Lord Borin's Secret Love

by Regina Scott

  Sinking deeper into the richly upholstered chair, he felt his face settle into a scowl. So close! Less than six more weeks and the fortune would be his. All he had to do was discourage any young men and keep the rumors alive about Constance’s snobbery. It had caused him a little trouble to spread them to begin with, but fanning the flames was all too easy. She was so lovely that most were quite willing to believe she had some hidden flaw. And most of the young men who were not daunted by the rumors were usually easily daunted by him.

  Borin, however, might be more difficult. He rubbed his lips back and forth against each other as he thought. Borin was such a perfect candidate that the only way to disparage him was to dredge up the fellow’s mistress. Not a particularly heinous crime. Most fellows with any income kept a ladybird on the side. He had two at the moment, biddable tarts both. Still, a true lady should be scandalized by such habits.

  Constance, of course, had been just that. That Collins chit, unfortunately, had no sense of her proper place. Meddlesome witch. How he’d like to see her settled picking hemp in the poor house. That would mend her ways. She seemed to think herself his better, and him with the title! She’d be singing another tune when he took that fortune away from her.

  If he could take the fortune. This situation with Borin would bear scrutiny. He reached out and yanked the bell pull to summon his man. A few notes delivered to the right people should do the trick. Amazing how many were willing to do him a favor when they realized he would shortly be coming into a fortune. He already had someone watching the Collins’ house for him. It would take little to have them watch Borin as well. He’d learned a few tricks before ascending to the title from his far-more-proper uncle. If Lord Borin continued to call, he could easily take more drastic measures. He smiled just thinking of them.

  Alexander Wescott, Viscount Borin, might be the consummate gentleman with his golden looks and fashionable coats, but he would do well not to trouble himself with the Collins family, or Weldon Amory, Lord Templeman.

  Fortunately for Alex, the recipients of Lord Templeman’s notes could not take action immediately. Indeed, had Templeman known how Alex spent the rest of the afternoon and the next day, he would have had apoplexy. Alex visited any number of friends and relatives and discretely probed their knowledge of one Weldon Amory, Lord Templeman. To Alex’s surprise, he found few people who knew him well. Those who knew him at all were not particularly strong in their praise.

  “Hasn’t been voted membership at White’s, if you noticed,” Sloan observed.

  “Loose fish,” Sir Nigel proclaimed. “Cheats at cards. Don’t care whether the fellow inherited the title. That was one barony that would have been better off going into abeyance, if you take my meaning.”

  On a chance during one of his boxing workouts, he asked some of the rougher types who frequented Gentleman Jackson’s. Most knew nothing of the man, but one fellow was loud in his complaints, calling Templeman a devil’s spawn. Alex’s curiosity was sufficient that he decided to hire a Bow Street Runner to look into the matter. The wiry gentleman in the red waistcoat promised to be circumspect and to provide Alex with a report on his progress in a few days.

  Just to be on the safe side, he asked the fellow to learn what he could of the Collins family as well. Alex doubted he’d learn anything of note, but he wanted to be thorough in his investigation. He felt certain Templeman would be his culprit. The boy Alex had followed a few days ago had likely belonged to Templeman, and the creature was using the lad to spy on his cousin. How else would he know precisely when Alex was calling? The question remained –a why go to such lengths?

  In the interest of his investigation, he assured himself, he simply had to call on the Collins family again. Besides, he had promised as much to Miss Collins. His growing attraction to her, of course, had nothing to do with the decision. Neither did it have anything to do with the inordinate amount of time it took him to dress for their next meeting. He finally chose a bottle green coat over a silk waistcoat of jade and chamois trousers. He arrived at the door at precisely three the next day.

  As before, the butler showed him to the withdrawing room, where Miss Collins and her stepsister joined him shortly. Both were all smiles, and he complimented them on their fine looks. Miss Collins looked pleased, even though the amusement in her expressive gray eyes told him she disagreed with him that her spruce gown was as charming as he made it out to be. Miss Templeman blushed charmingly. She obviously knew that the blue cotton gown matched her eyes. Neither bothered to mention their absent guardian. He decided he would continue the charade.

  “And how is Sir Richard this afternoon?” he asked politely.

  They exchanged glances before his sprite answered. “Better, thank you. I expect him to join us shortly.”

  That was news. A part of him had begun to wonder whether the fellow had decamped for distant shores. “Excellent,” he replied. “And I trust all is well with you both?”

  “We are fine, my lord,” Miss Templeman answered. “And you?”

  “Never better.”

  They lapsed into silence, and he watched as Miss Collins’ gaze darted between his face and her stepsister’s. Was she still trying to gauge his interest? The game was becoming tiresome. But if he played it as well, he might gain something for his trouble.

  “I know you must be busy, Miss Templeman,” he said, “this being the Season and all. I feel I should not impose on your time.” They both started to demur, and he hurried quickly on. “I therefore wondered, Miss Collins, whether you might accompany me on a drive through Hyde Park tomorrow.”

  She blinked, then smiled. “Why certainly, Lord Borin. I would be delighted to chaperone you and Constance.”

  He grit his teeth. She could not have misunderstood him. Her stepsister even realized the error.

  “No, dear,” she said. “I believe Lord Borin is inviting you.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Miss Collins snapped, then turned to him sternly. “You would not do such a thing, my lord. You would invite Constance. And I am certain she would be delighted to join you.”

  Just once he wished he didn’t feel the necessity to act the gentleman. “Of course, Miss Collins. Miss Templeman, I would be honored to drive with you.”

  “You are too kind, my lord,” she murmured, eyes downcast.

  “Say four then?” her stepsister put in. “I shall see that she is ready for you.”

  She made it sound like her stepsister was a refurbished carriage, or a Covent Garden tart. He glanced at Miss Templeman, but her eyes were still on the toes of her dainty white slippers. He glanced at his sprite and found her positively glaring at him. Perhaps it would be wiser to take his leave. Before he could do so, she hopped to her feet.

  “I do not know what is keeping Sir Richard,” she exclaimed. “Let me fetch him for you.” She darted past the butler and ran from the room. Watching her, Alex let a sigh escape. He turned to catch Miss Templeman eyeing him.

  “You do not fool me, my lord,” she said firmly.

  Alex widened his eyes, trying to look innocent. “Fool you, Miss Templeman? Why should I want to fool you?”

  “You wanted to drive with Katherine,” she replied.

  He relaxed. For a moment he’d thought she knew his true purpose in coming. Unfortunately, when her stepsister was around, he even found himself forgetting. He inclined his head. “Forgive me, Miss Templeman. I am, of course, delighted to have you both join me.”

  She smiled. “And you are too much the gentleman to say if you thought otherwise. I shall try to see you are rewarded for your gallantry.”

  He raised a brow, wondering exactly what reward she meant. His gaze was drawn to her smiling mouth, but his mind readily substituted the fuller lips of her stepsister. He shook his head to clear the thought as much as to refuse her praise. Before he could speak, however, Sir Richard Collins entered.

  Alex made his acquaintance eagerly, once more ready to find something out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, Sir Richard loo
ked nothing like a villain. He was tall with dark auburn hair that waved about his ears and a warm gaze that reminded Alex of Miss Collins. There, however, the resemblance ended. Though Collins’ smile was welcoming, his eyes were sunken in a face gone pale and slack. Remembering the stories of the man’s bravery under fire, Alex wondered whether the wound still caused him to suffer. He tended to shift frequently in the chair, which could have been caused by discomfort from his wound, or too much energy. An occasional grimace, quickly hidden, told Alex that it was his leg that pained him.

  He had hoped Miss Collins might join them but was disappointed to find she did not return. Instead, Miss Templeman excused herself and left the two men alone. They conversed for a time, learning that they did indeed share several friends in the military. They also shared the opinion that the war must be ended sooner rather than later. Alex slipped in a few questions of a more probing nature but saw nothing that indicated that Sir Richard was evading him. He felt sufficiently comfortable, in fact, to be forthright with the fellow.

  “Your wards seem to suspect that I came here courting,” he confessed. “I said I came to meet you. However, I must confide another motive.”

  “Oh?” Sir Richard prompted.

  “I do not agree with you that swift military action alone can turn the tide of this war. There is another battle being waged, across the countryside and in our drawing rooms, a battle of wits.”

  “You speak of espionage,” Sir Richard mused. “Counter intelligence. Isn’t that the province of Calhoun and his men?”

  “For battle reconnaissance, certainly, but who infiltrates the ranks of French aristocrats to unearth Napoleon’s plans? Who prevents our enemies from gaining similar access to our plans?”

  His brow cleared. “Ah, Lord Hastings’ Service.”

  “Precisely. It is my ambition to join them. To do so, I must solve a mystery.”

  “The spy among the ton?”

  “You know about that?” Alex shifted in his seat, trying to withhold suspicion.

  “I am not completely absent from Society,” Sir Richard informed him. “I heard the rumor some time ago. Surely you cannot think it holds water.”

  “I did not, at first. But Lord Hastings has been more evident at a number of parties lately.”

  Sir Richard nodded thoughtfully. “Do you have a suspect then?”

  “No, worst luck. And I do not have leave to investigate the matter. However, I have a mystery that may well be connected.”

  “I shall help in any way I can.” He grimaced suddenly. “As long as it does not involve walking.”

  “I understand. And I do not believe walking is required.” Alex glanced over his shoulder, noting with satisfaction that the butler had busied himself elsewhere. Nonetheless, he lowered his voice. “I am being followed. I must learn by whom and for what purpose. I nearly caught the boy the last time he tried it, but he disappeared, into this house.”

  Collins frowned. “Here? You are certain of that?”

  “Positive. He slipped into your kitchen two days ago as if he were well familiar with it. I can only conclude by the fact that he was not forcefully evicted that your staff were equally familiar with him. Do you know who he could be? Do you have a lad on staff?”

  “No,” he replied, rubbing his nose with a finger. “At least, not that I am aware of. My niece Katherine makes the household arrangements. Can you describe this boy, my lord?”

  “Perhaps four feet tall, slender.” Alex realized with a pang just how little he’d seen. “His hair was obscured by a cap, but it could have been auburn. His face was smudged with soot. I didn’t get more than a glimpse of a gamin grin.”

  “Pity.” He shook his head. “Let me speak to my niece and the staff. Perhaps they can tell us more. If I learn anything, I shall send word. You have a house in town?”

  Alex gave him the address and rose to leave. He would have liked to question the staff right then, but he respected Collins’ right to do so privately. He would have liked more to have another word with Collins’ sprightly niece, but he caught no sight of her as the butler reappeared to lead him to the door. Alex would have to be content with the knowledge that she would drive with him on the morrow.

  Richard limped down the corridor for his study. Bixby hadn’t restocked the liquor, he noted, but for once he didn’t mind. The puzzle the young lord had handed him would require a keen mind to solve. He barely noted the familiar ache in his thigh as he hobbled to the desk beside the front window.

  So, a young lad had been shadowing Lord Borin. The description could easily match his nephew Eric, and certainly the scamp would have welcomed the adventure. But he saw no reason for Eric to choose Lord Borin as his target. If the culprit was his nephew, someone had clearly put him up to it.

  Several people might make such a request other than himself. But Eric would never obey an order from Lord Templeman, and neither Constance nor Emma would dare give such an order to begin with. Bixby was thoroughly capable of masterminding the affair. He was the only person in the household who knew that Richard had always had two supervisors during his time in the military. One was General Moore, to whom he had been an attaché. The other was Lord Hastings. Bixby had often been the go between. When Richard had been wounded that dark day in Spain, Bixby had joined him in retirement. They were two of a kind or had been until recently. But he could see no reason for Bix to want to learn more about Lord Borin.

  No, he was clearly seeing the work of the little Colonel.

  Katherine’s stepfather had given her that name, but Richard had seen at once that it was perfect for her. From the moment she could talk, she had directed those around her. He often thought her need to control her world had started when her father, his brother, had died, another casualty of war. Though as sweet-tempered as Constance, his sister-in-law Eudora had been no match for raising a girl and a boy still a babe in arms. Katherine had become the voice of logic in that household.

  The former Lord Templeman had been one of the few who could harness her skills. He’d given her opportunities to help him manage his estates and his household. A shame all that had gone to Amory on the man’s death. Left with only two servants and her immediate family, Katherine’s talents were largely wasted.

  So, perhaps she’d decided to put them to greater use. He knew she would never do anything nefarious or criminal. But neither could he conceive of a logical reason for her to wish to investigate Lord Borin. She couldn’t be motivated by revenge. Borin might have tried to trifle with her affections, but Katherine wouldn’t allowed it.

  No, something else was going on, and it looked as if he was the only one who could learn the truth. He’d keep an eye on both Katherine and Eric over the next few days and see what he could see.

  Perhaps there was still use in this old crippled warrior after all.

  Chapter Seven

  “Report,” Katherine ordered the following morning in their War Office. “Bixby?”

  “Miss Lydia Montgomery is indeed connected to Lord Borin,” her butler replied, standing straight before the ladder-back chair. “However, my sources tell me his lordship grows tired of the arrangement.”

  She felt a ripple of pleasure. Perhaps she had had an effect on him after all. Or rather, Constance had. “Interesting,” she allowed. “Anything special about Miss Montgomery we can use to encourage the dissolution?”

  “She prefers red roses, Irish whiskey, and Indian rubies.”

  Katherine tapped a quill against her chin. “Somehow I doubt the first two will be enough to convince her to let Lord Borin go. The only ruby we have is Mother’s ring. Would Miss Montgomery accept that as a bribe?”

  Bixby’s face fell. “Oh, Miss Katherine, no! You wouldn’t give away your mother’s engagement ring to someone like Miss Montgomery.”

  “Think, Bixby,” she snapped. “I shall never use it. With any luck, Eric will make his fortune and buy a far better token for his bride.”

  Eric nodded. “When I become a privatee
r, I’ll have treasure enough to pick from.”

  Katherine smiled at him as he stood proudly in his worn brown suit. Returning her gaze to Bixby, she found him regarding her with such sympathy in his deep-set eyes that she almost relented. But their future was too important to risk on silly sentimentality over a gold-bound stone.

  “I shall be fine, Bix,” she assured him. “The question is, would Mother’s ring do the trick?”

  “It might,” he allowed. “If we could ensure another gentleman taking his lordship’s place in her affections immediately.”

  “See what you can do,” Katherine advised, “and report back to me this evening. Eric?”

  Her brother snapped to attention. “Ma’am! I reviewed his lordship’s information. I have only one change to report. He visited the War Office, the real one in Whitehall, again the day I led him here.” He sagged and quirked a regretful grin. “I forgot to note it sooner.”

  Katherine frowned. “The War Office? That is twice since the Season started. Is he contemplating buying a commission?”

  Eric shook his head. “He didn’t go in the door where they take the other recruits. He went in a tradesman’s entrance.”

  Bixby stiffened, and Katherine eyed him with a frown.

  “Was it a small archway off the King’s Mews in Whitehall?” he asked Eric sharply. “Was there an officer on guard by the arch?”

  Eric nodded. “That’s right. A fancy-jacketed captain.”

  “What does it mean, Bix?” Katherine probed. “Who do you suspect?”

  Bixby scratched his chin casually, but he avoided her gaze. “Seems to me that I heard that was the private entrance to the Marquis of Hastings’ office.”

  “The Secret Service?” Katherine felt a chill run up her.