Blood for Ink (The Scarlet Plumiere Series #1) (14 page)

Livvy stood well behind her father’s chair while he complained to Hopkins about his breakfast. No doubt the sight of her would upset him further, so she dared not try to escape the room. Northwick and Ashmoore would arrive any moment to collect them for their promised shopping excursion, but her father seemed to be slipping quickly toward a very bad day. She would have to beg off, of course, but she needed to get out of the room in order to do so. She prayed her father forgot the appointment altogether.

Hopkins dropped a plate on the floor, bless him. Her father turned toward the sound and she scurried past. She was nearly through the door when loud voices floated down the hall from the entry. Men’s voices.

“Who is that now?”

She hoped her father was not referring to her.

Over her shoulder, she called, “I will just go see, shall I?” She closed the door behind her and ran, calming herself before stepping into the drawing room. Both men ignored the warm fire as if they were unaware their noses and ears were red from the cold morning.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” She moved into the room but avoided getting too near. This was not a day to have Ashmoore looking too deeply into her eyes, or Northwick going on about his fascination with the damned Scarlet Plumiere. For all she knew, Ashmoore had already spread the news; she need only wait for the eminent confrontation. But there was another confrontation she had to worry about first—the one between a demented father and the men who held her future in their hands.

She skirted over to the fire and rubbed her hands together as if she were chilled. “I am sorry you have come all this way for naught. My father isn’t feeling quite himself this morning, and I could not bear to leave him—”

“Nonsense!” Her father walked into the room, quite a new man from only a moment before. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

They exchanged bows. Livvy could not seem to get her mouth to close.

“Good to see you again, Birmingham.” Her father sat in his favorite chair.

“And you, sir. You were going to call me North.” Ah, but the man was lovely in the morning, red ears and all. He wore a cravat the color of buttermilk that set off his tanned face. His coat was a warm brown above buff breeches. His Hessians shined nearly as brightly as his smile.

“Was I? Isn’t that what you call that grandson of yours? The one who was held for ransom in France. Did you ever get him back?”

Northwick’s shine dropped away. His face twisted. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Ashmoore shot him a worried glance and stepped up to block her father’s view of his friend.

“As a matter of fact, Lord Telford, we did get him back. Safe and sound.”

“Glad to hear it. Worried about his mind. Heard he was tortured.” Her father said, frowning at nothing in particular.

Ashmoore turned to face his friend. Northwick shook his head and Ashmoore stepped aside, though not far. Finally, the darker man looked to Livvy. She could only shake her head in apology. The earl nodded at her, then continued to watch Northwick.

The latter found a cheery smile. “Are you up to our outing this morning, my lord?”

Her father stopped frowning and looked up as if noticing his company for the first time. “Northwick! Good of you to come. My Livvy would have been sorely disappointed I think. She has not been shopping for quite a while. That reminds me. Any news from The Scarlet Plumiere, my boy?”

“All is quiet on the newspaper front, my lord.”

“Yes, well. Perhaps the child has been busy.” Her father looked around at her then. “There’s something important I wanted to tell you, Livvy. Do not let me forget.” Then her father winked.

She looked at Ashmoore. The man nodded and smiled, though Northwick could not see it. Was he trying to tell her that her father knew she was The Scarlet Plumiere? The pair had spoken privately the other day while leaving the garden.

He nodded again.

Extraordinary!
Could that possibly be the thing her father was always trying to tell her, but never got around to doing so? She so longed to relieve his mind.

“Father, you have already told me.” She swallowed her tears before they could splash out of her eyes. “Remember?”

“Have I? That’s fine then.” He swatted North’s leg to gain his attention. “Do not forget your promises, young man.”

“Of course, my lord. Does this mean you will not be accompanying us this morning?”

“I think not. I am told I am not feeling up to it, though it may turn out to be a good day after all.”

“But Papa, I could not possibly!”

“Of course you can, my dear. Stella will go along. See to it Hopkins.”

“Yes, my lord.” Hopkins hurried from the room.

“Lord Ashmoore?”

“Sir?”

“You will watch over them both, I trust. I hear you are a handy sort of fellow to have about.”

“He is that, my lord.” North smiled. “That is the very reason why I bear his company.”

“I trust you both to see that she spends an embarrassing amount of my money. Two years’ worth for a start.”

“We will see to it, my lord.” Northwick looked at her then with the strangest expression upon his face. If she had to guess, she would think it was regret. But what could he be regretting? That her father was not in his right mind? Did that make her unworthy in some way?

Her thoughts began swirling in her stomach and she took a deep breath to try and calm the storm stirred up by her imagination alone. She would wait and see how the rest of the morning played out before she would declare the man an ass. She had come to admire Mr. Lott. In truth, she had collected an array of emotions where the Earl of Northwick was concerned. It would be a pity to end up disliking the man in the end.

Livvy bid her father goodbye and joined the men in the cold foyer. Ashmoore helped her don her white cloak, then pulled on his gloves as he walked out the door. Northwick dropped his gloves in his hat and stepped into the doorway, then held out a hand to her. She took it and waited for him to step outside, but he pulled her into the doorway instead. For a moment, her skirts kept them wedged together, at least from the knees down.

“Livvy, I—”

Ashmoore cleared his throat. He stood beside the carriage, waiting, watching.

“We have men guarding your house, even at this moment, so please do not fear for your father,” he said. She got the feeling that was not at all what he had wished to say—and what was he trying to say by rubbing his thumb against her hand as he held it?

He took a breath, frowned, then took another. Poor man, he was going to try again.

“Livvy, if things were different, I would be kissing you this minute. I just wanted you to know that.”

“And now she knows.” Ashmoore gestured toward the now open carriage. “And the brazier is cooling.”

Good heavens!

His strange declaration repeated in her mind while she and Stella shivered under a large fur blanket on one side of the carriage, their toes warming above the brazier hidden in the floor. The men faced them, unaffected. Thankfully, Northwick sat across from Stella so Livvy need not be uncommonly aware of where his knees rested in relation to her own, regardless of the blanket that would have come between them. The man was pure heat, but rather than the warmth that might stop her shivering, it likely would increase it. Ashmoore had no such effect upon her, and so she closed her eyes and imagined the floor beneath her feet to be a bit warmer than it was and willed her teeth not to chatter. When her chills finally ebbed away, she opened her eyes in time to see Northwick’s gaze move quickly away from her. She wished desperately to know what he was thinking, and yet was fearful at the same time.

“I must apologize for my father,” she began.

“Think nothing of it,” interrupted Northwick. “He is not the first gentleman afflicted so. And he will not be the last.”

“I trust...” Oh, blast it, but she could think of no better way to ask. “I trust that my father’s condition will remain between the pair of you.”

Northwick frowned. “You mean, will I refrain from mentioning it in, say, a
newspaper
?”

“That is exactly what I mean.” She raised her chin, then realized she had a role to play that day and lowered it.

Ashmoore coughed into his black glove. Had she been looking elsewhere, she might have missed his brief smile. The earl still had not shared her identity with his friend. Why?

“I will mention his condition to no one. You have my word. I am surprised you would think otherwise, Miss Reynolds.” Northwick shifted in his seat. “I trust you will not discuss with your lady friends anything your father might have mentioned concerning me.”

“I do not know what you mean.” She looked at her lap to keep from staring too intently at the man, from trying to pry his secrets from him.

“
Any
of your lady friends, my lady, not just those with a penchant for the pen.”

“I am afraid I was worried about other matters this morning, my lord, and did not pay particular attention to his discussion with you. And there are no such lady friends with whom to gossip, even if I were so inclined. In truth, it surprises me you would think it of me.”

Although it was true that Stella was her only confidant, she should not have admitted it. Now he would think her deserving of his pity!

Her maid sneaked a hand over to briefly squeeze her own beneath the blanket. Livvy lifted her face to the window to chase away the maudlin thoughts that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She dared not look at the Earl of Ashmoore to see if she had amused the man yet again.

“I beg your pardon. That was hardly the foot upon which I wished to begin this morning.” Northwick signaled the driver with a knock on the wall. The carriage slowed and stopped.

“Are you tossing me out, my lord?” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Never, Miss Reynolds.” He looked at Stella. “I would like to let you in on a little secret, my lady. Would you care to have your maid step outside for a moment?”

Her heart jumped. Was he going to call her out, at the side of the road?

“Stella is most loyal, my lord. I would prefer she stay inside, where it is warm.”

“Very well.” He glanced at his friend, who only raised a brow. “I have decided you are in far too much danger from Lord Gordon, or his lackeys, and need protection.”

“Is that so?” It was the most cautious thing to say at the moment.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat while Lord Ashmoore watched him, smiling.

Northwick turned to the latter. “Do you suppose you could do this any better?”

Ashmoore nodded. “Absolutely, but for all the world I would not deprive you of the chance to make an arse of yourself.” He turned and bowed to Stella and her. “Forgive my language, ladies.”

Stella giggled. Livvy squeezed her hand and she stopped.

“I beg your pardon, Lord Northwick, but what exactly are you trying to
do
?”

“I have decided—”

“Skip to the next bit. You have said that already.” She tilted her head and raised her brow, the epitome of patience in her manner at least.

A laugh burst from Ashmoore.

She pointed at him. “You are not helping.”

The earl bowed his head and bit his bottom lip. He was rather handsome when he did so—a bright flash of white teeth in the midst of all that darkness.

Northwick growled. “Since you are in danger—”

“Through no fault of my own.”

“Well, that is debatable—” He stopped when he noticed her mouth open. He held up one hand as if swearing on the bible. “I admit to placing you in danger.”

“Better.”

“But nevertheless, you need protection.”

“And you think you are the best man for the job?” She tried not to sound doubtful, but failed. And damn it if the man did not appear deflated.

Ashmoore’s smile was gone.

“Lord Ashmoore’s the best man for the job, actually.” Northwick smiled briefly, then gestured toward his friend before folding his hands back in his lap. “There is not a man alive with whom you would be safer.”

He was handing her off?

“I will be safe at home. If I stop the charade of rejoining Society, I will be perfectly safe going back to—”

“I am afraid that is not true. I am certain, if it has not yet occurred to Gordon, it will soon, that if I can find The Plumiere, he can do the same.”

“But you have not found her!” She swallowed, but not easily. “Have you?”

Ashmoore would not meet her eye.

“Not yet. But I will. I must.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I remember. You are
enthralled
. You are
possessed
.”

Ashmoore’s eyes widened.

Northwick turned red.

Was that to have been a secret between them? How had he said it?
I will admit this, only to you of course...
Dear heavens!

She held up a hand. “I apologize. I had forgotten you said such things in confidence. Please forgive me.”