Page 15 of Lord Something (Unexpected Heirs #3)

Chapter Fifteen

K eynsham stood on the drive for a moment, collecting his thoughts. This was almost the last place he wished to be. But the elusive Miss Spry had strung him along long enough.

Spry’s country house was a fanciful brick pile with a decorative tower on each corner, mullioned windows, and a row of crenelations across the front of the roof like a castle—though as far as Keynsham knew, it had actually been built some time in the last ten years.

He’d driven himself. The day was oppressively warm and overcast. As his boots crunched across the gravel, a rising wind turned the leaves of the poplar trees along the riverbank inside out, showing their silvery undersides. Unless he was mistaken, it would soon rain.

He knocked. The footman opened the door almost instantly—and froze at the sight of him, his mouth agape. “Ah. Good day, Job. What a pleasant surprise it is to find you here! We are old friends now—are we not? I am here, of course, to call upon Miss Spry.”

For a moment, Job seemed unable to speak. “I… your lordship.” He gave a strangled cough. “I—I… will see if Miss Spry is at home.”

He hurried away, leaving Keynsham in the soaring entrance hall, and returned a few minutes later with the information that Miss Spry was, in fact, at home.

“Well, well. That makes a change. You must have beat me down here, Job. Are you enjoying Twickenham?”

“I—yes, your lordship.” He turned bright red.

Keynsham followed him down a long corridor with a gleaming oak floor and violently emerald walls. At last they reached a sitting room with a wall of windows overlooking a broad lawn. Outside, servants were carrying trays to a marquee just below the terrace. Evidently the family was about to hold an entertainment.

“Thank you, Job.”

Job bowed, still scarlet. “Your lordship.”

A few minutes later, Miss Spry tripped into the room. “Lord Alford!” She held her fingertips to her half-open lips and widened her blue eyes. Her impression of being shocked wasn’t much more convincing than her fainting spell had been. “What an unlooked-for pleasure! Why, I have not seen you this age! Whatever can have brought you to Twickenham?”

He bowed. “I came to see you, Miss Spry.”

“ Me? ” Now her delicate, be-ringed hand was laid upon her breast. “But… to what do I owe this honor?”

He’d planned a speech. He’d been going to say that he was conscious of the distress that she must have felt after the misunderstanding at the ball. He’d also planned to say that if circumstances had caused her feelings for him to change, he would, as a gentleman, accept her dismissal.

But her display of surprise was so overdone that his mind went blank. He honestly didn’t know what he could say to her. Was she going to pretend that they had never been on the brink of engagement?

Or… had he gone mad? After all, he’d been under a great deal of strain this past year. Perhaps he’d imagined the entire episode.

But he’d just received a large bill from the solicitors who’d spent many expensive hours trying to thrash out a marriage settlement. No doubt it was possible to hallucinate many things, but unfortunately, he didn’t think that a solicitor’s bill was one of them.

He took a deep breath. “I apologize, Miss Spry. I believed that you were aware that, er… negotiations were underway, and that we were to reach a formal understanding at our next appointment—the one at which you unfortunately fainted. Your behavior now, however, suggests that you were not aware that this was the case.”

“My behavior …?” She held her eyes wide and blinked at him in apparent astonishment. “I hope, my lord, that I have not offended you in some way? I greatly value your good opinion.”

He felt an almost irresistible urge to shake his head to clear it. “I… Miss Spry, you do recall the events that occurred at the Mainwarings’ rout—do you not?”

“The Mainwarings…” She frowned. “Dear me, I am afraid that I cannot be certain which event you mean! I am invited to so very many entertainments! The London season is so very fatiguing!”

Well, this was simply insulting. “I do not wish to be indelicate. But I must refer to the, er… incident in the Mainwarings’ library. Your chaperone and one of your friends made a serious accusation against me. As a result, your father’s solicitors and my solicitors were in the process of negotiating our marriage settlements.”

Was that a faint blush on her face? “Heavens, Lord Alford! I am afraid that you will have to ask papa about his solicitors. Dull fellows! I am certain that I have never spoken to them in my life.”

“Miss Spry!” He found himself rubbing his forehead. “I did not come to discuss solicitors. I came to say that…” How was she able to confuse the conversation so much? He cleared his throat. “I will, of course, accept your dismissal. But as matters were all but settled between us, let us at least be frank with one other now.”

“ Matters? ” Her head tipped back as she trilled a laugh. “Oh, Lord Alford! You are always so very droll! Matters , indeed! What can you mean? Dear me! Why, I hope that you do not feel that you must refer to our friendship in such a very formal way! I shall always be very glad to meet you, I am sure—as long as you do not use the word matters ! Why, I am quite frightened now!”

“I beg your pardon.” He made a slight, ironic bow.

She must be aware that unless she released him from his obligation, he couldn’t consider himself to be free. But if she wouldn’t acknowledge that any obligation had existed in the first place, how could he be released?

A silence fell. “Well!” She smiled brightly. “You certainly have chosen the weather for your visit, it seems! Have you friends staying at Twickenham?”

“Miss Spry, as I have told you, I came only to speak with you.”

Once again, her delicate hand flew to her breast. “Heavens! And the roads are so hot and dusty! I scarcely know what to say!”

Her dark ringlets and china doll prettiness were set off by a ruffled pink muslin gown with deep lace trim. She was a lovely girl. But nothing about her touched him. It never had. And then, as she gazed at him with those wide, innocent blue eyes, he saw that she was wearing the very pair of pink coral ear bobs that he’d given her during their brief, enforced courtship.

The sight of them made it all real. It had happened. He’d paid those awkward calls. He’d endured the stilted conversation and the horror of knowing that he was trapped.

How much more of this humiliation must he endure? All he wanted was his freedom—freedom to find Celia and make her the promises that he’d longed to make her months ago.

Outside, the parade of servants carrying trays out to the marquee continued. The party must a large one. He tried one last time. “Miss Spry, I have no wish to, er, distress either of us. If you do not wish this interview to continue, please tell me. I merely wish to understand what your feelings are now.”

“My feelings ?” She paused, blinking, apparently racking her brain to try to imagine what he could possibly expect her to say. “Of course, I hold you in great esteem, Lord Alford.” She gave him another bright, vacant-seeming smile. “I do hope that we shall always be friends.”

He folded his arms. “Friends.”

“Why, of course, Lord Alford! I shall always be glad to consider you my friend.”

Well, it wasn’t a direct dismissal. But it seemed to be the closest that she would come to it. And besides—he’d reached the limit of his patience. He bowed. “Miss Spry.”

And then, before he could say anything that a gentleman would regret, he found himself leaving the room, striding down the long corridor and through the entry hall. Job darted after him and opened the door just in time.

He took a breath as he stepped back onto the gravel drive. What a relief it was to be away from Miss Spry’s lash-batting and titters and talk of “friendship.”

He sprang up onto the gig’s seat. A winding gravel drive led back to the road through a lawn dotted with enormous cedars of Lebanon. He was free. He didn’t see how any sane person could consider him obligated to Miss Spry after that insulting interview.

As he reached the gates, a high-perch phaeton with enormous glossy wheels rolled through them—and Keynsham found himself locking eyes with the Marquess of Ladbrooke himself. The marquess’s weak chin dropped.

Keynsham pulled up. “Ah! Good day, Ladbrooke!”

“Alford.” The marquess’s tone was suspicious. His eyes narrowed, which increased his resemblance to a weasel. “Were you, er, calling upon Miss Spry?”

“Indeed I was!”

“I see.” His eyes narrowed still more.

The young fool! The Marquess of Ladbrooke was all of nineteen, and said to be hot-heated and prone to jealousy. But surely he couldn’t be jealous of Keynsham ! Or… could he?

In an instant Keynsham saw it all. He almost had to admire Miss Spry’s ingenuity. She’d come perilously close to settling for a penniless viscount—him. Yet only a few short weeks later, she’d managed to leverage the rumors of their engagement to provoke a rich and jealous marquess into declaring himself.

“Not staying for the party, then?” Ladbrooke was still eyeing him suspiciously.

“No indeed. I have an appointment in town.”

“Ah.” Ladbrooke’s expression relaxed into a condescending smirk. “Well, I shall not keep you. No doubt you have many… pressing matters to discuss.”

Evidently he was referring to the gossip about Keynsham’s finances. Keynsham forced himself to look grave. “Indeed. Well, enjoy the, er… jollification. It looks like rain.” Before the marquess could reply, he clucked to his horses. A moment later, he’d cleared the gates and was turning onto the road for London.

To know that he didn’t have to marry that scheming, lying… He took another deep breath. For once, his selfish, spendthrift father had done him a favor. If the fifth viscount hadn’t left the estate in near ruin, Keynsham would have been accounted one of the wealthier peers in England.

And if that had been the case, Miss Spry most certainly wouldn’t have thrown him over.

And Celia would have been lost to him forever.

“Let me in.” There was the sound of a scuffle outside the door, followed by a thud. “ Let me in !”

Wilkes rose and straightened his cuffs. The door burst open. A large man stumbled into his office, followed by the guard. The guard raised and cocked the pistol he held.

Without taking his eyes off Wilkes, the large man raised his hands.

Wilkes met his scowling gaze. “Ah. Fenton. I wondered if you might turn up.”

The big man’s scowl deepened. “I ain’t saying nothing ’til he takes the gun off me.”

Wilkes glanced at the man holding the pistol and nodded. “Shut the door, Comstock.”

The man lowered the pistol, gave Fenton one final glare, and left the office, jerking the door shut behind him.

For a moment all was silent but for the big man’s breathing. Wilkes studied him dispassionately. So. He wasn’t dead. That was unfortunate.

He had a badly healed cut across the bridge of his nose and two fading black eyes. It seemed to cost him visible effort to unclench his fists.

“Well. What brings you here today, Fenton? Sentimentality?”

Fenton’s eyes narrowed. “Not happy to see me then, eh, Wilkes?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Fenton. Let me see. I sent you and Mowcher to follow Miss Talbot and bring her back. And instead, both of you disappeared for over a month.”

“Mowcher’s dead.”

“Dead? How’s that?”

“The young lord shot him in the throat.”

The young lord . If Wilkes never heard that phrase again it would be too soon. “I see.” He stared hard into Fenton’s face, wondering whether he was lying and had killed Mowcher himself. “And where exactly have you been?”

“The young lord knocked me out and left me tied up.”

“And yet here you are.”

“A woodcutter untied me.”

“Convenient. And what then?”

“I killed him.”

“Who? The woodcutter?”

“I had to. He’d seen Mowcher’s body and was raising a fuss. He was all for taking me in and fetching the local constabulary.”

“I see.” Wilkes stared out the sunless window of his luxurious office. So. Fenton had left a trail of destruction. As usual.

“I had to walk all the way here—at night, in case they was searching for me. I hadn’t even the blunt for a stagecoach fare.”

Wilkes refocused his eyes on Fenton. He hadn’t got any better looking—or cleaner—in the time that he’d been missing. “Then you have been back in London for some time, I take it. It does not take six weeks to walk here from Hampshire.”

Fenton, who usually slouched, drew himself up. “I just told you what happened. And I ain’t eaten in more’n’ a day now. And you ain’t paid me, neither.”

Wilkes said nothing.

Fenton’s ordinarily blank and slab-like face flushed. “Oh. I see how it is. And after I helped you with the… the matter, too. When me own brother was hanged for less!”

“Your ‘help’ created a whole new problem, Fenton—so I wouldn’t be so hasty to bring that up, if I were you.”

“Is that so.” Fenton folded his huge arms. “Well, you was the one who said where I was to leave it.”

That was true. But Wilkes didn’t appreciate being reminded of it. And more importantly, Fenton’s words were a veiled threat. He knew what Wilkes had done.

Fenton folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. “The reason I come to see you is that I happen to have information. Information that I know you want. But mayhap I’ll keep it to myself—seeing as how you ain’t even going to pay me.”

Wilkes didn’t look at Fenton. He tidied a stack of papers on his desk. Seconds ticked by.

“Ain’t you going to ask me what it is?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.”

Fenton turned and headed for the door.

Wilkes could tell Comstock to shoot him and he’d be dead on the landing before his foot was on the first step.

But Fenton wouldn’t have come back at all unless he thought that his information was valuable… valuable enough to get him back into Wilkes’s good graces.

“Very well.” He would make Fenton pay for this insolence later. “I shall advance you two pounds, and you will tell me whatever it is. And if you are wasting my time, it will be the last time that you do so.”

Fenton turned and studied him. “Two whole pound, eh? Oh, I want more than that. I want all the pay I’m owed—and something else, besides.”

There was a long silent moment. Wilkes was suddenly uncomfortable. He’d always thought of Fenton as stupid. But what was he really thinking? It was impossible to read his expressionless face. “Five pounds, and that is all. Now, what is it?”

Fenton studied him. He folded his arms. “I seen her.”

“Seen—saw—who?”

“Squire Talbot’s daughter—as was.”

Wilkes felt as though the air had been knocked out of his lungs. If Fenton were lying… “Where? When?”

Fenton gave a little chuckle. “Now then, Andrew Wilkes. We need to come to a proper agreement afore I tell you that.”

Wilkes’s heart was thudding painfully. He realized that he’d feared that he’d never see Celia again. He forced a conciliatory tone into his voice. “Surely there is no need for this suspicion, Fenton. There has merely been a… temporary loss of trust. On both our parts.”

“Aye. Seemingly so.”

“Where did you see her?”

The big man shrugged. “Now, now. I’m coming to that. See, I knows you, Wilkes. I knows how you get jumpy. I’d wager ten yellow boys that you was thinking to have Comstock out there shoot me dead.”

Wilkes took a long breath. “I do not know where you got such a notion, Fenton. I should say that you are the one who is ‘jumpy.’”

“Is that so?” Fenton continued to stare at him. “Well. Then I’ll tell you a little story. After the young lord left me tied up out there in the woods, I had a few days to think things through—as a man will do, when he’s wondering if he’s going to die of thirst. And do you know what I thought? I thought to myself, ‘What have you been doing with your life, Fenton?’”

Wilkes spoke through clenched teeth. “Stop your jawing, Fenton, and tell me what you want.”

“I’m coming to that. See, I ain’t happy. And what I want is to get out of the game. Can’t nobody trust you, Wilkes. And I don’t want to be nowhere near you when certain things as you’ve done catch up with you. Like that nasty business with Squire Talbot.”

Wilkes spoke through clenched teeth. “The man cheated me.”

Fenton’s expression didn’t change. “Aye—and so you’ve said, many a time. But if you’d kept your head, you’d have had Miss Talbot to wife a year ago. Best revenge is money—but now you don’t got that, neither.”

His insolence was so provoking that it was all Wilkes could do not to reach into his desk drawer for his pistol and shoot him himself. He forced himself to speak calmly. “Very well, Fenton. Thank you for your… observations.” He opened his other desk drawer—the one where he kept his ready money—took out a leather purse and began counting out coins. “And now you will tell me where you saw Miss Talbot, and how you will help me to get her back.”

Fenton would have to die. But for now, Wilkes had no choice but to play along.

Fenton’s eyes were on the gold coins. He seemed to be calculating something. Wilkes held his breath. Fortunately, Fenton’s stupidity—or perhaps his greed—won out.

“Where I saw Miss Talbot. Where I saw Miss Talbot .” He blew out a breath. “Oh, I can do better than that, Andrew Wilkes. I can tell you where she’ll be .”