The Reluctant Earl (15 page)

“Ain’t seen him since yesterday.”

“Where did he go?”

“How should I know? I’m his landlord, not his mother.” The window slammed shut.

Why would Alec leave without informing...the note. She tugged it free of her coat sleeve and unfolded the parchment. The bright moonlight reflected on a single line in Alec’s large scrawl.

Gone to London.

Why would Alec go to London so suddenly, unless...

Was he in danger? Heart pounding, she flipped the sheet over but found no additional message on the back. Not visible, anyway, and she’d left her solution—the one that allowed her to see Alec’s hidden messages—at Rowan Abbey in her haste to leave.

The dog barked two more times, then hushed. Leah pivoted on her heel and began the long walk back to Rowan Abbey, a journey no doubt made more difficult by the still-sore bruises on her foot, the souvenir of her confrontation with Fleming. Perhaps Chambelston would agree to retrieve the solution—in exchange for Alec’s information.

* * *

Fatigue burned in Julian’s eyes and sat heavily on his shoulders as he piloted the horse back onto Sotherton lands. How like those late nights and long watches on his ships. The moon had sunk low in the sky, creating dancing shadows of the breeze-tossed branches. In a couple hours a new day would dawn, yet another new chapter in his life. The loneliness, so recently mitigated, resumed. Intensified.

“Chambelston!”

Julian jerked on the reins as a form rose from behind the stone fence that paralleled the road. The horse shied, leaving him to scramble to maintain his seat. Once he had the animal under control, he peered at the intruder. “Harrison?”

“Sorry about that, my lord. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“My own fault. I was nearly asleep.” But he was awake now. Julian dismounted. “What’s happened?”

“I wish I knew. All I heard was talk of London.”

“London?” Julian’s empty stomach churned with memories of the riot that had caused his father’s injuries. “The last meeting there turned violent. Do you know where they intend to assemble?”

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I learned no further details.”

So the activity at Wellingborough was a feint, a pretense designed to distract attention from the group’s real aims. Did Miss Vance know, even as he carried her to her destination tonight? Even as he foolishly provided her funds to begin a new life? “We can hardly search all of London for them. Do we know anyone who might be willing to assist us? Perhaps for a fee?”

“Your governess...?”

“Has left my sister’s employ.”

But Harrison stared past Julian, at the road behind him. “My lord...”

Julian turned, his agitation transforming to astonishment at the shadowy figuring limping toward them. He motioned Harrison to silence and the two of them waited as she approached. “Miss Vance?”

“My lord, I...” Her gaze flickered to Harrison before focusing on Julian again.

“Perhaps I should wait for you over by the large tree, my lord.” Harrison sidled back.

“Wait!” Julian held up a hand as he deliberated the situation. Miss Vance hugged her bundle, her cheeks pinched with cold. Why had she returned? Their recent conversation about trust—and their lack thereof—returned to him. Alone he and Harrison had little chance of success. Either Miss Vance had come to help, or they would fail anyway. “This is Lawrence Harrison. He is assisting me in my inquiries.”

Harrison smiled. “Miss Vance, I’ve heard much about you.”

“No doubt, Mr. Harrison.” Miss Vance offered him a graceful nod then looked to Julian again. “My lord, I have bad news. I fear my...contact has left the area.”

“For London.”

Her eyes widened. “Then you know.”

“Alas, no more details than that. Do you?”

“Perhaps.” She passed him a folded sheet of paper.

Julian opened the note and peered at the single line in the lustrous moonlight. “But this only mentions London.”

“Perhaps not.” Her hand shook a little as she flipped the note over to expose the blank back of the page. “Alec and I use special inks to communicate the sensitive parts of our messages—inks that can only be read when the proper solution is applied.”

A thrill shot up Julian’s spine. “Alec?”

She paused, drew in a deep breath. “My cousin. He...is a member of the...group.” That particle of trust for which he’d been waiting.

Her cousin. And perhaps the identity of her gentleman friend? Julian pushed those thoughts aside for a later examination. “When did you get this?”

“In the stable, while you were saddling the horse.” A wry smile twisted her lips. “If I had read it then, we could have saved ourselves a lot of effort tonight. At a minimum I’d have known to avoid Heckton.”

“Do you have the solution in your bag?”

“No. I kept it in my desk in the schoolroom. I didn’t even think to retrieve the bottle when I had to gather my belongings so swiftly.”

“May I?” Harrison stretched forth a hand. Miss Vance surrendered the paper. Harrison scrutinized the blank back. “I think Miss Vance might be correct. One of the disadvantages of such inks is that if the writer is not careful, he may leave scratches where none are supposed to be. See these lines? They are possibly those of a quill point.”

“Alec was always careful.” Miss Vance defended her cousin as Harrison returned the note to her.

“But if he were in a hurry, he might not have wasted time with caution.” Julian stretched the tight muscles in his calves, feeling the twinge all the way to his thighs. “Do you have any idea when your cousin might have written this message?”

Another hesitation. And then...another measure of trust glimmered in her eyes. “Tonight. After you saw me walking beyond Rowan Abbey.”

After...because she had met with him only this past afternoon? Had he solved the mystery of the unknown gentleman? “We need to determine if Miss Vance’s relative conveyed any more information.”

“Alec seldom informed me about his actions. He preferred to keep silent—for my sake as well as his.” Her hands trembled as she tucked the note inside her coat again. “Such a correspondence is...unusual.”

Harrison shoved his hands into his pockets. “My lord, we have kept Miss Vance outside far too long. Perhaps she could retrieve her solution, and then we can determine our next course of action.”

“I’ll go.” Julian offered before Miss Vance had to confess to her dismissal. He shrugged out of his greatcoat and wreathed it around her shoulders. The hem brushed against the snow.

“But my lord, I can’t take your coat. You’ll get cold—”

“I’ll ride back to Rowan Abbey and have Wetherel prepare the carriage while I get the solution. The two of you can wait here, then I’ll collect you on the way. Where exactly should I look in the desk?”

“On the left side. In the back. I have both the solution and a bottle of my own ink in there. Bring both and I will show you the correct one when you return. And don’t forget to grab a brush from the paints.”

“You kept the ink and solution together? That wasn’t wise.”

Another smile touched her eyes. “I never said they worked together. Alec has the solution for that ink, and—”

“Your solution works with Alec’s ink. I grow curious about this cousin of yours. I should like to meet him.”

The muscles in her jaw tightened. “That may happen sooner than you think.”

Julian shoved a weary leg into the stirrup and climbed back into the saddle. “I shall look forward to it, Miss Vance.”

* * *

Leah pulled up the collar of Chambelston’s coat—only to catch a whiff of warm male drifting to her senses. The pounding of hooves faded in the distance. She glanced at the man standing beside her, caught his scrutiny, then hastily jerked her gaze away. How much had Chambelston confided in this Harrison? How much did he know about her?

How...awkward.

“Miss Vance, is it?”

She peeked at him again. The gray light of approaching day revealed a pleasant enough face below the battered hat that crowned his head. “Yes.”

“I understand you were of late the Sotherton governess.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think might be in this note?”

“Oh, I couldn’t speculate.”

“I once knew an Alec Vance.”

Warning bells clanged in Leah’s head. “I’m sure it’s a fairly common name.”

“During the war.”

“Undoubtedly, many men of like age served.”

“We had occasion to work together. My position frequently required the use of unusual...tools of war. Such as invisible inks and their solutions.”

The cold lanced through the slash in her boot and sent the wintry chill shooting up her spine. If this Harrison did indeed know Alec, Chambelston would have little enough reason to take her to London. And she must go with them. She must be there if—when—Chambelston located her cousin. “As I said, Vance is not uncommon.”

“If you say so, Miss Vance.”

Did that mean he wouldn’t challenge her on the matter when Chambelston returned? “How long have you known Lord Chambelston?”

“Scarcely more than a year. However, I know his brother very well.”

His brother. “The linguist?”

“Yes, Kit.”

So, he had known Alec during the war. And he knew a linguist? A picture began to form in Leah’s mind. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in this area before, Mr. Harrison. Where did you say you hail from?”

A knowing smile gleamed in his eyes. “I didn’t.”

“You must miss your home.”

“Indeed. But I haven’t been gone long.”

Only since Chambelston had decided to investigate the activities of Alec’s group?

The soft crunch of carriage wheels on snow murmured through the stillness, accompanied by the occasional jingle of a harness. As the conveyance—the same one Chambelston had arrived in that seemingly long ago day—drew nearer, the glow of its lanterns emerged from the predawn gray. The driver reined the horses to a stop, jumped down from his perch and unlatched the crest-embellished door.

Leah drew in a deep breath as she ambled to the vehicle’s side. She was entrusting not only her own future, but Alec’s life to Chambelston’s hands. She passed the coachman her belongings, then mounted the step. The coach pitched, then righted. Or was that her nervous stomach?

Chambelston grabbed her hand and drew her into the dark interior. “After you, Miss Vance.” He gestured to the forward-facing seat.

Leah sank into the soft cushion.

“With your permission?” He hovered above the seat next to her.

What could she say? It was his carriage, after all. She nodded rather than force words past the lump in her throat as her mind grappled with the ramifications of many intimate hours beside him.

Chambelston lowered himself onto the velvet upholstery beside her. His broad shoulders occupied more than his fair share of the bench.

She inched closer to the corner, away from the casual brush of his arm against hers. “D-did you have any difficulty finding my supplies?”

“I didn’t know where to look for the brush. Fortunately Molly was already awake and at work, and she located the paints for me—without so much as a smirk to betray her assessment of my sanity.” A frown tugged down the corners of his mouth. “I only wish I could have clarified to Caro that I will return soon. I fear my absence will distress her.”

“Did you ask Molly to convey your apology?” Leah fished inside her coat—under Chambelston’s greatcoat—for Alec’s note as Harrison joined them inside the carriage.

“Yes, she said she would try to explain.”

“My lord?” The coachman paused with one hand on the door.

Chambelston tilted his head and peered at Leah, one brow raised. “Where would you like me to take you this time, if not Heckton?”

“London.”

His gaze held hers a moment longer, as if weighing her reasons for choosing that destination. “London it is, John.”

The coachman secured the door, and the carriage rocked as he clambered to his seat.

“Now let’s see if your cousin left us any clues, or if we have to scour the entire metropolis to discover their plans.” Chambelston retrieved the bottles and brush as Leah unfolded the missive.

She glanced up and caught Harrison’s bemused scrutiny. “I believe you have some experience with these, sir. Would you like to...?” She offered him the paper.

“You are the expert.”

Oh, she highly doubted so. She pressed the note flat on her lap, blank side up, and chose the solution from two bottles Chambelston proffered. Her fingers quivered as she removed the cap and dipped the brush inside. She smeared a streak of the solution across the page.

Her chest tightened around the air in her lungs as the purple lines emerged.

Quickly she applied a thin veneer of solution until she covered the entire paper, then passed the wet sheet to Chambelston.

He held the page to the lantern and read,
“‘Oliver to attack Regent en route to opening of Parliament. Gone to stop him. Get help.’”
The deep baritone broke off as he lifted his head and shared a look with Harrison.

“At least we know what part of London.” Harrison leaned forward and templed his fingers against his chin. “Miss Vance, do you know this Oliver? I can’t say I’ve ever met him.”

Leah searched her memories for the few clues her cousin had provided, but Alec had always been careful. Too careful, it now seemed. “I don’t think Alec ever mentioned him before—at least, not by name.”

“An attack on the Regent. That would throw the entire government into chaos.” Chambelston returned the still damp paper to her. “We’ll find someplace safe to take you, Miss Vance.”

“No! You need me.” And so did Alec.
Especially
Alec. “None of us know this Oliver, but I know my cousin. If we find him—”

“There’s a good chance Oliver is nearby. Hopefully your cousin has the good sense to notify the authorities once he reaches London.”

“I doubt they’d believe him—even if he can get anyone to receive him.”

Chambelston expelled a deep sigh. “I fear you may be right.”

“Then you’ll take me with you?”

“Yes, Miss Vance. We’ll take you to London.” Chambelston tucked a lap robe around his legs, reminding Leah that she still wore his coat over her own. But he had already closed his eyes before she could offer to return it. “I’m too old to go gallivanting about the countryside all night long. You should also get some rest, Leah. We don’t know what the day will bring.”