London's Most Elusive Earl

by Anabelle Bryant

  “How foolish I was to follow the callings of my heart instead of the advisement of my brain.”

  “The heart is a traitorous organ. Its strength provides us precious life, and yet its fragility allows it to shatter with the slightest insult from the wrong person.”

  “I didn’t think him so.” Caroline sniffled herself into a semblance of calm. “But it was nothing more than a figment of my imagination.”

  “The reality of a rake’s manipulation, dear cousin.” Louisa let out a forlorn sigh, as if preparing herself for the worst.

  Caroline shook her head, refuting her cousin’s assessment, and they walked in silence for a long minute. “Have you ever had a connection with someone—”

  “Yes.” Louisa turned and clasped Caroline’s hands tightly. “And you can tell me anything. I won’t divulge a word.”

  Caroline couldn’t bear to correct her cousin’s misconception despite she’d spoken of her feelings for Lindsey. She knew in her heart they were connected, calibrated somehow, by an invisible and powerful force that brooked no refusal.

  “You didn’t…”

  “No!” That was one assumption she wouldn’t allow.

  “Well, there is that. Women bear the brunt of societal censure when men are allowed every freedom. That’s rich, isn’t it? At least you weren’t foolish enough to fall in love.”

  Caroline’s face heated with a conflicted mixture of anger and mortification, though Louisa continued regardless of her embarrassment.

  “Heartbroken is better than ruined.”

  “I rather think they’re as close cousins as we are, Louisa.”

  “As we are.” Louisa tugged on Caroline’s hand and pulled her closer. “We’ll see your way through this without one whisper of scandal and have you married by season’s end.”

  Caroline remained silent. Louisa’s idea of resolving the problem caused her heart to ache even more.

  * * * *

  Too many questions began and ended with Powell. His bastard half brother might not have the Decima or be aware of its location, but he knew something. Their conversation had been riddled with innuendo and insinuation when Powell intersected his path during the hunt. It might be a frantic grasp at clues, but it was all Lindsey had at the moment.

  With Mills on the trail of the Morta, the matter could be solved sooner than later. Then, with the earldom once again secure, he would clear his mind and listen to his heart, because Caroline continued to speak to the useless organ no matter he attempted otherwise. Her pursuit of love and a suitable husband gave him pause. He hadn’t made the effort to call on her, hadn’t attended any affair where she might show, and yet she was his first waking thought and last nightly dream. What did she think of his careless abandonment? Had her fond feelings turned to disdain? Did she pursue her goal with invigorated zeal? With Mills? And how many candidates did she have on that list anyway?

  Not that he should be one of them. She deserved better. But if she would have him…

  Bloody hell.

  His wants didn’t matter if Barlow held firm with the conditions of his inheritance. Lindsey needed an heir, and that complicated things extrinsically. Still, Caroline’s health concerns sounded possible, not permanent. Certainly not absolute. Damn it all, it would be no hardship to attempt to get her with child.

  And then if nothing came of it, if Caroline couldn’t conceive or carry a child, and if Barlow insisted Lindsey fulfill his father’s stipulation, then the earldom be damned. He’d find another way. All this second-guessing and speculation was enough to make him senseless. But for now, he’d continue his attempts to recover the remaining paintings and secure financial freedom. That problem needed to be settled before any emotional matters could be explored.

  With that decision made, he at last closed his eyes and as sleep rolled over him, he thought again of Caroline’s kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Caroline sat beside Lord Mills in his high-perch phaeton, mindful to keep her hands in her lap and a proper amount of space on the seat. He’d called on her three times this week and she’d agreed to each outing. Partly at her mother’s insistence she cease pacing about the drawing room, partly to distract from self-loathing and behavior unbefitting to a lady—to be so forlorn was an embarrassment and testament to her foolishness—but mostly due to the slimmest chance the Earl of Lindsey would intersect their path or happen upon their outing. Lindsey was a close friend of Lord Mills, and without a word from the earl in the past two weeks, she selfishly hoped the coincidence would occur.

  Oh, it wasn’t to peer at him calf-eyed and lovestruck. Quite the opposite. She wished to empty her spleen of all the anger, indignation, and hurt that replaced her admiration. Seeing life through her heart had always been her downfall. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to her cousin’s knowing advice? Still, no matter regret haunted her, it took a great deal of effort to keep her emotions focused on anger above all else and enjoy the present moment. It wasn’t that she disliked Lord Mills, it was more so that he wasn’t Lindsey.

  “Allow me.” Mills extended his gloved hand to assist as she disembarked. He’d managed a spot adjacent to the walking path in St. James Park, and they intended to stroll and take some air in the late afternoon weather.

  Mother had become enamored of Mills’ recent attention, and further smitten when he’d arrived in his toplofty two-seater phaeton, so she’d allowed Caroline’s maid to stay behind. Caroline wondered at the propriety of it all. Had Mills purposely orchestrated the arrangement to guarantee them privacy? She didn’t wish for anyone to draw the wrong conclusion.

  “Thank you.” She released his hand and looped hers through his elbow.

  “Did you enjoy the time spent away from England?” Mills politely steered the two of them onto the walkway.

  “Italy was fascinating. My father is an avid art enthusiast, and we spent many an afternoon in the extensive galleries.” It was a safe enough topic, though her mind spun in search of a way to work the earl into their conversation.

  “I have admired the works of the Italian artists as well. It’s a pity London offers a thimble’s worth compared to the masterpieces showcased in Rome.” He smiled down at her, and she returned his attention. “It will be agreeable to travel again someday, but for now I’ve plans to settle my future with more domestic arrangements.”

  “So you are serious about finding a bride?” How was it possible that their discussion strayed to the farthest possible topic? How could she recover?

  Mills answered without pause. “Most definitely, my lady. When one is young, it seems the whole world will wait on each and every decision. Intelligent men realize the flaw in this manner of thinking before it’s too late. Others never do. Lindsey is a prime example of someone who lives in the moment without a care for later days.”

  She disliked the disparaging remark. Not so much because her heart was still woefully entangled with feelings for Lindsey, but more so since Mills couldn’t truly be a friend if he so churlishly expounded on the earl’s flaws. Besides, while others considered Lindsey reckless and self-serving, she knew he possessed finer qualities beyond his roguish attitude. He was a man of many layers, complicated, complex, and deeply emotional. She found him charming, his kisses disarming.

  “I suppose the world would be a rather dull place if everyone shared an identical viewpoint. I haven’t seen Lord Lindsey at any recent functions. Perhaps he’s taken your advice and abandoned qualities you perceive as flaws.” They neared a curve in the path, and for a few moments Mills remained silent. When he finally replied, there was a dubious note in his voice that hadn’t existed before.

  “He’s involved in a chase that has him distracted to no end.”

  “A chase?” She drew a deep breath in an attempt to dispel her ill ease.

  “He’s turning London inside out in search of an elusive woman.”

&n
bsp; Mills kept his attention straight on as he replied, and his arm tensed beneath her hand. Meanwhile, each word of his answer was a hammer blow to her heart. What did she expect by nosing around in an attempt to discover information? It served her right. Twice Mills had shared Lindsey’s interest in an unnamed female. Who was this woman who’d captured his devoted attention?

  “To that point, I’m more of a traditionalist,” Mills continued. “I’ve noticed you’re an amenable lady who respects the commitment of marriage and seeks a congenial relationship.”

  “Thank you, my lord, although I suspect that describes a great many ladies of your acquaintance.”

  “How true.” He looked at her warmly. “And naturally, I’d like a future family. I’m not so traditional to only care for an heir and second son. A daughter would also be acceptable.”

  Caroline needed to strengthen her resolve. Perhaps this conversational bend offered her the ideal opportunity to discourage Mills’ suit. Yet he continued before she’d assembled her reply.

  “A wife should love, honor, and obey.” He rambled on. “Although I suppose there’s nothing wrong with a little independence now and again.”

  “I’m afraid I’d likely disappoint you.” She dared a chuckle.

  “I don’t see how. From what I’ve observed, you possess the finest qualities.”

  “Thank you again, though extensive travel and the experience I’ve gained causes me to thirst for continued learning. I can’t imagine being confined to a preconceived depiction of my wifely role.”

  She heard him exhale deeply, as if choosing his words with care. “You’ve a more progressive view of things. Not in kind to a bluestocking, mind you, but more of an adventurous spirit.” He said the last words as if they puzzled him.

  “I believe females should enjoy most all the same freedoms granted males.”

  “Indeed, there’s the Orphans Betterment League.” He paused, as if he sought for even one more example. “Although avocations outside the home should never overshadow those within. Surely you dream of children someday.”

  “I dream of them, yes.” She bit her lip, disallowing herself to say more and saddened all the same. Like a wish granted, a cloud moved over the sun and she leapt at the convenient excuse to return home.

  “There’s a sudden chill in the air, and with your open carriage I’d prefer not to be caught in the rain.”

  “By all means, my lady, let us leave at once.”

  * * * *

  Lindsey stood beside a soot-dusted wall, lost in the shadows outside the dimly lit tenement where Mills had led him weeks ago. If Powell possessed the Decima and needed cash as badly as he’d let on at Henley’s gathering, this fencer served as an ideal solution. Honest men went to galleries and auctions to buy and sell, but men like Powell sought the most illicit deal. It was difficult to rationalize how Powell had managed the invitation to the fox hunt in the first place, but then Lindsey hardly knew the man and didn’t care to learn more.

  Regardless, he needed the Decima and whether or not Powell showed this evening or when he confronted the fencer, valuable information was to be gained. And so, he waited.

  In time his mind wandered to Caroline and a pang of regret clutched his heart. He’d made a muck of things. Would she understand when he finally explained? He couldn’t know. What he did recognize made her reaction to his absence intrinsically more important, because now he knew affection outweighed the possession of any missing painting. Caroline had not only found his heart, she’d stolen it. That was a miracle in itself.

  He’d taught himself not to care, to turn off all emotion, and it hadn’t been a particularly difficult task to complete. His upbringing had enabled it. Still, despite his flaws and otherwise misplaced predilections, he’d developed feelings, some he still didn’t understand, though he labeled them as unlike any he’d experienced before, made richer by the absolute fury igniting him whenever he considered her as someone else’s wife.

  At first, he’d worried she’d become a distraction, and she had, a distraction made stronger the longer he attempted to ignore it. In hindsight, he wouldn’t have it any other way. She was meant to be his from that first moment in Albertson’s study.

  Would she have him remained the question to be answered.

  Across the street a hansom cab pulled to the curb, nabbed his interest, and forced his attention to the present. A stout fellow dressed in shades of brown stepped out onto the pavement. He held a slim rectangular package wrapped in paper. Even from the considerable distance Lindsey discerned it most likely contained a work of art.

  The gentleman hadn’t turned, and even with his hat pulled low on his brow and the late hour Lindsey could tell he wasn’t his half brother, although a note of familiarity accompanied the thought. No doubt their paths had crossed at his club or some innocuous social affair.

  Lindsey crossed to the opposite corner, anxious for any opportunity to gain entry. He allowed the unknown man to pass and then stepped away from the wall and shadowed him, his brain a beat slower to realize it was Lord Derby and not some nondescript stranger. What business could Caroline’s father have here in Seven Dials? Did he wish to sell a painting in clandestine fashion, unbeknownst to his family? Could it be he suffered from financial concerns? Surely, late night assignations with questionable art brokers in the worst area of London didn’t bode well for a logical explanation. Still, life had a way of causing one to make impetuous, sometimes rash, decisions.

  As proof, Lindsey had fallen victim to the same logic. In consideration of his own impending penury, he’d reasoned a viable solution. He could breed Infinity and collect a stud fee, along with several other prize Arabians in his stables. He hadn’t planned on becoming a livestock breeder. A wry grimace accompanied the thought. But neither had he anticipated a somewhat dire need for funds and a chokehold on his rightful inheritance.

  But what of Lord Derby?

  Lindsey followed the man to the door and waited a good distance not to incite detection. The same scamp who’d previously permitted entry appeared and Derby followed the lad, the door fast to fall shut until the very last second when Lindsey caught the latch.

  * * * *

  Less than an hour later, Caroline returned home. She entered the drawing room and found her mother alone, an expression of worry marring her face.

  “Is everything all right?” Caroline approached in time to see her mother effectively conceal whatever had troubled her moments before, but Caroline wasn’t fooled by her mother’s newly donned look of inscrutability.

  “Nothing for you to concern yourself over.” The slightest tremble rippled through her mother’s reply.

  “Where’s Father?”

  It was after hours, and while her father often frequented his club or met with associates, a prickle of apprehension told her something wasn’t as it should be. Her mother’s tightly laced fingers and pursed lips confirmed her suspicion.

  “You needn’t worry, Caroline.” Her mother’s reassurance sounded dreadfully unconvincing. “Your father will set things to right.”

  “But what is wrong?” She tried to suppress a beat of panic. Why was her mother behaving so secretively? “Is Father unwell?”

  “Nothing of the kind. It’s not a matter for discussion. Ladies never speak of indelicate subjects.” Seemingly at a loss to say more, her mother took a seat on the velvet-covered divan.

  It was the wrong thing to say, a spark to tinder actually, for Caroline had only just endured Lord Mills’ insulting denunciation on the limitations of the female mind.

  “That’s ridiculous. I will decide what’s appropriate, and you will tell me now.” Her voice held a sharp edge that dared her mother to argue.

  “What has come over you, dear?” Her mother’s distress caused Caroline a wave of remorse. “First with your insistence to attend the Henley gathering and now with your sharp tone. I di
d not raise you to display such defiance. A refined lady should always quiet her—”

  “Mother.” Caroline gentled her tone and took the opposite seat. “I’ve no need for any further advice. I’ve my own mind and heart.” One glance at her mother and she buffered the words. “Thank you for sharing what you glean as important lessons in decorum, but I’d much rather know what has you so distraught. Did something happen? Is Father…” Her voice trailed off as she followed her mother’s glance to the far wall of the drawing room. “Oh, you’ve changed the painting over the writing desk.”

  “Caroline.” Her mother hesitated, her voice laden with dismay.

  “Yes.”

  The silence stretched, but she dared not interrupt her mother when an understanding of the tense atmosphere might be imminent.

  “Living abroad and returning to England, maintaining our lifestyle, has taken a toll on our finances.” Each word was muttered softly, as if her mother feared someone would shame her for speaking of domestic finances. “Once you’re married, I’m certain these worries will all be for naught, but in the meantime, there’s your dowry and the expenses to see you properly wardrobed…” Her mother didn’t seem inclined to say more and left her sentence unfinished.

  “I didn’t realize.” Caroline tried to remember the impetus that took them from Italy to England in a hasty rush. While she’d expressed a desire to return to London and participate in the season, she’d always believed her suggestion was secondary to a more important issue. Her father had returned one day from an outing with a sense of urgency about him. He’d declared unexpectedly they should pack and prepare to travel. She hadn’t questioned him, as she’d always been a dutiful daughter and his purpose aligned with her own. But now, upon reflection, she wondered what spurned his sudden assertion they leave as soon as possible.

  “Was there a particular reason we left Italy, something more important than my wish to reenter society?”