chair.

  “There must be. Last I heard you were going to winter at Valleydale, and now here you are back in London.”

  “I was, but now I’m not,” Morgan said, giving Gibby a brief hug and a clap on the back as he tried to push Arianna from his mind.

  “So the tranquility of the countryside got to be too much for you, and the debauchery the city offers lured you back into its clutches.”

  Morgan grinned. “Not exactly.”

  The old man’s eyes brightened and sparkled. “Then what’s her name?”

  Morgan laughed but didn’t say anything. Gibby had always been too damned clever.

  “All right,” Gibby said, “You don’t have to tell me her name. I’ll find out soon enough.”