How to Entice an Earl (3 page)

“Which is why you can say nothing to her,” Monteith said sharply. “I mean it, Dev. No hint of what I’m doing, why I’m investigating Linton, can reach her ears. Not only would it endanger the investigation, but it might put her in danger. Lady Madeline might think she is perfectly able to take care of herself, but in this circumstance, I’d prefer that she not be required to.”

“Of course,” Deveril said. “I won’t even tell Juliet, though she will make me pay handsomely should she ever learn I kept it from her.”

“You have my word as well,” Winterson said. “Though I hope you will let us know if you need help at any point in your investigation. Maddie is family and we will do what we can to help her. And Linton for that matter, though he has never struck me as a particularly admirable fellow.”

“Nor I,” Monteith agreed.

“At any rate,” he continued, “the Home Office has intercepted a communication from the leaders of the CLS and it mentions a meeting at Mrs. Bailey’s tomorrow evening between two of their operatives. I need to be there to see if Tinker or Linton do anything suspicious. If Linton shows no sign of involvement, then I can breathe a sigh of relief on that score at least.”

“Good God!” Winterson said, hastily removing the cheroot from between his lips. “No wonder you were so adamant about not taking her to Mrs. Bailey’s. I thought you were simply looking out for your own neck.”

“Well, that, too,” he admitted, remembering uneasily Maddie’s response to their denial of her request. “You don’t suppose she’ll try to go there without us, do you?”

“Surely not,” Deveril said with a shake of his head. “Even Maddie isn’t so foolish as to venture to such a place unescorted. She might resent having to maintain her reputation, but she would not carelessly put it in danger like that.”

“I hope you’re right,” Monteith said, thinking of how determined she could be when she wanted something. “I certainly hope you’re right.”

Two

“Nothing you say will convince me,” Viscount Linton snapped at his sister as he poured himself a glass of claret in the library of Essex House the next afternoon. Though the room was normally their father’s domain, he was conducting business in Parliament today. Since their row earlier in the week, her brother had seemed careful to avoid Lord Essex, but that did not mean he would avoid partaking in his sire’s best wine. “The pater would have my head, Mads.”

To her annoyance, he was not proving as helpful as she’d have wished. “Papa need never find out,” Maddie assured him. “Besides, any number of well-bred ladies visit gaming rooms. Your friend Lady Emily Fielding, for example.”

The widow of James’s good friend, Lady Emily Fielding, was one who cared very little for society’s strictures. She did as she pleased and was unconcerned with the censorious glances she received from high sticklers when she deigned to attend a
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function. She had been thus even before her husband’s death. But Charles’s death had made her even more daring. As a result, she was not considered fit company for unwed young ladies.

All of which was immaterial to Maddie, who merely used her as an example of a gently born lady who was perfectly at home at gaming hells. But Linton was not moved.

“Lady Emily is a widow,” Linton retorted, gesturing with his claret glass. “What’s more, she runs with a faster set than you’ve ever done. If Mama and Papa thought for one minute that you aspired to model your behavior on hers they’d lock you in the attics and never let you come out.

“Why do you wish to go to Mrs. Bailey’s anyway?” Linton asked. “It isn’t as if you enjoy gambling. You can’t even be bothered to pay attention through a hand of piquet.”

Weighing her options, Maddie decided to tell him the truth. “Because I wish to write a novel that will take place in part in just such an establishment. So I need to see what one is like.”

Linton rolled his eyes. “Is that all? Why don’t you just ask me what it’s like and I’ll tell you.”

“Because I need to see it for myself,” she explained, beginning to lose patience. “Just as you would rather ride in a horse race yourself than hear about it secondhand from someone else.”

As soon as she said the words, Maddie regretted them. Lord Charles Fielding had died in a curricle race that Linton had challenged him to. She hadn’t been thinking of the issue at all, but her brother’s sudden paleness alerted her to her blunder.

“Linton,” she said, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Never mind,” he said, waving off her apology. “You can’t go about refusing to mention the word ‘race’ for the rest of your life.”

He seemed less angry than sad. And tired. He had, after all, been living with the pall of Charles’s death over him for years now. Not only did Lord Fielding’s parents blame James for their son’s death, but Lord and Lady Essex had come to the painful conclusion that their son did indeed bear some responsibility for the other man’s death. Unfortunately, rather than convincing him to curb his worst excesses, the death, and the subsequent social fallout, had only encouraged James to greater extremes of behavior.

Like gaming.

It was these extremes that worried Maddie so. She stopped pacing for a moment and paused to look, really look, at the younger brother she had always adored. With golden blond hair so close to her own color, and long, lean good looks, Lord James Essex should have been the most popular man in town. But thanks to his tarnished reputation, he was quickly becoming persona non grata among the society that perversely seemed to have rewarded his bad behavior when he was first on the town.

Maddie knew she had to do something to save her brother before it was too late. And perhaps by writing about the underworld where young men like him faced every temptation imaginable, she could learn what it was about that life that so fascinated him.

“You are perhaps not as popular with them as you once were,” she said, referring to his lament about their parents, “but you must know that they only wish what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me now is to convince you to abandon this harebrained scheme,” her brother bit out. “I will not take you to Mrs. Bailey’s, Mads. No matter how prettily you wrap up your argument.”

Maddie shook her head sadly. “I was afraid you would prove resistant,” she said. “Which is why I decided to come up with an offer you cannot refuse.”

“I doubt seriously that you have the wherewithal to come up with such a thing,” he retorted, sitting back with an arrogant smile. “You forget that I have known you since you were a child, Mads. And I know all your tricks.”

“Perhaps,” she said sweetly, hoping with every bit of her being that he would not see through her bravado. “If you won’t take me to Mrs. Bailey’s,” she said, “then I shall just have to ask someone else to do it. Someone who is more than willing to do it.”

“What man in his right mind would take such a risk?” James demanded crossly, though Maddie was sure she saw a bit of unease in his eyes.

“Ah, brother,” she said, wagging a finger at him, “there’s where you’ve got it wrong. It is not a man I’ve asked to take me at all.”

“What? What do you mean?” he asked.

“Just what I say. I will ask a lady to take me. Someone with whom I believe you are quite familiar,” she said. “Lady Emily Fielding.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Linton said, the color draining from his face. “Mama would lock you in your room for a month.”

“But,” Maddie said, warming to her cause, “what Mama doesn’t know won’t harm her. And even so, who would Mama place more blame on for my folly? Me for taking the risk, or you for introducing me to Lady Emily in the first place?”

His jaw set, her brother finally surrendered. “Fine. If you are determined to go to Bailey’s then I suppose I’ll take you. At least this way I might be able to pass it off as a lark.”

Thrilled that her gambit had paid off, Maddie clapped her hands, then threw her arms about her brother’s neck. “Thank you, Jamie,” she told him, using his pet name from childhood. “I promise you that Mama won’t hear a word of our outing from me.”

“It’s not your tattling I’m afraid of, Mads.”

Ignoring the little stab of fear she felt at his words, Maddie took herself off to prepare for her scandalous outing that night.

*   *   *

That evening, smoothing the skirt of a neckline-baring gown that would have sent her mother into a fit of apoplexy, Maddie gazed avidly about Mrs. Bailey’s town-house-cum-gambling-hell. It was both more than she’d imagined, and a bit of a disappointment.

The disappointment was that it didn’t seem quite as scandalous as it had been made out to be. Yes, there were various games of chance set up throughout the parlors of the residence. And those engaged in playing the games seemed to be engrossed in them. But with a few exceptions, the attendees were the same sorts of people she might have found at any
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entertainment.

The difference was that the card parties Maddie had attended as part of the London social scene had never commanded the degree of attention that the whist and piquet tables did here. There was some indefinable air about the gathering that gave the rooms a hectic intensity that Maddie had never encountered before. It was this that she would try to capture for her novel.

“Stay close to me,” her brother said in a low voice as he led her past a table where a passel of young lordlings vied for the attention of a lady—though that appellation might be questionable—whose scarlet gown made Maddie’s feel demure by comparison. Tearing her gaze away from the tableau, Madeline followed her brother through the crowd toward a table at the far end of the room. She made a mental note to remember the color of the woman’s gown for future reference, just in case she wished to portray a lightskirt in one of her novels.

“Lord Linton, how delightful to see you again so soon,” crooned a tall woman who presided over the table where the brother and sister stopped. She was obviously Mrs. Bailey, their hostess. Maddie wasn’t quite sure how she knew it. Probably because of the widow’s proprietary air, which, to Maddie’s annoyance, seemed to extend to her brother. “And who is your little companion?”

Maddie’s spine stiffened at the description. She knew she was short, of course, but she disliked being reminded of her lack of inches. Especially by blowsy widows who ran gaming hells. Not that she’d ever encountered any before.

“Allow me to introduce m’sister, Mrs. Bailey,” Linton said, giving Maddie a sharp look, doubtless because he knew of his sister’s tendency to annihilate anyone with the temerity to mention her small stature. “Lady Madeline Essex, meet Mrs. Emma Bailey, our hostess.”

“Charmed,” Maddie said with a grudging curtsy. She was not pleased to see Mrs. Bailey’s amusement at her annoyance.

“Welcome, Lady Madeline,” the older woman said. “I’m so glad you were able to attend my party this evening. I do hope you will enjoy yourself.”

If the widow suspected that Maddie had ulterior motives for visiting her home tonight, she kept her suspicions to herself. It was not at all unusual for ladies of the
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to seek out a bit of excitement by attending such parties, Maddie knew. They might tarnish their reputations a bit by doing so, but the damage was hardly irreparable.

“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Bailey,” Maddie replied, mindful of her brother’s warning not to draw attention to herself. “You have a lovely home.” Which was not a falsehood. The row house on the outer fringes of Mayfair was tastefully decorated and but for the tables set up in the drawing room might have passed for any other modestly well-to-do home in London.

Something flashed in the other woman’s eyes—shame? Maddie was unsure. Before her hostess could reply, a servant appeared at her elbow with a note. With a brisk nod, she excused herself, leaving Linton to lead Maddie to the hazard table.

To her surprise, she was already acquainted with several of the gentlemen who crowded round the table. Mr. George Vinson was losing quite badly, which didn’t surprise Maddie in the least, since despite his affability he was not very bright. Lord Tretham, a friend of her brother’s, seemed to be in good spirits despite his poor luck. But it was neither of these young men who drew Maddie’s attention. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the Earl of Gresham on the other side of the table.

Was she to be exposed to him at every turn? she wondered in frustration. Meeting Gresham’s eye across the table, she refused to let him see how annoyed she was. Instead she held her back ramrod straight and offered him a pitch-perfect curtsy. To which he responded with an elegant bow. Determined not to let him ruin her enjoyment, she moved closer to a table where a few gentlemen, and several ladies, were playing
vingt-et-un
.

Spotting Mr. John Tinker, whom she’d known for several years as a friend of her brother’s, she took a place between him and Lady Emily Fielding.

“Hello, Mr. Tinker,” she said, trying to cultivate an air of ennui rather than the excitement and curiosity that she felt. “Are you enjoying your game?”

As if startled to hear her, Tinker turned, his eyes widening. “What are you doing here, Lady Madeline?” he asked. “Never say your brother brought you.”

“You needn’t sound so astonished, Mr Tinker.” Maddie laughed. “I enjoy the occasional social outing just as much as my brother does.”

“You must excuse Tinker, Lady Madeline,” Lady Emily Fielding said from Maddie’s other side. “I fear he has rather shockingly traditional ideas about where ladies do and do not belong. It is an argument of long standing between us.”

Maddie turned to look at the other woman. She had seen her from a distance at various
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parties, but had never really had the opportunity to look at her up close. She was every bit as beautiful as she was reputed to be. Her deep brown hair shone in the candlelight, and the crimson gown she wore fit her curvaceous figure like a glove.

“Yet you still remain friends?” Maddie asked, fascinated by the other woman’s words. “That is quite a feat.”