Ladies of Deception 03 - Betraying the Highwayman

by Ginny Hartman

  Devon bowed before Hope. “I apologize for my neglect. I've been tremendously busy as of late.”

  “I understand,” Hope said kindly. “Do have a seat and I'll ring for tea.”

  “Actually that won't be necessary. I may not be able to stay long. By any chance does father happen to be here?”

  “He is. He surprised us with a visit last evening. Last I saw, he was in the office with Pierce discussing finances. I can show you the way, if you'd like.”

  “Please do. I have something urgent to discuss with him.” Devon followed Hope out of the room, irritated that his father deemed it appropriate to talk to Pierce about his finances but not him, his own son and heir.

  Hope made idle chit chat as they walked along the narrow hall leading towards the back of the house. Devon tried to stay focused on what she was saying but found it was hard to concentrate, when he was much too preoccupied with what he was going to say to his father.

  Hope stopped at the door leading to Pierce's office. “They should be in here.”

  “Thank you. By the way, does Noelle happen to still be in London?”

  Hope laughed, “You really should come around more. She and Soren left nearly a fortnight ago. She was highly disappointed that you didn't bother paying her a visit while she was in town.”

  Blast his luck. “I regret that I didn't,” he answered truthfully. Now how was he supposed to arrange Sister Genevieve's passage to America? He supposed that was something he would just have to figure out later, after he had dealt with his father.

  Hope excused herself as he stepped into the office. Pierce was sitting behind his large mahogany desk, his father lounging in a leather chair in front of him. At the sound of his entrance into the room, the talking ceased completely, as both eyes turned to peer up at the intrusion. Devon would have given anything to hear what they had been discussing.

  Lord Brattondale looked up at Devon, his eyes wide with alarm, his face going pale. Devon arched one brow, giving him a peeved look, before he was interrupted from speaking by Pierce.

  Pierce stepped out from behind his desk, revealing his commanding stature in its fullness. He walked over to where Devon was standing and reached out and slapped him on the back. “Well, if it isn't my long lost brother-in-law. What warrants such a rare visit from you?”

  “I actually came to see if my father was here. He's supposed to be at home sick in bed.”

  Pierce looked at Lord Brattondale curiously. “You have been ill?”

  The earl swallowed nervously. “Oh, it's nothing too bothersome, just a little under the weather is all.”

  “Oh really?” Devon asked, amused by his father's discomfort. “That's not the same tune you've been singing to me.”

  Pierce, feeling the tension in the room, tried to change the subject by saying, “I must admit that I'm disappointed to learn that you aren't here to spend time with your favorite brother-in-law. I was beginning to wonder if some chit had caught your attention and that's why we haven't seen much of you as of late.”

  Lord Brattondale snorted, “Not likely. I'm beginning to think he's too particular in that department.”

  “Too particular?” Devon retorted. “More like too preoccupied trying to keep up with you and your supposed—“

  “Enough.” Lord Brattondale bellowed. “This is not something to discuss in front of the duke.”

  “Apparently, it's not something you want to discuss in front of me either. I have a fairly good idea I know what you're doing in London, and I don't approve. I want you to go back to Surrey immediately.”

  “How dare you order me about like that. You forget that I am your father and you are my son, not the other way around. I came to visit my daughter, and I will not leave until I am ready to do so.”

  “Then I will not be leaving until then either.” The two stared back and forth, it was a battle of wills and neither of them was willing to break the stare.

  “I'll let you two have a little privacy,” Pierce said as he slipped out of the tension filled office, anxious to find Hope and discuss her brother's odd visit.

  Pierce found Hope sitting in the drawing room, her neglected embroidery sitting on her lap while her head rested on the back of the settee, her eyes closed tightly. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful. Every time he saw her he couldn't help but feel lucky that she was his. He walked over to the settee and sat down carefully. He reached one hand forth and stroked her pale cheek. She smiled softly and turned into his hand, her amber eyes slowly opening.

  “I must have fallen asleep,” she explained drowsily. “This child seems to drain the very life out of me. I'm simply exhausted.”

  “And beautiful,” Pierce whispered huskily. “and mine.” He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to her lips, his blood surging to life in his veins.

  He wanted to ravage her right then and there, but by some miracle he managed to refrain, when she said, “Is my father still here, and Devon?”

  Pierce leaned back on the settee, removing his hands completely from her body to alleviate some of his temptation. “Yes, there seemed to be quite a bit of tension between the two. I left so they could discuss things privately.”

  “Oh no, what could possibly be wrong?”

  “Well, it seems that Devon is most likely growing rather impatient with your father's problem.”

  “His problem?” she asked quizzically.

  “How soon you forget your father's penchant for gambling,” he laughed.

  “Oh, that problem. I had thought he had gotten over that after losing to you.”

  “My guess is that he hasn't. He was asking me about some investment opportunities that I'm involved in, looking to increase his coffers. Devon didn't say anything to him in front of me about what's going on, but it's no secret amongst the ton that your father has a problem and has been notoriously losing his bets far more often than he wins them.”

  Hope groaned. “When will he learn? Such a vexing man.”

  “I agree, but there's nothing we can do about it short of embarrassing your father by prying into his affairs. I hope Devon can talk some sense into him, but if not, we will be here to help him with his debts, if it comes to that.”

  Hope reached up and stroked Pierce's jaw with her hand. “You are incredibly kind-hearted and generous to that man, and I can't pretend to understand it fully.”

  “It's not because I harbor some sort of tender emotion for him. Make no mistake, it's because I am madly in love with his daughter.” He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers to show her just how much he truly did love her, hoping and praying that Devon and Lord Brattondale would take their time discussing their issues so he could take his time exploring her sweet lips.

  Chapter 20

  Tuesday, May 24, 1814

  Lord Grayson walked into White's, ignoring the customary greeting from the attendant, as he walked back to the familiar table in the corner. The man he was coming to meet was already waiting for him. He sat in the chair opposite him without saying a word. He knew it would be time for him to make his excuses soon enough.

  Finally the man spoke. “Did you bring the money?”

  “About that,” Lord Grayson said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. “It's going to take me a while longer to get it. Lord Brattondale hasn't been in London for quite some time now.”

  The man growled, “That is not my concern, it is your obligation to retrieve the money for me whether it's convenient for you or not.”

  “Pardon, but how do you expect me to get it from him if I don't even see him? Would you have me go to his house and rob him in the middle of the night?”

  “That's one idea.”

  “And that's completely absurd. We had a deal, and that deal included me cheating him out of the money in cards, not robbing him blind.”

  The man sat back and palmed his glass of scotch, watching the liquid slosh back and forth in his glass as he twirled it. “How badly do you want to keep your mistress a secret
from your wife?”

  “You know she must not find out. Why else do you think I've agreed to your blackmail?”

  The man shrugged. “I'm trying to decide if it's important enough for me to keep it a secret, seeing as how you haven't kept your end of the bargain entirely.”

  “Are you saying you'd tell her?”

  “I'd consider it. Unless...” He let his words trail off.

  “What now?” Lord Grayson asked impatiently.

  “I'm growing impatient with my revenge. As far as I can tell, Lord Brattondale doesn't suspect anything is aloof, and my wife hasn't suffered any consequences either. All my plan has been is an elaborate and entertaining way of retrieving my money. I want to see them both suffer.”

  “But they will,” Lord Grayson quickly interjected persuasively. “Just give it some more time. As Lord Brattondale continues to lose his money, he'll eventually lose everything else. It's only a matter of time before he ends up in debtor’s prison. Your wife will be heartbroken when it happens.”

  “But at this rate, it could take ages. He's been coming to London less and less, and it has been taking you longer and longer to get me the money.”

  “I think his son might have something to do with that.”

  “Lord Bridgerton? What do you mean?”

  “He's not as bacon-brained as his father. I presume that he is aware of his father's gambling addiction and is trying to keep him from continuing. He is his heir, after all, and has a vested interest in his father's finances.”

  “Do you think he's caught on to us?”

  “Don't you mean me? There's no possible way that he could know your involvement, seeing as how I'm the one always doing the dirty work. I have no idea if he suspects anything at all.”

  “I want you to find out. Keep an eye on him. I want to know if he suspects if anything is amiss.” Lord Grayson nodded. “In the meantime, I've been thinking of another plan, one that will promise immediate results, a way to make my revenge complete but I'm going to need your help.”

  Inwardly Lord Grayson groaned. He didn't want to be involved with the man any more than he already was, but he knew that if he voiced that opinion, the man would become irate and would seek out every avenue he could to destroy Lord Grayson, beginning with his marriage. It was his own fault he was in this mess. He should have never taken a mistress, no matter how tempting the willowy actress had been, but though he had tried to resist at first, he had been too weak and there was no going back in time and changing what he had already done. He sat with his jaw clenched, waiting for the man to reveal his plan.

  When the man finally spoke his voice was so low he almost couldn't hear. “It's time to go after the girl.”

  ***

  Elenore had experienced an odd mixture of relief and disappointment when she had been informed that Lord Brattondale had returned to Westbrooke Hall. She was relieved to know he was safe at home where he wouldn't be causing Devon undue grief, but she was disappointed that she'd have to cater to his every whim.

  Lord Brat was in a particularly foul mood as she entered his chambers, balancing a tray of food in her arms. “You're slow this morning,” he muttered, not even bothering to make an attempt at cordiality.

  “This is the time you always break your fast,” Elenore pointed out in vain, as she set his tray of food down on the table next to the bed. She didn't know why she bothered arguing with him.

  “What is this?” The earl barked.

  “Your breakfast, my lord.”

  “This isn't what I asked for. I said I wanted honey for my biscuits not this,” he said as he pushed the small dish of fruit preserves away from him.

  Elenore breathed in deeply, hoping to fortify herself against his tantrum. “I apologize, my lord, but this is what Tabitha sent up. I'm certain she wasn't aware of your preference for honey.”

  Unfortunately, her words did nothing to soothe him. “Nobody cares about me or what I want. I should just get used to it by now.” He hefted his arms across his portly chest and huffed in defiance.

  “I think you are overreacting. Certainly many people care about you. I'm sure it was an honest mistake. I can go back to the kitchen immediately and retrieve your honey.”

  “Fine,” he said sulking and refusing to look at her.

  Elenore quickly left the room, wishing she was leaving for good and didn't have to return. She walked the familiar path down the stairs and to the kitchen where Tabitha was busy kneading a round blob of dough, her hands and apron covered in flour. Tabitha looked up at her expectantly as she entered. “Can I help you miss?”

  “The master insisted on having honey instead of the fruit preserves you sent up. I came to see if I could get him some.”

  “Oh, bother,” Tabitha said, dusting her hands off on a rag. “I think he's just being difficult.”

  “I think you are correct,” Elenore said with a smile. “He seems to be exceptionally difficult this morn.”

  “You know, it seems that he's always that way when he returns from London. I'm not sure what he does whilst there, but whatever it is seems to put him in a foul mood.”

  Elenore unfortunately knew what he did in London, and she had hoped that this time he would have refrained from gambling away any more money, but if his attitude was any indication, that most likely wasn't correct.

  While Elenore was feeling sympathetic for Devon, she watched Tabitha struggling to reach up for the jar of honey on one of the high shelves. She watched in amusement before finally offering, “May I help you?”

  Tabitha dropped her arms to her side and turned to Elenore. “Go ahead, deary.”

  Elenore wasn't much taller than Tabitha, but the few inches made all the difference, as she stood on tiptoe and reached up to grab the honey. She turned in victory towards Tabitha, “May this bring some peace to the earl.”

  Tabitha let out a low, guttural laugh. “If only that is all it would take.”

  Elenore nodded in agreement before thanking Tabitha and turning to leave. She knew she should hurry back to Lord Brattondale's room, but she dreaded seeing the man once more. She had to remind herself that the sooner she fed him his breakfast and got him comfortable, the sooner she could have some time to herself. Perhaps a ride with Sally would be the perfect distraction on the beautiful sunny day.

  Thinking of Sally made her quicken her step, if only slightly. As she reached the earl's room she noticed the door was slightly ajar, and as she moved closer, she heard voices coming from inside. At the sound of a woman's voice, she just assumed it was Charlotte, but as she opened the door an inch and peered inside she realized she was wrong. Standing next to the earl's bed was an older lady Elenore had never seen before. She was wearing a simple but tasteful yellow day dress with a chip straw bonnet sitting atop her head. Elenore knew it would be poor form to interrupt, which kept her from entering the room, but her curiosity kept her rooted next to the partially-open door, straining to hear the conversation between the pair.

  “You were supposed to meet me in our usual spot at the usual time. I waited for you for nearly an hour before realizing you weren't coming.” the lady gently scolded Lord Brattondale.

  “I would have been there, had planned to be there, but an unfortunate encounter with my son led to my early return home.”

  “You could have at least sent me word. When you didn't show I became worried, thinking that something might have happened to you. In ten and eight years you have never missed a month.”

  “Please forgive me, Gertie, I will make sure it doesn't happen again.”

  Elenore was surprised by the informal way Lord Brattondale addressed the lady. Was she perchance a longtime lover of his? Before she could think on that thought any further, the lady was reaching into her reticule to retrieve an envelope that she then thrust at the earl.

  Lord Brattondale took the envelope and laid it on the mattress next to him. “Thank you. I truly do apologize for the inconvenience. It wasn't necessary for you to make the trip to Surrey.
I had planned on calling on you when I was in London next.”

  Waiving her hand dismissively, she said, “It's no bother really. There's no way I could have stayed at home worrying about what could possibly be wrong. I feared that you weren't well or that something may have happened to her.”

  Her? Elenore leaned in closer, placing her ear up to the crack in the open door. Had she heard correctly? She wondered to whom the lady was referring.

  “No, no,” Lord Brattondale was quick to reassure her. “She is fine. I assure you. I would have made sure to see you if something was amiss. Would you like to see her? I could call on her to do my bidding so you can see for yourself that she is well.”

  The lady shook her head back and forth violently, so violently that Elenore was afraid her bonnet was going to topple off of her head. “Absolutely not. I couldn't. I mean it just wouldn't...no, it's best if I just go,” she stuttered, clearly flustered by his suggestion.

  “Suit yourself.” Lord Brattondale stated somberly. “And thank you for this.” He held the envelope up in his hand.

  “No, thank you. Now I really must be on my way. Next time, if you can't meet as arranged, please do send word so I don't worry needlessly. It really was inconsiderate of you not to think of me.”

  “You worry too much. Now hurry along before your husband starts wondering where you have gotten off to.”

  The lady nodded curtly, before turning to leave. Elenore stepped back from the door, still gripping the jar of honey tightly in her hand. The last thing she wanted to do was get caught eavesdropping. Though the conversation she had overheard left her confused and intrigued, she picked up her skirts and tried to hurry as fast and as quietly as she could to the top of the stairs, where she descended a couple of steps, before turning to make it appear as if she was just coming up the staircase. She would have to try and decipher the confusing conversation later, when she had some time alone to think. Just as she was reaching the landing at the top of the hall, the lady came whisking past her. She acknowledged Elenore with a slight dip of her chin before hurrying on her way. Elenore smiled when she realized that the lady didn't suspect a thing, then continued on to the earl's chambers.