Page 15

A fter snatching a few hours of sleep, Anthony rose and dressed, all the while wondering what the hell he had been about proposing what he had to Miss Spencer.

Calling for his horse, he was soon trotting through the streets of London, wondering if he was losing his mind, even as he knew that what he’d proposed would benefit them both. If they could pull it off.

But her, of all people. Prickly, opinionated, and he was sure those were her finer qualities. The woman would not be easy to spend time with, which he would have to do if she became his fiancée.

Anthony saw the vendor ahead and pulled his horse to a halt beside the cart.

“It’s a lovely morning, my lord,” the woman said.

“I’ll reserve opinion until the sun fully rises, Milly,” Anthony said, dismounting. “I’ll take a fruit pie please.”

“We’ve apple today, my lord.”

Anthony had been eating these pies for many years, as they were the best in London. Not that he’d tell his cook that. The only issue with stopping at Milly’s cart was the advice that came with any purchase.

He put her age around sixty. Tall, thin, and usually wrapped in multiple layers of clothing, Milly was never shy to tell him what she thought on any subject. That Anthony was an earl with a dark reputation did not bother her in the slightest.

“It’s a troubled mind that has you out here at this early hour, my lord,” she said, handing him the pie.

“All is well, Milly.” Anthony took it, and a large bite. He sighed at the taste of buttery pastry and spiced apple.

“A lady is my guess.”

He didn’t show by a flicker of an eyelash she was correct and instead kept eating.

“Well now, if a woman is rousing you from your slumber, my lord, she must be someone important,” Milly continued.

She had bright green eyes and a narrow face, with lips that disappeared into her mouth when she smiled, because the top row of her teeth was missing.

“There is no important lady in my life, Milly.”

Milly’s husband, John, usually manned the stall with her. Where she was tall, he was half a head shorter and a great deal wider. Where she rarely smiled, he always did so.

“He’s a woman on his mind, John,” she said as her husband moved to her side.

“I never said that, Milly.”

“I can tell.” She tapped her nose. “It’s in the eyes.”

“A piece of advice for you, my lord, if I may,” John said.

“Can I stop you?” Anthony said putting the last bite of pie in his mouth. He contemplated another but thought it wouldn’t sit comfortably as he galloped about the park.

“If she’s the one—”

“Not everyone needs love like you two.”

“All true, my lord. There’s them that are comfortable living with a person who doesn’t hold their heart. But if you find someone that makes you want to spend time with her and fills your thoughts, then it’s best you keep her.”

No woman had ever produced such a reaction in him, and he doubted he could feel that level of emotion. Something was dead inside Anthony, and he’d realized that a long time ago.

“Well, thank you both for the advice, but I’ll leave that kind of thing for those foolish enough to fall in love and be off for my ride.”

“We’ll see if you have to eat those words, my lord,” Milly said, bobbing her head.

Anthony mounted and headed to the park.

Getting his aunts off his back would be a relief. There would be no ball, or whatever else they had planned for him. Miss Spencer would also be safe from Cavendish and the gambling. The thought of her under that man’s control turned Anthony’s stomach.

Reaching the park, he nudged his mount’s sides and soon they were galloping. Few people were about, which suited him, as he could be alone with his thoughts.

He wondered what arguments Miss Spencer would present when he called upon her. Because she wouldn’t yield easily to what he’d proposed. That wasn’t her way.

Clearly the family had fallen on hard times, which is why she’d taken the drastic steps she had. Anthony also had no doubt Miss Spencer was the one to hold the family and its finances together. He knew Heathcliff Spencer was a simple soul.

The thunder of hooves had three horses approaching. He tensed when he saw the riders. Greville, Cavendish, and Calthorpe. The last two Anthony knew were in London for the season. Greville had not been, until now.

Greville raised a hand to halt Anthony, and he thought about riding on briefly but wouldn’t give any of these men the satisfaction of doing so.

“Lord Hamilton,” he said. “How lovely to see you again, and out so early. Care to join us?”

“Thank you, but no.” Anthony didn’t elaborate. He owed these men nothing. Cavendish glared at him, still angry over their exchange at Hugh’s that night. “In town on business, Greville?”

The man had aged a great deal, and not well. His face was lined, skin a sickly shade of gray. He looked a shadow of the thug he’d once been. Anthony hoped he died a slow and painful death. Forgiveness, he’d heard, was good for the soul, but as he did not have one, that wasn’t of consequence.

“Just so,” Greville said. “Visiting friends also,” he added.

“He’s also in town to cast his eyes over the woman who will be the future Lady Cavendish.”

Anthony kept his cynical smile in place, but did not comment on the matter of him marrying Miss Spencer, as that would not be happening. He’d make sure of it.

“How is life in the country, Greville?” Anthony asked, much to the surprise of the three men. He rarely made conversation, and especially not with them. “I believe you live close to the village of Brawley?”

The man nodded, suddenly wary.

“Lovely place. I’ve spent time there over the years. The food in the tavern there is excellent.”

Anthony saw the shock on each of their faces.

“I believe they’ve had some trouble lately.” He appeared to consider his next words. “I can’t remember exactly what, but I believe some women have disappeared.”

“I-ah—”

“Village gossip is beneath us,” Cavendish cut Greville off. “Good day, Lord Hamilton.”

He turned to watch them gallop away and thought that he and his friends would need to do some investigations of their own into the missing women, if Greville’s reaction to his question was any sign of his guilt.

*

Four hours later, Anthony did something he’d never before done. He approached the front door of a young lady to express his interest in her. Of course, his was not real interest, but still, were anyone to see him, they would be shocked.

The area was not the best London had to offer, but not the worst either. The red house was two stories and butted up against others like a row of books on a shelf.

He knocked three times on the front door and then stood back to wait. Anticipation over seeing Miss Spencer again grew as he heard footsteps on the other side of that wood. He dismissed it. This was a business arrangement that would suit them both.

“Good morning,” Anthony said to the butler. “I am here to see Miss Spencer.”

“She’s not here, sir.”

Why that surprised him, he had no idea, but it did. He’d thought she’d wait for him to call, and yet considering her nature, of course, this would be her response to his order last night.

“Do you know where she has gone?”

The man considered him through a set of piercing brown eyes.

“I’m a friend,” Anthony said, forcing a smile onto his lips. “Old friend,” he added when no response was forthcoming. “The Earl of Hamilton,” he found himself tacking on. Another odd occurrence. He never had to explain to anyone who he was.

“Who is it, Humphrey?” a voice called from behind the man.

“Lord Hamilton, Miss Prue.”

“Really?” A hand nudged the butler to one side, and then there stood Miss Prudence Spencer.

She was a softer version of her older sister. Where Miss Spencer scowled or glared, this one smiled. In a simple day dress of cream with sprigged lavender, she looked sweet. Anthony much preferred the sharp edges of Evangeline Spencer.

“I was looking for your sister.”

“She’s, ah…” She looked around her as if her sister was hiding nearby. “Out.”

“So I understand. Do you know when she will return?”

“I’m afraid not. Evie is shopping.”

Evie. He’d only ever thought of her as Miss Spencer. It was odd how just a name changed her in his eyes. He could see her as a beloved sister and daughter now, even if she was excessively irritating.

“And you did not care to go?” he said attempting a genuine smile to put her at ease, because she was now wringing her hands, which was often the reaction his presence produced in innocent young woman. Not Evangeline, however. She’d never feared him.

Prudence Spencer shook her head.

“Do you know which direction she took?”

“I don’t know. Can I be of any help to you, Lord Hamilton?”

He studied her face. Was she aware of what happened last night? And that her sister masqueraded as a man to ensure her family had what they needed?

“I need to speak to your sister on a matter we discussed at the Bailey ball. She asked me about something, and I have the information she wanted. I would like to give it to her personally,” he lied.

And this, Anthony thought, was what happened when you got involved with someone you had no business being involved with.

Questions were raised, and you told a lie so no one knew what you were about, and then you had to remember that lie.

It was exhausting. He did not know how his aunts did it constantly.

It was simply best everyone feared you as they kept their distance.

“Hello, what’s going on here?”

Heathcliff Spencer appeared, a wide smile on his face, as always.

“Lord Hamilton, what has you calling at our humble abode?” Baron Spencer rarely spoke in a moderate tone; he boomed. “Are you visiting my dear Prudence, per chance?”

It annoyed Anthony that Miss Spencer’s father naturally thought his youngest daughter was why he had called.

“I have called to see Miss Spencer, my lord.”

“Have you really? Now that is a surprise don’t you think, Prudence?”

The daughter in question winced, and then her lips pursed in a tight line.

“You’ll have to come in and take tea with us, Hamilton. My eldest daughter has gone to Covent Garden. Apparently, she’s shopping for—”

“Yes, thank you, Father. I’m quite sure Lord Hamilton doesn’t need the details,” Prudence Spencer said cutting her father off.

“Thank you for the offer of tea, but I will have to decline, as I have an appointment. I shall call to see Miss Spencer another time.” Anthony then bowed and walked back out the gate.

The door shut with a definite snap, and he was quite sure that Prudence was now taking her father to task for nearly telling Anthony that Evie, as he would now think of her, was out shopping for the household supplies.

Climbing back on his horse, he headed toward Covent Garden. He and Evie had things to discuss, and they would do so today.