Searching Hearts Box Set: Books 1-5

by St. Clair, Ellie

  Of course, he had given some monies towards charitable causes and the like, but that had meant that he had only had to sign his name on a few documents. It required no further input from him, which had frustrated him more than a little. It had been then that, whilst discussing his future plans and desires with Lord Taylor, that he had hit upon an idea.

  Since that evening, he had found himself as head of a small group of investigators who took on the cases that the constabulary could either not resolve, or required assistance with due to Joshua’s access to places and events as an earl. Of course, Joshua had to be more than a little discreet, for it would not do for society to discover that he was involved in such an undertaking, but it suited him quite well. He very much enjoyed pitting his mind against that of the criminals with which he became involved.

  He paid the men who worked for him out of his own pocket and would provide them a bonus for each case solved. All, that is, except for Taylor, who had no needs for any funds, but rather had been eager to join Joshua in his pursuit of justice and purpose. He and Taylor were involved in whatever capacity they chose – and, as in this case, occasionally took over the entire investigation.

  Of course, that was only when the gentry was involved. Sir Whitby, it seemed, had got himself caught up with a gentleman of poor repute. From what Joshua understood, the man – whoever he was – had gambled Sir Whitby completely out of pocket, and had then held Sir Whitby to ransom over his debt. Why the man had been murdered, he was not quite sure, but had heard from one of his many informants – namely, a street urchin who lived very close to Sir Whitby's home – that there was to be a meeting that very evening at the ball, in the darkest part of the gardens.

  That was all the information Joshua had been given, and he had only just managed to scout out the gardens earlier that day, given that he was a friend of their hosts. He had muttered some nonsense about feeling quite melancholy and how the gardens had always seemed to lift his spirits, and had been allowed almost immediate access. From there, he had determined where the darkest part of the gardens was and, from that, had hoped that he would be in time to stop whatever nefarious intentions were planned as well as catch those responsible.

  Unfortunately, his carriage had been caught up in the plethora of other guests attending the ball, which was something he had not planned for. It would have drawn no amount of attention had he simply got out and walked, so had been forced, for propriety's sake, to remain within. That had made him late and, as such, Sir Whitby was now gone from this world. Had Joshua known the consequences of the meeting tonight he would have broken with his respectability, but regret would not bring Sir Whitby back.

  “Do we have any idea of what Sir Whitby was meant to bring to the group?” Taylor asked, breaking into his thoughts. “Or why they killed him?”

  “From what Lady Harrington said, they grew impatient with his lack of action.”

  “And she did not hear what it was he meant to do?”

  Frustrated, Joshua shook his head.

  "Then we are no closer to catching them in the act."

  “And if we do not, then we cannot discover who it is that leads them,” Joshua finished, his shoulders slumped. “Although one thing Lady Harrington did hear, was that Sir Whitby referred to one of the men as ‘Roberts’.”

  It did not bring anyone to mind, unfortunately, and, from Taylor’s silence, it did not mean anything to him either.

  “Well, that is something, at least,” Taylor replied, with a forced amount of cheerfulness. “Although that does not explain why you remain up here?”

  "As I said, it was Lady Harrington who witnessed, or, at the very least, heard the murder," Joshua said, his eyes still on the lady. “Before exiting the gazebo, I was sure the garden around us was quite void of any presence, however I believe I saw a shadow move as we emerged onto the garden path."

  Taylor's swift intake of breath told Joshua that the man realized just how much danger Lady Harrington was in.

  “I did what I could do shield her identity, of course,” Joshua continued, only to stop and clear his throat as a slight heat rose up the back of his neck. “However, as we reached the French doors, we stumbled across an acquaintance of hers!”

  A loud groan came from Taylor, who ran one hand over his face. “And now you are betrothed?”

  Joshua laughed, shaking his head. “No, not in the least. Lady Harrington stated that she was lost, and Lady Beauforth, I believe, was not particularly following the rules of propriety either, so we entered the ballroom without a fuss.”

  Taylor frowned, regarding Joshua with a great deal of confusion. “Then what is troubling you?”

  Joshua sighed inwardly, wishing his friend would allow him to complete his story without unnecessary interruptions. “My concern is, that Lady Beauforth identified Lady Harrington at once, stating her name aloud.”

  "Ah," Taylor interrupted, his eyes widening slightly. "And you are concerned, therefore, that the lady in question can be easily identified by this ‘Roberts', whoever he may be?"

  “Quite.”

  Taylor frowned. “Did Lady Beauforth identify you also?”

  “No, thank goodness,” Joshua replied, fervently. “My identity is safe for now, although I cannot say as much for Lady Harrington.”

  “Might well you say so,” Taylor stated, darkly. “Look.”

  Joshua followed his friend’s gaze, his heart stopping in his chest as he saw two men, who were not particularly well dressed, enter through the French doors. There was something quite furtive about them, their eyes sharp as they moved through the crowd.

  “I have no doubt that your Lady Harrington might be in danger,” Taylor muttered, getting to his feet. “You see to the lady. I shall take care of our two friends.”

  Joshua was on his feet at once, growing cold all over at the thought of Lady Harrington caught up with such men. A well placed slender knife could easily cause her death, and allow the men responsible to escape without ever being noticed. It would not be the first time he had seen such a thing.

  Lady Harrington was not difficult to spot, for she was still where he had seen her last, talking amicably with a lady of her acquaintance. She remained close to the wall of the ballroom and did not seem to have a great many suitors at hand. In fact, he had seen her step out onto the dance floor only once since their return to the ballroom which, he thought to himself, was something of a surprise given her delicate beauty.

  In truth, now that he saw the lady in full candlelight, he had to admit that he found her quite a beautiful young woman, although certainly not in the first flush of youth. High cheekbones accentuated her lovely face, her slender nose resting above full, rosy lips. Given that he was not inclined to stand up with debutantes, Lady Harrington would be the perfect dance partner, whilst ensuring that he could protect her from danger.

  "Lady Harrington," he murmured, aware of the surprise in her eyes as he approached. "Might you join me for a dance? I do hope your dance card is not full."

  The color drained from her face, with only a slight tremble of her lips as she attempted to nod and smile. Her companion, evidently delighted with her friend being asked to accompany him to the dance floor, stood aside at once so that Lady Harrington might take his arm.

  “It would be my pleasure,” she murmured, stepping forward and allowing him to lead her to the middle of the ballroom.

  5

  Violet could hardly breathe, such was her surprise at being asked to dance by Lord Greville, as she struggled to forget the way he had kissed her in the gardens. Of course, she had seen the way he had looked to and fro in the gardens on their way back towards the ballroom and had realized, with a great twinge of sadness, exactly why he had done so.

  The truth was, Lord Greville must have been shielding her from someone. A man lurking in the gardens, perhaps? Someone watching their movements, in an attempt to ascertain their identity and whether or not they had seen the murder? The Earl had kissed her so as to hide her face,
as well as to show whoever was watching that they had made their way into the gardens for the sole purpose of a liaison. Whether it had convinced them was yet to be seen, but Violet had to admit that he had quite taken her breath away with such a kiss.

  In truth, Violet had never been kissed — really kissed — before, and the experience was quite overwhelming. As the waltz began and Lord Greville held her in his arms, Violet struggled to know where to look, finding her gaze going – almost unwillingly – towards his mouth. He had a strong jaw and an almost penetrating gaze, which Violet saw, to her relief, was not fixed upon her. Rather, he was looking all about them as they twirled across the floor, never once losing his footing. He was a wonderful dancer.

  “Are you quite well, Lady Harrington?” he asked, his gaze finally catching hers for a brief moment. “You have been through a significant ordeal.”

  "I am not one of those simpering misses who faints at the sight of anything remotely untoward," she retorted, ignoring the fact that she had almost fainted in the gazebo earlier. "I am quite well, I thank you." Were she honest with him, she would admit that her legs still trembled a little and that she would probably never get the sound of the gunshot from her mind, but instead she lifted her chin a fraction and gazed out across the floor.

  “I can see that you are a strong woman, Lady Harrington,” came the reply, his words holding a touch of admiration. “I did not mean to insult you.”

  A rush of heat touched her cheeks as she realized she had overreacted somewhat. "No, I quite understand. I am well, I thank you."

  “Do you dance often?” he asked, looking down at her.

  “Not at all,” she replied. “I enjoy watching others dance, my lord.”

  He looked at her with question in his eyes. “I am surprised, I admit it.”

  “Surprised?” she asked, finding his response not in the least perturbing. “You do not know me, then.”

  “I know that you are one of the most beautiful ladies in the present company,” he replied, his dark, searching eyes looking into hers. “Why the gentlemen here would not seek you out is quite beyond me.”

  Violet did not want to divulge him of such information, thinking that she would simply enjoy her dance with the Earl for, when he heard of her bluestocking tendencies, her propensity to offer her opinions too freely, as well as the number of refusals she had given in return of proposals, he would think of her much differently.

  “We gentlemen are strange creatures, are we not?” he murmured, half to himself. “We expect all young ladies to meet such high standards in terms of accomplishment and beauty when, in truth, it is character that matters the most.”

  Utterly astonished, Violet looked up at him and saw in his face that he was being completely truthful. A small smile curved his lips, making her heart quicken in her chest.

  “You do not believe me, I see,” he said, softly. “I can assure you that not all gentlemen seek the same thing, my dear lady.”

  “I do believe you,” she replied, quickly. “I will say that I am quite astonished at your articulation of such a sentiment, however. I have never heard it from a gentleman’s lips before.”

  His smile widened as their eyes met, their gazes locked. In that moment, Violet forgot all about the murder, and what she had witnessed. All she saw was the Earl, feeling his strong arm about her as they waltzed across the floor. He was different from the other gentlemen of her acquaintance, his gaze honest as they continued to dance. Violet found that she could not look away, her heart beating loudly in her chest as she felt a sudden explosion of sensations deep in her belly.

  “I am surprised we have not previously met, my lord,” she said as he swept her around the ballroom.

  “I do know of your family, of course, Lady Harrington,” he replied. “However I typically am not one for dancing and therefore have never had the pleasure of an introduction to you.”

  A blush rose in her cheeks as she realized the compliment he was paying her, then, in a dance.

  To her very great surprise, the Earl held onto her for a second dance, and seemingly had every intention of keeping her on the floor for a third.

  “We must not stay for a third, my lord,” she murmured, demurely. “Think of what would be said.”

  For a moment, she hoped desperately that the Earl might ignore her words and the resulting gossip and would lead her onto the floor again, but his expression cleared and he bowed over her hand, dulling her hopes at once.

  “You are quite right, of course,” he murmured, lifting his head. “I had forgotten, my dear lady. You have enchanted me with your company and I find myself sorry to be parting from your side.”

  “I thank you for your consideration over my present state,” she replied, knowing that he had come to ensure she was suffering no ill effects after the scene she had witnessed. “It was most kind of you.”

  He tilted his head, keeping her gaze. “Might I call upon you, Lady Harrington? In a few days time, perhaps? I must ensure that you are recovered after all you have endured.”

  Her heart lifted a little, wondering if there might be hope of anything more between them. “I think that would be acceptable, my lord, and most kind of you.”

  His smile was immediate, making her cheeks warm. “Tomorrow, then,” he replied, pressing a brief kiss to her palm that shot sparks up her arm. “Pray excuse me, Lady Harrington.”

  Violet curtsied and watched him walk away, apparently unhurried. It was only when he was met by another gentleman, one she did not know, that she saw him begin to hurry across the floor, seemingly in a rush to quit the ball.

  “My dear!”

  Hearing her mother’s voice, Violet inwardly groaned, but turned and smiled at her, more than aware of what was to come.

  “Did I see you dancing just now?”

  “Yes, Mama,” Violet replied quietly, trying to keep her mother from making a scene. “It seems there are some gentlemen who wish to dance with me still.”

  Her mother’s face did not lose its wide smile, the look of delight evident that she was well aware of who Violet had been dancing with.

  “But that was an earl, was it not? The Earl of Wanfield?”

  "Yes, Mama, it was," Violet murmured, quietly. "We were introduced in the gardens earlier when I went out to get air." Seeing her mother's expectant look, Violet sighed inwardly. "He is Lord Greville, Mama, and a very nice gentleman, but I pray that you do not suddenly expect an engagement or the like!"

  Her mother's beaming smile did not disappear. "To think that my daughter has captured the interest of the Earl of Wanfield!" she exclaimed, clearly aware of the man. "I was just talking to my dear friend, Lady Mallen, when I saw you take to the floor. It was Lady Mallen who told me who the gentleman was. I would never have expected you to catch such a man, my dear!"

  Violet refrained from rolling her eyes. “Why, thank you for your confidence in me, Mama. However, I have not caught him,” she replied, firmly. “It was just a mere dance.”

  “Two dances,” the Duchess corrected, her eyes sparkling. “Did you not know that Lord Greville simply does not dance, Violet? He is not the kind of man who takes ladies onto the floor, and, by all accounts, you are the first lady in quite some time.” Her hands clapped together, drawing additional unwanted attention that brought a blush to Violet’s cheeks.

  "Pray, quieten yourself, Mama," she warned, softly. "There is nothing to it, I swear it."

  “Nonsense, girl,” her mother replied, haughtily. Her sharp eyes caught Violet’s, boring into her. “Now, you must promise me that if the gentleman asks for your hand, you will not refuse him.”

  Violet tried not to laugh, shaking her head at her mother. "Mama, I am very sure that two dances do not signify that a proposal will be forthcoming. Just think, I have only just met the man!” She made to step away from her mother, growing weary of the circular conversation.

  “That does not matter in the least,” her mother retorted, refusing to let Violet leave. “The Earl of Wanfield
is a good man, with a great fortune and certainly a good choice for the daughter of a duke.” She glared at Violet, her mouth no longer curved into a smile. “Swear to me you will not refuse him, should he ask.”

  Violet did roll her eyes this time, thinking that a proposal was the last thing that would ever happen. “I swear it, Mama. If he should ask me, I shall not refuse.”

  Her mother’s beaming smile was back in a moment, her hand grasping Violet’s arm tightly. “Oh, how wonderful. Now, then, Violet, in the meantime if he should call on you, you will keep your opinions to yourself and be quite cordial with him. Should you do that, I am sure that in only a few weeks you shall be the Earl of Wanfield’s fiancée and then, oh how happy I shall be!”

  Wishing that her mother would be a little more discreet, Violet inclined her head and stepped away from her, retreating into the shadows in the corner of the room.

  The truth was, she was unsure that she would ever see Lord Greville again, despite his promise to call on her. When it came to it, as wonderful as the dances had been, he was simply ensuring she was well after her ordeal, that was all. It was not something she could explain to her mother, of course, but she knew that the idea of marrying Lord Greville was nothing more than her mother's dream.

  Deep down, Violet knew that her mother only had the best of intentions for her, but it was the way she jumped from a dance to matrimony that made Violet cringe. She was glad that Lord Greville had gone from the ball, for at least he was spared from being introduced to Marie Harrington, Duchess of Ware. What an embarrassment that would have been for both of them.

  Rubbing her hands over her arms, Violet felt a slight chill rush over her as she remembered what she had seen that evening. She was not sure she would ever be able to rid herself of the sights and sounds of what she had witnessed, her stomach churning at the thought of Sir Whitby’s body in the bottom of the Thames. At least she could rest in the fact that Lord Greville, for whatever reason, was looking into the matter. A slight frown marred her brow as she considered why a gentlemen of such high standing would involve himself in such matters, for as an earl, he could spend his life in comfort doing whatever he pleased, aside from estate matters and the like of course. Most men such as he handed their responsibilities to stewards and the like, but Violet got the impression that the Earl of Wanfield was not that kind of man.