About an Earl (What Happens in the Ballroom)

by Diana Lloyd

  “Tell me what you came here to say and be done with it.” Dunwoody backed away from the Maiden, shaking his head.

  “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Walking to the machine, Oliver ran his hand over the smooth polished wood. “Let me show you how it works.” Taking a few stems from the flower vase, he laid them on the wooden bed, lowered the lunette to hold the blooms in place, and released the lever holding the blade in check. With swift precision, the blade fell with a loud thwack. Leaving the stems in place, Oliver gathered up the beheaded blooms in his fist.

  “You’re bluffing. This is all bluster, because you have nothing.” Dunwoody spat out the words as he continued to back away from the machine.

  “I will prevail and take my seat in the House of Lords without blemish to my name.” Oliver opened his fist and let the crushed petals rain down on Dunwoody’s desk. “I already have a witness to the false deed my father signed, and I’ve hired men to track down the other two, who will, with the threat of the gibbet looming nearby, mention your name. Your niece has agreed to be my wife, and my solicitor is at this moment petitioning your solicitor for the immediate release of her funds.”

  “Ha,” Dunwoody snorted. “I’ll keep it in Chancery Court for decades. She’ll be an old woman before she sees a single piece of silver.”

  “Hmm. You’re so predictable, Dunwoody. I have the Cheenee in safekeeping. Your father held a reception for the king in the winter of 1743. His Majesty misplaced his walking stick there and I’m guessing you found it. I’m sure you thought it clever to use the king’s jewel to finance a rebellion against him, but you forgot about my father.”

  “How that drunken wastrel got so lucky at cards, I’ll never know.”

  “That was the trick of it, he was actually a very good card player. People always underestimated a man in his cups.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to—” Dunwoody stopped himself before he tossed down his second sherry. “I’ll say nothing more. You’re a clever lad despite your looks. You’ve got the diamond and the girl, what more are you looking for?”

  “Everything. My unstained title, my wife’s inheritance, and…you know, with Penry getting Clifford Street I’ll be needing a place in town.” Looking around the room, Oliver smiled slyly. “This house.”

  “What about this house?”

  “I want it.”

  “You are mad. Why the hell would I give you my house?” Dunwoody held out his hands and laughed nervously. “You’ve no claim to my house.”

  “Because if you don’t sign it over to me, I’ll take the Cheenee diamond to the king and tell him where my father got it.”

  “You’ve no proof. I’ll say your father stole it and your title will be stripped faster than the swallow flies.”

  “No one, not even the king, thinks my father was clever enough to steal something so valuable. Besides, I have receipts.”

  “I told that idiot not to keep anything in writing! He promised they were burned. He promised.”

  “A good card player is also a good liar. He always hedged his bets.”

  “Then he can play bounce with the devil for eternity. Admit it, you came here to bargain, boy. Either you don’t have all you say or you want a favor. Spit it out, I’m five minutes away from having you thrown out on your ear.”

  “If you give no thought to your family, my betrothed has. Miss Latham wishes no harm to come to her cousins. That is what I bargain for. Either be thrown in Newgate with your title, property, and money forfeited to the Crown and your family left homeless, penniless, and unredeemable, or consider my offer.”

  “They are ruined as soon as you leave this house.” Shaking with rage, Dunwoody gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles went white.

  “They don’t have to be. I’m giving you until eight o’clock tonight to make up your mind. You drop your complaint at the hearing, and I will forget to mention to the authorities that you were behind the false deed. Release Miss Latham’s funds as soon as the bank opens tomorrow morning and I do not inform the king of your Scottish connections to the Cheenee diamond. Sign this house over to me and arrange for your family to leave Town for the foreseeable future and I will give you the diamond to return to the King.”

  “Return it?” Dunwoody barked out the words in anger. “It’s worth a fortune.”

  “It’s for you to decide if it’s worth your neck or not. Those are my terms. If you fail to return the stone to its rightful owner before you leave town, I’ll have my solicitor turn over all documents and testimony to the prime minister.”

  “Burn them, you dishonest cur. You’re no better than your father. Bring the paper here and burn it where I can see the ashes with my own eyes.”

  “I don’t trust you, and that is not going to happen.”

  “I don’t trust you, either.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I hold all the cards.” Standing, Oliver smiled down at the older man. The fight was over. Dunwoody just didn’t know it yet. It was a heady, powerful feeling to bargain face-to-face. This was a matter that could never be hashed out through the post. No wonder his father had loved it; it was intoxicating.

  “I can still ruin you, Winchcombe. A dozen people are willing to testify to your lunacy. After they speak out, I need only wait for every malcontent from your village to jump on the wagon with a complaint. They’ll swear you curdle milk. I can have them in town by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “The one lesson my father taught me was to never show all your cards too soon. I have my own witnesses. I suggest you use the remainder of this evening to ponder the welfare of your wife and children.” Oliver stood and turned his back to Dunwoody, then took a step toward the office door. Counting on Dunwoody to call him back one last time, he reached for the door latch slowly.

  “Winchcombe.” Dunwoody’s voice was flat but didn’t yet hold the tone of defeat that Oliver was looking for.

  “Make it fast, Dunwoody.” Turning the latch, Oliver opened the door a few inches for a ready escape should he need one. “I have other calls to make.”

  “No one will believe you.”

  “The stain of a charge of high treason will linger much longer than a rumor of lunacy.” Oliver didn’t need anyone to believe him but Dunwoody. Making his way from the house and down the street to his waiting carriage, he resisted the urge to look back. Even Dunwoody wouldn’t stand in the middle of Hanover Square pointing a pistol at a man’s back. At least he hoped he wouldn’t.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “He should be back by now, shouldn’t he?” Jewel paced in front of the windows again, searching for any sign of Oliver. He’d promised his meeting with her uncle would be brief. She expected him any moment but couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

  “Maybe your uncle got chatty. You know how men are. The two of them are probably playing with that beheading machine, chopping up everything in the house.” Setting her sewing aside, Elvy joined her at the window and peered out into the gathering darkness.

  “No, something’s not right. I’m afraid we all underestimated my uncle’s deviousness. He’s not going to just let Oliver walk away.” Speaking the words out loud cemented her concern into a heaviness that settled low in her gut. “I’m going to Hanover Square to check on him.”

  “Just my opinion, but I should think you’d want to stay out of your uncle’s clutches. You’ll find your way back on a coach to Scotland if you aren’t careful.”

  “Jules could go,” she said, a plan already forming in her mind. “Just a quick ride by the house and maybe a peek at the mews to see if his horse is there.” Surely there was no harm in confirming if Oliver was still in her uncle’s house.

  “Only if Egbert is there with him.” Elvy started for the staircase. “We best get changed if we mean to do it.”

  “Thank you.” Jewel took the stairs two at a time, pulling at her gown al
l the way to her room. She lost a few pins undressing too quickly but wasn’t about to waste time looking for them. Hugging Oliver’s old clothes to her chest, she breathed in what scent of him might still be evident before pulling them on.

  “Ready?” Elvy, dressed as Egbert, poked her head in the door.

  “Penry should come with us.” Just in case something really was wrong, she wanted another pair of eyes and hands ready for action. He’d pledged his devotion just that morning, now was the time to put it to the test. If his words had been false, surely his love for his brother would compel him to action.

  With a new wheel on the bruised curricle and Pickle and Pepper seemingly eager to be strapped in, Jewel let Penry take the ribbons as they made their way to Hanover Square. His horse, a sturdy chestnut named Barbarossa, loped along contentedly tethered to the back. Traffic was lighter than the midday crush without the carts and rough wagons of merchants and green grocers on every street. Instead, the roads were traveled by slow-moving elegant carriages carrying London’s upper classes to dinner and the theater.

  Oliver’s old clothes made her feel invisible in the crowd, and Penry’s presence heightened Jewel’s bravery. From her perch, she boldly inspected each passing vehicle for any sign of Oliver or her aunt, uncle, and cousins.

  “Turning into Hanover Square now,” Penry announced. Their first pass in front of Dunwoody’s home revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Circle around,” Jewel whispered as soon as the house was behind them. “I want to check for candlelight in the windows.”

  “The house is too dark, isn’t it?” Elvy asked, her voice betraying her worry.

  “I’ll go ’round one more time, any more than that and we’ll attract attention,” Penry said, his hands nervously fingering the leather reins.

  “Then the mews.” Jewel wasn’t leaving until she was convinced that Oliver was safely away. As Penry drove the horses into another slow pass by the house, it was all too clear that no one other than the servants were in residence. “Turn on Tenderdown Street, that’s the back way to the mews.”

  “Yes sir.” Penry tried to make his voice light and teasing, but there was little joy in the knowledge that Oliver wasn’t at the Dunwoody house.

  Driving slowly, they crept up the mews until they were directly behind her uncle’s home. A drowsy stableboy gave them no more than a glance as they rolled to a stop. Taking advantage of pleasant weather, the carriage house doors were open, revealing the empty space where her uncle’s calash carriage should be. Curiously, the wagon the family used to haul trunks to their summer estate was pulled out into the doorway, the tack and harnesses laid out but empty.

  Penry moved the horses along at a leisurely pace, giving the stableboy a casual wave as they continued down the alleyway. The stable doors were closed, Jewel noticed, and something about that fact bothered her. Unable to put her finger on why it was concerning, she kept her suspicions to herself, clamped a hand over her mouth, and swallowed down her fear.

  “I don’t think my brother is still there,” Penry said at last. “Not to worry, ladies—lads—he probably went straight to Bartleby’s office with news. We’ll look for him there.”

  “No,” Jewel objected. “Something isn’t right here. Take your horse and get to Bartleby’s as fast as you can, Penry. We’ll stay here and watch the house.”

  “Oliver will have my hide if something happens to you.” While his words were stern, Penry was already glancing at Barbarossa as if the idea of racing off appealed to him.

  “And I’ll have your hide if something happens to him while you dither out here in the street.” Making her voice as imperious as she could, she scowled at him before giving him a little push. “Go. All we’re going to do is watch the house and make note of any comings and goings. After you check Bartleby’s, come back here. We’ll be waiting. We won’t do anything reckless, will we, Egbert?”

  “Us? Oh, no, not reckless at all.” Elvy folded her hands as if in prayer. “Promise.”

  “As I shall be hideless either way. I’m going to Bartleby’s.” Jewel slid into the driver’s seat and grabbed the reins, as Penry jumped to the ground and ran to his horse. “Keep an eye on the house,” he said as he pulled Barbarossa up alongside them. “Oliver and I will be riding back in no time at all.”

  “Find him, Penry. Bring him back to me.” Jewel hadn’t intended her words to sound desperate and pleading but they came out that way. She was more afraid than she wanted to admit that Oliver had met with foul play.

  “So,” Elvy said as they watched Penry turn the corner and disappear from sight. “What are we really going to do?”

  “Did you see the wagon in the mews? Someone had either just returned with it or was just about to leave with it. I find that curious. I can’t imagine my uncle packing up the house and leaving Town. He’d never admit defeat before the committee hearing tomorrow.” Her uncle had kept his ruthlessness well hidden, but during her month in his household there’d been signs of it that made sense only now that she knew his entire scheme. “I’m going to drive down the mews again. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

  “I thought it odd the stableboy was outside. It was as if he was waiting for something. Otherwise, he’d be at the kitchen door begging for victuals or playing dice with the footmen.”

  Elvy nodded her head to show her agreement. “Got yer knife?”

  “Of course.” Every woman should have such a friend as Elvy. Of all the people who might have walked out of those woods, she and Oliver had been most lucky when it had been Elvy. Settling her nerves with a deep breath, Jewel flicked the reins and sent them down the alleyway of the mews.

  “It’s gone,” Elvy whispered, clutching Jewel’s arm. “The wagon, it’s gone.” The carriage house doors were now closed and shuttered, the stableboy nowhere in sight. Pulling the horses to a stop, Jewel stared at the closed doors and the darkened house, straining her ears for any sound.

  “Take the reins. I’m going to have a look in the stables to see if Apollo is there.” She was handing the reins over when Elvy’s body went stiff beside her. “What?”

  “There they go.” Pointing down the alley, Elvy squinted into the darkness. “It’s that wagon, I’m sure of it.” Unable to see what her friend was pointing at, Jewel snapped the reins and sent the horses off in the direction Elvy indicated.

  “I see it,” she said at last, urging the horses to a faster pace. “That’s my uncle’s wagon. I’m going to follow it for a while. If it’s an innocent midnight delivery, we’ll be back in time to meet Penry in Hanover Square.” Her attempt at humor fell flat—nothing innocent ever happened after midnight. At least that’s what her father used to say.

  “You get any closer, the driver will go wise that he’s being followed,” Elvy cautioned.

  “Why should two ladies in a curricle worry him?”

  “Cause we ain’t two ladies, we’re Jules and Egbert.”

  “Shit. I forgot. But I can’t let whoever it is get away—oh, look, he’s turning.” Moonlight bathed the face of the driver as he completed the turn, and Jewel’s stomach flipped at the sight.

  “Ain’t that—” Elvy’s words were cut off as Jewel snapped the reins again.

  “Eldridge.” Jewel spit out the name like poison as she urged the horses to close the distance. He was heading out of Town—already Society traffic had dissipated, and houses were fewer. Determined to stop him, she pulled alongside, pressed the reins into Elvy’s hand, and leaped into the back of the wagon.

  Landing with a thud and a loud grunt, she struggled to her knees and crawled her way toward the driver’s seat. Side by side, the wagon and the curricle barreled down the street. She had to find a way to get Eldridge to stop.

  “Eldridge,” she called his name as soon as she had the breath to do so. “Stop!” Crawling forward another few inches, she reached out to grab
the back of his coat just as a hand circled her ankle and pulled her back.

  “Let me go!” The lumpy darkness in the wagon bed shifted again, the single hand holding fast to her ankle. Blindly kicking out, she pulled at the tarpaulin hiding her assailant and gave it a mighty tug just as Eldridge slowed the wagon to a stop. Oliver, blindfolded and trussed up like a goose, rolled out from under the tarp, one hand clasped around her ankle.

  “Oh, my darling,” she said, pulling away his blindfold.

  “Stop that!” Eldridge yelled out while reaching for her. “He’s a madman, a lunatic, a devil worshipper! He’ll send you to hell with a single glance.” Making another lunge for her, Eldridge was knocked to his knees as Elvy jumped on his back, buffeting his ears with her fists.

  “He’s not any of those things.” Jewel pulled the gag from Oliver’s mouth and pressed her lips against his. “I found you.” Her joy was short-lived as Elvy cried out in pain. “Leave her alone!” Jewel called back to Eldridge as she struggled to cut Oliver’s bindings.

  “What do you mean, her?” Eldridge put up an arm to block another blow and ducked as Elvy pummeled his back.

  “It’s me, you twit—Julianna.” That her uncle had convinced someone else to do his dirty work wasn’t surprising, but his choice of fool was. She’d thought to never see Eldridge again after Berkeley Square but, like a nagging megrim, he’d come back to sully her life once more.

  “Get this she-devil off my back.” Eldridge lurched and swatted at Elvy again.

  “I have no dominion over she-devils.” Free of his bonds, Oliver placed his hand over hers, and she slid the knife into his grip. Eldridge was a fool, but not a fool who should die for his sins. Throwing her arms around Oliver, she held him back for a moment. “You kill him, my uncle wins. We convince him to testify and my uncle will never be able to show his face in Town again.” Planting a kiss on her forehead and nodding once, Oliver launched himself toward Eldridge.