How to Entice an Earl

by Manda Collins

  “Now,” Bynes said, drawing a paper from the hat. “The first name I draw is…”—he unfolded the paper—“Mrs. Lawless.”

  “Well, Kitty,” Tretham said in an undertone, “you’d best prepare yourself for some scandalous flattery.”

  “Oh, you.” Mrs. Lawless swatted Tretham with her fan. “I am prepared, Lord Bynes. Do your worst.”

  “Mrs. Kitty Lawless.” Bynes read the paper to himself, and only the pinkening of his ears betrayed that the words on the page might be thought risqué. “Mrs. Kitty Lawless,” he repeated, “vigorous and insatiable.”

  The men, except for Christian, guffawed, while the ladies tittered. Christian’s jaw tightened as he felt Maddie shift uncomfortably next to him. Glancing over at her, however, he saw that she was looking on with amusement. He hoped that only he noticed that her smile did not reach her eyes. It would not do for this lot to find enjoyment trying to make her progressively more uncomfortable.

  “It is true,” Mrs. Lawless said with a wink at Maddie, “I do enjoy vigorous exercise. And am often quite famished afterward.”

  “Yes, of course,” Bynes said, playing into the new game of indirection, his eyes going from Maddie to Mrs. Lawless. “Exercise. That’s what it means. And appetite. I vow I have seen Kitty eat quite a lot at one time. She has a most healthy appetite.”

  But this only increased the laughter.

  “Why don’t you continue, Bynes,” Christian said mildly, though he wanted more than anything to knock the other man senseless with his fists. “I believe we all know of the lady’s legendary appetites.”

  With a shrug that indicated he thought Christian a spoilsport, Bynes nevertheless assented. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said. Turning to Mrs. Lawless, he asked, “Have you any notion of who would write such a fine compliment to you, Kitty?”

  A hush fell over the table as Mrs. Lawless looked at each of the men sitting around the table. Even, to his annoyance, Christian. Then finally she stopped at Tretham. “I believe it was you, my lord,” she said with a firm nod.

  But Tretham shook his head. “Sorry, old thing,” he said with a hint of regret. “It was not I.”

  “Oh, pooh,” the redhead said with a moue of annoyance. Turning to Mr. Corley, she asked, “Was it you, Niles?”

  “It was, indeed,” Corley said with a smug grin, leaving little doubt as to how he knew of the woman’s vigor and appetite. Bussing her on the mouth, he said, “How could you doubt me, m’dear?”

  They went through two more rounds with Mrs. Newsom and Christian—his compliment coming from Bynes who called him a fine shot—which he was more than happy for the other men to know, considering.

  “Now,” Bynes said, withdrawing another paper from the hat. “Lady Madeline, we come to you. Your compliment is”—he looked with a hint of fear at Christian before he began—“that you are a…”—he cleared his throat—“Tasty morsel.”

  The words hung in the air, and Christian literally felt a red haze descend over his vision. Who the devil had had the temerity to write such a thing, right in front of him? He braced himself to rise, but stopped at the feel of Maddie’s hand on his arm. The table had erupted in a series of catcalls and giggles, and in an undertone she said to him, “Please do not make a scene. I need to make friends here.”

  He prepared to defy her, but her tug on his arm stopped him.

  “You promised,” she reminded him, and for that reason alone, he kept his seat. If he hadn’t he would have leaped over the table and throttled Tretham with his own bare hands. For he knew it had been Tretham who wrote it. No one else at the table had the bollocks to do it while he was sitting here next to Maddie. Looking across the table, he met the other man’s eyes and Tretham silently raised his glass. He would need to keep an eye out on that fellow. Christian knew that now. He wished he’d known it before he agreed to bring Maddie here tonight.

  “Who do you think wrote that about you, Lady Madeline?” Bynes asked, once the furor had died down.

  Christian watched as Maddie bit her lip and turned from gentleman to gentleman. Finally, her gaze stopped at Tretham. “Was it you, my lord?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

  Christian was pleased to see that she didn’t blush as she said it. Didn’t reveal for one moment that the other man’s words had unsettled her. Because he knew they had. For all her boldness, Maddie was not so bold as she pretended to be. And he’d felt the tremble in her hand when she touched him a moment ago. But she wouldn’t reveal that to the room at large. Which made him incredibly proud.

  Christian prepared himself to hear the other man accept his victory, but to his surprise, Tretham said, “It was not I, Lady Madeline. Though I heartily concur with the sentiment.”

  Christian shared Maddie’s puzzlement. Why would Treth lie? he wondered. There could be little doubt that he had been the one to write it. No one else made sense. Though he supposed it could have been one of the others. Which meant he would have more than one man to speak to privately about inappropriate interest in Maddie. Mentally, he cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

  “Was it you, Lord Bynes?” Maddie asked, breaking into Christian’s revenge fantasy.

  “Wh-what, me?” Bynes asked, his eyes revealing that he was all too aware of Christian’s eye on him. “No! No! Good heavens, no!”

  “You need not be so vociferous, darling,” Mrs. Lawless said. “Save the poor girl’s dignity.”

  “So, Lady Madeline has guessed twice and was incorrect. The real author may now demand a forfeit,” Bynes intoned. “Will the author please reveal himself?”

  There was a long silence as the people seated around the table looked from one person to the next to the next. But no one spoke up.

  “If no one is willing to—” Bynes began.

  “No, wait,” Christian interrupted the other man. “I did it. I said Lady Madeline is a tasty morsel and I demand my forfeit.”

  “What?” Maddie gasped. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “It was I, and I demand a forfeit,” Christian repeated. He wasn’t sure which of the fellows had written the assessment of Maddie, but he wasn’t about to let the man claim a forfeit of her.

  “But you already said you wrote the one for Suzanne,” Bynes protested. “That’s against the…”

  At the death glare Christian leveled upon him, the other man blanched and broke off his objection. “My mistake. Carry on.”

  “Well, what’s it to be, old fellow?” Tretham asked with a smirk.

  Christian would be damned if he’d admit to the table at large that he was lying through his teeth, but this was Maddie he fought for. And he would not allow another man to paw at her while she was under his watch.

  Turning to where she sat, astonished, Christian said, “I demand a kiss as my forfeit.”

  * * *

  Maddie stared at Christian as he sat beside her, his eyes demanding that she go along with his ploy.

  When she’d decided to come to this party tonight she’d known, of course, that her very presence here would put her reputation in peril. There was no mistaking the way that the matrons of the ton subtly averted their eyes when Lady Emily passed by them. As if her scandalous reputation was a contagion they might catch by gazing upon her.

  Even so, she hadn’t counted on behaving in such a scandalous fashion herself. And certainly not with Christian. Or rather, not openly before an audience with Christian. Yes, she’d already kissed him, but doing so in this decidedly unprivate setting would set them on a course she had little doubt would end in matrimony. Was she willing to make such a sacrifice on Linton’s behalf?

  The very thought of her brother and what it might mean should Mr. Tinker’s death be laid at his door sent a shiver of fear through her. Of course she was willing to make that sacrifice. But she hadn’t quite realized his freedom would come at the sacrifice of hers.

  Still, she rationalized, the kiss would be no more scandalous than one taken beneath the mistletoe at Christmas. Christian would hardly
subject her to anything terribly naughty in front of their present company. He was a gentleman, after all.

  Placing her faith in her partner in crime, then, she squared her shoulders.

  “Very well,” she said to Christian, not daring to meet his eyes. “You may take your forfeit.”

  Offering her cheek to him, she was unsurprised when she felt his gloved hand upon her cheek as he turned her head and set his lips firmly against hers. She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but at the feel of his mouth on hers, she opened her lips every so slightly and dared him to take the kiss deeper.

  She felt his hands slide down her shoulders to grip her upper arms, and with a small groan he took her lower lip between his teeth then took full possession of her mouth.

  Maddie felt her knees tremble as she clung to him, opening her mouth wider to allow him access. She met him stroke for stroke as he licked into her mouth, the heat of it sending thrills of sensation from her mouth, to her belly, and lower still.

  When Christian lifted his head, both of them breathing heavily, she almost protested but the applause from their onlookers reminded her that they were not alone. For those few moments she had forgotten where they were and why they were there. She’d forgotten everything but the feel of his mouth on hers and the warmth of being held in his arms.

  Despite her determination to be sophisticated about the matter, she felt herself blushing. Taking her seat once more, she was pleased to feel Christian’s strong grip on her hand beneath the table. It might be craven of her, but she was glad for his support when she saw the speculation in the eyes of the other men.

  “A poor showing,” Tretham said with a shake of his head. “I could do so much better than that, old fellow.” Maddie wasn’t sure if he meant the words, or if he intended to rouse Christian’s temper. She definitely knew that there was no way on earth she’d ever wish to engage in that sort of activity with Tretham. The very idea made her feel ill.

  “Don’t even think of it,” she heard Christian warn the other man with a slight growl, which surprised and warmed her. “The lady is spoken for.”

  The public declaration turned Maddie’s head in surprise. She’d known he wanted to protect her from the interest of the other men, but she hadn’t expected him to be so bold. She found him gazing back at her, his eyes challenging her to correct him. Unable to protest, she turned away, feeling her heart beat faster.

  “So that’s the way it is, is it?” Tretham asked silkily, his eyes narrowed. “I might have known you’d pick the sweetest bloom for yourself, Gresham. You always did have excellent taste.”

  “See that you remember it, Tretham,” Christian responded, his tone biting. Maddie had little doubt that if the other man did forget he would be more than happy to jog his memory.

  Obviously made uncomfortable by the undercurrents of competition between the two men, Bynes cleared his throat. “If you are finished paying your forfeit, Lady Madeline,” he said with a gesture to the stack of folded pages before him, “we shall continue with the game.”

  “By all means, Lord Bynes,” Maddie said, trying to adopt a bored air despite her agitation. “Continue on with your recital.”

  With a nod of thanks, Bynes pulled the next folded sheet of paper from the stack. “Aha! Lord Tretham,” he said with a touch of enthusiasm. Doubtless the man thought that Tretham’s mere name was scandal laden and would lead to diversion, Maddie thought.

  But Bynes’s enthusiasm was quickly replaced with alarm. “Oh,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in agitation. “Oh, dear.”

  “What the devil is it, Bynes?” Tretham snapped. Even he seemed to know that if Bynes were unsettled then it must be something serious, indeed. Snatching the page from his friend’s hand, Tretham read whatever was on the page, and Maddie saw him turn pale before he threw the page down upon the table.

  “I know this is your idea of a joke, Kitty,” he said with a curl of his lip, “but it’s not funny.”

  Puzzled, Mrs. Lawless frowned. “I didn’t have your name, Treth.”

  And one by one, the players denied having drawn Tretham’s name.

  Curious to know what could have so unsettled Lord Tretham, Maddie reached for the paper.

  Her blood chilled as she read the words scrawled beneath Lord Tretham’s neatly penned name.

  “Murderer.”

  Wordlessly she handed the page to Christian. His expression grew speculative.

  “It would seem, Treth,” he said with deceptive calm, “that someone thinks you’re a murderer. Would you care to defend yourself?”

  Tretham, whom Maddie had never seen in anything other than urbane calm, thrust a shaking hand through his carefully arranged curls. “I bloody shouldn’t need to defend myself, Gresham,” he said with a defensive tone. “Though I suppose if it will help, I am not a murderer. I don’t even know whom I’m supposed to have murdered.”

  “Of course you aren’t a murderer,” crooned Mrs. Lawless, “no one could believe such a thing.”

  “Obviously someone thinks it, Kitty, or they wouldn’t have written it,” Bynes said reasonably, not meeting Tretham’s glare. “Would the person who wrote this please confess so that we can hash this out?”

  But no one at the table seemed willing to admit to the accusation.

  “By process of elimination, then,” Tretham said with a frown. He took up the stack of pages that hadn’t been opened yet.

  But when they’d gone through all the pages, each was accounted for and matched back to its author—even the one about Maddie, which Christian was interested to note had come from Tretham. Any remorse he might have felt over taking someone else’s forfeit was gone. Especially in light of the accusation against the man.

  There was only one left over and it was the paper with Tretham’s name at the top and the word “murderer” underneath.

  “Whoever did this simply filled out two,” Christian said with a glance round the table. “It was quite brilliant, really.”

  “I’m glad you think so, Gresham.” Tretham had gotten past the astonishment at being so accused and had become angry. “I have little compunction announcing to the table at large that if I find out it was a man who did this, I will call him out.”

  “And if it was a lady?” Maddie couldn’t help but ask. She had always been a bit diffident when it came to Tretham, what with his reputation. Despite his friendship with her brother, his quick temper unsettled her. But tonight she found him downright disturbing.

  Her question must have brought him to his senses, however, for he collected himself and shrugged. “I doubt a woman would dare such a thing.”

  Relieved by Tretham’s return to composure, Maddie turned to Christian and asked the question that had been hanging over the group ever since the offending note had been read aloud. “Why? Why would someone carry out their accusation in so public a manner?”

  “Because he wants everyone to know what he suspects is true,” Mrs. Frawley, a pretty matron who had been quiet for most of the evening, said softly. “It’s the only explanation,” she said to Tretham’s questioning gaze. “Whoever did this is someone who doesn’t have any way of accusing Treth to his face, so he has gone about it in the only way he knows how. Through subterfuge and indirection.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about it, Anita,” Tretham said with a frown. “I hope this doesn’t mean that you’re the culprit.”

  But Mrs. Frawley shrugged her scantily clad shoulders. “It’s not I, Tretham. I simply know what it’s like to feel hemmed in by the constraints of society.”

  Maddie liked Mrs. Frawley the better for her honest admission. But one question still puzzled her. “Does this person mean to accuse you of Mr. Tinker’s murder, Lord Tretham?” she asked. “I thought you were at the gaming table the entire evening when he was killed. Indeed, you were one of the only people at Mrs. Bailey’s who most assuredly could not have killed the man.”

  “Why accuse him, then?” Bynes asked, puzzled.

&nbs
p; “Because whoever did this wishes to divert attention away from himself,” Christian said. “It’s quite simple, really.”

  “Do you care to enlighten us, my lord?” Maddie asked him with exasperation.

  “Well, the accuser either knows and cares for the person who is most at risk for being accused,” he said, looking at Maddie in a way that made her spine tingle. “Or,” he said, looking round the table, “he is the killer himself.”

  Eleven

  After the accusation against Tretham, the party seemed to lose some of its vigor, and before long Maddie found herself in a closed carriage, alone, on her way back to Essex House.

  She would have preferred to make the return trip with Christian so that they could compare notes from their evening’s escapade, but he’d insisted that it was bad enough for him to accompany her to Lady Emily’s, much less ride in a closed carriage at night with her. Alone. She supposed he was right, though she suspected that as soon as her presence at the party was learned, the gossips would not praise her for her restraint in riding home alone.

  She’d been unsure what to expect from the evening at Lady Emily’s house. The woman’s reputation made it sound as if she would have a parade of nude footmen serving refreshments and an orgy every hour on the hour. In fact, though it had been a bit scandalous when the gentlemen took their forfeits, the party itself had been rather tame. It reminded Maddie of how disappointed she’d been when as a child she had insisted upon watching one of her parents’ parties from the upper balcony of the ballroom, and though the ladies’ dresses were pretty enough, it had seemed not unlike any other party. So far as she could tell, Lady Emily and her set were not so very different from any other group of friends.

  Thinking back through the events of the night, she wondered for the hundredth time who had written the note beneath Tretham’s name. He had clearly been rattled by it, despite his protestations that it was foolishness. It had to have been someone seated at the table, participating in the game. Unfortunately, Maddie had been concentrating too much on her own description of Mr. Frawley to pay much attention to what the others seemed to be writing. It had occurred to her that they might have everyone write something, and then compare the handwriting, but the partygoers had clearly not been interested in conducting any kind of serious investigation. Tretham had been upset by it, of course, but he had recovered as soon as Mrs. Frawley set about soothing his ruffled feathers.