An Earl to Enchant: The Rogues' Dynasty

by Amelia Grey

  “Miss Sweet. I—ah—come in. This is unexpected, but do come in.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Warburton,” she said, stepping into the warmth of his home. “I needed to talk to you. It’s quite urgent, and I felt it couldn’t wait until morning.”

  “I don’t know what has brought you out so late on a night like this, but I was just thinking that I must call on you tomorrow.”

  “About my father’s work?”

  “Of course. Let me have your cloak and gloves, dear girl. You didn’t come alone, did you?”

  “No. My maid is in the coach, waiting for me, but I wanted to talk to you about something in private, so I asked her to remain with my driver.”

  He took her cape off her shoulders while she untied her bonnet and removed it. She then took off her gloves but left her drawstring reticule hanging on her wrist.

  Mr. Warburton laid her gloves, cape, and bonnet on a chair and said, “We shouldn’t be too long. Why don’t you come with me into my laboratory? It’s quiet in there. We’ll have complete privacy. That’s where I have your father’s papers. I was going over some of them again when my housekeeper told me you were at the door.”

  “I suppose it’s too much to hope that the reason you wanted to talk to me is because you have found the formula,” she said as they walked down the corridor toward the back of the house.

  “Found it, no, no,” he said, glancing back at her. “But that is what I wanted to talk with you about.”

  He opened the door, stepped aside, and allowed her to enter ahead of him. She walked into a rather large, well-lit room, but the first thing she noticed was that there were no windows. For a moment, she was reminded of the ship, and a sudden fear gripped her. She had never wanted to be in a room without windows again.

  Arianna took a deep breath and tamped down those irrational feelings. Except for the lack of windows, Mr. Warburton’s laboratory looked much like her father’s had and nothing like the small room she and Beabe shared on the ship.

  On one wall was a series of counters and shelving lined with varying sizes of jars, bottles, and vials, all holding different amounts of substances. Some looked to be filled with plants or herbs, while others contained clear and lightly colored liquids. On the back wall stood a desk littered with papers, her father’s journals, and more containers of liquids and what looked like jars of dried leaves. It surprised her to see some loose papers scattered on the floor around the desk.

  “Now tell me what brought you here,” Mr. Warburton said.

  The papers looked like her father’s work. Arianna walked over to the desk and started picking up those that were on the floor.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Mr. Warburton said, helping her gather the last few sheets of foolscap. “I’m afraid I’m a careless old fool at times.”

  “I understand.” She stacked the papers neatly on the desk.

  Shaking off the unsettling feelings that didn’t seem to want to go away, she said, “I came here at this late hour because I heard on very good authority that Mr. Rajaratnum is in London, and I wanted to warn you that he might try to contact you. He is a dangerous man, and I feared for your safety. If he had any idea you were trying to find or even reconstruct the formula for me, I’m sure he would do anything to stop you.”

  Mr. Warburton waved his hand dismissively. “The problem I have is that I’ve been unable to find your father’s formula. Not even a part of it. I can only believe that you failed to give me all of your father’s writings.”

  “No, I kept nothing.”

  He shook his head. “Perhaps he wrote in a book that you didn’t know about, and it’s now just sitting on your bookshelf.”

  Arianna’s hands gripped into fists at her sides. It was frustrating when he talked to her as if she were a child. “Mr. Warburton, nothing is more important to me than finding that formula and turning it in to the Royal Apothecary Scientific Academy. I can assure you I gave you everything my father had ever written on.”

  “But you must have it somewhere, because it’s not here,” he stated flatly.

  His sudden, quarrelsome manner stunned her, and for some reason she couldn’t shake that feeling of uneasiness.

  “Tell me again exactly what he told you about how you could find the formula, because I find it difficult to believe that out of all this—” His hand swept over the desk. “—I can’t find anything that even remotely resembles a formula that will cure consumption.”

  She gasped.

  “You must have forgotten something,” he said feverishly.

  “But I haven’t,” she said, jerking her hands to her waist, her drawstring reticule dangling loosely from her wrist. “I know it has to be there. You’ve just missed it.”

  “No, Miss Sweet, I have not. You have it somewhere.”

  “You can’t really think that,” she said, suddenly confused by his insistence. “I want my father to get recognition for what he discovered. I want the medicine to be available to help people who are sick. Why would I keep it from you?”

  “Then you are going to have to come up with something better than the drivel your father has written thus far, because there is no formula that could possibly cure consumption in this jumble of papers you gave to me.”

  Arianna’s shoulders lifted at his shocking words. “Drivel? Did you call my father’s writings drivel? Is that what his life’s work means to you?”

  “Yes. That is exactly what this is.”

  Waves of indignation shook her. “In that case, sir, I will not bother you further. I will collect all of his papers and journals right now and take them home with me.”

  “Good evening, Miss Sweet.”

  Arianna’s blood ran cold, and chills prickled over her skin at the accented voice that came from behind her. She twirled to see Mr. Rajaratnum stepping inside the laboratory, a diabolical smile on his thin lips. He gently closed the door and turned a key in the lock.

  She gasped.

  He dropped the key into the pocket of his coat.

  As she looked at the dark-haired man with the smirk on his face, fear rose up in her chest and throat. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

  She was looking straight into the eyes of the man who had killed her father. She had an overpowering impulse to rush him, hit him, choke him with her bare hands, hurt him in some way, but just before she leapt toward him, she remembered that it was a misguided impulse that brought her to this point. There was nothing but folly in trying to attack a man twice her size. She needed to stay still and think.

  Her gaze flew to Mr. Warburton. He gave her a cold, calculating smile.

  Something was very wrong. Another chill peppered her body.

  “You see, Miss Sweet, I have been working with Rajaratnum since the first time I visited with your father in India.”

  “No,” she whispered, knowing she hadn’t misunderstood him but not wanting to believe him. “You were my father’s friend!”

  He shook his head.

  An anguished gasp passed her lips. Her ears started ringing, and her chest tightened in disbelief. She suddenly felt as if she might faint, but that she could not allow herself to do.

  She would not let these evil men win!

  Taking in a large, gulping breath, she tried to think. She was locked in a room with the bure log who had planned and carried out her father’s murder.

  What could she do?

  “Oh, yes, I knew your father was on to something,” Mr. Warburton said. “I was certain it would take a lot of research on his part, and I was content to bide my time and allow him. I knew Rajaratnum would bring the formula to me when it was ready. But this is the problem. The journal your father always said the formula was in, the one Rajaratnum took from him the day of his demise, doesn’t have the formula.” Mr. Warburton walked closer to her. “You still have it, and I want it.”

  “I don’t have it. You have it,” she said, retreating until the back of her thighs hit the desk.

  “He was a sly bhagida
r, your pitaji,” Mr. Rajaratnum said. “He wrote it down somewhere else and only pretended to write in the journal he always carried with him.”

  She was confused. Her glance darted from Mr. Warburton to Mr. Rajaratnum. “You mean you don’t have the formula after all?”

  “No, but I am not worried, Miss Sweet,” the Indian said. “We will get it.”

  Her father had fooled them both!

  Arianna suddenly felt lighter. The thought that her father had outsmarted his killers thrilled her. Her fear dissipated. Renewed strength flooded through her.

  “Yes, you will give it to us,” Mr. Warburton added. “Rajaratnum is well versed in how to make people talk, and it doesn’t take long for him to accomplish it.”

  Arianna’s euphoria waned, and she swallowed hard. They didn’t believe that she didn’t have the formula. What could she do? They were between her and the door, and it was locked. She remembered there were containers of liquids on the desk. Did they hold water, alcohol, or something else? Could she use one of them as a weapon? Whatever the liquids were, would they sting and burn if they got in the eyes?

  “We were just discussing how and when to approach you about this complication, and you came to us,” Mr. Rajaratnum said. He folded his arms indolently across his chest, widened his stance, and smiled lecherously at her. “I’ve always wanted to spend some time alone with you.”

  The idea of being touched by either of these vile men made her throat ache with a suppressed scream. But screams would do her no good. There were no windows for Beabe, Benson, or anyone else to hear.

  “My maid and driver are outside, and my entire staff knows I’m here,” she said, remembering Morgan’s warning for her not to leave her house until he returned.

  Mr. Rajaratnum laughed. “But they do not know I am here, Miss Sweet.”

  “That’s true,” Mr. Warburton agreed. “Once he’s finished with you, and I know where the formula is, he can bind my hands and feet to a chair before he leaves you dead. The authorities will be looking for him and never know of my involvement in your murder. I’ll present the formula in my name and secure my place in history. Rajaratnum gets the rest of his money from me.”

  “You can’t take credit for the formula,” she said. “I’ve told others that you were helping me recreate the formula for my father.”

  “That is very easy to remedy. I’ll simply tell them that you wanted to believe your dead father discovered it, so you told several untruths about his accomplishments. The Academy will believe me, because neither you nor your father will be around to plead your case.”

  Anger grew inside Arianna, and she inched closer to the containers lined up on the desk. Her father had trusted these two men, and they had betrayed him, murdered him. She was not going to let them get away with that.

  “If you kill me, you will never find the formula,” she said, stalling for time so she could move closer to the liquids.

  “Oh, I won’t kill you until after you have told me where the formula is,” Mr. Rajaratnum said.

  Fury rose up inside her again. “Even if I knew where it was, I would never tell you.”

  Mr. Rajaratnum smiled; his eyes glinted with malice that shot fear to her core. “You think not?”

  “There are mixtures I can force you to swallow that will lower your inhibitions,” Mr. Warburton said. “We will get the formula, Miss Sweet. It’s up to you how much pain it will cost you before you succumb.”

  Arianna ignored the fear and anger mounting in her chest and focused on her plan. Warburton was the closest one to her. She could grab the first container and fling it on him, and try to get another to hurl on Mr. Rajaratnum before he reached her. It was her only chance.

  But did the containers hold something more than water?

  If she could disable one of them, she would fight the other as if she were one of the tigers that roamed India.

  Without further thought, Arianna swayed, feigning dizziness. She turned toward the desk and clasped the nearest jar in her hand.

  Mr. Warburton took a step toward her, and she threw the liquid into his shocked face. He screamed. Clawing and tearing at his eyes, he fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

  She turned and grabbed a second jar. Mr. Rajaratnum appeared before her, snarling. He knocked the container from her grasp and slammed the back of his hand across her cheek.

  Arianna’s head snapped back. Pain splintered up her face, and lights flashed in her eyes. Gritting her teeth against the blinding pain, she stumbled. Finding her footing, she scrambled to get away from the Indian, but his hand snaked around her arm. He threw her against the wall. Both his hands clutched her neck, his thumbs sinking into the hollow of her throat. Terror rose up in her.

  She couldn’t breathe!

  “The formula, Miss Sweet,” the man yelled in her face. “Where is the formula?”

  Her chest burned. She struggled to drag in air. She raised her hands to pry at his fingers and felt the weight of Lord Chesterfield’s book in her velvet reticule. She fumbled with the purse. If she could somehow manage to strike him with the book, maybe she could… But the thought was lost.

  Black spots formed in front of her eyes. She couldn’t die here. Morgan would never know how much she loved him. Her father would never get his recognition.

  The door slammed against the wall, and Arianna heard Morgan call her name.

  Mr. Rajaratnum released her and spun, pulling a pistol from his pocket. He pointed it at Morgan.

  “No!” she screamed with her first gasping breath. With every ounce of strength she had left, she swung the book. It connected with the Indian’s head at the same moment she saw the spark of fire leave the barrel. The Indian howled in pain. Another shot rang out. Mr. Rajaratnum jerked. A red stain appeared on his white shirt, and his eyes widened. Moments later, he crumpled to the floor.

  Morgan’s arms circled her. He pressed her face to his chest, and with his body, he shielded her from the two men lying on the floor.

  “Get them out of here,” Morgan yelled to someone.

  Arianna coughed and struggled to regain her breath. She heard the sound of shuffling. She didn’t know how long she stood there, just letting Morgan hold her, but when the room became quiet and her breathing eased, she looked up at Morgan. His eyes were heavy with concern. He touched the side of her face, under her eye, and she winced and turned away.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. Her throat felt raw, and her chest burned from struggling to breathe. “Where are…?”

  “The runners are taking care of them. It’s you I’m concerned about.”

  “Mr. Warburton was Mr. Rajaratnum’s partner, not my father’s. Together they planned my father’s murder.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Arianna, but there is no reason for you to worry about either of them again. Rajaratnum is dead, and the runners are taking Mr. Warburton to the magistrate as we speak. I can assure you, I will see to it that he will never be a free man again.”

  “How did you know I was here?” she asked, pushing out of his arms.

  “I told you I had runners watching your house. Their instructions were not to let anyone get in. I didn’t think it was necessary to tell them not to let anyone get out of the house, but knowing you, I should have. Luckily, two of the men followed you here, and once you came inside, one of them rushed back to tell me. When the maid refused to let us in, we forced our way inside.”

  Morgan reached for her, but she stepped away. There was comfort in his touch, in his arms, but she didn’t want to be comforted. Not now. She wanted to go home. She had to find a way to deal with the heartbreaking fact that her father’s formula was lost. Mr. Rajaratnum didn’t have it. She had given Mr. Warburton everything she had of her father’s. If he couldn’t find the cure for consumption written in the notes, there was no way she could ever find it. Her father’s discovery would be lost forever, and that was almost more than she could bear.

  Arianna had a sudden overw
helming feeling of loss. “I am very tired, Morgan,” she said, trying to hold herself together. “Would you please let whoever is in charge know that I will come back at a later time for my father’s papers?”

  “I’ll see they are collected and returned safely to you.”

  “My book.” She searched the floor and saw it. “I must have my book.” She bent down to pick it up, but Morgan got to it first. He looked at the cover. “Is this what you hit Rajaratnum with?”

  She nodded and took the book from him and held it to her chest.

  “Do you realize that because you hit that man with Chesterfield’s book, you saved my life? You caused his bullet to miss me.”

  She nodded. “I’m thankful, and I’m thankful you saved me.”

  He ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her cheek that wasn’t bruised and smiled. “Looks to me as though you were taking good care of yourself before I got here.”

  “I need to go home now.”

  “All right. I must speak to the magistrate about what happened here. I’ll come to your house after I’m finished with what needs to be done about this.”

  She shook her head and turned away from him. “Please don’t. I can’t talk to anyone right now.”

  He touched her arm, trying to get her to respond to him, to look at him, but she couldn’t. “Arianna, you don’t need to be alone.”

  “But that is what I want.”

  “All right, if you are sure.”

  She saw confusion in his eyes but didn’t have it in her to settle his mind.

  “I am,” she said and turned and walked out of the laboratory.

  Twenty-One

  My Dear Grandson Lucas,

  One of the many things I loved about Lord Chesterfield was his enchanting wit. “Nobody can be more willing or ready to obey orders than I am: but then I must like the orders and the orderer.”

  Your loving Grandmother,

  Lady Elder

  Feeling quite pleased with himself, Morgan stood on Arianna’s doorstep, waiting for the door to open. He could hardly wait to tell her the good news he’d discovered earlier in the day and what he’d just come from doing. He wanted to tell her all that was in his heart, too. He wanted to pick her up, swing her around, and tell her he loved her.