Noble Intentions n-1

by Katie MacAlister

  “I am quite well, I assure you, madam,” he said, lying through his teeth. He was a lustful beast. He wanted her, needed her, had to have her. That very moment. “My organs have no need of stimulation, celestial or otherwise. I do, however, believe that we did not finish our discussion about the proper way of organizing and structuring your life.”

  Gillian looked surprised. “Would that be the lecture you delivered last evening?”

  “It would. You looked tired, so I postponed the balance of the discussion until today.”

  Gillian sighed. Dabbing at her mouth, she sat back in her chair with her hands folded demurely on her lap. “Very well, Noble, if it will make you happy, you may lecture me now.”

  “Thank you. Now, as to—”

  “It comes as news to me, of course, to find out my life is unorganized and unstructured.”

  “You may be assured it is, my dear. As for last evening’s events—”

  “Active, perhaps, or full of those marvelous little surprises that life always seems to offer, yes, I can see that, but unorganized and unstructured?”

  “It is. How else do you explain that?” He waved toward her blue hands.

  She considered her hands. “Curiosity?”

  “Curiosity, lady wife, when held unchecked by common sense and rational thought, is nothing more than chaos. And as we have discussed at length, a chaotic lifestyle is not one that is conducive to a happy home.”

  “But, Noble—”

  He ignored her protests and spent fifteen minutes explaining again the importance of control and order in one’s life. He paced back and forth before the sideboard, his stride lengthening as he gesticulated when making particular points. He waxed eloquent as he presented both arguments and examples for her edification. He was pleased to see he had her full attention. Her eyes never left him as he offered her rational and valid reasons why she would learn to suit her life to his, and how happy their lives together would be once that seemingly monumental task had been accomplished.

  “Now, my dear,” he finished, pulling out his pocket watch and consulting it, “I must keep an appointment, but before I go I will hear your plans for the day.”

  “Hmm?” she asked dreamily, her gaze still intent on him.

  “Your plans, madam.”

  “Have you ever thought of wearing colors, Noble? Perhaps just a colored waistcoat? Not that you don’t look elegantly delicious in black, but I thought perhaps you might like, once in a while, to don a bit of color.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “What has my method of dress to do with your plans for the day?”

  She widened her eyes in response. “Why, nothing. I just asked a question. Oh, never mind, it doesn’t matter. My plans for today — well, I believe Charlotte is coming to help me with ideas for the drawing room you said I might redecorate. And we plan on making a call to a…an acquaintance. And then I thought I would take Nick to Regent’s Park to see the zoological gardens. Would you like to accompany us?”

  “No, thank you, I have my own schedule to attend to. Very well, my dear, I hope you keep the precepts we have been discussing in mind as you go about your day.”

  “Precepts?” She blinked at him.

  “Yes, those that we’ve just spent the morning discussing. I will escort you to the Gayfields’ rout tonight if I am able; if not, I will send Harry or Sir Hugh and meet you there later.”

  “But Noble, where—”

  He was out the door before she could finish asking him about his plans for the day. And what precepts had they just discussed? Perhaps she should have been paying attention to what he was saying rather than woolgathering, but she couldn’t help it. Whenever he started in on his pet lecture, which she seemed to have already heard as many days as she had been married, her mind wandered.

  She really would have to watch that habit; it was not a wise one to indulge in around the Lord of Kisses. He had enough ways of distracting her from her goal without her helping him by not paying attention to what he was saying.

  Noble settled back into an armchair in Boodle’s and waved away the attendant. “Good morning, Harry. You look pleased with yourself. May I assume from that expression that you’ve had some luck?”

  “Alas, not the luck you seek, my friend.” Lord Rosse proffered a silver cigar case to the Black Earl. “But something interesting, nonetheless. Did you know that Mariah has disappeared?”

  Noble paused for a moment in the act of lighting his cigar. “I had some suspicion she had, since she vacated the premises of the house in Kensington so quickly. Her sister has no idea where she’s gone to ground?”

  “None. She’s quite worried about her, as a matter of fact. Ah, Tolly, I thought we’d see you sooner or later. Come and join us.”

  Sir Hugh had another chair placed in a manner that would allow him to keep an eye on all who passed, and seated himself with a great show of care for his peach satin waistcoat and taffycolored coat. “Rosse, Weston. I wondered if you would take advantage of your good fortune, Weston.”

  “What good fortune is that?” Noble puffed gently on his cigar and tried not to look bored.

  “Why, the sudden reversal of opinion, of course! You and your Amazon are the talk of the ton! Surely even you must have heard the talk, Noble. Everyone is talking about the kiss.”

  Noble arched one sable eyebrow. “The kiss? What kiss?”

  Rosse smiled as Sir Hugh adjusted his intricately tied cravat an infinitesimal bit to the right. “Must think of letting old Hudson go. He’s not as sharp with the Russian Waterfall as he should be. The kiss, man. The one she gave you in front of everyone at Countess Lieven’s last night!”

  Noble gave in to the urge and looked bored. “I find it difficult to believe that my wife demonstrating a spontaneous burst of affection for me can cause such a scandal, Tolly.”

  A spasm of distaste passed over the baronet’s face. “That’s where you have come up lucky. Her action, rash and indelicate though it might have been, has deemed her…has deemed you both…the toast of the Season. All the world loves a lover and all that.”

  Rosse laughed at the look of chagrin on the earl’s face. “Now there’s a role I never thought you to be in, Noble. The passionate lover, unable to keep from your wife’s arms for the length of an evening.”

  A dull red flush washed over Weston’s cheeks.

  “It’s appalling!”

  Both men looked surprised at the vehemence in Sir Hugh’s voice. “That is…not that you have suddenly become the toast of the ton, but that her…but that your wife…you must admit, Weston,” he stammered, “her behavior is better suited to a Cyprian than a countess.”

  Noble’s narrow-eyed gaze flashed silver as it pinned Sir Hugh back in his chair. “You are speaking of my wife, Tolly. I find myself warning you again to temper your speech when speaking of her.”

  Sir Hugh spread his hands in a sign of subjugation. “No offense was intended toward your good lady, I assure you, Weston. As one of your oldest friends, I simply want to make sure that she does nothing — inadvertently, of course — that might damage your reputation more than it is. God knows I’ve bent over backward trying to smooth things over for you…”

  Noble made a dismissive movement and glanced at the clock residing on a table a few feet away. “Apology accepted. I have an appointment to keep shortly, Tolly. If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear what Harry has to say before I keep it.”

  The baronet flushed and shot an unreadable look at him, then settled back in his chair with an expression approaching petulance.

  “You were saying, Harry?”

  “Ah.” Rosse raised an inquisitory eyebrow. Weston had no difficulty in understanding the movement. “Tolly, I’m sure, can be counted on to keep private all that is said between us.”

  Sir Hugh’s round face lost its petulant expression. “Of course, my word and all that. What is the big secret?”

  “Harry has done a little investigating into an affair for me. It seems someon
e wishes me ill, and made an attempt to imprison me the other night.”

  Sir Hugh’s jaw dropped. “No! Where? When? What happened? Good God, man, you weren’t hurt, were you?”

  Weston explained the situation in a few succinct sentences.

  Sir Hugh cleared his throat and put a hand on the older man’s arm. “Anything I can do, Noble. I am completely at your service. And your lady’s, too, of course.”

  Noble nodded and turned back to Rosse.

  “Well, as I was telling Noble, there’s not much to go on now. His mistress, who wrote the note that was responsible for him being lured to the house, has disappeared. No one knows of her whereabouts, although the servants report she left in a hurry.”

  “You’ve spoken with the servants?” Sir Hugh asked.

  “Yes, I had some luck there and located the cook. All of the servants were paid two months’ wages and told to leave immediately.”

  “That’s very suspicious!” Sir Hugh said.

  Noble ignored him. “You found no report of a stranger being seen at the house? No visitors who were beyond Mariah’s normal circle of friends?”

  “None. At least, none that I’ve heard from yet. I’m calling on a few men I know to help with the investigation, so perhaps they will be able to uncover something about her visitors.”

  “Excellent. I’m sure you’ll have results, Harry. And now I must be off, gentleman. I have an appointment with a Mr. Stafford.”

  “Stafford?” Rosse asked, steepling his fingers together under his chin. “Bow Street Runners?”

  “Yes. I need an additional pair of eyes.”

  “Focused on a certain Scotsman?”

  “Among other individuals, yes,” Noble responded and started for the door.

  “Weston — hold for a moment, man.” Sir Hugh hurried after the Black Earl. “Allow me to be of assistance as well, Noble. I will do whatever I can to aid you in this. Is there some task I can accomplish for you?”

  “Nothing, thank you, Tolly.”

  “Nonsense, there must be something.” Sir Hugh put a restraining hand on the earl’s sleeve. Noble, at the door, looked down at the hand on his arm, then up at the gently perspiring baronet. He bit back words of annoyance, reminding himself that Tolly was enthusiastic, if not overly bright. “I appreciate the offer, Tolly,” he said, collecting his hat and stick from the attendant. “I will let you know when I have something for you to do.”

  Gillian was in the drawing room, holding up a piece of crimson Spitalfield silk against the wall and imagining a gilded ceiling with medallions formed from diamond and octagon shapes.

  “What do you think, Nick? The crimson silk, or the bronze green silk? Or something else entirely?” Gillian asked, digging through a stack of wallpaper and fabric samples. “Here, look at this lovely blue. It’s called smalt. Isn’t it rich? Can’t you just imagine this room in smalt, with the woodwork picked out in gilt?”

  Nick looked at the fabrics and selected one he liked. “Peach Blossom. Yeees, it’s lovely, but a little…well, pink, don’t you think?”

  “What’s pink? Oooh, you have fabric samples? Did the earl give you permission to redecorate, then?” Charlotte bustled in through the door before Tremayne Two could announce her. “Let me see. No, definitely not pale colors, those are passé. You want a strong, vibrant color. I like this crimson.”

  Gillian looked at the butler. “Tremayne, will you order the carriage brought round as soon as possible? Lady Charlotte and I have a call to pay.”

  “Patent yellow, now there’s an ugly color. Did you hear that the Duke of Wellington has yellow in his drawing room? Did you ever hear of such a thing?”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  “This sea green would be a good choice for a dining room. What color is your dining room now?”

  Nick looked at the sea green and made a face.

  “It’s fawn. Oh, Tremayne? Would you have one of the boys bring Piddle and Erp around?”

  Tremayne gave her a weak smile. Although the dogs’ digestive extravagances had apparently ceased, they were still prone to occasional setbacks, and the staff considered themselves martyrs to her dogs. “Certainly, madam. Er…will the hounds be riding in the same carriage as you, or should I have their carriage brought around as well?”

  “Walnut is nice, too. With the fussy bits picked out in cream or stone.”

  Nick nodded.

  “Well, they can hardly protect me if they are in a separate carriage, Tremayne.”

  “Protect you, madam?”

  “But I don’t like this at all, this chocolate color. It’s much harsher than walnut. This lilac number two is pretty. What do you think, Nick?”

  Nick pointed to the lilac.

  “Yes, protect me, Tremayne Two. His lordship made me promise I wouldn’t go out without ample protection, lest his attacker try to kidnap Master Nicholas or myself.”

  “No, I’ve changed my mind about the lilac, Nick, despite your preference for it. Picture gallery red number three. That’s a very popular color, I believe. Can’t you see the walls done in picture gallery red number three?”

  Nick eyed the walls with a speculative gaze, his lips pursed. He shook his head.

  “I beg your pardon, my lady, but I hardly feel the hounds are suitable protection.”

  “No? I can see it. Well, perhaps picture gallery red number two.”

  Gillian’s head began to spin as a result of the cross conversation, but she focused on what was most important. “I don’t agree with you at all, Tremayne. They are ample protection. No one would dare accost either Nick or me when in their presence.”

  Nick tapped Charlotte on the arm and pointed out a swatch of sky blue.

  “Mmmm. Yes, yes, I think you may have something there. Sky blue with the skirting boards painted in cream?”

  “I hasten to remind your ladyship of the episode occurring just this morning in the park. If you recall, the hounds, when your ladyship was approached by the street hawker, dragged you a considerable distance to escape contact with the individual.”

  “Then again, Gillian could go with a nice striped wallpaper.”

  Gillian snorted in a very unladylike manner. “As I said, they were protecting me by removing me from what they thought was a threat to my safety.”

  “I like this one with the honeysuckle border. It’s quite classical.”

  “I beg your pardon again, my lady, but I don’t believe the hounds were attempting to remove you from a threatening person as much as they were attempting to remove themselves from a threatening person.”

  Nick pointed to a busy pattern of leaves and flowers.

  Charlotte looked thoughtfully at it. “Hmmm. Hedgerow. Nice, Nick, but I don’t think it would suit for the drawing room. A sitting room, perhaps, don’t you think?”

  “Are you calling my dogs cowards, Tremayne?”

  “What do you think of this one — Kingston Market? I like the blues and reds in it.” Charlotte held up a swatch.

  Nick shook his head.

  “Mayhap coward is too harsh a word, madam. Careful, perhaps? Cautious? Judicious in placing their trust in the kindness of strangers?”

  Gillian glared at the servant even as Charlotte tossed aside another swatch, saying as she did so,“I don’t like this Swakely one at all, though. Much too busy, and it has yellow as a background. It wouldn’t do at all.”

  “Cowards, Tremayne?” Gillian demanded.

  “This leaf foil is pretty though. It has some nice shades of green in it.”

  Tremayne sighed. “Cowards, madam. If I might be so bold as to offer your ladyship a suggestion, his lordship did mention in passing that he had instructed Crouch to attend your ladyship on all your outings. I would be happy to inform Crouch that you desire his presence.”

  Gillian had hoped to escape without Crouch, who had voiced considerable opinions the day before about the wisdom of her paying a call on Lord Carlisle. She had finally extracted a promise from him that he would
not tattle on her to Noble by agreeing that she wouldn’t visit Carlisle unaccompanied. That was what Charlotte was for.

  “What am I for?” Her cousin looked up questioningly.

  “Nothing, it matters not. Fine, Tremayne, tell Crouch we’ll be going out.”

  “Well, that was fun,” Charlotte said, pushing the samples off her lap. “I think you’ll like our choices. Nick has a good eye for colors. Are we ready to leave? I made a list of things for you to ask Lord Carlisle, Gilly.”

  “What sorts of things?”

  “Here’s the list.” She handed Gillian a folded-up sheet of paper, then peered over her shoulder at it. “You’ll note the first item on the list is learning the names of Lord Weston’s mistresses.”

  “Ladybuds,” Gillian said with a quick look at Nick.

  “Ladybirds. Honestly, Gillian! The way you manacle the language is just disgraceful! Now, I’m not certain Lord Carlisle will know all their names, but you know how gentlemen are — they’re worse gossips than we women.”

  “Exactly. Um…you have Lady Weston written down here next.”

  “Yes, you said he made vague threats about Elizabeth, so he must have known her. Two birds with one bush.”

  Gillian blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re killing two birds with one bush. It’s an expression. Haven’t you ever heard it? It means that you are taking care of two things at the same time. I would have thought that even in the Colonies such a common expression was used.”

  Gillian opened her mouth to correct her cousin, then decided against it. “Mmmm…Income.” She looked up. “Why am I asking him about Noble’s income?”

  “Not Lord Weston’s income, his income.”

  “Why am I asking Lord Carlisle about his income?”

  “Because he’s an earl, silly, and as everyone knows, an earl in the hand is worth…well, something. The point is that Mama would never forgive me if I was to let a perfectly good earl slip through my fingers because you were too obstinate to ask him what he’s worth.”

  “Charlotte, the man may well be the one who is behind the attack on Noble! Would you want to marry someone with such a malformed and ill-natured character?”