The Formidable Earl

by Sophie Barnes

  “Yes,” she managed with a sob. “Yes, I will marry you.”

  “Thank Christ,” he muttered as he blew out a breath and stood.

  “Congratulations,” Huntley said.

  “That’s enough now,” the guard said, earning a scowl from each of them. “You have to leave.”

  “Be strong, Ida.” Simon stepped right up against the bars and pulled her in for a kiss. “Know that I love you with all that I am and that I will return for you as soon as possible.”

  Additional tears sprang to her eyes. “I love you too.”

  Simon gave her fingers a squeeze before he withdrew his hand. And then she heard Guthrie’s voice, low and measured. “Fielding is gathering troops for the battle ahead. He’s not afraid to ask for help and he’s very determined to win. I thought you should know that.”

  “Thank you,” she rasped. It was comforting to know she wasn’t alone. Some of England’s most powerful men were going to help her. The only question was whether or not it would be enough against the devious foe they were up against.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Accompanied by Guthrie, Simon left the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court and headed to his uncle’s house on Frith Street. Seated in the carriage, he glared out the window, aware he’d never before been in such a foul mood. He hated seeing Ida behind bars, hated the injustice she faced, and hated how helpless it made him feel. Something had to be done and speaking with Elliot would be a good start.

  “Allow me to announce you,” Elliot’s butler said as soon as he saw Simon.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Simon told him. “I trust my uncle is in his study?”

  “Well yes—” the butler’s gaze darted to Guthrie “—but you cannot simply…”

  Simon strode past him without bothering to listen to his insistence that protocol be observed. Instead, Simon located the door he sought and pushed it open without bothering to knock.

  “What the…” Elliot was sitting behind his massive desk, his chair slightly turned so he could keep his foot propped on a stool.

  “Allow me to introduce the Duke of Windham to you,” Simon said. “Perhaps you know him better as Carlton Guthrie.”

  Elliot’s eyes widened. “You brought the Scoundrel of St. Giles into my home?”

  “Indeed.” Guthrie moved further into the room. “I’ve always had a particular dislike for liars, and it seems to me you’re a prime one.”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Elliot said between clenched teeth.

  “No?” Guthrie’s voice was calm and soothing, yet horrifyingly malicious. “Then allow me to remind you.”

  Simon crossed his arms and planted his feet wide apart. When Elliot glanced toward him, he merely frowned. This was about seeing justice served and rescuing Ida. His uncle’s comfort would have to come last.

  “Perhaps you’re unaware, but Miss Strong happens to be a very dear friend of mine, and I’d hate to see her punished on account of your dishonesty.” Approaching Elliot, Guthrie braced one hand on his shoulder, leaned forward, and pressed his palm down on Elliot’s thigh. “Maybe you’d like to tell the chief magistrate what truly happened?”

  Elliot winced in response to the pain. “I did tell the truth. Miss Strong tried to kill me.”

  Simon clenched both fists. “Stop. Lying.”

  “She thinks I’m to blame for her father’s death,” Elliot gasped.

  “Are you?” Simon asked.

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  Simon shared a look with Guthrie who eased away from Elliot and crossed his arms. “What were your dealings with Harold Baker?”

  Elliot stared up at Guthrie. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “Answer the damn question,” Simon clipped.

  With a disgruntled look in Simon’s direction, Elliot said, “He was employed at the Shadwell Gun Works – a company I’ve visited many times as a shareholder. When I learned Baker was not just an excellent smith but a skilled craftsman, I engaged him to fix a pendant for my late wife. Part of it had broken off, you see, and I thought I’d surprise her by making it look like new. When none of the jewelers I visited said they could make the repair without ruining it, I decided to give Baker a try after he assured me it could be done.”

  “And?” Simon asked.

  “Baker proved himself to be very capable,” Elliot said. “Sarah was overjoyed when I gave it to her. I like to think wearing it gave her some joy during the time she had left. Too bad Baker got so blistering drunk he went and drowned himself in the Thames, or I would have recommended him to others.”

  Simon stared at his uncle while trying to grasp what he’d just been told. Turning, he met Guthrie’s gaze. “I don’t think he was involved in Matthew Strong’s arrest.”

  “Of course I wasn’t,” Elliot blustered. “Matthew Strong brought that on himself.”

  “But he was involved in Ida’s,” Guthrie said, “and I cannot allow that to pass.”

  “Neither can I,” Simon said. He returned his attention to Elliot. “You have to retract the charges. Right now.”

  “And let that madwoman lose on the City?” Elliot shook his head. “The world is a safer place with her behind bars.”

  “Listen to me, you awful man,” Simon seethed. Leaning over his uncle he braced his hands on the armrests and stared him straight in the face. “Ida Strong is going to be the Countess of Fielding. I have proposed and she has accepted. Now tell the truth, damn you, so I can get my future wife out of prison.”

  “With both your parents gone, it falls on me to guide you. It is my duty to make sure you safeguard your reputation and the continuation of the Fielding title. I will not allow you to throw either one away on a whore you picked up from the gutter.”

  Blind with rage, Simon pulled back his arm and sent his fist flying straight into Elliot’s face. There was a cracking sound followed by a thick groan. Simon panted for breath and blinked a few times. His vision cleared and he realized his knuckles were aching. He stared at his fist, then at Elliot’s face where a large splotch of red was spreading across one cheek.

  “Get out,” Elliot spat. “Both of you. Leave!”

  “Come on,” Guthrie said. He placed a firm hand on Simon’s arm. “He’s not going to budge. We’ll have to find another way.”

  “Let’s think this through,” Simon said once they’d returned to Fielding House and made themselves comfortable in the parlor. The house lay a short walk from Elliot’s home, so Simon had suggested Guthrie accompany him there so they could talk. “If we can figure out who the real traitor was, then Matthew Strong’s name will be cleared and we’ll be able to prove to my uncle that Ida deserves his sympathy, not his loathing.”

  “At this point it looks like it may be your intention to marry her that has him sticking to his story,” Guthrie said.

  “You’re right. He’s impossible to reason with. But I still think finding the man who’s been trying to kill her may be the key to securing her freedom. It will at the very least prove she acted out of genuine fear for her life when she shot my uncle. A good solicitor ought to be able to use that in her defense, don’t you think?”

  “I do. Especially since it can be proved that she’s a stellar shot. She would have put that lead ball through his heart if she’d really been trying to kill Mr. Nugent.”

  “We’ll prove him a liar and an obstructer of justice.”

  “His reputation will suffer.”

  “Do you honestly think I give a damn?”

  The edge of Guthrie’s mouth quirked. “No. Not anymore.”

  A knock at the door brought Deerford into the room. “My lord. Another courier has responded to your advertisement. Should I ask him to wait or—”

  “Please show him into my study.” As soon as Deerford was gone, Simon gave Guthrie an update on the couriers, how they’d responded to the advertisement, and how Simon hoped one of the men who eventually showed up would be the same one who’d delivered the fo
rged letters to Murdoch. He and Guthrie both stood.

  “Sounds like an unlikely gamble,” Guthrie said, as they exited the room.

  Two loud raps from the front door knocker caught Simon’s attention. Knowing Deerford was presently occupied with the courier, he himself went to see who it could be and was shocked to find Huntley looking like he’d just run all the way from his house. His hair was mussed – Simon noted he wore no hat – and his jacket was slightly askew.

  Unsettled by his appearance, Simon ushered him inside and shut the door.

  “I’ve just learned who the judge will be. My solicitor managed to acquire the information from one of the Bow Street clerks who used to work for him.” The words were spoken in a rush and punctuated by a gasp for air.

  “And?” Guthrie asked, not the least bit sympathetic with Huntley’s exhaustion, it seemed.

  Huntley took a few more breaths. “It’s going to be Judge Vincent St. John.”

  Simon’s lips parted. His brain felt like it was being cooked. He couldn’t think straight. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?” Huntley asked.

  “No, but I think we may all be acquainted with a certain relation of his.” Simon tried to gather his thoughts. His world was tipping over, starting to roll downhill, and heading straight for a cliff.

  The men they’d suspected of framing Matthew were based entirely on Matthew’s own suspicions. It had been a good start, but maybe it had blinded them to the truth from the very beginning. They’d been so convinced it had to be one of those men, they’d not paid proper attention until they’d suggested Guthrie look into Mr. St. John as well. And even then, Simon had still been convinced it had to be one of the three men Matthew had named. Ida’s instincts hadn’t been wrong though. She hadn’t trusted Mr. St. John. She’d felt as if something was off about him.

  Simon took a deep breath. Anyone profiting from England’s largest military supplier had motive. No one more so than the owner himself.

  “Christ.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Guthrie muttered.

  Huntley frowned. “What is it?”

  “I’ll let you know in a minute. Let’s meet with the courier first.”

  “What courier?” Huntley asked.

  “Someone I pray might be able to identify the man who framed Ida’s father so there’s no more room for doubt.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” Huntley said. “How does that have anything to do with the charges being pressed against her?”

  “Let’s just say that I believe someone is very keen to get her out of the way.” Simon still wasn’t sure how Mr. St. John had managed to convince his uncle to have Ida arrested. Although he supposed there was a chance Elliot had decided to do so on his own and Mr. St. John was merely taking advantage. Even if this did seem a bit too neat for Simon’s liking.

  He marched toward his study with Guthrie and Huntley close behind. The man who waited stood to greet him. His eyes darted to Guthrie and then to Huntley. Simon smiled and glanced over his shoulder at Guthrie. “Lock the door and pocket the key, would you?”

  The dark red scar above the courier’s left brow suggested he was the man he’d been seeking. So did his age and his height. Everything about him matched Murdoch’s description. And Simon would be damned if the man tried to run off.

  “I came to apply for the position you advertised in the paper, my lord.” The courier’s eyes shifted back to Simon. There was a great deal of uncertainty to be found there.

  “Please.” Simon gestured toward a chair. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Um. All right.”

  Simon crossed to the sideboard and poured four glasses of brandy. Huntley claimed the seat next to the courier while Guthrie remained by the door, arms crossed and looking every bit as fierce as he was reputed to be.

  “Let’s start with your name,” Simon said. He handed the courier the first glass of brandy before offering the next to his friends.

  “Fletcher.” He took a quick sip of his drink, then added, “Duncan Fletcher, that is.”

  “Right.” Simon rounded his desk and dropped into his chair. Leaning back, he cradled his glass between his hands while considering Fletcher for a brief moment. He was scruffier than he’d expected. Less confident too. “Well, I’m the Earl of Fielding and these two gentlemen are the Duke of Huntley and the Duke of Windham.”

  “A pleasure.” Fletcher shifted in his seat. He’d broken eye contact with Simon and now appeared to be very intrigued by the wall behind him. “Your advertisement said you required someone with at least four years of experience.”

  “That’s because I’m interested in acquiring information about some letters that were delivered to the captain of The Soaring Falcon in 1815.”

  “And why would I know anything about that?” Fletcher asked.

  “Because the courier Captain Murdoch described looks exactly like you.” Simon set his glass to his lips and savored the way the brandy burned as it slid down his throat. “What I want to know is the name of the man who hired you to deliver those letters.”

  Fletcher straightened. “I came here looking for employment, my lord. If you’ve got nothing to offer, then I’d best be on my way.”

  “I never said I’ve nothing to offer. How much will depend entirely on how willing you are to cooperate.” Simon set his glass aside and narrowed his gaze on the man before him. “An innocent man was executed because of those letters. His daughter may face unjust punishment as well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it, but that’s really not my concern.” Fletcher stood.

  “The way I see it,” Guthrie murmured, “you can either help us, or face the charges of conspiracy to commit treason that we’ll have no choice but to press against you if you refuse.”

  Fletcher’s eyes widened. “You’re threatening me?”

  Guthrie shrugged. “If I must.”

  “But you’re a duke.” Fletcher glanced around in desperation as if in search of escape. He looked longingly at the window. “Aren’t dukes supposed to be honorable gentlemen?”

  Huntley snorted. “He used to be the Scoundrel of St. Giles.”

  Fletcher blanched. “Dear God.”

  Taking pity, Simon decided to step in before the poor man collapsed in a faint. “Naturally, I am prepared to reward you for the information you provide, but only if you’re willing to make a public statement against the man in question.”

  “My lord, I’m really not sure.” Fletcher shook his head and downed the rest of his brandy. “Four years ago a couple of men came after me. I barely escaped with my life, only to learn that a friend of mine who was also involved in this had been killed.”

  “His name wouldn’t happen to have been Harold Baker, would it?”

  “How did you know?”

  Simon sighed. “I’ve been looking into what happened for the past month.” A thought struck. “How did you and Baker know each other?”

  “We worked together.”

  “I see.” Things were finally starting to fall into place. Simon drummed his fingers slowly on his armrest. “At the Shadwell Gun Works?”

  The flicker of familiarity in Fletcher’s eyes revealed the truth. “Look. I really ought to get going.”

  “Did Mr. St. John ask you to deliver those letters to Captain Murdoch?”

  Fletcher’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been laying low since I heard about Harold. The only reason I came here was because I’m in need of blunt, and I figured a man in your position would pay well to have his messages delivered. That’s it. I don’t want to get involved with any investigations or attempts to bring down Mr. St. John. That man will do anything to protect himself and his business. He has no scruples.”

  “How does one thousand pounds sound?”

  Fletcher froze. His mouth flapped open and shut a few times before he finally managed to croak out a, “What?”

  “Be the witness I require. Windham, Huntley, and I will all make sure you are safe. Once Mr. St. Jo
hn has been arrested, you may go on your way and spend your new fortune as you see fit.”

  “But… It’s more than I could earn in a lifetime.”

  “All the more reason for you to accept,” Huntley told him.

  Fletcher seemed to consider. Simon held his breath.

  And then the courier finally nodded. “Very well.”

  Simon breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent. I’ll have a guest room made ready so you can stay here out of harm’s way.”

  Fletcher gazed at him in amazement. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Guthrie unlocked the door to the study and Simon called Deerford to come and assist Fletcher. Once he was gone, Simon turned to Huntley. “Are you able to invite Elmwood, Kirksdale, and my uncle to your home tomorrow afternoon at say…eleven o’clock?”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Tell them you’ve a lucrative business venture in mind – one that involves the acquisition of a munitions factory in Wales. Invite Mr. St. John to join you under the guise of requiring his expertise and possible involvement.”

  “I think I can manage that, provided they’re not otherwise engaged.”

  “You’re a duke,” Simon reminded Huntley. “They’ll clear their schedules if they have to.”

  “Especially if you phrase the invitations with a hint of urgency,” Guthrie suggested. “Make sure they know they’ll miss out on a big opportunity if they fail to show up.”

  “I’ll get started on it right away.”

  “How can I help?” Guthrie asked Simon once Huntley was gone.

  “Fletcher’s our only witness right now. It would strengthen our case tremendously if we were able to gather some more.”

  Guthrie nodded. “I’ll put additional pressure on Mr. St. John’s other employees. With Fletcher willing to come forward, I think they’ll be more ready to talk. Especially if I do as you did and offer them each a reward.”

  “And in the meantime I’ll reach out to the chief magistrate. We’ll need his presence at Huntley House tomorrow too if we’re to make an arrest.”