The Danger in Tempting an Earl

by Sophie Barnes

  Lucien turned his attention to Lady Trapleigh. The shapely figure he recalled from when he’d last seen her had been concealed beneath layers of men’s clothing. What surprised him, was how young she still looked. What a pity she hadn’t been sensible enough to avoid attaching herself to scandal. She might have remarried then, but now . . . well, there wasn’t a gentleman in all of England who’d marry a woman who had done what she just had.

  A thought struck Lucien, and he stepped toward Lady Trapleigh. “Do you mind if I remove her gag?” he asked Katherine, though he did not look in her direction, his entire focus riveted upon the woman who’d attempted to kill the love of his life.

  “Of course not,” Katherine said. She shifted her feet. “I know this isn’t quite de rigueur, but given her position, I thought she deserved the opportunity to offer an explanation before I called the constable.”

  Flexing his fingers, Lucien pulled up a chair, then tugged away the length of fabric that had been bound around Lady Trapleigh’s head. He took his seat in front of her.

  “Lord Roxberry,” Lady Trapleigh purred. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Lucien didn’t think there was anything pleasant about it in the least—­especially not when Katherine said, “You are acquainted with each other, then?”

  “Intimately,” Lady Trapleigh said, batting her eyelashes as she smiled at Katherine.

  Lucien winced. As much as he longed to deny that Lady Trapleigh had ever tended to his needs, he could not. The fact was that he was no better than any of the other countless lovers she’d had—­a man so desperate with desire that he’d imagined it might be quenched if he’d only lose himself in any woman other than the one he really longed for. He’d been wrong, and now Katherine was here to bear witness to his weakness.

  Casting aside his embarrassment, he chose not to look at the woman he loved, narrowing his gaze on Lady Trapleigh instead. “What in God’s name are you playing at?” he growled.

  “You think that you will be able to convince me to say more than Lady Crossby’s butler was capable of?” Lady Trapleigh asked, the edge of her lips curling with defiance. She snorted and tossed her head to one side. “As if you have anything of greater value than what I’ve already been offered.”

  Lucien stared back at her. “As far as I know, you’ve never committed a crime before.” He narrowed his eyes. “Someone gave you an incentive. But to do what, exactly?”

  Lady Trapleigh gave a little shrug—­a gesture of such indifference that Lucien had to stop himself from placing his hands about her neck.

  “I had a pistol, my lord. Surely you can draw your own conclusion.”

  From behind him, Lucien heard Katherine gasp. He’d known she’d probably suspected the same, but suspicion was one thing—­knowing was something else entirely. “You have very little with which to commend yourself, my lady, yet in spite of it all, I’ve never thought you cold enough to commit murder.”

  “Hmpf!”

  “Was it also you at the ball? The shot that struck Lady Rebecca?”

  Finally, a hint of emotion—­regret—­appeared in Lady Trapleigh’s eyes. “That was a mistake,” she whispered. “One I meant to rectify last night.”

  So, the widow wasn’t completely devoid of a conscience. She was sorry to have struck down Lady Rebecca. “Tell me,” Lucien said. “Who asked you to do this?”

  “I cannot tell you that.”

  “Why not?” he asked. “You are not some simpering debutante, Lady Trapleigh, but a woman of experience—­a strong woman. What could anyone possibly do to make you kill an innocent woman?”

  There was a beat, during which the tension in the room grew palpable. Lady Trapleigh stared back at him with burning intensity. “My son,” she finally confessed. “He’ll have him killed if I don’t meet his demands.”

  Lucien blinked. Of all the damnable things he’d thought Lady Trapleigh might say, this was the most unexpected. It wasn’t possible though. Everyone knew that the widow had no children. “You’re lying,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

  The words were the first she’d spoken that actually rang true. “If you need proof,” Lady Trapleigh continued, “you need only look at the miniature inside my jacket pocket. I never go anywhere without it.”

  Reaching forward, Lucien dipped his hand into her pocket until he felt something soft against his fingers. Scooping it out, he discovered a small parcel of linen, held together by a silk ribbon. Lucien placed it in the palm of his hand and unwrapped it, revealing an oval piece of enamel-sealed ivory with Lady Trapleigh’s likeness painted upon it. In her arms, she held an infant. Lucien stared at it for a moment, then expelled a deep breath. “You need to tell me what you know,” he said. “And in return, I promise that I will do everything in my power to return your son to you.”

  “Don’t you understand?” Her composure finally snapped, and her eyes welled with tears. “I was given one week in which to see it through, and that was three days ago. If news of Lady Crossby’s death doesn’t reach London by Thursday, Tobias will die.”

  “Well, he’s as good as dead unless you start talking,” Lucien clipped, “because I’ll never let you harm as much as a hair on Lady Crossby’s head. That leaves you with only one chance at saving your son—­by trusting in my ability to help you and telling me everything you know about the man who’s behind this.”

  Rising, Lucien walked over to Katherine, who was standing in the doorway precisely where he’d left her. He turned toward Lady Trapleigh. “We’ll give you a moment in which to make your decision.”

  Something shrewd swirled behind the widow’s eyes. She smiled slowly. “I believe you know what it’s like to feel as though your heart is not your own, Lord Roxberry.”

  Every muscle in Lucien’s body tightened. He glared back at the countess, willing her to keep quiet. The last thing he needed right now was for her to offer Katherine any reason to suspect his true feelings for her, since doing so would likely ruin everything. Katherine was vulnerable, so although she might be warming to the idea of taking their relationship to a new level, she wasn’t ready to make the leap just yet. For now, Lucien would have to continue on his path of seduction with subtlety, or he would likely frighten her away. “You know nothing of me,” he muttered.

  “Oh, but I do,” she purred as her gaze swept over him. Leaning back in her seat, she chuckled briefly before turning serious once again. “That aside, I have no reason to trust you—­no assurance that you’ll help me save my son.”

  “I am a gentleman, Lady Trapleigh. My word is my honor.”

  She nodded. “Just be aware that if I choose to help you and you decide to throw me over, Lady Crossby will be as good as dead. The man blackmailing me is not to be trifled with. He will only send others in my stead, and Lady Crossby will have no choice but to live the rest of her life looking over her shoulder in anticipation of another attack—­an attack which, I assure you, will come, sooner or later.”

  Lucien didn’t reply this time but stepped out into the hallway with Katherine. He closed the door to the pantry behind him. “She’s right,” he said as soon as it was just the two of them. “If she was hired by someone to kill you, that person will only send another assassin as soon as he discovers that Lady Trapleigh has failed. Additionally, her son’s life has just become our responsibility. We must discover the person behind this in order to save you both.”

  Katherine nodded. “Yes, of course.” Averting her gaze, she swallowed hard. The evidence of last night’s ordeal was prevalent in her features.

  “Can you think of any reason why anyone would wish to harm you?” he asked.

  Her eyes snapped toward his. “No,” she said with a slight shake of her head.

  Her eyes began to glisten, but she held back the tears that threatened to fall. God, how he hated seeing her like this. Unable to help hi
mself, he reached out and pulled her toward him, his arms coming around her in a tight embrace. “I promise you, Kate, that we will find whoever’s behind this,” he whispered against the top of her head as his lips brushed her soft chestnut curls.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Her words, spoken against his chest, heated his skin, and all he could think of in that instant was how good she felt in his arms and how desperately he longed to kiss her. Now was not the right time, however, for she was overset and only seeking comfort. No, when he eventually kissed Katherine, he wanted her to want it because of him, not because it might offer a moment’s escape from her troubles. So when she leaned back a little and gazed up at him with a look of keen expectancy, he reined in the temptation to lower his lips against hers and took a step back, placing a decent amount of distance between them. “I believe we’re in agreement, then,” he said. “I shall go and inquire if she is willing to accept my offer.”

  “Well?” Lucien asked as he returned to the pantry.

  Eyeing him with a great deal of wariness as he seated himself in the chair opposite her, Lady Trap­leigh did not look the least bit eager to assist. She clenched her jaw. Lucien waited. Her choices were limited, and he knew that she’d been weighing them while he’d spoken to Katherine.

  “If I refuse to help, you won’t find the man you seek and Lady Crossby will remain in danger. My son, however, will be as good as dead, for I will have failed to do what was asked of me.” Drawing her lips into a thin line, she nodded. “I will tell you what I know, but you must swear to me that you will hurry to London immediately in case word gets back that my attempt on Lady Crossby’s life was unsuccessful.” Her eyes filled with emotion and she whispered, “Tobias is only two years old—­you must save him.”

  “Then tell me the name of the man who is threatening your son so that I may hunt him down and make him pay for his crimes.”

  The edge of Lady Trapleigh’s lips rose slowly to form a crooked smile. “The man you seek is called Donovan. He runs a large crime organization in the City that’s mostly involved in art forgeries, fixing races for a few desperate members of the ton and assuming their debt whenever it suits his own interest.”

  Lucien nodded. “I’ve heard of the man,” he said, recalling an acquaintance of his who’d fallen on hard times once. The poor fellow had sought Donovan’s help, but the burden of being indebted to Donovan had been too great, and the man had eventually taken his own life.

  “Lord Bath recently lost one of his country homes to Donovan when he couldn’t pay back his loan,” Lady Trapleigh continued. “I’m sure his lordship regrets not selling the place to pay off his gambling debts sooner, when he had the chance to do so, but then again, desperate men are often rash and stupid.”

  “I agree with you there, but that doesn’t explain why this Donovan fellow would want to harm Lady Crossby.”

  Lady Trapleigh’s eyes shifted to a spot behind Lucien. “Have you no idea why I was asked to come here?”

  “None at all,” Katherine said.

  Lady Trapleigh frowned, as if she found that very hard to believe. “It’s because of your business dealings, Lady Crossby. They are a threat to Donovan, and nobody crosses a man like him without paying the price.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Katherine asked with a trembling voice.

  “I don’t know the specifics,” the countess confessed, “only that he considers you an obstacle and that he hopes to eliminate you as soon as possible.”

  “Can you tell us where to find him?” Lucien asked. He felt a keen urge to pummel the man, if not worse.

  “It is my understanding that he likes to frequent a gaming hell on Piccadilly—­a place called Riley’s.”

  “And his appearance? If you can give me a description, he’ll be easier to locate.”

  “Alas, I cannot help you there,” Lady Trapleigh said, “for I have never so much as laid eyes on the man—­at least not as far as I am aware. The two instances when Donovan sought me out, I was unable to see his face. The man is fond of hiding in the shadows.”

  Lucien clenched his fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands as cold, unabated fury surged through him. “Then how the bloody hell do you suppose I find him? How can you even be sure that he’ll be at Riley’s? Christ almighty, woman! I thought you’d be able to help when in truth you’ve given me nothing but a supposition to go on.”

  “It is better than nothing. Besides, you have the name of the man you’re seeking now, which is more than you had before.” She leaned forward a little and tilted her head. “I haven’t slept my way through the majority of noblemen in England without becoming privy to a bit of information here and there, and I’m telling you that Donovan can be found at Riley’s. I have no doubt on the matter.”

  “Then that is where we’ll begin,” Katherine said.

  “We?” Lucien asked, turning toward her. “If you think you’ll be joining me on this mad journey, then you’re—­”

  “What?” she asked, eyes flashing as she stepped toward him. “I’ve no intention of waiting here for your return when my life is the one being threatened. You must be cracked in the head!”

  “You won’t be able to show your face in public. Nobody can know you’re there in case word gets back to Donovan that you’ve survived,” Lucien said, hoping to dissuade her.

  “I’m sure we can find a way to accomplish that,” Katherine replied, stubbornly crossing her arms.

  Lucien groaned. “What about Sophia?”

  Silence reigned for what seemed an eternity before Katherine finally said, “In light of what has happened and what might yet happen if Donovan sends another assassin after me, I do believe she would be safest if she’s not in my company.”

  It made sense, of course, as much as Lucien hated it. The whole ordeal had put a bitter taste in his mouth. “I will send my valet to inquire about the validity of this first,” he muttered, his eyes settling once more on Lady Trapleigh. “If what you say is indeed true, then Lady Crossby and I will journey to London in search of Donovan while you remain here, out of sight. In fact, you will stay in this pantry until you receive word of Donovan’s arrest.”

  “Lord Roxberry, I—­”

  “Enough!” He leaned closer to the widow until the tip of his nose almost touched hers. “If one of Donovan’s men sees you strolling about the grounds or lounging in the parlor, they’ll know something’s off. In fact, I daresay it would be best if you remained behind lock and key.”

  “You mean to hold me prisoner?” Lady Trapleigh asked.

  “After everything you’ve done, I wouldn’t trust you not to stab either one of us in the back at the first available opportunity,” Lucien said, “so unless you prefer to speak with the constable, I most certainly do intend to keep you under restraint.”

  Lady Trapleigh nodded, but the look she gave Lucien suggested that she hoped for fire and brimstone to fall on his head.

  “Excellent,” he said, quite eager to leave Lady Trap­leigh’s presence so he could be rid of her altogether. Turning his back on her, he followed Katherine out into the hallway and closed the door behind him, locking it for good measure. He shut his eyes for a brief second, took a deep breath and expelled it, then looked to Katherine, who was staring back at him with grave concern. “What a distressing start to the day,” she said.

  He nodded. “In the event that we do end up going to London, where will you send Sophia?” he asked. “She can’t remain here.”

  “I know, but don’t worry. I have a plan—­one that I will share with you in private, should anyone happen to overhear.” She was being cautious, Lucien realized, most likely in the event that Donovan’s men did show up and threaten her staff. There was no telling what a man or woman might confess if the situation was dire enough. It was wise of Katherine to consider this.

  Without warning,
she reached for his hand, sending a pulse of heat up his arm as her fingers curled around his. Her eyes met his and he found that he was suddenly struggling to breathe. There was something about the way she was looking at him . . . something urgent that made him grow weak. “Thank you,” she said, her voice so soft it was but a breath of air.

  Doing his best to tamp down the rush of desire that swirled up inside him, he raised her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss upon her knuckles, lingering for just a second longer than what was appropriate.

  “Lucien?”

  His name, spoken with wonder, stirred his blood like nothing else. God, how he longed to press his lips against hers, to strip her of her gown so he could pay tribute to the beauty beneath, and to offer her his love in the most elemental way possible. Heat surged up his legs and straight to his groin, where it proceeded to tease and torture until he hardened.

  “I have to inform my valet so he can be on his way,” he told her hastily as he released her hand. Time was of the essence if they were to save Tobias. Besides, Lucien needed distance, distraction and something to cool his ardor if he wasn’t to make a complete fool of himself. With a curt nod, he took his leave, pleased by how bereft she looked as they parted ways, her lips slightly parted and her eyes filled with curiosity.

  Chapter 10

  As soon as Lucien left, Katherine hurried upstairs to the nursery, almost sagging with relief at the sight of Sophia lying on a cushion on the floor, arms waving about as she tried to grab the crystal that her nanny, Mathilda, was dangling over her head. “My lady,” Mathilda said when she spotted Katherine. She made as if to get up off the floor, but Katherine stopped her with a staying hand.