Does The Earl Love Me

by Jasmine Ashford

  Henriette closed the door and, sighing, collapsed onto a chair.

  She looked up at the ceiling, grinning bemusedly.

  It was, she reflected, amazing to be in love.

  Of all the things she had expected to happen, when she chose to help Alicia, this was the very last.

  It had worked out, she thought, dazed and delighted, extremely well for everyone, indeed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  PROGRESS IS MADE

  PROGRESS IS MADE

  The streets were gray, the rain momentarily stopped, but the cobbles still slick and gleaming. Leo, holding his coat, stepped carefully to avoid slipping.

  “So,” Ben Watney began, taking a large bite from a chunk of bread he carried, “the last time you saw her was in this carriage, yes?”

  “Yes.” Leo nodded.

  “So, that means the duke has her.”

  “Yes,” Leo agreed. His heart wept.

  “That's why you want to know where the duke's house is.”

  “Yes.”

  The two walked on, stepping onto the pavement to avoid a coach, and then moving aside again when an elegant lady and her top-hatted companion pushed them aside. Leo felt his blood boil, but let it go.

  “So, I recall the duke lives here,” Ben Watney explained. He pointed ahead, to where a row of dark stone buildings, slick with rain, rose off the pavement like the foothills of some vast range. Tall and imposing, the rain sliding down the well-cut stone, the buildings were imposing – dark, sinister fortresses.

  “Oh.” Leo swallowed. “Which one? Do you know?”

  “No, sorry, my friend.” Ben lifted his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “I don't think I do.”

  Leo felt his heart sink. With so many identical, imposing houses, how was he to guess which one housed Alicia? He shuddered, to think of her a prisoner in any one of them.

  “But,” Ben observed, “maybe he does.”

  “He?”

  “That fellow.” Ben pointed to a tall man in a dark jacket with white hair, elaborately coiffed.

  “Who's he?”

  “That's his steward. Snobby. Came to pay me when the wheels were done. Doesn't talk to the laborers,” he said, doing a credible posh accent imitation.

  Leo laughed and wiped the rain off his mouth with the back of his hand. He was already starting to like the fellow. Being in his company relaxed him. And besides, he had just given him the only chance he had to find Alicia.

  “Thank you,” he said fervently.

  “No worries.” Ben smiled.

  They shook hands.

  Ben turned to go, then stopped. “Anytime you need help, you come and find me. The Cheapside Smithy. Can't miss it. Big yard. Big sign.”

  “I will!” Leo shouted to him as he walked across the road. “Thank you once again!”

  “Don't worry about it!” Ben called back, bellowing over the rumble of carriage wheels. Leo darted quickly out of the way of the great coach as it rumbled past on its way into the city center. Then he ran to catch the tall man with the white hair.

  “Mister!” he panted, running up. “Mister...”

  The tall man stiffened. He slowly looked down. Slim and very pale, with a long nose, he seemed distressed to be hailed by someone.

  “What is it, my man?” he asked, shuddering a little as if it dirtied him. Leo felt himself lose his temper, and then stopped, thinking. It was not so surprising. After a few days spent almost entirely on the streets, without changing his clothes or tending to his hair, he was dirty, travel stained and looked half-wild.

  “I am looking for the Duke of Lennox?” Leo said earnestly. “Which house is his? I have an urgent message.”

  “You do? From whom?”

  “Lord Lely,” he said, making up a name.

  “You could entrust it to me,” the man said gravely.

  “No!” Leo blanched. “Ah... it was of a very private nature. My master said to take it direct to him.”

  The man gave him a long hard look, and then, seeing what Leo hoped he saw – an earnest young message boy intent on a promotion – he decided to take a risk.

  “It's the third one from the end. Number seven. The only one with any brass work on the front gate.” the man explained, taking Leo's shoulder as he pointed down the road.

  “Oh.” Leo saw the house he meant – tall, dark and imposing, with brass designs worked into the wrought iron of the tall, wide gates. “Thank you,”

  “A pleasure.” The steward gave a little bow. He did not smile, but Leo felt a softening of his attitude.

  “Very well,” Leo said. “I have to go and deliver this letter.”

  “Farewell.”

  “Farewell.”

  Leo waited until the man had turned around, then walked up the alleyway nearby and counted to fifty before he came out. The man had gone. And Leo had the information he needed.

  As he looked across at the cold, imposing house, he could hardly believe Alicia was there.

  He had to save her soon.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  DARK THOUGHTS

  DARK THOUGHTS

  The light slanted through the high windows of the duke's London apartment. The design, one of the oldest in the city, was based on the Romanesque mold of high windows and thick walls. It worked to keep out heat and intruders in equal measure.

  The duke, sitting behind his desk in the upstairs room, was glad of the latter. It was a day when he did not wish for intruders, or disturbances of any kind, for that matter. It was late and had had an exhausting day.

  As if someone read his thoughts and perversely acted on them, he heard a knock at the door behind him. He frowned, and, without turning around, called out to whoever was there.

  “Leave me... I do not wish to be disturbed.”

  “Very good, my lord,”

  Mr. Dashton, steward to the Duke of Lennox, bowed and stepped across the threshold of the duke's office. He pulled the door shut behind him.

  Left alone, the duke sighed, running a hand down his narrow face. The events of the past week had been disturbing – deeply so.

  The capture of Lady Alicia had provided brief diversion – despite his head for business, the duke had to admit that having her under his roof had been... amusing. I only wish to extract that which is mine. He could not allow himself the pleasure of distraction, however sweet. He was concerned about finance here, not dalliance. And Roderick should pay soon, so that part, at least, has worked.

  Roderick's reaction when he arrived that morning had surprised the duke. It was a betrothal, the arrangement between the two young folk. It did not have to involve feeling of any kind, and he was surprised to discover that it did. Roderick seemed to care deeply about the girl, and she clearly trusted him: the image of her, prone in his arms, had been strangely touching.

  The duke sighed.

  It was late. He had been working for hours, checking through his books and lists of accounts. They balanced, if only tenuously, debts and credits – paid and unpaid – all included. He sighed.

  Other men had stewards to do their books for them. He trusted no one. Always ready to take part in some convoluted dealings or other, he supposed others would do likewise, and was suspicious of everyone. He thus preferred to keep his own company when going through his ledgers.

  And today, of all days, he had a great deal to consider.

  Five thousand pounds was an inordinate amount of money to try and find in one go. And yet the duke needed it – the investment he could make, at that moment, if he bought property in Whitehall, was too great to pass by.

  There was only one place from which he could draw that amount of money s that fast.

  That was his gambling debtors.

  The duke sighed. Roderick Drosty, the heir to Darbyshire, was an innocent, blunt young man of whom the duke was actually rather fond. He did not make friends easily, and the plain-faced, direct young man was one of the few people he trusted.

  Yet Roderick Drosty alone owe
d him almost three thousand pounds.

  The problem of retrieving the money, while still maintaining the friendship, had preyed on the duke's mind.

  Then, when he had seen the man with whom he had another kind of debt to collect – that upstart Leo Grey – a plan had blossomed forth.

  The young lady with the young Lord Grey was Lady Alicia von Aichelburg, and his friend's affianced wife. He had decided at once. Capture the woman, hold her, and return her to Roderick, as a favor, to do with as he would, thereby obliging him to himself.

  There was an added benefit. If Roderick chose to take the matter of her adultery to court – though they were not yet married, they were betrothed, which made the sin of her being with another man, and the wound to Roderick Drosty, as great – then Roderick stood to make money.

  The family of the lady would be obliged to pay at least that much in recompense. Then Roderick would have the money, with no wound to him. The duke would have his debts paid. Everyone would be happy. Even the duke himself, if he laid hands on Lord Grey into the bargain.

  Lucas Rawlins, Duke of Lennox, sighed. He was prepared to do almost anything to bring both possibilities – his financial stability and Leo Grey's apology - about. He had no special animosity to the red-haired lady who was so recently held captive here. Wealth was what he wanted, and he would get it. The prospect of revenge on Leo Grey would do, were his beloved harmed in any way, was tempting. But there was business at hand. What happened to her was out of his hands.

  “Mr. Dashton?” he called, voice thin in the growing darkness. “I am finished. You can come and check the books and light the tapers, if you would?”

  Standing and stretching his back once more, the duke turned and walked tiredly from the room.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  UNCERTAIN FUTURE

  UNCERTAIN FUTURE

  For the second time in two days, the dark carriage drew up outside the wide-windowed apartment in Chelsea. The same tall, slim dark-haired man alighted and walked briskly up the steps.

  He was admitted and shown upstairs to the parlor, where Roderick, face strangely calm, received him.

  “What, my dear Roderick, have you been up to?”

  “Nothing,” Roderick, sitting at tea, mumbled and turned away from his guest. He looked strangely guilty. His guest, Lord Rawlins, Duke of Lennox, sensed an advantage and leaned forward, pressing to take it.

  “That’s exactly right. You’ve done nothing!” he said harshly. “Nothing concerning our agreement, that is, in any case. And now I still lack the money you owe.”

  Sitting across from him, pouring tea into a delicate china cup, Roderick looked up, dark eyes worried. Roderick looked away from his interrogator and down at the brown liquid he himself stirred.

  I cannot hurt her more. What the duke asked would cause Alicia and her family pain, and he could not bear to do it. Already, he was shocked by the change in Alicia. Wan and pale, she had stared at him, uncomprehending, when he had tried to broach the subject of their betrothal. He had shrugged and left.

  “You cannot do this, because you refuse to take action!” the duke shouted. He slammed his hand down on the table, making the china rattle. “Hell's teeth, man! I wish no one any damage, either! But you have a chance, here, to earn back what you owe me, at no cost to yourself! You must be mad to refuse it!”

  Roderick swallowed. He looked up. Alicia had appeared on the landing across from them. She was very still.

  “Alicia,” he breathed, standing up.

  The duke, opposite him, chuckled mirthlessly.

  “Well! I had not expected to see her! Why does she not join in? What we discuss concerns her, does it not?”

  Roderick gave him a murderous look. There was a great deal he wished to tell Alicia, but he did not wish to do it in these circumstances, with a cruel, unpredictable man like the duke sitting beside them, listening to every word!

  “Alicia,” Roderick said carefully. “I had wanted to talk to you, and...”

  Alicia said nothing, only looked at him with enormous gray eyes. Roderick looked back, as if seeing her for the first time. Always petite, her figure had shrunk back to a dangerous degree, her shoulders bony even under the fine muslin of the gown. Her cheeks were sunken, and her skin deathly pale. Even her hair seemed to have lost luster. How could he tax her with worries now?

  “If you would go back to the bedchamber?” he asked desperately. “I have much to discuss with you, as soon as I have settled my business here,” he added stonily. The look he leveled at the duke was hot with anger.

  The duke blinked, and chuckled again.

  “I seem to have done you a favor, in returning her,” the duke observed, amusedly at length. “You look decidedly interested in her well-being.”

  “My interest in Lady Alicia's well-being is not of your concern,” Roderick said, cuttingly. He glanced to where she sat, and stiffened with embarrassment at having her discussed like this when she was still there. “But, now that you raise the subject of betrothal, may I say that we have already broached the subject – she and I – with a view to having it ended.” We did mention it in any case.

  “Oh?” The duke blinked, seeming worried. He frowned.

  “I know that is not what you suggested,” Roderick began, hesitant.

  “No! It is not!” the duke said loudly. “I say, take her to the judge! If it is unfair, he will see it is so. If not, then...” The duke spread his hands, a gesture that negated any of his own responsibility in the matter. “I see no reason not to, Roderick. Three hundred pounds would be useful, would it not?”

  Roderick swallowed hard. It was true, he had to concede. He could do with the money. But the thought of the pain it would cause Alicia was too great. The punishment meted out in court would either be cruel, or, even if she was not convicted of anything, the stigma would be damning for life. Roderick licked his lips, hesitant. “I do not think I can.”

  “Nonsense!” the duke exclaimed. “Why not?” He paused. “If you think it will not work, we can take... measures... to ensure it does.”

  Roderick half stood, as if to stop the duke, who stood, now, and walked toward the upstairs room. “What do you mean?”

  The duke paused, turning in the middle of the room.

  “Come, dear Roderick. If you do not agree to this, then I am sure I can find some means of making the lady agree? There is nothing a little bit of pain and a lot of terror will not encourage.”

  “What are you saying?” Roderick whispered. He was horrified. This man was his friend! This side of him – this obsessive side – was something he had never seen before.

  Alicia shuddered. She closed her eyes. She thought she might faint. The threat he levelled at her was like a physical blow. She felt humiliated, dirtied. She felt as if she had been hit repeatedly, her very body bruised by the cruelty she faced. And she felt so tired.

  “I think you should leave,” Roderick said, very quietly. He stood behind the duke, and somehow, stocky and plain-faced though he was, he managed to convey an air of danger.

  The duke whipped round, Alicia temporarily forgotten. He narrowed his eyes at Roderick, then seemed to think the better of it.

  “You are a fool, Roderick,” he said tiredly, already pulling on his coat and making ready to leave. He turned in the ornate doorway, an expression of sorrow on his face. “You are a fool,” he repeated. “I will still expect those debts to be paid. And soon.”

  He left, then, boots clicking on the stairs.

  “Alicia...” Roderick breathed. “Allow me to apologize.”

  Alicia sat on the settee, frozen tears making her throat ache. “I...” she began. The room whirled in darkness above her and she fainted.

  As she collapsed into the darkness, her last thoughts were of Leo, turning to see her being taken, his concerned golden eyes staring, piercing, into hers.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  A CHANGE BEGINS

  A CHANGE BEGINS

  Night fell over the h
arbor, the River Thames a silvered ribbon under a velvet sky, the wavelets lapping at the bank, washing past the quay and the inns.

  “Blazes!”

  Leo, coming sharply awake in the fetid inn in London, blinked, sharply. His skin was clammy with sweat, his heart racing. He’d had a terrible dream.

  “I need to go... to find her!” he said, still half-asleep, already reaching for his coat, his trousers, his jerkin. “Oh, damn!” he swore, as he walked into the roof-beam. He collapsed onto the bed, head aching.

  The blow woke him, clearing the dream from his thoughts. He sat up and, in the half-light of the hour before dawn, tried to order his thinking.

  “Alicia...” he breathed.

  Thanks to his conversation with Ben, he had found the area and spent the whole day watching the house. There was no sign of Alicia. The difficult part was that Leo dared not get too close. He was the only person who knew where Alicia was. If he was killed, then who would even know she was in London?

  All he could do was watch the place.

  He had even managed to question a servant – a groundsman he intercepted leaving the side-gate in search of water. The man had claimed he had seen no unmarked carriages, no riders. Certainly, no red-haired women – no women at all, for that matter, he had said, somewhat affronted.

  Leo had left, confused. He had to believe the man – he had no reason to lie.

  Leo had begun to suspect she was not there. But if not there, at the duke's townhouse, then where?

  He checked his watch and was surprised to notice it was only one o' clock in the morning. Feeling more relaxed, he drifted into a light sleep. At dawn, he rose. He dressed and packed a lunch for himself, courtesy of a generous landlady, and then went to scour the city for signs of Alicia.

  He followed the duke's carriage, to see where he spent most of his time. He walked past men's clubs and theatres, into coffee-houses and out of them. He walked up to the Cathedral and down again. He went to the market. He went back. He went right across the city, to the docks and back. Nothing.