London's Most Elusive Earl Read online

  She loved horses. Adored them, actually. They were such majestic animals with noble bearings. They reminded her of fairy tales. But she hadn’t ridden since the accident, and she missed it terribly. Naturally she understood her mother’s concern, and respected her parents’ wishes, but deep down she didn’t want to be coddled. If her parents knew she’d often shunned convention, hiked up her skirts, and secretly ridden astride when she was alone in Lincolnshire, they’d both be disappointed.

  “Genteel ladies don’t participate in sport,” her mother continued, her tone pensive. “And while you’re grown now, as your mother I still worry. We almost lost you, our only child, and I couldn’t survive if another accident occurred.”

  “There’ll be no accidents.” Caroline adopted a tone of calm reassurance and reached for her mother’s hand to nestle between her own. “I know we never speak of it, but it doesn’t mean I don’t remember the fright or the pain. I would never do anything to relive that experience, no matter it was an incident no one could predict or prevent.”

  “You can prevent it by never riding a horse again,” her mother chided, her tone filled with telling emotion.

  “That’s ridiculous. Men and women ride without difficulty every day.” Caroline withdrew, relinquishing the hold on her mother’s hand. “I’m not scared of horses or riding, and neither should you be.”

  An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, perhaps each of them lost in their own considerations. Caroline closed her eyes with a hard blink to ward off the sorrow that took residence in the depths of her heart. Even though years had passed, she carried the result of her riding accident with her always.

  Being thrown from the saddle when her horse startled might have caused death, broken bones, or permanent disability. Instead she’d suffered internal damage that caused her to bleed to such extent her mother had fainted at the scene. Thank heavens the two grooms who’d accompanied them had the good sense to summon help and have Caroline returned to the house as quickly as possible. Dr. Fuller, the family physician, had examined her within an hour, and while she was lightheaded from blood loss and a bruising contusion he labeled a concussion, she suffered no other pain.

  That was, until the irregular bleeding began. After the accident she’d had her flux for almost a month without stop. Her mother worried and hovered at Caroline’s bedside, anxious for her daughter to return to normal. The physician supplied few answers, at times assuring she would reclaim a regular cycle, and at others expressing concern that the absence of a monthly term would prove the accident had rendered her barren. With each day that passed, deeper concerns etched into her mother’s face, while the unasked questions on her lips proved unbearable.

  At last, when the bleeding stopped, Caroline was relieved to unburden her mother and begin to live life again as normally as possible. Except she never experienced her monthly courses from that day forward. No one, not even her maid, knew of this. Ashamed, nervous, and petrified she would never be able to bear children, Caroline told not a soul. Her maid believed Caroline kept these matters private since the accident, and therefore never asked questions. Caroline allowed her maid to believe that lie, unwilling to subject herself to the chance her mother discovered the truth. Surely her mother suspected Caroline suffered damage, but to what extent remained unknown, and Caroline preferred it that way, too horrified to discuss it. Yet at times, Caroline swore she could see the knowledge in her mother’s eyes.

  Like at this moment, when the reality she needed to find a husband who would overlook her defect crowded into the interior of the carriage and took a seat on the bench beside her.

  She clenched her eyes closed and reopened them, forcing the memories back down into the dark recesses of her soul, unwilling to allow remembrance to dampen her enjoyment of the Henley party. Then she brought a smile to her lips, knowing she’d need to find a gentleman who would consider marriage to a woman who could never grow a family.

  In an unfortunate habit that grated but could hardly be dismissed, her mother initiated conversation again and proved she’d considered similar possibilities as she offered unsolicited advice.

  “You shouldn’t rule out an older gentleman for your choice of husband, Caroline. Someone who isn’t interested in physical relations. A man who perhaps already has a family and only wishes for companionship in his later years. You needn’t be called upon to produce an heir—”

  “Mother!” Caroline’s outburst sounded harsh in the quiet of their carriage. “Just because my future may be uncertain doesn’t mean I don’t wish for compatibility and enjoyment in the bedroom.”

  Her mother’s expression reflected a mixture of disapproval and surprise. “Hush. If anyone heard you mention enjoying personal marital duties you’d be ruined. Young ladies don’t speak of such things.”

  Apparently older women don’t either.

  Still, nothing, not her mother’s modest thinking and overprotectiveness, society’s pressure, or Lindsey’s scandalous reputation, would change her mind. Whenever she was in the earl’s company, she experienced an undeniable and intense connection, as if he called to every level of her being. She turned her secretive smile toward the window. If nothing else, she would enjoy his attention before settling on an uncertain future.

  * * * *

  “I’m not sure how you’ve managed to drag me out here when I originally had no intention of attending.” Mills applied chalk to the tip of his wooden cue at the billiards table in Henley’s study.

  “I sought your advisement.” Lindsey stared at the green felt, unwilling to allow his friend to detect the dual purpose in his eyes. “Isn’t my company worth the day’s travel?”

  “Are you in search of honesty with that question?” Mills placed his cue against the cushion and measured his shot. With a jerk of his arm he slid the stick forward and sent the white ball gliding across the table to connect with the red one where it waited. “In truth, I had a greater interest that conveniently aligned with your travel, so why not accomplish both objectives simultaneously? It took little doing for me to send a bouquet.”

  Lindsey watched his friend closely, unclear to what Mills referred. Mills had resisted at first, and then agreed to Henley’s invitation, so something important must have prompted his change of decision. “Thinking to best Infinity in the hunt? I’m open to a wager. I’m not paupered yet.” He murmured the last bit to ward off a discussion of his finances, then gauged his next shot and successfully connected.

  “I’m not foolish enough to race against your horse. I admire his bloodstock and wish you would consider my generous offer to have him stud within my stables. Nevertheless, when it comes to the hunt, you valiantly allow another to the spoils every year.” Mills laid down his cue and made for the sideboard, where an assortment of liquor waited patiently.

  “I see no honor in killing something vulnerable. You dislike my horse because he can run forever?”

  “He may go on as his name states, but he’s prime horseflesh, with a master who has never known limits.”

  Lindsey chuckled. “I thought this trip contained a singular purpose, my purpose.” He couldn’t ignore he’d left Caroline in London so he could search for a bloody painting. While he needed to find the Decima, he’d somehow cast himself in the role of her protector, and he disliked the idea of the lady milling about society beyond his watchful vigilance. He’d noticed how the young bucks eyed her with interest. Any unattached gentleman with an ounce worth of sense would pay call and further his suit, and that didn’t sit well. Worse, a cad with empty pockets might somehow convince Caroline he was worthy when all the bastard sought was her handsome dowry. He’d hate for her to have regrets. To that end, she needed him to advise her if the situation warranted intervention, and how could he do that if he was rusticating in Bedfordshire, a full day’s ride away?

  At least, this was the lie he used to mollify his impatience.

  “Bra
ndy or port?”

  The clink of crystal brought his attention to the present. “Brandy.” If the Decima matter wasn’t resolved by the week’s end, he’d need the entire decanter.

  “I laid the bait. I’ve only to wait now and see if my efforts are fruitful.” Mills continued his explanation as he came forward with their drinks.

  Lindsey didn’t dig deeper. He had no desire to involve himself in his friend’s matters unless called upon, his mind occupied with his search and expedient return to London. “What about determining the location of the painting?”

  “Dependable information has proven elusive.” Mills took a swallow from his glass. “Though I’ve learned there’s a Mr. Powell who has a special interest in the Fates. He’s nosed about the shadows left in the wake of my inquiries. I don’t know the man, nor have I had the opportunity to meet him, but it’s said he enjoys vingt-et-un as much as his liquor. If we don’t find him this afternoon, I have no doubt he’ll show in the cardroom later this evening.” Mills dropped into a worn leather chair with careless ease.

  “Then so shall we.”

  “There was a time when I knew every face at White’s, but those days are long past.”

  “Rubbish.” Lindsey huffed a breath of annoyance. “I’m not so old, and you’re half a year younger.”

  “More the reason for me to settle my future.”

  Lindsey wasn’t accustomed to Mills having such intentional goals, and he found the conversation unsettling. And too he remembered the attention his friend had paid Caroline when introduced in London, the sod’s desire to dance with her and the not-so-subtle way Mills had watched Caroline at Hyde Park. A lick of temper caused Lindsey to clench his teeth, lest he say something that revealed too much.

  Mills continued, as if Lindsey’s silence signified little. “There’s no denying you have excellent taste.”

  “Have we returned to discussing my stallion?”

  “Actually, no.”

  Replacing his cue against the table, Lindsey abandoned the game and moved to stand near the hearth. “Then the painting?” It was common knowledge the collection of oils was worth a fortune. The fact his father had kept ownership silent for over a decade was impressive, though it didn’t matter who claimed them if Lindsey couldn’t locate the remaining two pieces and once again secure fiscal stability. If a private collector managed to obtain the paintings, both would become impossible to find, lost to him forever.

  “Wrong again.” Mills chuckled. “If I’m forced to be here with you instead of at some Mayfair gathering flirting with a fetching female, I thought to combine my interests.”

  “So you’re actively seeking a wife? You weren’t jesting earlier?” It was the Devil’s good fortune Caroline was left behind in London.

  “I’m curious as to why you aren’t more about heir getting.”

  Lindsey muttered a foul curse. Would his father’s reprehensible interference give him no peace? “The plague of any aristocratic rakehell.”

  “It doesn’t signify you’re opposed to the idea. Why not marry a nondescript willing female who will melt at the sight of your dashing smile—”

  “You think my smile dashing?”

  “Get the task done, produce an heir, and deposit your wife in the countryside with a large allowance. It’s a perfectly acceptable practice, and you would be returned to your philandering ways within a year. Less, if you abandon your morals.”

  “Tempting offer.” Despicable, really. Shameless. One he would never consider even though he had a reputation to uphold. Mills didn’t need to know the truth of it, though. That his father held him by the throat. That recently he’d come to wonder if he wouldn’t mind going to bed each night with a loving woman beside him. If nothing, Lindsey was wickedly loyal. At the moment his loyalty was reserved for himself, but if he ever took a wife, he would honor and cherish her until his last breath. “I have no interest in being tied down.”

  “That’s not what I heard from Widow Gillet last season.”

  “Well, there was that.” Lindsey wrestled with his laughter before he refilled their glasses and settled on a seat. “I have broken countless hearts, most times with the worst form. I can’t imagine a female who would have me and volunteer for the inevitable disappointment she would discover in my character. Notwithstanding her father would have to approve of the match in the first place.”

  “You exaggerate to serve your purpose. Many a reputed rakehell has come to heel and reform.”

  “Perhaps.” Though Lindsey had no desire to change his habits. Instead of voicing this, he smiled, a roguish grin that contained anything but sincerity. Still, conversation of no consequence would serve his purpose, their discussion better focused on the most important subject. If Powell sought the Decima, there was information to be had, and at the moment, any lead had potential, as he had no other course. He needed to find the man as soon as possible, learn what he was about, and return to London. He wouldn’t label the cause of his burning desire, but the sooner the task was completed and he was on the road, the easier he could breathe.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caroline and her mother followed two young maids wearing lace caps into a grand foyer graced by slender chinoiserie vases brimming with elegant hothouse flowers. An expansive circular staircase wound toward the ceiling, and when they reached the top the maids led them down the corridor to the left. Dark mahogany doors marked the hall at measured intervals, the many rooms made ready for the influx of travel-weary guests in need of respite.

  Caroline was shown to a bedchamber three doors away from her mother’s. She discovered the interior to be spacious and welcoming, decorated in delicate yellows and mossy greens that conjured a peaceful feeling of being outdoors. The light scent of lemon and beeswax strengthened the illusion. A bank of diamond paned windows on the far wall offered a view of the elaborate estate gardens below, their abundant colors at full blossom. Through the glass she noted a wide stone wall jutted forward in perpendicular position to the house, its eastern side covered with ambitious flowering vines, their blooms upturned in thirst of the sun.

  When her eyes met the horizon, her brows rose in surprise. In the far field, several gentlemen were atop their mounts while ladies stood in pockets of conversation and meandered the walkways in pairs, the scene a blur of color and activity. It was close to impossible to discern anyone’s identity from this distance, but she tried nonetheless. Her mother didn’t expect her company until the evening meal. Perhaps a walk in the garden would prove refreshing after the confining travel of the carriage. She went to the bellpull and rang for a maid. She needed a bath and change of clothes before she ventured out. She only hoped she could hurry fast enough not to miss the opportunity Fate placed in her path.

  Little more than an hour later Caroline emerged from her rooms, her hair in a damp coronet, the best her maid could arrange considering the imposing duress of Caroline’s impatience. When she’d glanced out the window before leaving her rooms, the congregation of guests on the back lawn had thinned considerably. She told herself this would make locating Lindsey all the easier, as their bodies communicated on some unspoken level the same way his presence called to her in a crowded ballroom.

  She’d decided on one of her new day gowns, a flattering design in butter-yellow silk that complemented the color of her eyes. Hope inched higher. Too high for her own good. The young maid who’d arranged her hair had chattered out a long list of activities planned by Lady Henley, but Caroline couldn’t remember a scrap of the schedule now.

  She followed the staircase to the ground floor and farther toward the rear of the estate. Every room, corridor, and corner hummed with activity. Servants went about their tasks and guests greeted each other with jovial camaraderie.

  Caroline had nearly reached the French doors leading to the gardens when her path was intersected by a tall woman who exited a nearby room.

 
“Oh, I beg your pardon.” Caroline caught herself just short of a collision, doubly pleased she’d been able to stop. The lady glowed with happiness, her condition hardly disguised by her flowing gown. Caroline’s suspicion the ebullient lady was Lady Henley, the hostess, was confirmed not a heartbeat later.

  “Oh, dear, excuse me.” No matter the near mishap, the smile never left the lady’s face. “I am Lady Henley, and you are?”

  “Very sorry. Excuse me. I almost bumped into you in my hurry.” After a quick breath, Caroline continued. “Thank you for your gracious invitation. My mother and I are thrilled to be here at your gathering.”

  At Lady Henley’s blank stare Caroline realized among the throng of beaus and beauties, her hostess had no idea who she was. “I’m Lady Caroline Nicholson. I arrived earlier this afternoon, and my mother, Lady Derby, accompanied me.”

  “Yes, of course.” Lady Henley nodded happily. “A relation to the Notley family’s fine collection of females. Someday I will convince your aunt to attend my husband’s annual event. Mayhap when the baby arrives.” She placed her hand over her stomach in a protective gesture, and Caroline’s heart squeezed for all the wrong reasons.

  Refusing to acknowledge the unpleasant reaction, Caroline forced a pleasant expression and indicated the forward hall which led toward the rear of the house. “I was about to take some air and walk in the gardens. Would you like to join me?”

  “No, thank you. I find I tire easily these days.” Lady Henley turned as if to leave immediately. “I think I’ll nap before dinner, but do enjoy yourself. If you follow the path to the east along the stone wall, you’ll discover the Canna lilies have reached full bloom. They’re a sight that shouldn’t be missed. And, Caroline, I’ll arrange for you to sit beside me tonight at dinner. That way we can become better acquainted and share the conversation I’m to miss right now.”