London's Most Elusive Earl Page 9

  Chapter Nine

  “I owe you my gratitude.” Lindsey nudged his Arabian onto a more discreet bridle path in Hyde Park, far and away from Rotten Row and its congested parade of dandies. “I hadn’t the slightest idea how to authenticate my investment and will continue to rely on your associate in the future if needed.”

  “It was no trouble.” Mills wrapped the reins around his fist and aimed his horse to fall in with Lindsey’s. “Actually, I’ve given your predicament considerable thought, most especially in regard to the remaining paintings.”

  “Have you? Well, if you know of their whereabouts or how I can take possession of them, I’d appreciate the information with haste.” The sooner he could fulfill his obligation and lay to rest his father’s ridiculous demands, the better. It didn’t matter he planned to ignore the second contingency. He might not have worked out the particulars, but he doubted Barlow would stand firm on such an outlandish demand, especially if the earldom’s solvency was at stake.

  “You may not like what I suggest.”

  They galloped a length, slowing the horses as they neared a more populated bend in the path.

  “Fair enough, though I’m open to suggestions, as I readily have none.” Lindsey knew Mills to be straightforward, so his friend’s hesitation proclaimed more than his words likely would.

  “It’s only an idea, mind you, and it may very well be out of bounds, but…”

  This time his prevarication had everything to do with maneuvering their horses through a throng of young bucks racing across the green. As soon as they regained privacy Mills picked up the thread of conversation.

  “You mentioned yourself that there was no way for you to discern whether or not the Nona was authentic. I trust my man’s assessment, and I’m pleased you wound up on the right side of our recent inquiry, but the Duke of Warren has been fooled and he’s none the wiser for it.”

  “And?” Lindsey reached forward and rubbed his horse’s neck. Infinity was a rare Sabino Arabian stallion, chestnut in color except for high white markings on his knees and hocks. Lindsey had his pick of several immaculate purebreds in his extensive stables, but Infinity was more than a dependable mount or smart investment in horseflesh. The stallion was his family. Lindsey usually kept his prized mount at Kingswood Manor, his country estate, but this season he’d decided otherwise.

  “All I’m suggesting is that if there’s a forger out there who possesses talent so fine his work is near indistinguishable from the authentic, it would save you time and frustration by hiring the man to produce the remaining two pieces in the collection.” Mills relayed all this without taking a breath, apparently anxious to rid the suggestion from his head.

  Lindsey allowed him to stew longer than necessary, simply because they’d been friends for so many years it was impossible to resist the opportunity. “An interesting proposition.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What did you expect? That I slap you on the back and congratulate you for suggesting I commission counterfeit artwork so when discovered—”

  “If discovered—”

  “When discovered, would leave me destitute and label me either a fool or a fraud? Worse, it would perpetuate a diabolical incentive for blackmail were the forger to decide he no longer wished to keep my secret quiet.” Lindsey held Infinity at a canter, though the horse was eager to go.

  “At what risk to himself?”

  Mills’ incredulous expression brought Lindsey to laughter. “You’re a good friend to suggest it, but I’d rather find the originals and be done with it.”

  “As you say.” Mills paused in thought. “What will you do about the duplicate Nona?”

  “Nothing at the moment.” Lindsey brought Infinity to the starting line of the racing green. “As long as I have the original, I’ll not concern myself with another’s gullibility or mistaken purchases.”

  “And so, the search for the Decima begins.”

  “So it does.”

  The two men kicked their horses into a run, and Lindsey relished the race. He was anxious to expend the perpetual tension that arose upon the reading of his father’s will and hadn’t subsided since, always at the ready under his skin to incite anger. But that wasn’t entirely true. He amended the latter after a beat of contemplation. There was a chance meeting or two when he’d experienced blessed relief. The fleeting interludes with Caroline. Their dance. That one unforgettable kiss.

  He shook away an immediate spike of lust and the inviting encouragement to relive their embrace. Instead he focused on more logical pursuits as his horse accomplished the lawn, the animal’s hooves in sync with the tempo of Lindsey’s determination. He loved the reckless speed of a good ride, and with Mills left to a cloud of dust, Lindsey also welcomed the pride of winning.

  Still, he couldn’t dismiss Caroline from his mind so easily. Did she prefer the outdoors to society’s functions? He’d always found a certain peace in nature. As a child he’d often run off behind the estate house to lose himself in greenery and escape his father’s temper. Did Caroline ride? Sidesaddles were cumbersome, but he’d like to think she enjoyed a good trot. He housed thoroughbreds of every variety. No doubt the perfect mare waited for her in his stable.

  With the path at a swift end, he reined in Infinity as neatly as he rearranged his thoughts.

  “We should change our course or we’ll proceed straight into the daily promenade.”

  Mills’ voice reached him from behind and Lindsey jerked his head up, his focus cleared, any earlier unexpected musings dismissed by his friend’s clever timing. All the better for it. He had no room in his life for a debutante, never mind a young miss interested in pursuing some idealist version of wedded bliss.

  Love.

  Wasn’t that her answer when he’d questioned her two nights past? She wanted love. So many people did, and yet the result delivered overwhelming disappointment more often than not. He’d never experienced so strong a bond that he’d ever label it love, not from his parents or any woman who fell into bed with him. Perhaps because he never spoke of the emotion, willing to give his body but not his voice. Words were powerful. Actions more inconsequential. If by chance he ever found himself lost to emotion, he knew he’d offer not just his vow or his physical self, but his very soul, his heart hers to break. That level of vulnerability secured he’d never take the risk in a wager he’d never accept.

  He might have left it at that and changed the subject to White’s or Tattersall’s, but he had the unfortunate luck of glancing to his right, where the end of South Carriage Drive forced the peacocks and flirts to congregate as the ton’s finest turned their gigs and open-air carriages. This too was of no consequence to him and should have been forgotten without consideration, except atop a bright navy-blue phaeton, with her face alight with pleasure, sat Lady Caroline and some nondescript gentleman he didn’t recognize.

  She looked quite fetching, her hair caught up in a flattering twist, the dark strands that had escaped her coif at play along her slender neck. She wore a pale pink pelisse that made the color in her cheeks as inviting as her soft petal lips, and he found his body reacting with a pulse of untenable yearning, his seat in the saddle increasingly more uncomfortable with each exhale. There was no way to explain the unbridled lust that surged through him, and yet he couldn’t ignore it either.

  “Who do we have here?”

  It was the exact question he’d formed mentally as he considered Caroline’s escort, but he quickly discovered Mills wasn’t of like mind. “I don’t know the gentleman.”

  “Gentleman? I’m speaking of Lady Caroline,” Mills replied, his tone a bit too wolfish for Lindsey’s liking.

  “I thought you considered her ordinary.”

  “Did I say that? Perhaps you misheard and I said extraordinary.”

  A spike of misplaced possessiveness tightened Lindsey’s jaw, and he forced himself t
o a more casual expression. “Perusing the debutantes? I wouldn’t have guessed you’d invite the misery of an innocent’s fanciful company.”

  “I’m not getting any younger. Neither are you, for that matter,” Mills goaded. “I’ve recently realigned my priorities, and it’s time for me to beget an heir and a spare. After you pointed her out the other evening, I took an interest. Lady Caroline is the most delectable morsel to grace a ballroom in the past five seasons.”

  “She’s not a morsel.” She’s a decadent feast. He measured his tone, though even to his own ears the words came out on a growl.

  “She is to me, and unless her father has asked you to act the guardian, I’d appreciate if you’d not adopt the role.”

  “You’re not right for her,” Lindsey persisted. “She’s young.”

  “Again with the age?” Mills’ chuckle transformed into a smirk. “I’m not dead.”

  “What could an ingénue offer that you haven’t already experienced? Boredom, no doubt.” Everything refreshing and new. He was a lying bastard.

  “I won’t know until I keep her company,” Mills answered too quickly.

  “And you’d wish for a wife with maidenly sensibilities?”

  “That can be easily remedied.”

  Lindsey curled his fingers into a fist, his grip on the reins almost painful.

  Mills nudged his horse forward. “Besides, you’ve put me at the altar before I’ve even gained an introduction. The lady may possess an annoying twitter or garish laugh.”

  Her voice is lovely and lilting.

  Mills continued his verbal meanderings as he steered across the lawn. “She might kiss like a cold fish.”

  More like an angel.

  “Not that either would deter me if I found her pleasing. I’m an able educator atop the bedsheets if the situation warrants attention.”

  Mills slanted a glance over his shoulder and Lindsey aligned Infinity, though he didn’t reply. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth, and at the same time better sense rebelled at his unwarranted rage. He’d no right to feel anger when the lady was free to do as she pleased. Perhaps that was rub. Some misplaced sense of protectiveness evoked by their coincidental meetings. But he’d be damned before he remained immobile. With a click of his tongue that sounded too much like a black curse, Lindsey urged Infinity forward.

  * * * *

  Caroline smiled at Lord Egerton, the morning air the perfect antidote to her preoccupation with the Earl of Lindsey. Conversation flowed easily; the gentleman was a gregarious sort who seemed confident and kind.

  She suspected why he would be popular with the ladies, his hair a tawny color that glinted in the sunlight, his eyes a warm brown, though she couldn’t help but contrast his appearance with the thunderous dark visage which composed the Earl of Lindsey.

  Something in Lindsey’s forbidding glare spoke to her. Was he hiding a secret or inviting her to sin? His kiss certainly spoke to the latter. And while his reputation warned her away and proclaimed him the worst kind of unrepentant libertine, through their scant conversation she believed he was likely misunderstood, and that singular aspect called to her heart.

  She shook away these misplaced opinions and watched as Lord Egerton managed the phaeton, accomplishing the sloping curve of the drive to aim the carriage toward the return path. So fixed on reorganizing her focus, she startled when a male voice addressed her escort and the phaeton slowed for conversation. A sudden prickling of awareness teased the hairs on the back of her neck to alert a change. She moved her eyes upward.

  “Mills, good to see you.” Lord Egerton addressed the stranger who’d brought his horse beside the phaeton. “Is that Lindsey behind you?”

  “Good morning. Capital day for a drive.”

  The earl’s deep tenor rippled through her, quick to stir up every emotion and question she’d worked so hard to put to bed last night.

  “Have you had the esteemed honor of being introduced to Lady Nicholson?” Egerton slanted his shoulders so she could see beyond his person. “Lords Mills lives at the Albany on Piccadilly, as do I. Behind him is the Earl of Lindsey, a friend of Mills.”

  And mine.

  Or at least she hoped.

  A grin teased the corners of her mouth as she looked from one gentleman to the other. Lord Mills seemed good-natured. His hair was windblown, and he had creases about his eyes from smiling. In contrast, Lindsey looked as if he might ignite at any moment. The intensity of his stare was definitely heating her from the inside out.

  “My lady, it is my honor.”

  Lord Mills clasped her glove and bowed his head to place a kiss to her palm. It all seemed rather formal for a roadside morning meeting in the park.

  “Lady Nicholson, we meet again. Is it possible you’ve become even lovelier than last evening?” Lindsey bowed his head politely, though he didn’t reach for her hand.

  She’d have liked if he would have done so.

  Mills jerked his attention to the right and speared Lindsey with a look that said he expected answers later. She wondered at their conversation before they’d approached, especially when she caught a fleeting look of satisfied bedevilment in Lindsey’s eyes. His magnificent horse snorted, as if in agreement.

  “Gentlemen.” She nodded in greeting. “This fine morning has brought all of London to the park.” She turned toward the congested fairway and back again.

  “High season is always like this,” Mills added. “Have you never experienced it before?”

  She didn’t have time to answer before Lord Egerton interceded. “Lady Nicholson has recently relocated to our fine city from Italy.” He puffed out his chest, as if by sharing that bit of news he’d won a prize of some sort.

  “Then she must be anxious to see the most popular venues,” Mills angled.

  Caroline noticed Lindsey’s contrary expression, his mouth in a grimace suggesting he struggled to keep choice words locked tight. Meanwhile, the other two men continued on as if she wasn’t even present, their strategic squabbling over which locales she deserved to see and who would escort her there monopolizing their conversation.

  Lindsey clicked his tongue and realigned his horse until he’d moved to the other side of Egerton’s phaeton, evenly positioned next to her. She looked into his dark eyes, gleaming with devil-knows-what, and caught her bottom lip beneath her teeth to suppress an unwarranted sense of elation.

  “So here we are again.”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded breathy. She needed to speak of mundane things, or her mind and heart would lead her astray. “Your horse is quite handsome.”

  His eyes fell to the animal and he stroked the stallion’s neck in a show of affection. “Infinity is an Arabian, and a loyal friend.”

  She extended her hand and flit her eyes from the horse to Lindsey to ask permission.

  “Of course.” Half his mouth tilted up in a smile that reached for her heart. “Infinity is the epitome of urbane good breeding. He would never harm you.”

  She matched his grin, and her heart thudded a heavy beat. Something about Lindsey set her senses awhirl, and she all at once remembered the heat of his nearness during their dance, the strength of his fingers wrapped around hers and the mesmerizing scent of his cinnamon kiss.

  “I’m attending the Seton’s Assembly this evening.” She withdrew from stroking the stallion’s glossy coat and straightened in her seat. “You still owe me that dance, my lord.”

  It was terribly forward. Her mother would have suffered an apoplexy, but the thought of a gathering without the chance of spending time with Lindsey caused the invitation to pale.

  “I always pay my debts, my lady.”

  He didn’t say more. He maneuvered Infinity to the other side of the phaeton smoothly, as if nothing had transpired between them though her pulse raced faster than the wind as proof of the contrary.

  Ch
apter Ten

  “I’d say our work here is done.” Beatrice touched the dance card dangling from Caroline’s wrist and nodded at her two sisters. “All but one slot is filled, including a waltz with the estimable Lord Tiller.”

  “Your mother’s report of this morning’s achievements, a bouquet and a ride in Hyde, is further proof of our successful efforts,” Dinah added. “You’ll receive a dozen proposals this season. I’m sure of it.”

  “Which means you’ll have the power to choose for yourself, dear cousin, and not have the decision forced upon you or demanded by a cruel twist of fate. That alone is a rare and wondrous predicament. All you need decide is whether he’ll be fair-haired or not, tall or stout, conventional or daring, wealth is a requirement regardless…” Louisa’s conversation fluttered away as she turned to accept another glass of Negus.

  “It truly isn’t as easy as you suggest.” She wouldn’t argue the point, though not one of her cousins seemed to have an interest in the most important quality to be found in a husband: the desire for abiding affection. So many gentlemen amid the ballroom were handsome, well-dressed, and deep in the pocket, but she required a quality not easily distinguished by an introduction or dance. Was it wrong to want love and not convenience? To hope for mental and physical compatibility? She’d heard enough tales of husbands who kept mistresses to satisfy their sexual proclivities or spent evening after evening at the club to stimulate intelligent conversation. She refused to accept a marriage which perpetuated either avocation. Still, a sharp voice reminded she had no right to be particular, considering her own situation.

  “I see you have an admirer across the floor.”

  Dinah startled her from the emotional argument, and with a somewhat subtle inclination of her fan indicated Lord Mills on the other side of the ballroom.

  “Wonderful.” Her pleasure was genuine. Perhaps Lindsey had accompanied him. They’d appeared familiar friends in the park this morning. Not that it guaranteed the earl had decided to attend. Peculiar how her immediate thoughts pertained to Lindsey. He did say he always paid his debts though. Didn’t that imply he would show at this evening’s affair?