David reached up, but before he could use the knocker, the door opened revealing a footman. “Good evening, sir. How may I assist you?”
“Please tell Mr. Hobbs-Smith that Mr. David Archer is calling, if he is available?”
Following the man into the foyer, David took off his hat and waited as the footman went off to deliver his message. The house was not grand, but stylish and modern in its design. Stairs led up to the first floor and several short halls led off to various rooms on this ground floor. From the snatches of conversation he could hear emanating from a chamber through the nearest doorway, Nate had company and was not done dinner yet. Only a moment later, Nate followed the footman back to the foyer.
“Mr. Archer, is there a problem?”
David met Nate’s gaze and decided on the direct approach. “There may be. That’s why I am here. We need to talk.”
A burst of laughter from the other room reminded David that Nate had company and this might not be the best time to discuss the matter at hand. “Perhaps I could return when your guests have departed?”
“Only Miss Fairchild will depart, for the others are my sister and her husband and they, along with their two children, are my guests. So, if this matter is so important that it brought you to my home at night, let us step into my study and discuss it.”
Before either of them moved, the door opened and Miss Fairchild walked toward them. Her face glowed and, instead of the dark-colored day gowns in which he usually saw her dressed, this night found her in a charming, pale yellow dress that showed off her hair and eyes exquisitely. And the gracefulness of her neck. And the swell of her breasts as they pushed against the still-demure edge of that dress. With her hair pulled up and arranged to allow some of the curls the freedom to follow the curves of her cheeks, she looked…delicious. He swallowed deeply and shifted his stance to discreetly accommodate the other part of him that was appreciating her womanly attributes.
Simply delicious.
“Miss Fairchild,” he greeted her with a bow. “A pleasure to see you once more this day.”
“Mr. Archer, I am glad you are here. I wanted to thank you once more for this morning. It was a lovely diversion for both of us and Julia has not stopped talking of it yet.”
“You two spent the morning together?” Nate asked, looking from him to Miss Fairchild and back again.
“We three, for Miss Julia consented to be our companion,” he answered, watching her face light up as she smiled and nodded. “Miss Fairchild graciously agreed to accompany me on a tour of the Castle and a visit to the Honours of Scotland. Miss Julia was quite the guide around the castle.”
Nate was not happy—David could see the growing frown and the change in his stance that spoke of insult. Tension grew until even the lady noticed it.
“I have interrupted your business with Nathaniel. Forgive me,” she said. She curtsied once more and smiled at him.
It was the kind of smile that is innocent and wicked at once. Her lips curved into a bow shape and the fullness of them invited him to touch them…to taste them. He cleared his throat instead. This was not the first time he felt tempted to pursue the lovely Anna Fairchild, but he had nothing to offer her. She would not be a suitable match for Dursby’s heir. She would never leave Edinburgh.
From the direction and attitude of their past conversations and from his own sources, David knew that she was not interested in marriage and he would not offer anything less honorable to her. The incident in his past and its repercussions taught him at least that. He did not quench his physical needs without much forethought and caution. He would never again.
“We decided to eat later than custom tonight and are about to sit for dinner, Mr. Archer. Would you care to join us?” Nate asked in a clipped voice.
Dare he join them? Nate was already growing hostile. Would that threaten the false identity he’d assumed for his time here? After the most agreeable time spent with Miss Fairchild this morning, the chance to enjoy more of her company before leaving for London was too strong a pull on him.
“I would like that, Nathaniel. If you’re certain this is not an inconvenience?”
Nate seemed to think on it and his pause was enough to draw Miss Fairchild’s attention. That was all it took for Nate to repeat the invitation in a more hospitable tone. “It is not inconvenient. Come then, dinner is ready to be served.”
Nate stalked off, calling out to one of the servants about the addition of a guest, leaving him to escort Miss Fairchild. He couldn’t have been more pleased, even though he knew there was bad news yet to deliver to his host. His departure was set for the day after tomorrow and, chances were, he would not see Miss Fairchild again. By the time they entered the dining area, a place had been set for him next to Nate’s sister.
Nate handled the introductions and there was a nervous moment when Clarinda’s husband, Lord MacLerie, gave a suspicious glance. Worried over the possibility of recognition, he ignored it and changed the subject immediately to something lighthearted. Miss Julia.
The meal, or what he could remember of it, was tasty and filling, but, seated as he was directly across from Miss Fairchild, David found that the view was much more satisfying. The conversation crossed through many different topics, all with a light touch, and no unpleasantness was shown by any as they ate and drank. He marveled at her wit, both humorous and biting, as she offered a not-so-reticent opinion on the various topics. David took some measure of enjoyment in goading her into speaking her mind a few times just so he could watch those expressive eyes flash and those lips move. Soon, too soon in his opinion, it was done, and Lady MacLerie suggested that they take their tea and dessert in the parlor.
“We are en famille this evening, Mr. Archer. I hope you do not find the informality of it disagreeable.”
“Not at all, Lady MacLerie. Especially since I was the one who invaded your evening at home.”
He followed them through the house, up the stairs to the parlor that looked out over the street. A pianoforte sat by one wall and several bookcases along another. The chairs and couches were large and stood gathered in a grouping near the window. The ladies took seats there while the men stood. David accepted a glass of port and remained with Nate and Lord MacLerie.
“What do you do in London, Mr. Archer?” Lord MacLerie asked as they drank their port in the corner of the room.
Miss Fairchild and Lady MacLerie were engrossed in some conversation with their heads bent together—he hesitated to guess at the content of it. Now how could he phrase his answer?
“I handle several estates as well as business interests for several charities.” There. The truth dressed up a bit, but the truth nonetheless.
“In London only or other locations?”
“Both, Lord MacLerie.” David chose not to pursue it, fearing that the conversation would lead to exposure.
“I have some interests in London and may have need of a man-of-business. Perhaps we can meet when next I’m there to discuss it?”
“Of course,” he said, nodding in agreement. The sooner done this topic the better. “Nate knows how to contact me there. If you send word, I will attend you at your convenience.”
He made a great show of looking at the ormolu clock sitting on a shelf above the pianoforte and then at Nathaniel. Drinking the last of the port in his glass, he placed it back on the tray and nodded to Nate.
“My lord, my lady, Miss Fairchild,” he said loud enough to include the women, “I did not plan to be so long here. I fear I still have business to see to before I leave Edinburgh. Nathaniel, may I speak with you for a moment in private?”
The women gave their farewells and Miss Fairchild appeared to want to say something, but she did not. In truth, this was not the leavetaking he’d imagined. He would rather remain and let the pleasant evening continue. However, the publication in his coat pocket would bring that to an end.
David walked ahead down the stairs and waited as the footman retrieved his coat before speaking. He waved th
e man off and then faced Nate. Holding the magazine out to him, he shook his head.
“I would ask that you read this after sending Miss Fairchild home. I will meet you at the Gazette’s office early in the morning to discuss it.”
Nate glanced from the publication now in his hand to David’s face.
“I think I will not be pleased by this.” Nate began to leaf through the pages and then must have thought better of it. “Half past eight then?”
“I will be there. Please wait until we speak before making any decisions on what recourses are open to you.”
Nate’s mouth thinned as he considered his plea. With a curt nod, he reached for the door to open it himself. David walked out onto the granite landing and turned back to say…something to mitigate the circumstances, but could think of nothing. He did not want, and did not believe Nate would want, this to escalate out of control, especially when he believed in the causes espoused by Mr. Goodfellow. He turned back to offer his thanks for the dinner and his farewell when Nate closed the door in his face.
But not before catching a glimpse of yellow silk floating along at the top of the stairs. The yellow silk of Miss Fairchild’s gown…above the place where his and Nate’s exchange had just occurred.
Bloody hell!
Chapter Nine
Nefarious means were all that was left to her if she were going to discover what was going on between Nathaniel and Mr. Archer. The bit of hushed and angry conversation overheard last night had kept her awake. Turning the words over and over in her mind, Anna could not understand the cause. Now, standing before the office, she pondered her methods.
The carriage sitting just a few yards away was the one Mr. Archer retained for his use while here in Edinburgh, for it was the same one with the same driver who’d transported them to the Castle and the same one that had carried her from school to office several times. If she had not recognized it, the driver called out a greeting to her, confirming her knowledge. She nodded politely and turned the knob on the door.
Silence greeted her, for the others did not report until nine this morning. Nathaniel requesting a meeting before that was to ensure confidentiality. If something was that important, it must affect the magazine and so it was her concern as well. Unsurprising to her, Nathaniel believed he should handle it without her and just as expected, Anna believed she should be involved. Hence, the tendency to eavesdrop last evening and her early arrival this morning. It was only after closing the door and blocking out the sounds from outside that she heard the muffled voices.
She walked over to the office door and waited for a moment or two, deciding whether or not to interrupt their discussion—their rather lively discussion. After hearing their voices raise each time the other spoke, Anna cursed her curiosity and leaned closer.
Treybourne… Goodfellow… Gazette… Whiteleaf’s… London… Essays… Causes… This trip… Agreed…
The words and names she expected to hear went on for a bit until something on Lesher’s desk caught her eye. Could it be? The newest issue of Whiteleaf’s had arrived? Anna walked over, put her reticule down and picked up the publication. The table of contents led her straight to page four, where his lordship’s essay began.
If she thought the opening salvo was bad, the essay became more and more rancorous with each sentence and paragraph. She had to lean back on the desk for support as she continued to read. First her mouth dropped open and then she heard herself gasp loudly several times.
Lord Treybourne’s conclusion was a challenge, as clear as if a glove had been slapped across her, Goodfellow’s face, and seconds had been appointed. Holding the pages closer, she read:
I believed, when answering the first questions raised in that other publication, that I was entering, on behalf of all good-thinking men who support their King and His Government, a discourse worthy of gentlemen of honor. It would appear to this writer that the Enlightenment so highly regarded and reported to have centered in that country to our North, Scotland, has met its demise. Indeed, instead of discussion and assessment, my words and defence of King and Country have been met with demeaning insult and even vile threats.
If men of honor cannot meet and exchange words of political importance and cannot offer their own stance on the situations facing the citizens of this illustrious Kingdom, then more is lost than we know. One thing that is clear is that my Opponent in this War of Words cannot be a gentleman. A Gentleman would speak his Truth and claim it as his own. A Gentleman would stand tall and not hide behind Anonymity. A Gentleman would use honor as his shield and not skulk about in that so-named “Athens of the North,” Unwilling to Reveal his Identity to those he insults with his Accusations of Misappropriation and Disregard for the Common Good.
I did not Choose to Escalate our Political Discussions to a Personal Battle, but I will not Shy away from such a Call. I will Issue one in Return to you—Mr. Goodfellow, I Challenge you to reveal Yourself and Stand in the Light. I would argue that blood will tell and surely yours has Proclaimed you to be a Man Without Honor.
Remember, Sir, Blood will Tell.
Yr. Servant,
Treybourne
Anna could not breathe. She could not move. She read the last paragraphs again and still could not believe the rancor and insult contained there. If she were a man, she would call him out and let her weapons answer for her honor. If she were a man… Anna sighed. If she were a man none or little of this would have been necessary.
“Dashed earl!” she muttered and then covered her mouth with her hand. The girls, especially the now-departed Gladys, had a penchant for swearing that was influencing her now, while she was under duress. A regrettable habit indeed, but it felt like a guilty pleasure to say it now when no one else could hear.
This essay was dangerous. Always before, Goodfellow’s work had skirted the edges of making his point without making enemies. Opponents, yes, certainly, but now the hostilities were increased and insults led to the impugning of their characters and honor.
This would bring too much attention to the combatants, especially with the earl’s demand for disclosure of Goodfellow’s identity. The focus needed to stay on the issues or the fight would be lost. And, even more important, if the Gazette were forced out of business by the earl’s powerful family and political allies, so many lives would be in danger and so much progress would be halted. Anna’s financial support of the school, as well as the other smaller charities she funded, would be destroyed. She could not even think about what this would do to her own income and the certain level of comfort which she’d finally be able to afford for her and her sister and aunt.
This no doubt was the issue under discussion inside the office. A discussion that had quieted in the last few seconds. Anna lowered the paper to find both Nathaniel and Mr. Archer staring at her. Perhaps she’d been louder than she thought?
“You have seen this then?” she asked, holding out the magazine in front of her and ignoring that they may have heard her indecorous and inappropriate exclamation.
“Anna,” Nathaniel said as he took her by the arm and led her back into the office, “the others will be here shortly. Come inside so we might discuss this.”
Something was wrong here. The expressions on their faces spoke of concern for her, yes, but also there was something else there, some emotion that kept flitting across their eyes when they met her gaze.
Guilt.
Anna tried to catch Nathaniel’s attention. Then she saw it again. Both of them. As though caught doing something they should not be doing. Guilty as schoolboys.
About what?
She thought back on the snippets of conversation she’d heard last night and then this morning outside the door a few moments ago. Then she considered Mr. Archer’s appearance and interest in business matters with Nathaniel and Nathaniel’s sullen manners around him. Looking at the publication in her hands, she realized that Nathaniel held a copy last night when she watched him speak to Mr. Archer. Before it was available here in Edinburg
h, for she knew it always arrived on the mail coach in the morning.
Mr. Archer had a copy before anyone in Edinburgh received it.
“Mr. Archer…”
The suspicion formed in her mind, but the words would not leave her mouth. Was it possible that Mr. Archer worked for Lord Treybourne? Was he here on the earl’s orders? What was his purpose here?
“Miss Fairchild,” he said, shaking his head. “I can explain.”
She stared at him as the truth struck her. He’d come here to find out about Goodfellow and to prevail on some previous acquaintance with Nathaniel to stop the essays. Apparently Nathaniel had stood his ground, hence the arguments.
“Are you the first round of attack then, Mr. Archer? You come here to undermine the Gazette’s commitment to social progress while his lordship continues his assault on Goodfellow from a safer distance in London?”
She did not want to hear his excuses. She did not want to think about his ulterior motives for his attentions. Anna simply did not want to think about all of the ramifications of this revelation. She wanted to leave.
Tossing the magazine at them, she turned and left the office, nearly at a run, nearly knocking over several passersby who had the bad luck to be on their way past the office when she barreled out the door. Clutching her bonnet to her chest, she raced from the corner and down the busy street, weaving around as many people as she could without knocking into any of them. With her head down and ignoring her name being called behind her, she kept moving, turning without looking, until she came to a halt in a small park at the end of a street.
Gasping now because of the strenuous run, she took in a few deep breaths and stumbled over to a bench that sat beneath the grove of trees to the side of a grassy knoll. Sitting down with a thump, Anna gathered her wits and considered what had happened to bring them to this point. Hearing Nathaniel’s warnings ringing in her head, she now thought discretion, or at least a bit more tact, might have been in order. Now, all their work, all their dreams, might be in shambles.
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