He bristled. Her implication struck its mark with alarming force. “I’m sorry, but the truth is your staying here won’t affect your reputation any more than your prolonged residence at Amourette’s already has.”
“Let’s not forget that no one would have known I was there had it not been for you.”
All he could think to say was, “I’m so sorry.”
She tilted her head. A crooked smile touched her lips. “I can imagine a fate far worse than being ruined, you know.”
A shiver raked Simon’s spine. He didn’t want to know what she’d seen or experienced, and yet he had to ask, “Like what?”
Hesitation froze her features for a couple of seconds before she said, “Suffice it to say Guthrie had to rescue me from a terrible fate last year. Had it not been for him, I would have been locked away and kept as some awful man’s plaything.” She held his gaze, forcing him to see the horror she’d once endured reflected in her eyes.
Simon’s every muscle strained with the need to do justice on her behalf. His heart beat heavily, fanning to life a rage unlike any he’d ever known before. Jaw clenched so tightly he feared his teeth might crumble, he fought for calm by reminding himself she was safe now.
Instinctively, he reached for her hand. “I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer. I trust Guthrie made sure the people responsible paid for what they did?”
“He killed some of them.”
An unexpected rush of satisfaction spread its way through Simon’s veins. “Good.”
Her eyes widened just enough to convey her surprise. His response surprised him as well. He wouldn’t have thought he’d be pleased to hear of such violence under any circumstances, but when it came to Miss Strong, he wanted those who’d hurt her to suffer.
“The rest were arrested and are presently serving their sentences at Newgate.”
A pity Guthrie hadn’t slit their throats too. “I see.”
As if sensing his disappointment, Miss Strong told him gently, “Guthrie’s future wife, Regina, was also taken, so believe me when I tell you that he unleashed as much fury as he was able.”
Simon nodded and withdrew his hand from hers. He wished he’d have a moment alone with the men who still lived. Perhaps one day he’d pay them a visit in prison. His stomach tightened with the prospect of plunging his fists into each of their faces. But for now, he still had a willful young woman to deal with.
“One would think all the terrible experiences you’ve had might have taught you to be more careful – not to venture out on your own at night.” He was doing his best not to sound angry, but there was still an unavoidable gruffness to his voice.
“I didn’t go out for no reason,” she said, neatly countering his reprimand by suggesting essential motivation. “And since I don’t respond well to orders or doing nothing while someone else takes charge of my life, I chose to seek out the one man who might know who sent the forged letters.”
It was bloody difficult not to be drawn in by her revelation or to feel like she’d just trumped him. Simon tensed with expectation. “Which man?”
“The captain of the ship that carried the letters with it, of course.”
“Of course,” he murmured. “And were you successful in your search?”
“Well…”
“Did you find him?” he gritted with rising annoyance.
“No, but—”
“So you risked your safety for no reason.” Honestly, he ought to drag her upstairs right now, tie her to the bed, and leave her there for the foreseeable future.
An unbidden surge of desire swept through him. The mere thought…
He shifted in his seat and hoped to God she wouldn’t notice the effect his wayward thoughts were having. Clearing his throat to make sure her full attention remained on his face, he told her, “I offered to help you because I feel indebted to your father, and while I am still happy to give you whatever assistance you may require in your quest for justice, I must insist on some rules.”
When she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes narrowed with the promise of protest, he bluntly informed her, “This is my house. Your presence here will be noted, your association with me the subject of gossip, and while you might not give a fig about any of that, I do. More important is the responsibility I have toward you for the duration of your stay, which means there will be no more solitary excursions on your part, no acting as though you’re working alone, no disregard for my concerns, no lack of respect for the hospitality I am willing to give you. Is that clear?”
Simon almost wished she would lash out at him for his suggestion. He’d welcome a row right now – the chance to move and yell and release his own frustration so he wouldn’t have to remain in this tortured state of want for one second longer.
Instead, a pensive smile curved her lips. “And if I refuse?”
The possibility of her doing so had always existed, but it wasn’t an outcome he was prepared to allow. Not when he had her here, in this house, away from prying eyes, at his disposal. The situation was by far the most scandalous one he’d ever allowed, the temptation to keep her so great he knew there was no way back. She was his, for as long as she would permit, and he would make damn sure it would be for more than a paltry two days.
Muscles tight across his shoulders, he leaned forward and pierced her with his hardest gaze. “I’ll have you admitted to Bedlam until this case has been solved.” He smirked with devious pleasure. “There’s no chance of you escaping from there.”
Her blue eyes darkened a fraction. “You are the most awful man I have ever encountered.”
“Are we in agreement?”
She set her jaw at a stubborn angle. “Yes.”
Simon finally allowed himself to relax. “As a token of my appreciation, I’ll do what I can to prevent you from getting bored and to keep you involved. Of course, you cannot accompany me everywhere, but perhaps there are other ways in which you can help.”
“Such as?”
“Your idea with the captain was good. I’d like you to see if you can think of additional ways in which we might learn what happened.”
“You want me to come up with possible leads?”
“It would be helpful.”
She nodded. “All right.” There was a pause and then, “What did you learn last night, at your club?”
Simon pushed out a tired breath. “Nothing useful, I’m afraid.” He explained his idea to figure out if one of the suspects had stood to gain financially from getting England involved in another war. “Unfortunately, all three men”— his uncle included, he’d later learned—“have invested in various munitions companies, giving them all equal grounds for involvement.”
Miss Strong pursed her lips and studied him for a second before giving her attention back to her food. He ate as well, savoring the reprieve the meal offered to their conversation. After exchanging little more than heated words with her the entire morning, it was nice to just sit and enjoy some silence for a change.
“My father believed one man betrayed him,” she said once she’d finished her meal.
There was a pensiveness about her as she gathered their plates and carried them to the washbasin. She turned, hands on hips, and leaned against the counter. Her eyes met his and Simon’s chest tightened without the least bit of warning. Christ, she was gorgeous, with her cheeks slightly flushed, a few strands of stray hair falling softly against her shoulder, and a keen look of determination burning in her eyes.
He clenched his fists and forced himself to remain where he was, to not go and haul her against him, to not learn how good she would feel in his arms, to not kiss her, and to not explore her lush curves with his hands. But by God, how he wanted to do all those things and a hell of a lot more. He wanted to lift her up onto the counter and press himself into her warmth. He wanted to kiss a hot path down the side of her neck and make her cry out with pleasure.
The discomfort from earlier returned, pulsing through him with increased vigor. He crossed his legs, plan
ted his hands in his lap, and prayed for the moment to pass. Somehow, he had to overcome the effect she had on him or he’d never be able to go out in public again.
“But maybe,” she suddenly continued, jolting him out of his reverie, “all three men were involved.”
“It’s possible, I suppose.” Simon had been sure of his uncle’s innocence until he’d spoken with him. He was still reluctant to think him a traitor. But after learning that Elliot had, unbeknownst to Simon, invested in more munitions companies than the other two men, his motive was greater, though Simon chose to keep that information to himself for now. Until he learned more.
“It would explain why none of them remained in Town at the time of the sentencing.” She worried her lower lip. “The captain I sought is away at the moment delivering goods to Spain, so we won’t learn anything from him until he returns in a couple of weeks, but there has to be something we can do in the meantime, some way to ferret out the guilty party and…”
She paused, the faraway look in her eyes suggesting her mind was whirring with some new idea.
“What is it?” Simon asked with equal amounts of curiosity and dread.
Her gaze met his with renewed clarity. “I think we need to attend a social function. A ball would be good.”
“I beg your pardon?” he sputtered.
She smiled with increased gusto while he started sweating. “Don’t the rich host grand events all the time?”
“Yes, but—”
“The sort of events where everyone of consequence will wish to be seen?”
“What are you getting at?”
“I’m just thinking…”
“About what?” he carefully asked.
“There are so many unanswered questions, like where these men were when my father needed them and why the sentencing happened so fast. Learning who the judge was would help.”
“I don’t entirely disagree,” he hedged.
She tilted her head as if in thought. “We should attend a ball together, one where all three suspects are bound to be present, so we can question them directly.”
Simon’s mouth dropped open. He gasped for air. “Are you mad?”
A frown creased her brow. “No. Why?”
He shook his head, incredulous. “Because you can’t just walk up to a potential lunatic and begin interrogating him. You’d be putting your life in danger. Especially since we’ve already established that there is a chance you’ll be recognized.”
“I know. But there’s also a chance I won’t, and it is one I am willing to take for even the slimmest hope of finding the answers I seek. Besides, my life has been in danger since you made my presence in London known.”
“Which is why I am all the more determined to protect you. If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.”
Her smile from earlier returned. “I appreciate that, but it’s not very helpful, and if we’re to solve this case, you’re going to have to forget about some of your scruples.”
He studied her for a moment before admitting, “I don’t like it. There’s too much risk involved – elements we won’t have any control over.”
“We’ll be in a public setting, surrounded by people. No one will dare try to harm me there even if they do figure out who I am.”
“Perhaps not, but they might try to do so here. Your connection to me will be noted and…”
“And what?” When he didn’t respond, she said, “From what I’ve gathered about you so far, you’re struggling with a need to thwart the rules of Society, you dislike the image you’ve created for yourself as something of a dandy, and you resent the Duke of Huntley for making a fool of you once. What better way for you to make a statement than to show up at the next function with a gorgeous woman on your arm?” She gave him a mischievous smile.
“Miss Strong, it’s not just the suspects we need to worry about. There will without doubt be men there who saw you at Amourette’s, and while I’m inclined to believe they’ll stay silent, there’s no guarantee. If just one of them happens to speak up, your true identity will be revealed right away.”
“As I’ve said, that’s a chance I’m prepared to take.”
“I’m not.”
“Why?” The sparkle of enthusiasm faded from her eyes. “It’s more than concern for my safety that has you worried, isn’t it? You don’t want people to figure out who I really am and to think you’ve taken up with a traitor’s daughter.”
He puffed out a breath. “I’d like to avoid a scandal, if at all possible.”
“I doubt there would be one. None of these men will want anyone to know they recognize me since doing so would remind everyone of their connection to my father. It would stir up the very same past one of them is trying so hard to bury. So you needn’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
“Miss Strong…I’m very concerned for your safety.”
She gave a derisive snort. “I’m not safe anywhere until we get to the bottom of this.”
“I know, but stepping out among the peerage like this seems reckless.”
She sighed. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
She shrugged one shoulder in a dismissive sort of way that only piqued his curiosity. “My father always said he would make arrangements for my coming out once I turned sixteen, but then… I never got to attend a ball, Fielding, and I would really like the experience of doing so, if you will allow it.”
He sympathized with her. All young ladies deserved a chance to feel like a princess and Miss Strong had been denied hers. His heart ached for what she’d lost – for what she’d had to give up. As much as he feared for her safety and the censure he would face from his peers if anyone learned who she really was, he hadn’t the strength to turn down her heartfelt request.
Bold, beautiful, and enticing, Ida Strong deserved the chance to live for a change – a chance to recapture some of what had been taken from her.
With this in mind, he reluctantly gave his agreement.
It was all he could do in the end.
Chapter Seven
Ida was thrilled. She was finally out of the house and with Fielding’s approval this time, no less. It was almost enough to make her laugh with pleasure as they strode along Oxford Street arm in arm. Following their discussion the day before, he’d returned home to see if any new invitations awaited. When he came back an hour later, he brought with him a crisp envelope bearing the Huntley seal.
“This will be the event of the Season,” he’d told her. “Anyone who is anyone will be there without exception, so this is the one we’re attending. I dismissed the rest.”
“Will it not be awkward, considering your history with Huntley and his wife?”
“I don’t see why. It’s a ball, not a dinner party. We only have to greet them. After that we won’t have to speak with either of them at any length.”
She hadn’t argued. In fact, his authoritative manner, so matter of fact and lacking the overbearingness he’d given way to in anger, had been comforting. For the first time, she’d actually felt like they were on the same team, working together toward a common goal. When he’d suggested the outing today, the feeling had intensified to such a degree that she’d gone to bed grateful for their newfound friendship.
Friendship!
Who would have thought?
“I don’t know much about women’s dress shops,” he said as they entered La Belle Anglaise, “but my mother used this one and her gowns always looked exquisite, so I thought we’d give it a try before going elsewhere.”
“I doubt I’ll have cause for complaint. Indeed, I’m grateful to you for making the effort in bringing me here and sorry for the expense.”
“Don’t be.” He glanced around. His eyes narrowed. “Oh, bother.”
“What is it?” Ida followed his gaze until she located three women who were being served by one of the dressmakers.
“Perhaps we ought to—”
“Lord Fielding. W
hat a delightful surprise.”
Fielding’s shoulders slumped, a distinct groan escaped him, but then he straightened and smiled. Ida stared at him in amazement. The transformation had been so swift, so subtle, it was scarcely noticeable at all.
“Lady Warwick,” he declared. “We meet again.”
“Indeed we do.” The lady who’d spoken left her younger companions and approached. Her gaze settled on Ida with open curiosity. “Will you introduce me to your companion, my lord?”
When Fielding said nothing, Ida glanced at him and instantly cringed when she saw how perplexed he looked. She prepared to leap in and say something to fill the awkward silence, when he finally managed to get out the bare minimum. “Miss Jane Smith.” He cleared his throat. “A friend of the family.”
Lady Warwick narrowed her gaze on Ida. “I see.”
“We’ve come to pick out a wardrobe for her,” Fielding added, and Ida was pleased to see that while his poise had been briefly shaken, it had now returned.
“Without a chaperone?” Lady Warwick inquired.
“I did not think one would be required for a visit to the dressmakers,” Fielding told her smoothly. “After all, there are plenty of other ladies here to ensure the preservation of Miss Smith’s reputation.”
“Hmm…” Lady Warwick didn’t sound entirely convinced, but rather than argue, she said, “I hope you know how lucky you are, Miss Smith. The earl has exquisite taste. I am certain he shall make sure you’re dressed to your best advantage.”
“I do hope so,” Ida murmured in the most innocent voice she could manage.
Lady Warwick returned her attention to Fielding. “A pity things didn’t work out between you and my daughter.”
Ida stared. So this was the Duchess of Huntley’s mother? No wonder Fielding felt uncomfortable when he’d realized her presence.
His next words were tight. “I’m sure it was for the best.”
“Well,” Lady Warwick said with a flourish, “she did gain a better title.”
Every nerve ending inside Ida sparked in anger. How dare this woman suggest Fielding wasn’t as good as the man her daughter had chosen to marry? Granted, Ida hadn’t met the Duke of Huntley, but he couldn’t possibly be more polished or in possession of a better character than Fielding. It was simply outrageous to—
The Formidable Earl Page 9