The Earl's Secret

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “Good morning, sir,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “May I help you with something?” He eyed her extended hand and frowned. Ah, a high-stickler. Most likely from London.

  “Good morning. I am seeking Mr. Hobbs-Smith,” he said with a cursory bow, but without taking her hand. His accent confirmed his origins.

  “Mr. Hobbs-Smith has not arrived yet. I am Miss Fairchild. Can I be of service?”

  Anna observed him as he thought on her words. Tall, taller even than Nathaniel, this stranger carried an air of anger and danger as he shook his head. When his gaze met hers, the piercing blue stare rendered her breathless. She’d never felt such a concentration of attention before and her words jumbled in her mouth, unable to right themselves. Finally, Lesher opened the door and whispered of Nathaniel’s impending arrival, breaking the spell being woven that robbed her of her wits.

  “Can I offer you some refreshments? Mr….?” Anna waited for some name to attach to this man. She needed to know his identity.

  “This is a business matter, Miss Fairchild. No refreshments are needed.” He tugged off his gloves, crushed them impatiently in his grasp and examined every inch of the office. Lifting the hat from his head, he tossed the gloves inside it and laid it on the desk.

  Did he think her an imbecile to not know the expectations at a business discussion? She was simply trying to be polite and he was treating her as though she were a…woman.

  Anna detested the imperious attitude of those of his class, which she supposed must be noble. The only working women he encountered were most likely his servants or store clerks or those who earned their money on their backs.

  She gasped as her thoughts went in an inappropriate and unexpected direction. What had ever conjured up such things?

  “Are you in distress, Miss Fairchild?” he asked. His gaze did not soften, but there was something resembling concern in it now.

  “I am well, sir. I only just remembered a previous commitment.” She hoped the blush was not so apparent to him as she went back to the desk, rearranged some of the papers there and picked up her book. “Mr. Hobbs-Smith is soon to arrive. If you will excuse me…”

  Anna’s escape was in sight, her hand on the knob of the door, when it opened and revealed Nathaniel standing there. She pulled it back and allowed Nathaniel to enter.

  “Nathan…Mr. Hobbs-Smith, you have a visitor,” she announced to warn him of the presence behind her.

  “So I was told,” he replied, tilting his head toward those in the outer office who stared and waited, not even bothering to hide their curiosity.

  Nathaniel walked past her and she shut the door. Now her own interest forced her to stay and discover the intent of the mysterious stranger. When she turned back, she found Nathaniel, with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide, simply staring at the man as though he’d seen the very specter of death.

  “Mr. Hobbs-Smith,” the visitor exclaimed as he reached for Nathaniel’s hand. “And I was not certain you would remember me from our previous acquaintance.”

  Nathaniel did not refuse, exactly, but offered no enthusiasm or resistance to his greeting. Watching the man closely now, Anna was certain she glimpsed some devilish enjoyment in his gaze at Nathaniel’s obvious discomfort.

  “Ah,” Nathaniel finally mumbled as he shook the man’s hand and then tried to release it. “My…my…” he stuttered.

  “Mr. David Archer, at your service,” the man replied, still grasping Nathaniel’s hand.

  A gentleman only? Not a nobleman? Glancing at him, she noticed the expensive material and fine cut of his coat and boots, the well-groomed appearance and haughty bearing. Surprised at her misjudgment, Anna waited to learn more.

  “My memory failed me, sir. Forgive me,” Nathaniel said. Realizing that she was still in the room, he turned and began to introduce her. “And this is…”

  “Miss Anna Fairchild,” Mr. Archer said. “We have met already. Since Miss Fairchild has another commitment, I would suggest we allow her to leave.”

  The dismissal, bordering on curt, was however accomplished very smoothly. Now that her escape was assured, Anna realized she did not wish to leave. Something was amiss here, for there was a strong and palpable ambient between this man and Nathaniel, and she wanted to know the truth of it. When Nathaniel did not voice an objection to her departure, she knew she would not be able to stay.

  She would simply need to discover more about this man and this business he pursued when she dined with Nathaniel and Clarinda this evening. With his sister as her ally, Nathaniel would stand no chance of keeping secrets.

  Mr. Archer’s disconcerting way of gazing at her, as though he could see and hear all her thoughts, convinced her of the wisdom in a strategic retreat. Glancing from one to the other, she noticed for the first time that they were opposites in many ways in appearance.

  Nathaniel was tall and thin, with sea-green eyes and blond curls that made many a woman swoon. She knew because she had witnessed it many times—his angelic good looks and pleasing manners nearly defeated her own efforts to stay out of the bonds of marriage.

  Mr. Archer would make women swoon, but she suspected that it would be in fear or from intimidation, for Anna could feel the effects of his intense blue gaze and muscular build on her own calm senses. Although his clothing was the height of fashion and design, he wore his light brown hair cut shorter than was the current rage. Somehow, though, it fit him, for attempts to soften his appearance with longer hair or the curling style that Nathaniel sported would have met with failure.

  Lightness and darkness.

  Angel and devil.

  Nathaniel and Mr. David Archer.

  Intrigued more than she would like to admit, Anna knew she must depart. “I will return at one, Mr. Hobbs-Smith.”

  “Very good, Miss Fairchild.”

  Anna closed the door and stood there waiting, impolite as such behavior was, to hear anything spoken between the two men. She wanted some clue as to their past acquaintance, as Mr. Archer referred to it, or to their business. When silence was the only answer, she glanced at the textbook in her hands and knew she would have to wait.

  As she made her way to the school, she hoped and prayed that Nathaniel was not so jostled by this man’s arrival that he revealed too much to him. Nathaniel tended to become unnerved under too much pressure. They must stick to the story they’d concocted to cover the truth.

  Too much and too many depended on it.

  Chapter Four

  David did not immediately meet Nathaniel’s gaze, his very stunned gaze, preferring to allow his old friend to stew in his own juices for a bit. Instead, he turned from watching the lovely young woman leave and walked over to the nearest set of bookshelves, pretending to examine several of the volumes stacked there. He fought the smile that threatened as the sound of Nathaniel’s shallow, nervous breathing became louder and unmistakable. When he deemed that enough time had passed and that Nathaniel was suitably ill at ease, David pivoted and faced him.

  “Your venture seems to be quite profitable for you, Nathaniel.” He nodded at the impressive collection on the bookshelves that lined three walls of the office.

  “Trey…I can explain—” he stuttered out.

  “I would not have expected your father to support you in this endeavor,” David said, interrupting Nathaniel. “My father speaks highly of the baron’s Tory attitudes.”

  “My father is extremely Tory in his attitudes until money is involved. Then he has little problem with his son being involved in industry.”

  A certain bitterness filled Nathaniel’s voice as he answered, and David wondered at it. The Hobbs-Smiths would certainly not be the first family of noble origins to be punting in the River Tick. And that situation undoubtedly caused the baron to allow, or at least overlook, this endeavor of his son’s if it brought in funds or did not drain those already burdened. A sore subject for any man, so David changed it to one of a lighter nature.

  “Who was that woman? Miss Fa
irchild?”

  “Anna?”

  Nathaniel’s cheeks colored as he spoke the woman’s name. Her first name. And spoke it as someone very familiar would say it. David observed his old friend as he appeared to search for an acceptable explanation.

  “She—Miss Fairchild, rather—is an old schoolroom friend of my sister.”

  Ah, completely acceptable but devoid of any reasons for the woman’s presence here and her sense of familiarity, even control, over this office.

  “She, Miss Fairchild, seemed more a fixture than a visitor here. Does she hold a position with you?” David asked, allowing all the nuances of his words to strike Nathaniel. Although why he thought she might be someone in a more personal relationship with Nathaniel, he did not know. Something in the way she was uneasy with his presence. Something in the way she pursued her line of questioning as to his visit. Something in the way she moved about the room.

  “Although it is not widely known, Trey, Miss Fairchild helps me with some of the articles in the Gazette. She is a teacher and has great skills in writing and editing.”

  “So, she is your secretary then?”

  While he waited on a reply, David walked over and sat down in the chair facing Nathaniel, who was now standing behind the desk. Then, he leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.

  “I am not certain what you are trying to insinuate about Miss Fairchild, but I do not appreciate your efforts to somehow besmirch her reputation because of her presence here.”

  This was not the Nathaniel he remembered. This one was boldly standing up for a woman’s honor. Interesting.

  “Consider your remonstration a success, Nate,” he said, nodding. “I am simply trying to ascertain who does what in your business so I know where to address my own complaints about a besmirched reputation.”

  David was gifted with a rapid change in Nate’s appearance and behavior. He’d not seen a man faint in a very long time, but Nate appeared ready to do so. Then, in an instant, the man gathered himself together, stood and cleared his throat.

  “I am in charge here and any compliments or complaints should come to me.”

  Although the distance between them was only a yard or two, David felt as though he were facing Boney across the battlefield on the Continent. A definite chill fell between them and David wondered if he had misjudged his friend. Better to step back from the breach and approach it differently than to lose a battle so early in this engagement.

  “Then I will address them to you if need be.” He stood, reached over to his hat for his gloves and pulled them on. Placing his hat under his arm, he casually said, “While I frame those possible complaints, you could give me Mr. Goodfellow’s directions if you would be so kind.”

  “Mr. Goodfellow?”

  “As his publisher, you must know where I can find the man.”

  Nathaniel stuttered through several possible replies as David watched and then settled on one. “As I said, if you have a complaint, you may give it to me and I will see that it is handled.”

  Collecting information was his first priority and David sensed that his attempts would now be unsuccessful. He nodded and strode to the door. “I will most certainly do that,” he began, pulling open the door. “I will call on you in a day or two to discuss our business.”

  A few days and Nathaniel would be ready to babble. In their schooldays, he never performed well under pressure and so David did not doubt that he would be rattled enough from this encounter to allow some items about the elusive Mr. Goodfellow to escape. A few days and David would have a better idea of his opponent and how to undermine the fellow’s efforts in the press.

  Lifting his hat and placing it low on his forehead, David turned away without another word and left the office without closing the door.

  A few days and the information he sought would be his.

  The Earl of Treybourne!

  Nathaniel waited for Collins to pull the door closed and then collapsed into his chair. Meeting the earl in London at a time and place of his choosing was one thing. Having him walk into the office in Edinburgh with no warning, and while Anna was present, was quite another. So much was at stake. Nathaniel clasped his hands together to control the shaking.

  With a glance at the clock, he ignored the hour and decided that a wee dram would help immensely. Reaching for the bottom drawer of his desk, he took out the bottle kept there for those necessary moments such as this one. He poured a small measure into a glass, also kept for emergencies, and swallowed it down quickly. The strong, burning liquid slid down his throat and into his stomach and he waited for it to settle his nerves. Another mouthful and he decided that two were enough…for now. As he calmed, his jumbled thoughts also began to clear and he saw what had escaped him before.

  David Lansdale, the Earl of Treybourne, was here in Edinburgh and using another name.

  Could he not wish his identity known?

  Nathaniel’s spirits rose a bit at this insight. Trey had something to hide and a reason to hide it. Could it be? A weakness in the formerly impenetrable armor of the Lansdale family?

  Of course, if he were playing least in sight, it would be extremely difficult to locate Trey. As he realized this, Nathaniel jumped to his feet and ran to the window, hoping to catch sight of Trey’s coach or even horse. Throwing open the window, he searched the streets below.

  The crowds and busyness of the thoroughfare made it impossible to see him, if he were still close by that is. Sinking back into his chair, he knew that he would wait on Trey to make his next appearance. Running his fingers through his hair, Nathaniel closed his eyes and leaned his head back. A dull painful tension made his forehead begin to throb with the promise of headache.

  Why was Trey here incognito? Why not come and threaten him and his fledgling publication with all the influence and power of the Earl of Treybourne and his father, the Marquess of Dursby? Surely, he was not afraid of the essays he—the Gazette—published about him? Certain that the earl would not stoop to underhanded tactics or any dishonorable actions, Nathaniel shook his head. This surprise appearance made no sense unless…unless…

  The earl was worried!

  Nathaniel could not keep his mirth contained now and he laughed out loud at all the possibilities in this situation. From their time together at the university, he would never have expected Trey to act in this manner.

  Knowing that Trey had a weakness and was worried enough to avoid being recognized in his perceived enemy’s territory lightened his mood. He would go about business in his usual habits and be better prepared for the earl’s next approach. Nathaniel reached over and tightened the cap on the whisky bottle before replacing it in the lowest drawer. But the earl’s subterfuge caused him another problem—Anna.

  Did he share this knowledge with her or wait to discover Trey’s intentions? If Trey simply wanted to pace and growl over Nathaniel’s publication of essays that were, at the least, uncomplimentary, so be it. Nathaniel could handle that on his own and Anna need not know that her—their—nemesis in print had stood before them. If Trey wanted something more, some capitulation on his part as publisher or some revelation that might expose Anna and put her person or her reputation in danger, then Nathaniel knew he could rise to the challenge and protect the woman he hoped to marry.

  For no matter how much she protested to the opposite, Anna would come to a point in her life when she needed more than causes to offer her the sense of fulfillment she pursued with relentless intent. She would, at some time, come to realize and understand that a woman’s happiness and sense of purpose in life came from her husband and family. And Nathaniel knew that his offer of marriage would be accepted.

  He could afford to wait. The magazine was growing in popularity and Anna was beginning to be weighed down by her commitments to those less fortunate served by her school and the demands of formulating and writing the articles to further her causes. It was only a matter of time before she realized the value of marriage and husband and, perchance, the earl’s
appearance would hasten that epiphany. He could only hope for such a thing.

  David entered his rented lodgings south of the Old Town and handed his hat and gloves to Harley. His valet, the only one of his personal servants to accompany him here to Edinburgh, appeared quite put-upon as he now was forced into service as doorman and footman and butler. Unwilling to expose his presence, the Earl of Treybourne’s presence, here in Scotland, he’d decided against hiring on too many servants to staff the house. Servants talked and word would soon spread if he were not careful. He hoped to gather the needed information and be at his hunting box before anyone other than Nathaniel and Ellerton knew he was spending any time at all in Edinburgh.

  This house was not as spacious or well-appointed as the one he maintained in London, but it would do. In spite of the grumblings of one servant, it would actually do quite nicely. Located a short distance from both the Old Town and New Town, these premises would allow him access and, alternatively, privacy, as needed.

  “Harley, did you send word to the man I requested?” David strode into the study and tugged at his cravat. He stood by the desk and searched through some papers, looking for the name his man-of-business had suggested to him as someone who could conduct discreet investigations.

  “I did, my lord. He should arrive at half past one.” Harley looked him over and wrinkled his face in disdain. “I shall lay out some hot water and fresh linen.”

  Rather than argue the point about his appearance, David nodded and sat down, examining the papers he’d brought. Discretion would indeed be necessary and he was glad that he’d sent Ellerton on to the hunting box to await his arrival. Since their mutual friend Jonathan Drake, the Earl of Hillgrove, would join him in the Cairngorms, Ellerton would remain occupied and entertained by the diversions offered there while David had the freedom from surveillance to pursue his other interests, namely one Mr. A. J. Goodfellow.