If He's Tempted

by Hannah Howell

  “The man has to be old enough to be that child’s grandfather and he is notorious for the depths and variety of his depravities.”

  “He most certainly is and I fear it is those depths the girl’s mother wishes to dip her claws into.”

  “Why? Why would any woman wish to stain her hands with the sort of filthy business that man deals in?”

  “Money. If dear Mama unites Horace to the family through marriage to Agatha, the woman can then seek to gain new ways to nicely fatten her purse.”

  “How could any woman give her own flesh and blood to such a man?”

  “Did you not catch the name of my visitor, Enid?”

  “Nay for it was you who greeted her and let her in.”

  “Ah, aye, so it was. That young girl your adorable husband Pawl is escorting home is the sister of Brant Mallam, Earl of Fieldgate.” She nodded as, after frowning in thought for a moment, Enid’s eyes began to widen with horror. “Exactly. The very woman who sold off to a brothel the woman her son loved and wished to marry is the one who now threatens that girl. Although ’tis true we cannot prove the woman ordered poor sweet Faith to be killed, her actions were what put the girl into that hell and thus into a grave. That sweet-faced child who just left is Lady Letitia Mallam’s daughter, the poor dear.”

  “Why did she not go to her brother the earl for help?”

  “I do not know if she actually tried to visit the man, but she claims she has been sending him word about this for a fortnight or so. No reply. Not even a little note thanking her for writing to him. She is certain her brother has not seen any of her messages, that despite how careful she has been, someone is stopping her messages before they reach Lord Fieldgate. I suspect she is right. She has probably been writing to him on a regular schedule and gotten some response over the years. There have been rumors that Fieldgate is skipping down the same path Minden did. Well, years ago. When he was still nimble enough to skip. Minden, that is. Last I saw of Fieldgate, he looked very nimble.” Olympia grunted when Enid elbowed her in the side.

  “You were rambling,” said Enid.

  “I know. Men like Minden put me in a mood to ramble. The thought of that young girl being handed over to a man like Minden turns my stomach which also causes my thoughts to wander.” Olympia shrugged. “What sane person would ever want to think about such things?”

  “Not a one, I am certain,” agreed Enid. “Why would the girl think you could do anything about it?”

  “She was not looking for me, but for Ashton. She was hoping the earl’s childhood friend would know how and where to get word to her brother.”

  Olympia drummed her fingers against the arm of the settee. She supposed she could send word to Ashton but she was very reluctant to do so. It was better for the family to be away from the city. It was certainly best for Penelope, who had conceived again much too quickly after her birthing her twins as far as Olympia was concerned and needed the quiet, clean air, and good food available in the country. And once the child was born Olympia intended to give her niece a very thorough talk on how to avoid getting with child so frequently. Ashton would hear from her, too, if needed.

  “I believe we shall try to keep Ashton out of this mess,” she murmured.

  “Lord Radmoor might not be pleased with that.” Enid moved to collect up the tea things.

  “Too bad. Penelope needs to stay in the country and, if Radmoor thought to go to Fieldgate, she would insist upon going, too. Unfortunately, as I think on it, most of my family appears to be out of the city and quite busy at the moment.”

  Enid shook her head. “I doubt that is so, m’lady. If naught else, your family is simply too large. The chances of them all being gone or out of reach at the same time are very, very small.”

  “Perhaps, but I cannot think of any near at hand at the moment.” Olympia stood up and brushed down her skirts. “I must send a message to Fieldgate. We shall see if he ignores only those from his family or if he is ignoring everyone and everything.”

  “You are intending to deal with this matter by yourself, aye?”

  “Was I not the one who was asked for help?”

  “Not really. You just happened to be the one who opened the door.” Enid ignored Olympia’s scowl as she nudged her way past and headed toward the door. “I think you should at least let Lord Radmoor know that trouble is brewing.”

  “If I can think of a way to do so without having him come racing to aid his friend, I will.”

  “Fair enough. I have heard that the Earl of Fieldgate has become quite the libertine. While it may be true that he does not carry the taint such men as Minden do, the earl has reached that point where doors are being closed to him. There are some dark rumors about him beginning to make the rounds. That despite the fact that he is a young, somewhat wealthy bachelor, a few families already begin to protect their daughters from him. S’truth, the more I think on this, the more I think you should hand this trouble over to one of the men.”

  “Nonsense,” snapped Olympia as she followed Enid out of the room. “I plan only to make the earl fully aware of the danger his sister is in.”

  “And what if the earl does not care?”

  Olympia did not wish to think on that. She had heard all about how Brant had been bowed from the weight of his grief when the body of his Faith had been found. Heartbreaking though that scene must have been she had seen good things in Mallam since then, things like tenderness and love, although both had begun to fade as time passed. She could not believe that a man who had suffered such a loss would now turn his back on his sister, would just walk away and allow his mother to destroy yet another member of his family as she had destroyed him.

  Destroyed his life, she hastily corrected. Olympia refused to believe the man himself had been destroyed despite all the tales of drink and women. It was not unusual for a man who suffered heartbreak to try to bury the hurt beneath the numbing effects of wine and women. For some strange reason men appeared to think that would help. A battle with his mother over his sister’s happiness could even be the medicine the earl needed to pull himself free of the ills of a life of dissipation.

  “He will help,” Olympia said and hurried to the library where she had left her writing materials. “This could be just what he needs to get himself back to what he was before he discovered just how evil his mother is.”

  Enid put the tray of tea things down on a table in the hall and hurried after Olympia. “I do not like that look in your eye, missy.”

  “Missy?” Olympia sat down at the desk and set her writing materials in order even as she thought about what to say in the letter she was about to write. “Where, oh where, is the respect I should command as a baroness?”

  “It will return when you rid yourself of the thought of riding to this man’s rescue. He is a rogue, a libertine, a man who spends more time in the shadows of brothels and gambling dens than he does in the clean air of the country.”

  “I believe he is, at this very moment, in the country,” Olympia said as she dipped her quill in the inkpot and began to write. “Breathing all that clear, country air.”

  Olympia peeked at her companion and nearly grinned. Enid had her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her pretty round face. That disapproval could have something to do with the condition the earl had been in the last time they had glimpsed him. The man had tried to be all that was gentlemanly, bowing, and then helping her into her carriage outside the Benson home where she had attended a musicale. Unfortunately Fieldgate had been so drunk he had nearly fallen on his face while bowing to her and helping her into her carriage had been more akin to throwing her into her carriage where she had landed with her face in Enid’s lap.

  Enid’s distaste for men who drank too much was fully understandable. The woman had grown up beneath the brutal hand of a father who had too often been drunk. But, at times, Enid could be a little too firm in her stance, a little too unforgiving. Olympia was not sure Fieldgate could be saved from his own follies with dr
ink and women, but there was no harm in at least trying to drag him out of that pit.

  “And I suspect he has just taken all the women and drink to a different place to enjoy them,” snapped Enid. “He is no longer the sort of man you should be acknowledging.”

  “He is my nephew’s friend. Ashton’s oldest, closest friend. Fieldgate is almost family.” She held up her hand when Enid opened her mouth to say something. “No. I will contact him. I will be ready to help his sister. Alone if he chooses to turn his back on the girl, or at his side if he decides to do something himself. The important person in all of this is young Agatha, is it not?”

  Enid sighed and nodded. “That it is, m’lady. I just do not like the thought of you getting all mixed up with a man who is so fond of the bottle.”

  “If he is so fond of it that he is no help, or refuses to put the bottle down for a moment to help his sister, then I will look for someone else to help me in some way. But first, we try to find out if he is ignoring all messages or just those of his sister.”

  “What if he is ignoring all messages?”

  “We shall give him a fortnight to reply to the messages I intend to rain o’er his home, and, if he does not answer, I shall write one more and then we shall travel to Fieldgate to read it to him.”

  Chapter 2

  “This is a bachelor’s residence and no place for a young lady of quality.”

  Olympia looked at the tall, thin butler blocking her way into Fieldgate Manor. She did not think she had ever seen a butler appear so stiff and outraged. When one considered Lord Mallam’s growing reputation for debauchery, she could understand the man’s reluctance to allow in a woman who probably looked far more respectable than most of Brant’s companions, but she had no time to cater to such delicate sensibilities.

  A fortnight of ignored letters and messengers had passed since she had told young Agatha that she would help her. If Mallam lived in Yorkshire, she might have waited longer for a reply before acting, but Fieldgate was only a half day’s ride from London, even less if the journey was made on a fast horse or in a swift carriage. Olympia had fully adhered to her decision of one fortnight of waiting that she had made before sending out the first letter, but she had become more and more anxious as each missive remained unanswered. Agatha did not have the luxury of waiting any longer for her brother to pull himself out of the bottle or whatever woman he was currently entertaining to heed her cries for help.

  “This is a family matter, my good man,” she said.

  “You are not one of his family.”

  “I come here as a chosen messenger from his sister as she is far too young to travel here herself.”

  “Then you may tell me her message and I shall deliver it to his lordship.”

  “I have wasted a fortnight trying to get a message to the man. He is either not getting any message sent here or he is disinclined to reply no matter who sends word.”

  Something in the way the man’s eyes narrowed told Olympia she was facing the reason Brant continued to receive no word of his sister’s dilemma. As she calmly closed her parasol, she wondered what inspired this man to betray his lord. Money, most likely, she decided and then hit the man over the head with her parasol. He cursed, stumbled back a few steps clearing the doorway, and Olympia stepped forward to hit him again. The second blow sent the butler to the floor. She winced at the sound of the man’s head hitting the marble floor, but could not help but be pleased that he was now unconscious.

  “Pawl,” she called, certain her footman and Enid were only steps away, and was not surprised when he immediately appeared at her side.

  “Aye, m’lady?” He grinned when he got a good look at the felled butler.

  “Do not allow that man to come after me.”

  “Want I should knock him down again if he tries?”

  “If you must. I believe he may be long overdue for such punishment for I begin to suspect he is the one who has been working against his lordship’s best interests.”

  “Tsk. What is the world coming to, eh?”

  She ignored Pawl’s nonsense as she tried to decide where to look for Brant first. She had not realized that Fieldgate was so large. The man could be in one of any of the dozens of rooms in the place. The longer it took her to find him, the more chance there was that there could be more interference from the servants. The butler might not be the only traitor at Fieldgate. She briefly considered standing there and yelling his name. Indelicate but usually quite effective.

  “His lordship be in the library, m’lady.”

  Olympia looked at the boy who spoke to her. He was a bit dirty and thinner than she thought he ought to be, but she saw no guile in his wide blue eyes. Instead, each glance the boy took at the fallen butler was filled with glee and satisfaction. The butler could be guilty of more than just being a traitor to his lordship.

  “And you are?” she asked the boy.

  “Thomas Pepper, m’lady,” he replied. “I be the boot boy.” He grimaced. “And sometimes I be the pot boy, sometimes the slops boy, sometimes . . .”

  “A lad of all work,” Olympia hastily interrupted. “Aye, I understand.”

  All too well, she thought. It was not just his family that Brant was paying little heed to. There was obviously trouble brewing within his own household. Since she had met him shortly after her niece Penelope had met his friend Ashton, she had noticed his slow descent into drink and debauchery each time she had seen him since, although those meetings had all been short and few, the awkward time when he had helped her into the carriage being the most memorable. She had the feeling the man had reached the point where he now only cared about his drink being close at hand and a woman in his bed. Olympia prayed she would be able to pull him out of that dark hole. The more she thought on young Agatha being forced to marry Minden, the more she needed to save the girl.

  “Lead on then, Thomas,” Olympia said.

  “This way, m’lady.”

  Following the boy, Olympia decided it could not hurt to gather a little information about his lordship and how matters stood at Fieldgate. “The butler is not completely loyal to Lord Fieldgate, is he?”

  “No, m’lady. He gets paid by that old besom to spy on his lordship. Aye, and does it while taking money from his lordship to work for him. You be the one what’s been trying to get a message to his lordship?”

  “I have been, aye, although his young sister has tried as well. The butler took the messages, did he?”

  “Aye, he did. Hope you told no secrets in them. They will be secrets no more.”

  “I was most careful in all I said.”

  “Clever.”

  “I like to think so. I just wish I could be certain his lordship’s young sister was as careful because I suspect all that was said was then reported back to the, er, old besom.”

  “It was. This here is the library,” the boy said as he stopped before a pair of high doors. “His lordship be alone but not feeling too sharp, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know exactly what you mean. I have many a male relative.” She exchanged a brief grin with Thomas. “Could you fetch me some very strong tea? Perhaps some food that is filling but will be gentle on the stomach? ’Tis not just the head which is tender after a bout of drinking.”

  “Yes, m’lady.”

  The boy hurried away and Olympia faced the doors to the library. They were very impressive doors, thick oak and adorned with carvings of ancient scholars. The Mallams had obviously been very wealthy once upon a time. She knew Brant successfully invested his money along with Ashton but had to wonder how much of that gain he now wasted in drink, whoring, and gambling. Did the man not see that he was rapidly falling into the same trap his forbearers had?

  Shaking that thought away, she entered the room. Requesting permission to enter would have been the polite and well-bred thing to do, but she was not feeling particularly polite at the moment. She also had no wish to be refused entrance and be put into the position of yelling through a clos
ed door trying to convince the man to speak to her.

  The Earl of Fieldgate was sprawled on a settee, his eyes closed. The lines on his handsome face were clearer and deeper than they had been before, a result of his increasing dissipation. As Olympia moved closer to the man she caught the faint, sour scent of liquor. Since she could see no sign of spilled liquor or forgotten drinks close at hand, and the earl looked clean in both body and dress, she suspected the smell was a result of a night of heavy drinking. Her father had often smelled that way, as if all the drink he had consumed was leeching out of his body through his skin. Brant Mallam was in a sad state indeed, she decided.

  When she reached the foot of the settee, he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at her. Olympia nearly sighed aloud for his fine, dark gray eyes, the one feature she had always sharply recalled about the man, were cloudy with fatigue and the whites of his eyes were well veined with red. He scowled at her for a moment and then hastily, and clumsily, got to his feet.

  “What are you doing here, m’lady?” he asked.

  “Sit down, Fieldgate, before you fall down,” Olympia said, resisting the urge to reach out, grab his arm, and steady him as he swayed before her. “Please. Sit. I have no wish to try and catch you when you fall, as you most certainly shall in but a moment or two.”

  Brant slowly sat down, taking a few slow, deep breaths through his nose and letting them out slowly in an attempt to quell the dizziness caused by his abrupt rise to his feet. Embarrassment began to creep over him but he beat it down. He had not invited Lady Olympia Wherlocke into his home nor had she announced herself before entering the library. She could just accept him as she found him. He ignored the part of him that heartily wished she had not found him suffering from too much drink.

  He looked into her blue eyes, saw a hint of pity, and bit back a curse. Disgust he could have easily tolerated. Pity from such a strong, beautiful woman made him want to curl up and hide, a weakness that deeply embarrassed him. It was quickly replaced with an urge to throw her out of his house. Curiosity worked to quell both urges. Since meeting her when his friend Ashton and her niece Penelope had gotten together, he had seen very little of Lady Wherlocke, no more than a few brief moments of polite conversation passed during a few social meetings. He could think of no reason for her to be at his home.