How much did Lord Treybourne’s man know? If he had targeted Nathaniel for his fury, then perhaps he still did not know the identity of A. J. Goodfellow. Anna did not believe that Nathaniel would willingly expose her, but what threats would be necessary to loosen his tongue? What pressure could Mr. Archer wield on behalf of Lord Treybourne and his powerful family that would weaken Nathaniel in his resolve?
The pain behind her eyes intensified and she closed them and held her hands over them. The sounds of the morning washed over her and she breathed in, trying to release some of the pressure. Anna never did her best thinking under pressure and she needed to be clear-minded about this situation. Lowering her hands, she let the warm breezes pass over her. At that moment she realized her hair was loose and her bonnet was gone.
Could this get any worse? Anna leaned her head down and opened her eyes. A pair of boots positioned before her spoke of much worse. Moving her gaze upward, in spite of fearing who it was that stood before her, she knew before she reached the man’s face whom it would be.
“Mr. Archer,” she said in an icy tone.
“I can explain this, Miss Fairchild.” He stepped closer. “May I sit down?” He nodded at the bench, but she was not feeling charitable or polite enough to offer him its hospitality.
“I would prefer that you did not.”
Next he did the one thing guaranteed to get her attention—nothing. He stood there, his gaze filled to overflowing with concern and his manner so completely at ease despite the fact that he had also run more than six blocks in the morning’s heat. Not a hair was out of place though hers was in shambles and she was aware that beads of sweat gathered on her forehead, neck and back and trickled down beneath her gown. Then she noticed that he held her bonnet behind his back. She tilted her head to see it more clearly.
“Ah, I found this on my way down the street a few blocks back. I thought you might want it for the walk back?”
Mr. Archer held it out to her and took advantage of that movement to sit beside her. Anna slid to the other end of the seat, as far as she could. Insufferable man! Rearranging her hair behind her head, she placed the bonnet over it and tugged it into position. Until she could redress her hair entirely, the bonnet would not fit. This would have to do for now.
“Miss Fairchild, I admit that my actions might be mistaken for…” He paused and searched for a word. She provided it.
“Deceit, sir? Fraud, perhaps? Or simple misrepresentation?”
“How did I misrepresent myself to you, Miss Fairchild? What have I said that you consider a lie?” He turned now and faced her. Although his expression was fixed, there was not the hardness or haughtiness of their first encounter.
“You did not tell me you represented Lord Treybourne.” She used the most obvious, and the most dangerous one, first.
“My business was not with you, Miss Fairchild, and I did not know what your association to the Gazette or Mr. Hobbs-Smith might be. Nathaniel knows of my connection to Lord Treybourne.”
Of course Nathaniel knew him. She could not lay this sin only at Mr. Archer’s feet, for Nathaniel should have told her. As was his custom, Nathaniel tried to protect her from the realities of life. Anna let out a breath.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“What is your connection to the Gazette?” he fired back in response. When she did not reply immediately, Mr. Archer leaned back against the bench and crossed his leg over his knee, exposing the fine figure of his thighs to her view. She blinked and then tried to bring her gaze back to his face.
“You see,” he said, “for all intents and purposes and regardless of the time spent together in this last week, we are strangers to each other, Miss Fairchild. And there are limits to how much we reveal of ourselves to strangers.”
He was correct after all, and without revealing how involved she truly was in the ownership and management of the Gazette, she could say nothing more. And Anna could not reveal the level to which her financial interests and control were invested there. But she could allow him a glimpse at why she did so.
“I support the ideas that the Gazette is promoting, sir. Social and parliamentary reform. Assistance to those in less fortunate circumstances. And as a longtime acquaintance and family friend to Nathaniel, I do what I can to assist him in his pursuit of those causes.”
“Ah, Miss Fairchild, a bluestocking and a liberal?”
She hesitated, for instead of the insult usually meant when those words were spoken, his deep voice made them an appealing combination. Somehow, he imbued those words with respect.
“Yes, sir, both, and inordinately proud to be called either,” she replied, lifting her chin and daring him to say they were otherwise.
She was magnificent!
As she sat there challenging him with her chin tilted back and her eyes blazing, he fought the dual urges to smile and to drag her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless. Not the simpering misses of the haute ton in London, Miss Anna Fairchild made her point with intelligence and common sense. She thought about serious matters and did not dwell on those that plagued most single women in his class, such as the weighty issues of which mantua-maker to patronize or which soiree to attend.
For all those details he knew about her and her life, and now these opinions and causes so close to his own true ones, he felt a wave of respect grow inside him. David recognized this feeling, and that it, along with the all too apparent and all too frequent attraction he felt toward her, was dangerous for many, many reasons. David sat up and straightened his waistcoat and jacket.
“In honor of your disclosure, let me tell you this. I am here on Lord Treybourne’s behalf. I seek out the identity of the person who is currently publishing essays under the name of Mr. A. J. Goodfellow. And having found myself on the opposite side of the opinions of Lord Treybourne, I came to see if I could negotiate an agreement between both gentlemen involved to return to the original level of discourse at which these essays first began.”
The lady startled with each revelation and he worried that she would see the whole truth behind his prevarications. Nothing he’d told her was a lie, but nothing he revealed was the complete truth of the matter, either. Caught between his own beliefs and his father’s increasing demands, David had thought to find the man and come to some agreement with him. If they each backed down from the height of their arguments, yet each maintained their positions and fought for them in the publications each month, all would win. So, coming to Edinburgh, under the cover of an assumed identity, seemed the thing to do.
Now, looking at her face, watching her eyes darken as she considered what he’d told her, and wanting to know more about her for nothing but his own personal reasons, David knew he’d made several tactical errors. The way that she made his heart beat wildly, he wondered if retreat were even still possible.
“From the essay I just read, it would seem that Lord Treybourne does not value or agree with your efforts in this matter.”
“He can be stubborn, Miss Fairchild. One must wear him down in order to gain his compliance.” He noticed that her gaze softened then and he smiled back. “Is Mr. Goodfellow as stubborn?”
“I cannot speak for him, sir, but I expect that this newest volley from Lord Treybourne will not go unanswered.”
As he suspected, there would be at least one more escalation in their exchanges before they could bring it under control. There were advantages to this, of course, for each essay brought an increase in the sales and subscriptions for their respective magazines, thereby increasing the attention drawn to the issues.
“I thought as much, Miss Fairchild.” He stood and offered her his arm. “Nathaniel must be frantic by now and ready to call the city police. May I escort you back to the Gazette?”
Although she gave him a glance that spoke of indecision, she rose and slid her hand around his arm, allowing his escort. She also wore no gloves—working around newsprint and ink most likely made that impossible—and so the tips of her fingers
lay just past the end of his sleeve, touching his skin directly. Shivers tore through him as he noticed it. He began to walk but he knew not in which direction. After a few aimless blocks, she pointed him in the correct direction but did not remove her hand from his. Just before they’d reached the intersection of the office, she tugged him to stop.
“What are your plans now, Mr. Archer, if I might inquire?”
Leave Edinburgh while I still can were the words that came to mind, but facing her on the busy street, all he could think about was finding reasons to stay longer.
“I will finish the business I have to accomplish and then go back to London.”
“And report to his lordship?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed and he could hear the suspicion in her voice.
“Yes.”
“Do you think his lordship will seek to destroy Nathaniel’s publishing business?” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “That is my greatest fear, Mr. Archer.”
Stunned at the private revelation she’d shared with him, he searched her face for some sign of falseness. Convinced that her concern was honest and personal, too, he offered frankness in his answer.
“I do not believe that Lord Treybourne would do any such thing, but I cannot speak for those around him.” David stepped back.
He’d spoken the truth of the matter for he was truly alarmed over what he thought his father had already done, or had done on his behalf—altered the text he had written for the essay before it was published. His missive, though strongly worded, did not include the venomous insult that the one published contained. For now, from here, he could do nothing but wait for Mr. Goodfellow’s response. Certainly, there was another thing he could do while waiting.
“His father, the marquess?”
“Just so, Miss Fairchild. I cannot vouch for the lordship’s actions.” She thought on his words and nodded at him. “And now, Miss Fairchild? What will you do now?”
“I will continue as I did before you arrived in Edinburgh, sir. Seeing to things that are important and living one day at a time.”
“The causes you favor?”
“Yes, Mr. Archer, and my sister’s well-being and future.”
“And your own future, Miss Fairchild? Who will see to that?”
The words spilled out before he could stop them. It was a completely inappropriate and impolite question, made even more so since it came from a stranger. The expected answer came in a soft whisper, filled with an air of quiet desperation and loss. And when it came, it nearly knocked the stuffing out of him with its simplicity and loneliness.
“As before, sir, I will see to it.”
Anna crossed the street and approached the office…and Nathaniel, with some amount of trepidation. Their relationship was a strange mix of personal, family and friendship, with a botched attempt at romantic thrown in as well. By all rights, she should be furious now at him. Upon her arrival, Lesher, who stood near his desk reading the copy of Whiteleaf’s she’d dropped there as Nathaniel had pulled her into his office, nodded a greeting and returned to reading. By the manner in which he shook his head and tsked, Anna could tell he was reading Lord Treybourne’s piece.
She approached the doorway and took a deep breath, pushing the door open to discover the office was empty and Nathaniel was gone. She heard Lesher approach from behind.
“I saw him going out on my way in, miss.”
“Did he say where he was going?” Had he followed her? Had he gone out for some other reason?
“He, I, went looking for you, Anna,” Nathaniel said as he entered and walked up to where she stood. “I feared you would be upset by the disclosure made here.” He stepped into the office and closed the door behind them. “Come. Sit. We have much to discuss.”
His manner was different somehow, but she joined him inside and sat by the desk. Anna untied her bonnet and removed it; she would repair the damage done to her hair when they finished. Once seated, she waited for him to begin.
“I was not truthful with you, Anna, and I sincerely apologize.” He met her gaze and she saw the regret there. “I blame it on simply trying to protect you.”
“Would not the truth have been better? Why did you not just admit you knew Mr. Archer because of his connection to Lord Treybourne?”
“I believed I could handle him and he would be gone before you knew. I was only trying to…” he stuttered along.
“Nathaniel, you have been a dear friend and have been my stalwart in this endeavor. Mr. Archer explained that you have been negotiating a truce of sorts in this matter.” Anna leaned in and watched his reaction at her next question. “Does he know the truth about our situation?”
“Anna, I would never do anything to endanger you. I did not tell him anything that is not public already.”
“Did he ask about Mr. Goodfellow?” She continued her observations as he answered.
“He did and I told him that I did not know the identity or anything about the man. Mr. Archer only asked that I negotiate with the writer to cool the fires created by the heightening of tensions between the dueling essayists.”
Anna rested back in the chair and considered their options. When she realized there was a spy in their midst, the terror overwhelmed her and she’d run. Now, after comprehending Mr. Archer’s involvement and his obvious displeasure with his employer’s actions, she thought there might be a solution to their dilemma.
“Mr. Archer shared with me that he is not in complete agreement with Lord Treybourne’s opinions in this.”
“What?” Nathaniel asked, startled by the revelation.
“I believe that we can sway him to our cause and he can use his influence over the earl. If not to change his position, and I understand how that may not be possible, then to keep him from any drastic measures that might influence our solvency here.”
“Sway the earl?” Nathaniel had a blank look on his face, but since he did not object, she explained more.
“I do not think that Mr. Archer would stand by and watch as the earl destroys this publication if he knew what the money from our endeavors supported. I think we should tell him.” She paused, for Nathaniel made the most distressing sound at her suggestion. He tugged at the neckline of his shirt and tried to loosen his cravat.
“Anna,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Do not misunderstand my intentions in this. I simply think that Mr. Archer has a conscience and if he sees the people dependent on our success, especially on our financial success, he will attempt to mitigate matters with the earl on our behalf.”
In spite of the still early hour of the day, she watched as Nathaniel reached into the bottom drawer of the desk and lifted out a bottle and a glass. Without ever looking at her, he poured several ounces of whisky into the glass and drank it straight down without pause or hesitation. Anna intervened when he tilted the bottle to fill the glass once more.
“Nathaniel, I will show him the school. I will inform him as to its funding and how it is dependent on this publishing endeavor. How the other charities are as well. I will show him the conditions that the poor live in here and around the city and how we are trying to help.”
Anna stood at his side and lifted the bottle and glass from his grasp. This was not the time to lose control of his sensibilities. She needed him to continue in his role as she would in hers, at least until Mr. Archer could be convinced. At least until the next Goodfellow essay came out. Two weeks at the longest.
“Stay the course for two more weeks, three at the most, Nathaniel. In the meantime, meet with the Whig ministers who are here for the August break in Parliament, or on their way to their hunting boxes, and solidify your position amongst them. If something untoward should happen, you will still have a future with them.”
“Untoward?” he asked. “Untoward?” he moaned, lowering his head in his hands and shaking it side to side.
When he began to argue, she sat down again and made her case with him point by point. Strong spirits had their place it seemed in the nego
tiating process for a wee dram with each point appeared to make the discussion go smoothly. By midmorning, she had a plan of attack and he was in his cups.
David bided his time by carrying out some errands and visiting his banker before going back to the Gazette’s office. Almost two hours had passed since he’d left Miss Fairchild there and he needed to find out if she suspected that he’d not been completely truthful with her. Or if Nate had revealed the truth to her? Opening the door and nodding to the men working there, he strode down the corridor toward Nate’s office and reached for the door.
“’E’s no’ to be disturbed, sir,” Lesher said from behind him.
“He’s expecting me, Mr. Lesher,” David lied with confidence, and did not wait for any further objections.
Turning the knob, he entered the office to find Nate asleep and drooling, with his head resting on the desk at an awkward angle. The odor of strong spirits filled the air. A loud snore echoed through the office and Nate shifted, now slobbering on his arm. When his first three efforts to rouse him were unsuccessful, David realized his friend was drunk as an Emperor. Finally, the fourth vigorous shake seemed to wake Nate from his whisky-induced stupor.
“Let me be!” he moaned.
“Nate, wake up!” David shook him by the shoulders and waited for his eyes to open. One did.
“It’s you!” Nate moaned as he pulled from David’s grasp.
“Yes, it is me. Now, Nate, I need you to concentrate on my words. Did you talk to Miss Fairchild about me?”
“Yessss,” he slurred. “She only wanted to talk about you.” Nate kept closing one eye and opening the other, as though it were difficult to see with both eyes at the same time.
“You are cupshot!”
“It was Anna who did it. She plied me with whisky, she did.” A loud belch emanated from him and then another groan. “She is a devil!”
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