If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages)

by Amanda Forester

  “It’s not what it looks like,” said Richard, adjusting his pantaloons. He correctly surmised who had alerted Jane and cast Kate a murderous glare.

  The woman finished adjusting herself and smoothed a hand over her hair, which had not one strand out of place—Kate could only guess she had years of practice at the art of maintaining deceptive appearances. Indeed, had they not walked in on the activity, she would not have looked as if she had been doing anything untoward.

  “Now don’t get in a pet, my dear,” said the woman to Jane. “You are very young yet, but even an innocent such as yourself should know how the world works. You really oughtn’t go where you don’t belong, for you will only see things you do not wish to see.”

  “I think it is past time for you to remove yourself,” growled Kate.

  The woman gave them a serene yet superior smile. “I shall see you next week, Sir Richard,” she said over her shoulder.

  Despite Jane being right there, Richard gave her a quick nod. The woman glided out of the room, her beautiful face a picture of poise and confidence. Jane, on the other hand, had gone red and her neck was turning rather blotchy. She took a deep gulp of air as if she were a fish tossed out of the water onto the cold stones of death.

  Kate feared she might have to cause Richard bodily harm for this. While she could not count herself one of Jane’s close confidantes, she was still a friend, and Kate had so few of them, she felt a fierce loyalty to protect her.

  “She’s right, you know,” said Richard, straightening his cravat. “You really ought not go opening doors and sticking your pretty little nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “The only place I don’t belong is anywhere near you,” cried Jane.

  Kate fought the urge to applaud Jane for standing up to him.

  “Now, don’t get it into that head of yours to do anything rash,” said Richard with an air of contemptuous disdain. “I don’t know what you expected, but this is how it is, my dear. I regret that you saw something you didn’t wish to see, but I think it best that we just forget it happened. In the future, take better care to keep yourself away from places you ought not to go, and I will never mention this again after we’re married.”

  “I do not think you quite understand, Sir Richard. There will be no marriage. There is no way that I would ever consider marrying you now.” Jane ground out the words through gritted teeth.

  “Don’t be such a little goose. Of course we will be married. Honestly, my dear, you have no other choice. I don’t wish to be ugly about it, but you force my hand. If you do not go through with the wedding, I shall sue you for breach of contract.”

  Jane gasped, tears springing to her eyes.

  “That is most unfortunate,” said Kate. “For it means that the only way for us be rid of you is to make you disappear.”

  Richard gave her another look of poisonous contempt. “What are you prattling on about?”

  “My dear man, my brother has spent the past many years as a rather successful privateer. If need be, you would not be the first man he has had to kill.”

  “You cannot threaten me,” demanded Richard, but Kate noted with some satisfaction that he’d gone a shade or two paler. Of course Robert would no doubt balk at killing the man outright, but Sir Richard didn’t know that. If Robert thought Jane’s honor had been besmirched, he could threaten the man to a duel, if Wynbrook didn’t get there first. Or she could take care of the situation in her own way. Kate had no shortage of ideas for how to kill the man.

  “In no way did I intend to threaten you, Sir Richard. But if you so much as whisper any scandal about Lady Jane, I swear to you that you will not be able to propagate your seed ever again. Be assured that you cannot endeavor to succeed against Lady Jane without suffering a most intimate loss. My brother and I are great friends of the Wynbrook family, and we take their care and protection very seriously. You have nothing to gain here and everything to lose. Do not ever inconvenience Jane again.”

  Richard’s eyes bugged out from his face and a vein in his temple pulsed with anger. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but apparently thought better of it and shut it again with a snap, adjusting his cravat once more. “What lovely friends you have, my dear,” he said, addressing Jane.

  “Yes,” said Jane, linking her arm with Kate’s. “I do have the very best of friends.” She turned to Kate. “Though perhaps I am not as good a judge of character as I thought, and perhaps I have not recognized who my friends truly are.”

  Kate was not accustomed to being appreciated and had not expected Jane to thank her for her interference. She was relieved and happily surprised Jane would still consider her a friend.

  “Thank you,” she said simply to Jane. They turned and walked toward the door. At the threshold, Kate looked over her shoulder to where Richard remained planted in the middle of the room, his fists balled at his sides. If ever a man was plotting revenge, it was he.

  Jane’s lower lip began to tremble and Kate feared she was beginning to lose the admirable pluck she had shown before Sir Richard. She needed to get Jane out of the house without anyone noticing her distress.

  They found Tristan, and it only took one glance at Jane for him to spring into action. He might not have been the best choice for raiding a French frigate, but the man did know how to navigate the shoals of society safely. Within minutes, Tristan had made up a plausible excuse to their hostess, called for their coach, and collected their respective brothers.

  Kate thought it best not to tell the men what had occurred until they were all safely on the way back home in the coach and out of the danger of the ballroom, to avoid such scenes as they may later come to regret. It was good she had, for at the telling of the story, Jane burst into tears and Wynbrook had to be physically restrained by Robert and Tristan to prevent him from jumping out of the carriage and running back to murder Sir Richard.

  By the time they returned home, Wynbrook was still seething and poor Jane had dissolved into silent sobs. Kate immediately took Jane upstairs and deposited her with Ellen, hopeful that her sister could soothe her better than Kate’s ineffectual attempts.

  Kate returned downstairs to find the men in full war-room negotiations. Robert had changed into his captain’s coat with a brace of pistols slung across one shoulder and his sword strapped to his side. Wynbrook and Tristan shared looks of grave concern, expressions she had rarely seen on their faces. It reminded her forcibly of the last time she and Robert had come to visit and everything had ended in tragedy. She truly was bad luck.

  “There is no way around it. He must be bought off,” said Wynbrook, not yet noting her presence.

  “Worthless bloody bastard,” said Tristan and then coughed at seeing her enter the room. “Sorry there. Didn’t realize you were in the room.”

  “No musket?” she asked her brother, boldly walking forward.

  “You’re right, we need one,” said Tristan with a grim smile.

  “Thank you, Lady Kate, for bringing this to our attention, but we must handle it from here,” said Wynbrook darkly.

  “Yes, of course,” said Kate, biting back a challenge to Wynbrook’s belief that she was of no use in a crisis. “But you must make Sir Richard sign a contract agreeing not to sue before any payment is made.” She also had come to the conclusion that risking a lawsuit was too costly, particularly for Jane’s reputation, and murder was slightly too illegal, though no less than he deserved.

  “You are right,” agreed Wynbrook. “What we need is your cousin to draw up a document for us. You said yesterday Mr. Ashton was not available?”

  Kate’s pulsed increased. Mr. Ashton was not a safe topic to discuss. She exchanged a glance with her brother. “Unfortunately, he had to go out of Town to convalesce,” she said at the same time her brother said, “Holiday.”

  At their confused looks, Kate attempted to concoct a plausible explanation, “He is going
on holiday to recuperate from a lingering illness.”

  Fortunately, the Arlington brothers were too focused on their sister to question the story. “Too bad. Could use a solicitor about now,” said Tristan pointedly. Robert also pinned her with a singular look.

  Kate knew what they wanted, but to do so might reveal herself. She hoped, nay expected, to live out her life without Wynbrook ever knowing several things, and this was one of them.

  “We will need to find another solicitor. And fast,” commented Wynbrook.

  Use another solicitor? Kate waffled between her desire for anonymity and her need to prepare the document correctly, which meant she must do it herself.

  “I do believe Ash drew up a contract for one of our officers who found himself in a similar difficulty. I have a copy of the contract and can make one for you.” Kate dashed out of the room before anyone could give her words too much thought.

  It took her only a brief time to compose the document. The truth that she had created the person of her cousin and had been acting as not only her brother’s, but also Wynbrook’s financial adviser for years under the name of Mr. Ashton, was not a discussion she wished to have, now or ever.

  More secrets. She was accustomed to it.

  Kate returned to the men, wondering if Wynbrook would question how the document had been created so quickly, but he seemed in no mood for debate and was only pleased to have it in hand. Kate was taken aback by the appearance of the men. Wynbrook had armed himself as well, a sword at his side, the telltale bulge of a pistol in his breast pocket. Tristan, the elite of fashion, was positively unrecognizable with a cutlass in hand.

  “Are you going to speak with Sir Richard or storm the Bastille?” she asked.

  “Whatever comes to mind,” said Tristan cheerfully.

  “The situation will be handled,” said Robert.

  “Don’t wait up,” said Wynbrook in a tone that was almost a challenge.

  As if there were any chance of her going to sleep now.

  Nine

  Kate wandered about Wynbrook House waiting for the gentlemen to return. Ellen and Jane had gone to bed, and the servants had retired for the night. There was no question of trying to sleep, not with her brother, Tristan, and Wynbrook confronting the worst sort of man. She was not afraid any harm would come to them. Robert knew what he was about and would keep the others safe. She did have a concern that the outcome would result in one or all of them having to escape to the Continent for doing something untoward, though completely deserved, to Sir Richard. After meandering through the portrait hall, the ballroom, and the library, it was simply inevitable that Kate would find herself at the door of Wynbrook’s study.

  Kate entered the study, looking around her to make sure she was not seen, though she knew she was alone. She walked to the desk and held a candle up to the oak bookcase. Ledgers. Beautiful ledgers. When everything in the world was unraveling, numbers stayed the same. Numbers always added up the same way, and unlike the baffling field of human interactions, there was only one right answer.

  She had always found arithmetic comforting, a convenient eccentricity. After they were orphaned at twelve, they discovered their steward had stolen everything, leading to the unfortunate incident in Fleet Prison. Arithmetic had saved her and their fortunes. She had a knack for it and for investing wisely. She had ensured they had been able to scrape by when Robert went to sea shortly after their release from prison. She managed the finances during his career in the Royal Navy and then when he resigned his commission to study at Cambridge. Even after he had turned to the more lucrative business of privateering, she had kept the books and doubled every doubloon they earned.

  Kate stared at the ledgers of the Earl of Wynbrook. She was familiar with his financial holdings, since she had been advising him for years. When Wynbrook had asked Robert if he could contact Mr. Ashton for advice on a financial matter, she should have said no. Instead, she had taken up a correspondence with Wynbrook, assisting him with some financial difficulties.

  At the time, she had told herself she simply wanted to help him since the loss of his parents was so new, and yet…it had been more than that. She ran her finger down the spine of the red leather ledger. She had wanted to maintain some connection with him—and if he ever found out, he would no doubt hate her for it.

  She had no right. She should not be here. How could she explain if he caught her? She fingered the ledger and suddenly it was in her hands and then spread open on the desk. She breathed deeply of the seductive scent of leather binding.

  She paused for a moment, but hearing nothing in the house, she scanned down the column, mentally adding and subtracting the sums in her head. She sat at the desk, dipped a quill in the ink, and corrected math errors as unobtrusively as she could.

  The process brought forcibly back to mind the last time she had sat before these ledgers six years ago. It had been a few nights after the horrible accident. She had wandered the house, distressed, wanting to do something to help but not knowing what she could possibly do. She’d wandered into the study and found the financial ledger open on the desk with some glaring math errors. She had not been able to stop herself from fixing them—and then going back through the book to fix many more. She had thought she could help the family and no one would ever know.

  She had been terribly wrong.

  She could not stop the flood of memories that engulfed her, reminding her of things she had tried hard to forget. She was nineteen again, wracked with guilt over the horrible accident that took the lives of Lord and Lady Wynbrook.

  Six years earlier, Kate had sat at the desk of old Wynbrook’s study. It was the day they had laid Lady and Lord Wynbrook to rest. Kate had known she had no business entering Lord Wynbrook’s study, but ledgers had always been a comfort to her. The multiple math errors she had discovered were too tempting to ignore. She had needed to do something, fix something, and what she could do was correct the books.

  John’s young sisters, Ellen and Jane, remained upstairs, fighting for their lives, trying to recover from their injuries. Kate bent over her work, as if correcting math errors could heal them faster.

  Suddenly, John Arlington staggered into the study in an uncharacteristic state of disrepair, his shirt open, his cravat missing. Kate was so surprised to see him in anything less than his immaculate, fashionable attire, she did not do anything to try to conceal her actions but froze before the ledger book, quill in hand.

  “What are you doing?” He leaned heavily on the desk across from her, and she finally dropped the quill back into the inkwell. “This is the ledger of the Earl of Wynbrook. You have no right looking at it.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. I was only trying to help.” Help that she had thought no one would ever see.

  “What are you doing awake at this hour?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. I wanted to do something; I wanted to help somehow.” Kate stood and walked around the desk. It was time to make a hasty retreat. “I do apologize,” she murmured as she passed John.

  “I don’t know how to go on without him.” His voice was but a whisper, his face turned away from her. She was not sure if he was speaking to her or to himself.

  Kate blinked away her own emotion, his anguish wrenching at her heart. “Your parents were the best of people.”

  John nodded and reached one hand for the desk as if trying to hold himself up. He gulped air; the pain on his face was etched clear and deep.

  “You shall survive this,” Kate encouraged.

  John could only shake his head, his teeth clamped tightly together.

  Kate was utterly unpracticed in the art of giving comfort but could not leave him in such despair. She patted his arm, and John covered her hand with his own. She knew she should take her hand away, but it did not seem kind, and more importantly, she didn’t want to.

  “What am I to do?” John murmured so softly, Kate
could barely hear. He took her hand in his, turning it until they were holding hands. It felt good. Right. Even though she knew they should not have been alone together at night. She had never before experienced such a war between her head and her heart.

  “Forgive me. I am in no state for company.” He released her hand, staggered to a settee, and collapsed onto it. Kate began to walk to the open door. It was past time to leave. Behind her on the settee came the quiet noises of a young man, hardly more than a teenager himself, trying hard not to be heard crying.

  She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, closed the door, and walked back to him. She sat down awkwardly beside him as he turned his face away. She was unsure what to do but knew she could not abandon him at such a time.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said simply.

  She touched a hand to his shoulder and suddenly he turned, wrapping his arms around her, leaning his head on her shoulder. She was surprised to be engulfed by such a large, muscular man. Was this an embrace? She had never experienced one before. Unsure of her movements, she wrapped her own arms around him. She had never before been so close to a man. The strangest part was that it was not strange at all. It felt natural, comforting, though she could never remember being consoled by anyone in such a manner.

  John held her tight, his shoulders shaking. She responded by holding him tighter, rubbing her hands up and down his back. She was powerfully aware of his unique, intoxicating scent. She did not generally find the smell of men appealing, but with John, she breathed deeply.

  Though she was supposed to be providing solace, she found comfort in his arms. He did not blame her. He was not angry at her. She took another breath and he did the same. He was no longer trembling but moved slightly, so that his cheek rested against hers.

  The stubble on his face brushed against her cheek, rough and scratchy, yet she welcomed it. Every part of her that touched him burned with a heat that went straight to her core. She had no words for this strange, new experience, and so she clung to him, waiting and willing to experience whatever came next.