A chill ran down Alex’s spine. “Which will begin as soon as he gets Liana alone.”
Daniel pinned him with a penetrating look and Alex realized he’d spoken her name aloud for the first time since the meeting with Lady McElreath. He regretted it almost immediately. The sound of her name on his lips magnified the urgency of the mission. Brought it home and made it personal. And Alex needed to separate himself from any hint of sentimentality. He had to think of her as a mission to be accomplished. Not Colin’s beloved sister. Not an innocent in desperate need of rescue.
Daniel resumed his theorizing. “He’s not going to travel any farther than the nearest bedchamber on his wedding night…”
“The nearest safe bedchamber,” Alex interjected.
Daniel nodded. “That means he’s going to be staying with someone he trusts. A friend. Someone who would enjoy playing host to Rothermere and his bride on Rothermere’s wedding night. Someone who might host the wedding as well as provide accommodations for the newlyweds.”
“Do evil vampires have friends?” Alex’s question dripped with sarcasm. “He must have drained them dry by now.”
“He has two boon companions,” Daniel said. “But only one has a London residence with a private chapel.”
“Oh, cripes!” Alex swore as he met Daniel’s gaze and they uttered in unison, “Ellsworth.”
Chapter Three
“Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.”
—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
Ellsworth Court, Ellsworth’s London residence was an impregnable monstrosity built after the Great Fire, during the reign of Charles II, of stone and brick and was a smaller version of a medieval castle. It was a dwelling meant to repel fire and enemies. It had no balconies or railings or ledges for men to climb.
He hated to admit it, but Alex was grateful for that and for the fact that he and Daniel hadn’t had to scale the castle walls to find out what they needed to know.
Lord Ellsworth was in residence and entertaining. That much was apparent—even from a distance.
For the past hour he and Daniel had watched from the concealment of a massive yew tree across the way as a steady stream of closed coaches had disgorged male guests. The conveyances, a mix of hired and privately owned, were all unmarked. There wasn’t a family crest or recognizable team of livestock in sight. And the male guests had all emerged from the vehicles heavily cloaked and with faces concealed by scarves so that only the eyes were visible.
“I’ve seen enough,” Alex nudged Daniel. “He’s having one of his private parties.”
Daniel agreed. “Could be a party celebrating the end of his bachelorhood. At any rate, something big is happening. Ellsworth has invited a crowd.”
“I doubt the old town has seen this many concealed faces since Guy Fawkes and his conspirators tried to blow up Parliament.”
Daniel smiled. He couldn’t recall if Guy Fawkes and the other members of the Gunpowder Plot had actually concealed their faces when they’d attempted to blow up the houses of government, but he understood Alex’s point. There were times when gentlemen felt the imperative not to be recognized or recognizable. Treason was one. Participating in a degenerate gathering was another. And the rumors around town indicated all of Rothermere’s and Ellsworth’s private parties were degenerate. “Should we try to gain entrance in the crush?”
Alex shook his head. “The risk of discovery is too great.”
Daniel sighed. “I agree. Our venture is too important.”
“Most of the guests are there for the food and drink,” Alex said. “Only a trusted few will be invited to stay to help Rothermere with the midnight festivities.”
Daniel looked askance at that. “Have you a source inside that circle?”
“My father did,” Alex confided. “Once. His source was later found dead in a Cheapside gutter.”
“That’s too bad,” Daniel offered.
“Yes, it was.” Alex didn’t offer further explanation and Daniel didn’t ask for more. They waited in tense silence for a few minutes longer while heavily cloaked late arrivals with faces hidden from prying eyes joined the secret bacchanalian festivities.
“We should come back at dawn to see who comes out without his face covering,” Alex suggested.
“The way things are going, we’ll still be here at dawn,” Daniel retorted.”
“We’ll be up,” he agreed, “but with any luck, we’ll be miles from here.”
“Luck seems to be in short supply tonight.”
“What a pessimist you’ve turned out to be,” Alex teased, giving Daniel a familiar punch in the upper arm. “Come on, the night is still young and we have much to accomplish before it’s over.”
Daniel nodded, then followed his companion as they slipped quietly away to continue the implementation of their plans to thwart Rothermere’s grand scheme.
* * *
He was crazy. Crazy enough to belong in Bedlam.
Alex sucked in a breath, trying desperately to dismiss the rapid calculations of distance and speed running through his head as his boot lost its purchase on the stone wall and he slipped several inches closer to the ground and into the man directly below him.
“Careful, old man!” Daniel yelped as Alex’s booted foot caught him on the right shoulder. “I’m down here and I’d rather not be used to cushion your fall.”
Alex scrambled, tightening his handhold as he sought and found a foothold. “You’re welcome to lead.”
“Then you could cushion my fall instead of me breaking yours.” Daniel managed a chuckle. “I warned you before we began that this wasn’t my forte.”
“Mine either,” Alex confessed as he grabbed hold of a stone pilaster and pulled himself over the balustrade. He lay panting on the tiled floor of their third balcony of the evening, surrounded by the intoxicating scent of orange blossoms. Remembering the cargo he carried, Alex quickly pushed himself onto his elbows and checked the circlet tied around his neck for damage. “So long as I’m sober.”
“Get me over this railing. If we make it to a tavern in one piece tonight, I’ll buy,” Daniel promised. “And if we do this again, we’ll wait until we’re good and properly foxed to attempt it.”
“We both belong in Bedlam.” Alex said as he reached out, grasped Daniel’s wrist and the waistband of his trousers and hauled him over the barrier. “This is madness.”
“The first two were madness.” Daniel lay flat on his stomach. “This is beyond madness.” He chuckled. “It’s something else entirely. And Miranda will kill me if she finds out about it.”
“Then she’d better not find out.” Alex sat back on his heels for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet. “And we’d best get on with it.”
Daniel groaned. “I was hoping to make it home to my duchess before daybreak. I planned to go home while you returned to Ellsworth Court to see who emerges from the castle uncovered.” Breaking and entering was turning out to be as exhausting and as fraught with danger as crossing the Channel and slipping into France twice a week. And he carried scars from that. One in particular…
“At the rate we’re going, I won’t make it back to Ellsworth Court at all. And if memory serves, you were with your duchess less than an hour ago,” Alex reminded him.
“With a room full of seamstresses in attendance,” Daniel pointed out. “Doing your bidding—” He adjusted the strap of the haversack slung around his neck and shoulder before shooting Alex a meaningful look. “Not mine.”
“Hoping for a bit of privacy with Her Grace, were you?” Alex teased.
“Always,” Daniel affirmed, before adding, “As Free Fellows, we shall sacrifice ourselves on the altar of duty at every opportunity in every way we can, in order to give and receive pleasure and to beget our heirs, and pray that we always find great pleasure and passion in doing so.”
“I cannot believe what’s become of our merry little band of free fellows…”
“Love, my friend.” Daniel’s voice
was barely audible, but the emotion behind his words was loud and clear. “For more than self or king and country.”
“As Free Fellows, we shall sacrifice ourselves on the altar of duty in order to beget our heirs, but we shall take no pleasure in the task. We shall look upon the act in the same manner as medicine that must be swallowed,” Alex quoted from the Official Charter of the Free Fellows League.
“Like you, I became a Fellow after I reached the age of majority,” Daniel said. “Unlike Griff, Jarrod, and Colin, who were still in short pants when they wrote the original, I subscribe to the revised Charter.”
Alex groaned. “I don’t remember passion in that enumeration.”
Daniel grinned at Alex. “A revision I added. And when you’re no longer the sole bachelor member, you’ll thank me for that.”
Alex managed a smile. “If I’m similarly blessed, I’ll gladly thank you.” Removing a long, thin blade from the sheath concealed in his boot, he slid it into the miniscule gap between the locked casement windows and tripped the latch. Alex eased the window open, then reached behind him. “Hand me your sack.”
“Shouldn’t you check to see if it’s the right room?” Daniel prompted.
Alex disappeared through the opening, then reappeared almost immediately. “It’s the right room. Now, give me your sack. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not be caught in here.”
Daniel pulled the bulky haversack from around his neck and handed it through the window to Alex.
“Come in and help me with this,” Alex called in an urgent whisper.
“I think I should keep a lookout for the night watch,” Daniel whispered back.
“If you get in here and help, there won’t be anything for the night watch to see,” Alex told him. “If you stay out there, he’ll see a housebreaker outside an open window. We’ve been fortunate so far. Let’s not push it. The room’s occupants are restless and if they awake, the jig is up.” He gazed down at the four-poster bed that held two young ladies. Alex was so intent on his contemplation of the room’s occupants that he didn’t realize Daniel had entered the chamber until Daniel moved to stand beside him.
“You can’t.” Daniel whispered, seeming to read Alex’s mind.
“It would be so much easier to scoop her up,” Alex replied.
“For us,” Daniel reminded him. “Not for her. Better to stick with the plan. She must be seen to be an innocent victim of a nefarious scheme to blackmail her father.”
“She is an innocent victim.” Alex turned to face him. “We’ve had to plan so quickly. So much could go wrong…” He frowned. “We could be in Scotland by morning and she’d be out of his reach.”
“But thoroughly ruined. And you’d be marked as the blackguard instead of Rothermere. The whispers and gossip would be endless and no matter what you said or did, or how many of us rallied beside her, her good name would be sullied and her reputation in tatters. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“What she deserves is a husband who will love and protect her.”
“And we’re going to see that she gets one.” Daniel placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Let’s get busy. It’s going to be a long night.”
Alex nodded, then reached into the haversack, pulled out the contents and began spreading them over the foot of the bed. “Here. Do something with these.” He dropped several articles in Daniel’s gloved hand, then tucked a small decorative box and a note beneath the coverlet beside the occupant’s hand.
He waited until Daniel finished his task, then removed the circlet tied around his neck and carefully placed it atop the other articles on the bed.
“All done?” Daniel asked before turning for the window.
“Yes.” Alex took one last glance around the room, then followed Daniel out the window.
Chapter Four
“Do your duty, and leave the rest to heaven.”
—Pierre Corneille, 1606-1684
Lady Liana McElreath peered outside the window of the closed coach at the dark, overcast sky and the steady flow of raindrops bouncing off the shop fronts and forming puddles on the cobblestones, only to be churned up and splattered by the horses’ hooves and the wheels of the carriage. Her wedding day had dawned cold, overcast, and rainy. It was a dreary, bone-chillingly cold day perfectly suited to her mood and the occasion.
If she were a different sort of person―a superstitious sort―she would take the fact that the sun refused to shine on her wedding day as an omen. And if she were a weaker sort of person she’d give into the fit of nerves she was fighting and throw herself out of the vehicle and under the carriage wheels and be done with it. But she had never been the sort to succumb to tears and melodrama. And she wasn’t going to start now. She was a Scotswoman and made of sterner stuff. She would endure whatever she was forced to endure without tears and with her head held high. She would not go to her wedding kicking and screaming or wailing like a banshee… She was a lady and a McElreath.
“Daughter, you do understand…” She jumped as the other occupant of the carriage placed his hand on her shoulder.
Ignoring the pleading note in her father’s voice, Liana turned to face him, her stark green-eyed gaze meeting his contrite blue one. “I understand perfectly, Papa.”
How could she not? After two full London seasons without a suitable offer of marriage, she was in danger of ending up on the shelf. She knew her brother, Colin, had arranged a generous dowry for her, but Liana also knew her papa’s reputation as a prodigious gambler and spendthrift made would-be suitors think twice about offering for her.
As long as Colin was willing to pay Papa’s bills, Liana’s future was as bright as that of any other lady about to begin her third season, but should her brother’s largesse cease, her papa’s habits could prove costly for any man Liana might marry. And would-be suitors were naturally wary of that.
Her papa needed a way out of his financial troubles and an offer of marriage from a wealthy marquess had been too tempting for him to pass up.
Still… Liana bit her bottom lip. She ought to be grateful someone had finally asked for her—grateful that she would begin her third Season with a wedding her family desperately needed and that her future was secure. But the pain of her father’s callous betrayal hurt so much she found it hard to look at him with anything resembling affection. How could her papa care so little about her?
“I knew I could count on you to understand the situation,” Lord McElreath patted his daughter’s hand and sighed, his relief at her quiet answer almost palpable. “You’ve always been a sensible lass.”
Sensible. Calm. Quiet. Steady. Good. Reliable. Those were the words that came to mind when her family thought of her. Calm, quiet, steady, reliable, good, sensible Liana. No one ever thought of her as beautiful or radiant or sparkling or tempestuous. She might inspire admiration for her character and her steadfast qualities, but that wasn’t enough to attract a suitor willing to overlook her father’s shortcomings.
A girl would have to inspire passion in her suitors for that and Liana was quite certain she didn’t inspire passion.
“Maman explained everything to me, Papa. It’s a matter of economics. You’ve wagered and lost everything of value we’ve ever owned. It was only a matter of time before you wagered the only thing of value you have left. Your family. And now, it’s happened. You wagered me away to a stranger so your gaming debt would be forgiven and you might avoid disgrace and scandal.”
“I did no such thing!” Knowing his daughter spoke the truth didn’t prevent the ninth Earl of McElreath from bristling at her tone. He was a man long spoilt by those who loved him—his parents, his boon companions, and his wife and children. He’d spent a lifetime being coddled and cosseted, protected and indulged and had long grown accustomed to being accommodated. He was not accustomed to the hard, disapproving looks he’d received from the members of his household since the announcement of Liana’s nuptials had appeared in the Morning Chronicle.
Not that he had ever pai
d any attention to disapproving looks from anyone except members of his family. And disapproving looks from his family were so few and far between that in his feverish pursuit of the riches to be gained at the gaming tables, Lord McElreath had always been able to shrug them off as well.
Until now.
Ever since the announcement of Liana’s betrothal, his sweet Colette had looked at him with contempt in her eyes and repeatedly spurned his affections. For the first time in nearly thirty years of marriage, Colette had threatened to take their younger daughter, Caroline, and leave. Lord McElreath squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to block out the memory of the promise his wife had made when he had told her what he’d done.
“If you insist on doing this, I’ll not stay with you another day, Donald.”
“Now, Puss, don’t be making idle threats,” he’d murmured as he’d tried to wheedle his way back into Colette’s good graces. “We married for better or worse and you’ve stuck with me all these years through thin or flush. We’ll get through this. You’ll see.” He’d smiled at her. “Things will be better once Liana’s securely wed.”
“Better for whom, Donald?” Colette had pinned him with her penetrating gaze and he’d felt exactly like an insect suffocated in a jar before being labeled and affixed to mat in a display case like those he’d seen in natural history collections at the British Museum. Dung Beetle Earl McElreathus.
“For all of us, Puss.”
A Bachelor Still Page 4