"So you have no idea where he was from?"
Lady Beckworth shook her head.
"You know, I hadn't really thought about it," mused Alex, "but in all our travels, Papa never once mentioned that we were near where he grew up or some such thing as that. And we went nearly everywhere."
"Except East Anglia," pointed out Justin. " Said he hated the fens. Said it chilled him to the bone."
Branford looked questioningly at Alex. "But I thought that is where you said he was when he had his accident?"
"Ironic, isn't it," she replied. "It was his first trip there. I imagine he knew he had to visit it at some time if he wished to finish his Natural History. After all, he couldn't very well leave it out."
It was a rational explanation, but something he couldn't lay a finger on was bothering Branford.
"Does any of this help?" asked Alex.
"I'm not sure," answered the earl frankly. "I shall have to think on it."
But he had little time to mull over it at the present. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour, causing him to put aside his cup and rise from the comfortable but worn wing chair.
"I fear I have lost track of the time. As I am engaged for the evening, I regret that I must take my leave." He bowed gracefully to Lady Beckworth, taking her frail hand and pressing it lightly to his lips.
She smiled warmly. "I hope you shall call again, Lord Branford."
"You may count on it."
"And don't forget to bring that volume of Aristophanes you mentioned."
"Ah," he gave a mock grimace. "And I thought it was my scintillating conversation that had garnered the invitation."
As Lady Beckworth let out a laugh, he nodded to the two young people and took his leave.
A companionable silence reigned in the small drawing room as they each sat engage d with their own thoughts. Then suddenly Lady Beckworth lifted her head, her mouth set in a determined line. "Fools," she announced. "Utter fools."
Alex and Justin exchanged puzzled looks.
"Who?" ventured Alex.
"Society! How such stupid rumors start is beyond me." She snapped her book shut. "Why, to listen to the Ton, you'd think the man was Lucifer incarnate. I may be in my dotage, but I find his lordship delightful — witty, charming, intelligent, with a sense of humor as well." She gave a little sigh. "If I were fifty years younger, I should set my cap for him."
Alex rattled one of the cups she was stacking on the tea tray. Though she had rearranged her hair before coming back downstairs, it had loosened once again, falling just enough to hide her expression.
Lord Branford glanced in the large gilt mirror that hung in the entrance hall of his townhouse and straightened the cravat of his evening dress. Picking up his hat and cane from the polished sidetable, he gave a brief nod to the footman who quietly materialized from the shadows to open the stately front door. His carriage was already waiting at the bottom of the steps, but instead of climbing in, he walked around to the mews. Inside, a short, stocky groom was putting away a newly cleaned harness. So deft were his movements that it would have taken most people more than a few moments to notice he worked with only one hand. His left shirt sleeve was sewn shut to cover a stump that ended at the wrist.
"Evening, Sykes."
Sykes nodded. "Cap'n."
"I have a special job for you."
The man's eyes lit up with interest.
Branford handed him some folded sheets of paper. "This explains what I want you to do. Be ready to leave for East Anglia first thing in the morning. Simms will arrange a horse."
"Aye, Cap'n." The ex-soldier still had not lost the habit of addressing his former officer in military terms.
"I needn't remind you that this is a matter of great discretion."
The man spit into the hay.
Branford gave a slight smile. "No, I thought not." He placed a heavy leather purse on top of the stall door. "Expense is no object. And keep me informed of anything you discover."
Sykes gave a quick salute with his good hand.
"Good night, then."
Alex surveyed the crowded ballroom. At least there was a possibility of some interesting conversation, she noted, spying Mr. Simpson and a group of other Botanical Society members clustered around a rather overblown display of orchids at the far end of the room. Just then, the music struck up and she was obliged to wait until the dance was over before making her way across the floor. As the gentlemen in their evening dress and ladies swathed in expensive silks capered through the lively steps of a country dance, she noted, not for the first time, that Branford had not made an appearance at any of the entertainments she had attended over the past number of days. In fact, she had not seen him for over a week.
Alex found herself wondering what other engagements he had, with whom he spent his evenings. An elegant lady paused in front of her, laughing in a light trill at something her partner had just said. Her graceful fingers pressed against the milky skin revealed by a low cut gown as she lowered her eyes and murmured something softly in reply. The smoldering look the lady received from the gentleman made Alex just a little bit envious.
She knew she couldn't — nay, wouldn't want to — perfect the art of coquetry in a millennium. But she couldn't help but think it would be interesting to inspire such a look from a man.
Was that the sort of lady Lord Branford took to his bed? Oh, she was, as she had informed the earl, quite aware of what went on in the bedroom — well, most of it, that is.
Did he look at a lady that way as he was unfastening...."
She caught herself and colored slightly, grateful that no one could read her highly improper thoughts.
Drat the man, anyway!
Why had he popped into her thoughts yet again when all she really wanted to do was concentrate on her work. The hibiscus — his hibiscus, she reminded herself — was turning out better than she had ever imagined. With just a few more..."
"Alex! There you are."
She came out of her reverie with a jolt. Up came her head to see her brother approaching, accompanied by another gentleman. He was of medium height and very elegantly dressed, though his waistcoat was overly bright for Alex's taste and had an excess of fobs dangling in a conspicuous manner.
"Alex, I should like you to meet a new acquaintance of mine, his lordship the Earl of Hammerton. Hammerton, my sister Alexandra"
The man bowed low over Alex's hand. "A pleasure, Miss Chilton. Your brother has spoken of what an authority you are on plants. I wonder if I may be so bold as to ask your advice on a garden design for one of my estates?"
"I should be happy to try, but it is really not my field of expertise...!"
Hammerton cut her off. "Chilton, you are a sly one. You neglected to mention that your sister was lovelier than any summer rose."
Alex imagined it was a well-turned compliment, one that should please any lady. But there was something she couldn't quite put a finger on that put her off about the man. However, he appeared to be a friend of Justin's. She smiled politely.
"Perhaps if you are free for the next dance?" He phrased it as a question though he was already extending his hand for her arm. There was nothing short of appearing rude that she could do so she placed her hand on the proffered arm and followed him onto the dance floor. Besides, if he had an interest in gardens, he must be a pleasant enough fellow despite her initial misgivings.
To her mild surprise, when he began to speak it was not of his own concerns.
"I trust your brother has fully recovered from his unfortunate accident?" he inquired. "I was most shocked to hear about it."
"Yes, he is quite well, thank goodness."
Hammerton shook his heading exaggerated concern. "From what I hear, he could have been seriously hurt in the mishap."
Alex's throat tightened. "Yes."
"What a shame. He is such an amiable young man. I hope I may be of assistance in introducing him to the proper people and places here in Town. I remember what it was lik
e to be new. It's so easy to be led astray."
Alex felt a surge of gratitude. Perhaps she had misjudged him after all. It was a generous offer from an earl.
"I have heard that is true, my lord. I should be very grateful if you would keep an eye on him and see he is... kept out of danger."
"Danger? Surely you cannot mean to imply that was anything but chance!" Hammerton's voice seemed to convey disbelief, even a little mockery. "Or perhaps you exaggerate, as most females are wont to do. After all, young men are bound to take a spill or two."
Alex's opinion of him plummeted once more.
"It was not only this particular incident, Lord Hammerton," she said sharply. "This was not the first accident."
His eyes seemed to doubt her. "Really?"
She felt goaded. "Yes, really. There have been other occurrences. And not only that. I am of the opinion that his saddle's girth was deliberately tampered with."
An emotion flashed across Hammerton's face before he quickly brought himself under control. "That is something to be concerned about. What does your brother think about such disturbing news?"
"He thinks I am overreacting."
"Well, no doubt you are mistaken, Miss Chilton," he said smoothly. "After all, what possible reason could someone have for wanting to harm your brother?"
Alex sighed in frustration. "That is what I cannot figure out. But I plan on doing some investigations of my own. I intend to get to the bottom of the matter."
Hammerton gave her a smile. "I shouldn't dwell on it overly. A young lady most certainly has other, more important things to occupy her thoughts. I'm sure that your brother will be taken care of."
As the music was coming to a close, Alex indicated that she wished to be escorted to where her friends were gathered round the orchids. "In fact," she said as they made their way across the floor, "It is Mr. Simpson who is very knowledgeable on gardens. I am certain he would be happy to advise... "
"Yes, I shall be sure to consult him later regarding the plans" said Hammerton. "But I fear I have another engagement right now that I must attend to. Perhaps later." He bowed politely. " I look forward to meeting again, Miss Chilton."
Sooner than you think, he added to himself.
CHAPTER FIVE
The brush moved deftly, laying in a subtle shading of deep alizarin crimson to create a delicate shadow under the curling petals of the flower. Satisfied, Alex put aside her palette and stepped back to assess the work as a whole. Even she had to admit it had turned out rather well.
What would the earl do with it? Would it hang somewhere those bright, sapphire eyes would observe it regularly? Or would he quickly tire of it, as Society said he was wont to do with most things, and consign it to some moldy attic? She sighed. There was precious little say she had on that score. Somehow, however, it would be nice to think the flash of regard she had caught in his eye was no mere passing fancy, that he did not discard things that he admired quite so readily. Carefully unfastening the thick, textured sheet of paper from her easel, Alex carried the finished painting over to the table. She untied the ribbons of her portfolio and slid it inside.
Well, at least she was ready to fulfill her end of the business arrangement.
The letter. Her lips pursed at the thought. Had she made a cake of herself in asking him to spend what may turn out to be hours on deciphering the mysterious message? Good heavens, what if it did, in fact, turn out to be naught but a list of plants and where her father had found them? Why, perhaps the strange symbols were not hatchets but hand trowels, the kind he used to dig up his specimens. It might very well be they were only something as mundane as a notation for how difficult the terrain made it to remove them.
Oh dear. She would feel like the verriest of fools. No doubt he should tease her unmercifully — yet the notion didn't seem to bother her unduly. Her gaze drifted towards the tall, leaded glass windows as she imagined the low, mellifluous voice and those lively blue eyes.... Then she shook her head to banish such idle daydreams. The earl had of yet done nothing to fulfill his end of the bargain, she reminded herself. He certainly had given the problem no further thought, for she had heard nothing from him this past week. Perhaps he had forgotten about it after all.
With a determined expression, she took up a fresh sheet of paper and a stick of charcoal. Really, it was time to get back to work.
Her friends were engaged in an animated conversation concerning the last week's lecture. Mr. Graves, a noted expert on roses, had stirred up a great deal of controversy with his theories on hybrids, due in no small part to his abrasive manner. Normally Alex would have thrown herself wholeheartedly into the fray, but tonight she found her attention wandering.
Her thoughts strayed to more pressing concerns than those of shape and color. Though she was ready to complete her end of the business deal with the earl, she had been bothered since this afternoon by the realization that she had done nothing to follow up on her own vow to investigate the accidents. It was difficult to know where to begin, having little practice in this sort of thing — but of course she would never admit that to him. Her jaw set at the memory of his words advising her to drop the whole matter.
She had only to apply logic to the problem, she told herself. Her mind set to work. Perhaps a first step would be to find out if any stranger had been seen in the vicinity of the accidents. That was a start, at least. She would write to her aunt's steward first thing in the morning. And she would make a point of questioning Mr. Hartley most thoroughly.
Yes, she would show him she could use her head....
She spotted him as soon as he entered the room. His dark evening clothes were in marked contrast to the brighter colors favored by a majority of the gentlemen present. His eyes seemed to sweep the room and she felt a pinch of disappointment when they didn't so much as pause a fraction to acknowledge her presence. When he moved on and was hidden by the crowd near the punch table she sighed inwardly and forced herself to attend to the last of Mr. Simpson's comments.
"Good evening, Miss Chilton."
Alex whirled around at the sound of the familiar, deep voice.
"My lord." Though she tried to keep her tone neutral, her face came alight with pleasure at seeing him. "Why, where have you been this past week?"
The words popped out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying.
"Ah, has my presence been missed, then?" There was a twinkle in his eye.
She felt a blush stealing over her and ducked her head to hide a rush of embarrassment. "No, of course not — I mean... " she said, struggling to regain her equilibrium. "It's just that I have been wondering about our... business arrangement." She took a deep breath to steady her momentary confusion and was able to continue in a more assured manner. "Well? Have you made any progress?"
"I regret that other matters have prevented me from dealing with your problem. Be assured that I will address it forthwith."
Alex found herself wondering just what had occupied the earl's attention for over a week.
"I trust you have been well?" Branford asked pleasantly, seeming to ignore the awkward interchange that had just taken place.
"Quite." To her consternation, she felt the blush returning. Good lord, she berated herself angrily. She was acting worse than a giddy schoolroom miss. Whatever had come over her?
"Is something wrong?"
Alex's head snapped up. "Why do you ask?"
"Because the scowl on your face would put marshal Nye to rout."
"Oh. Sorry," she mumbled. "I was thinking of something else."
He took her arm familiarly. "Well, I shall endeavor to keep your thoughts turned to less disturbing things than they are dwelling on now. I trust you will allow me the next dance?"
Before she could compose herself for a reply, they passed Justin and a petit brown-haired young lady of not more than average looks but dressed expensively in a figured silk gown of the latest fashion.
"Hello, Alex." Her brother greeted her, then smiled rath
er shyly at the earl as well. "Good evening, Lord Branford. May I have the honor of presenting my friend, Miss Lockwood."
Branford bowed politely. "Miss Lockwood."
The young lady dipped a hurried a curtsy, then shied against Justin's shoulder. Words seemed to elude her. Justin's hand tightened on her arm in a reassuring manner. He smiled an encouragement at her downcast face before nodding once more to the two of them. Then he guided her out onto the middle of the dance floor.
"I suppose she does not chatter your brother's ear off," remarked Branford dryly.
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