Enticing the Earl (14 page)

Feeling her cheeks burn, she looked down at her napkin. In this small town, it was somehow comforting that they should assume that she was a proper married lady, not a woman of the evening, though she hoped that the earl did not guess the direction of her thoughts. He was often entirely too perceptive, however, and she did not dare glance in his direction.

“Have you been down to the docks?” the landlord was asking.

The earl nodded. “For a short time.”

The man lowered his voice as one with a choice tale to relate. “Ye might want to make a longer stay. We 'ave a real excitin' tale of the sea in our town jest now, a ship what was lost in 'igh seas and then washed up on a far beach and its fabulous treasures reclaimed.”

Looking surprised and not exactly pleased that the
Brave Lassie
's fate was so well known, the earl raised his brows.

Knowing that their host was expecting a different reaction, Lauryn said quickly, to distract him from the earl's reaction, “Oh, my, that is an exciting story!”

Looking gratified, the landlord turned to her. “Aye, in't it? The whole town's abuzz, I can jest tell you.”

“What is this treasure?” the earl put in, his tone now suitably interested. “Gold and silver doubloons from a pirate's hoard?”

“Ah, not quite that,” the landlord told them, wrinkling his broad brow. “But jade artwork like what the lords and ladies put into their great 'ouses, and fancy china, and all that. Lucky, too, as that stuff don't rot away in the seawater, see?”

While the earl pursed his lips, Lauryn said, to keep the landlord talking, “Who owns the treasure now?”

“Ah, it belongs to a couple of lords and was only found again by a great stroke of luck.” He leaned over to stir a sauce for them, and lift a cover on a plate of apple crumble. “If ye are willing to 'and over a small bribe to the guard at the ware'ouse, ye can get a look at all the treasure what's been found at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Really?” the earl said, keeping his voice even with great self-control, Lauryn suspected, to find that his reclaimed cargo was being shown to all the curiosity seekers in the neighborhood willing to bribe the guard.

“Aye,” their host told them.

Frowning, the earl was silent.

Their landlord seemed to expect a response, so Lauryn exclaimed, “My goodness, that is indeed a wondrous tale.”

He beamed. “Jest what I said.”

The earl looked grim. “Amazing indeed.”

“And, I can tell ye what they're saying about the death of the ship's captain,” the other man added, his expression smug.

“And what is that?” the earl asked, his voice sharpening.

The landlord's eyes narrowed, as if wondering if he had gone too far.

“I mean, is there some mystery involved?” Sutton smoothed his voice to simple curiosity. “I'm eager to hear it.”

Lauryn put in, with a girlish simper, “Oh, this is too amazing! Do we have a local ghost story, as well? I do adore ghost stories!”

Their host guffawed. “I can't guarantee ye a 'aunting, Missus, but they be saying 'e may 'ave come by a violent end. 'Is skeleton t'was found in the bowels of the ship wid 'is skull bashed in. Now that's a fine tale, don't ye think?”

“Indeed, it is,” the earl muttered, while Lauryn rewarded the landlord with suitable squeals of horror.

When their talkative host at last seemed to have run out of rumors to share, he took his leave. After the door was shut safely behind him, Lauryn turned to the earl. She found that he was frowning once more.

“Amazing what plain Mr. Smith can learn, and the Earl of Sutton cannot,” he said. “The Harbor Master told us nothing of this. My compliments, Mrs. Smith; you should be on the stage.”

She smiled, then sobered quickly. “Not at all. I'm happy to help. But, my lord, do you think there is really something more than a ship going down in a storm, something sinister here?”

“We shall have to try to find out. And as for the so-easily corrupted guard”—the earl frowned—“I believe I shall have another conversation with him very shortly!”

T
hey set out again for the warehouse in the early afternoon.
This time two carriages waited outside, and it seemed that they had caught someone in the act of touring the warehouse.

The guard looked ashen with horror that Lord Sutton should return so soon. “Me–me lord, I weren't–weren't expecting to see you again,” he stuttered.

“Obviously not,” the earl said, his voice dry. “Who is inside?”

The guard blinked, as if trying to pretend he had not noticed the carriages with their bored-looking coachmen and teams. The horses pawed the gravel and shook their heads at flies that buzzed too close.

“Ah, well, a-as to that,” he stuttered under Sutton's relentless stare.

It turned out to be a party of wealthy merchants and their wives. The earl sent the hapless guard inside to instruct the oglers that they would have to leave.

As he and Lauryn followed the man inside, Lauryn heard one of the women, a loud-voiced matron dressed in puce, arguing with her husband. She seemed to wish to bribe the guard to allow them to take away one of the jade statues.

“It's just a bit of colored stone,” her husband said. “I don't wish to beggar myself just to indulge your whim, Wendella.”

“But you can get it from him for half the price of the shops, I'll wager,” his spouse shot back. “And you know that oriental is still all the crack. Look at the prince regent's pavilion…”

She lowered her voice to eye the newcomers with suspicion. And then the guard had reached them, his own voice low and quivering with nerves.

Lauryn glanced at the earl, who appeared grim.

“They are making your priceless artifacts into a village fair, available to the highest bidder,” she said quietly, feeling a rush of indignation on his behalf.

The look he gave the trespassers should have curdled their enthusiasm for their illegal purchase, but the visitors looked more offended than embarrassed. Glaring at Lord Sutton, they swept out of the warehouse and made their way back to their carriages. Standing near the wide doorway to make sure that they left without any part of his belongings, Lauryn and the earl watched them go.

Lauryn listened to the couple still bickering as they entered their carriage, and the jingle of the team's harness, and the stamp of the horses' hooves as they at last moved away, the second carriage following close behind.

“What shall you do?” she asked quietly.

“I will have to make arrangements immediately for my own guards to take over security here,” the earl told her. “It's apparent that the Harbor Master's men cannot be trusted.”

“Indeed,” she agreed. “Shall I stay here while you go to find men to take over for him, at least for the time? I know the objects inside are of immense value.”

She could not interpret the look he gave her.

“Mrs. Smith, I would not leave you here alone and risk your safety for all the priceless cargos from all the seven seas in all the world,” he told her. “Come along. We shall replace the guards with more dependable ones as expeditiously as we can.”

He turned to say a few brisk words to the guard, who hung his head and appeared unable to put up any protest, but Lauryn didn't hear what was said. She felt as if the blood had rushed to her head, and her ears seemed to ring for an instant, his words to her had had such a strange effect.

Did he truly value her so? No, he was only a decent man, she thought, putting more value on an innocent life than on objects. He was a good person at heart, she knew that. It was not that he cared for her…was it?

He had only known her a few days. When he held her close, sometimes she wondered…No, he was merely a practiced lover, she knew that, had always known that. She could read too much into such gestures, and she must not…she could not leave her heart behind when he sent her away, as he invariably would.

Hadn't she sworn she would not allow this stint as a courtesan to ruin her life? She must not go away maimed forever. She had promised herself she would do what she could to protect her reputation and her heart.

She had to try to keep her own promise. She must.

So she allowed him to give her a foot up into her saddle, and then they rode away, and she did not allow her thoughts to linger on his words. But if she could not erase them from her heart, well, one could not
always
be logical.

They rode back to the small inn where they had taken
their meal, and the earl asked to speak to the overly talkative innkeeper.

“I've a mind to find a man I've had recommended to me,” he told their host. “A man who was a soldier in the French wars. I believe he's sold out by now, but he was a man of great honor during the wars, highly dependable—his word was his bond—and still in good health.”

The innkeeper scratched his balding head. “You don't ken 'is name? That might be Colonel Swift; 'e sold out when 'e got the bullet in 'is left arm. 'E lost it below the elbow, but otherwise, 'e's still in fine form, I'm told, and has fathered three splendid sons since 'e came 'ome. Or mayhap Captain Bullsmore, though 'e's a bit long in the tooth and 'as gotten a bit fond of 'is drink of late.”

“I think Colonel Swift may be the man I seek,” the earl said, straight-faced. He got directions, and they set out.

“How do you know Colonel Swift?” Lauryn asked him when they were on the road again and had pulled up at a narrow bridge, waiting for a carriage to pass.

“I don't, but I needed someone to recommend men I can trust, as the local guards sent out from the harbor are obviously not reliable,” he told her.

She gazed at him in admiration of his gall. “What if this man had not existed?”

“I took a chance that he did.” He grinned at her.

When they reached the address of the retired officer, they were fortunate enough to find him in, and they were admitted without problem. This time the earl gave his true name and explained candidly why he needed to hire a team of trustworthy men.

The officer had an intelligent face and grasped the position almost at once. His left arm showed an empty sleeve, neatly tucked up, but he paid little attention to his old war wound.

“I had heard rumors about a sunken ship and the recovered cargo, but I paid little attention. So it's true, then. I appreciate your position, Lord Sutton. I'm sorry to hear your sad experience with the Harbor Master's men, but not really surprised.”

Nodding, he went to his desk and picked up a quill. “I know just who you need,” he told them. “There are plenty of ex-soldiers who are in need of honest labor, even today. I shall see to it at once, my lord. I'll be glad to see my men—for these were my men, once—given a chance for some work.”

“I appreciate your assistance,” the earl told him, giving him the location of the hunting lodge and making arrangement about fees and payment for the men. “We shall be in the area for several days until I know more about the situation.”

They discussed the question of security for several more minutes, then, when the earl was satisfied, took their leave.

She wondered if they would make their way back to the earl's shooting box, but it seemed that he was not yet finished with his investigation.

They returned to the office of the Harbor Master, and the earl asked to see the body of the
Brave Lassie
's captain.

The Harbor Master, who had looked distinctly surprised and not particularly happy to see them return, blinked at the unexpected nature of the earl's demand.

“The captain? T'weren't much left of the poor man, me lord. You understand the body had been trapped below decks for the whole time—”

“Of course I understand!” Sutton's voice was icy, although controlled, and his expression…Lauryn was glad she was not the man who had to confront him.

The Harbor Master gulped, and his brow showed fine beads of sweat, although the day was not particularly warm.

“Then you ken it t'were underwater, and the crabs and the t'other fishes, well, t'were mainly only the bones that remained, so—”

“So show me the bones!”

“I can't, me lord, they been a'buried.” The more agitated he became, the stronger the man's accent also grew. He pulled out a lavender handkerchief and wiped his forehead, giving up any attempt to maintain a show of composure.

“If there were only bones left, what was the rush?” the earl inquired.

The other man looked aggrieved. “Viscount Tweed insisted it be done as soon as possible, me lord, as a sign of respect, 'e said. And it was done all decent and proper, with the vicar to read a service just as 'e ought. The viscount didn't ask no such questions about looking at nasty bits of bone, neither.” He gave another wipe of the violently hued kerchief.

The earl drew a deep breath. “I see. Yes, that was very proper. May I ask where the captain and—I assume—the rest of the crew have been laid to rest?”

The Harbor Master looked suspiciously at him, but the earl's expression was bland.

“So that I, too, may go to pay my respects to men who died in my employ.”

“Oh, of course, me lord.” He gave them the location of the church, and then they made their farewells.

The Harbor Master tried to mask his relief, but he was obviously only too glad to see the door shut behind them.

“Why do you think he was so agitated?” Lauryn asked as they rode away from the harbor once more.

The earl was silent for a moment, then, as they rounded a lumbering coal wagon, he said, “If you find a company where the men are taking bribes and corruption is rampart, it usually starts at the top.”

“Oh,” Lauryn said, as the meaning of this sank in. “So you think the Harbor Master himself may be—”

“Not what he should be, yes. And he may well be the richer for a bribe connected with the recovered ship's cargo. The only question is, from whom did the money flow?”

She had no answer to that, though it was food for thought as they rode back to the warehouse one more time. It was a sign of Colonel Swift's military efficiency that already a different pair of guards stood smartly at attention at the doors of the big building by the time they arrived.

“Sorry, sir, no one is to be admitted,” the first man, a burly, square-jawed fellow said without prompting.

“An excellent sentiment,” Sutton told him. “However, I am the owner of the property inside, as Colonel Swift may have made known to you, and I am also, by the by, your current employer.” He handed over the paperwork he had obtained earlier from the Harbor Master, which showed his name and title.

“Thank'ee, me lord, sorry, me lord,” the guard said, after giving the papers a quick glance. “Colonel Swift did describe ye, but I were told to take no chances, ye see.”

“Good man,” the earl agreed. “I wish to take one quick look, and then we will be on our way.”

Lauryn followed him inside, wondering why he wished to look at the boxes and their contents once more. He pulled the top off one more crate and touched the china urn, running his hand around the smooth interior, then absentmindedly rubbed his fingers together as he stared into space, apparently thinking hard. But he said nothing, and she did not want to interrupt his deliberations with idle questions.

In a moment, he turned and they left the warehouse and headed back into the countryside, this time with little conversation. The sun hung low over the western horizon, and the air had cooled, so Lauryn was happy when they reached the earl's shooting box.

She dismounted, aware that long unused muscles were protesting a day spent mostly in the saddle. She would be sore tomorrow!

But for now, she could go upstairs, wash, and change for dinner, and she certainly had a good appetite; it seemed long ago that they had eaten.

When she came downstairs again for dinner, she found that the earl had also changed, and he looked handsome and somewhat aloof in his evening dress.

The feeling of intimacy that she had had as they had pursued information together, ridden side by side together all day, seemed to have disappeared. He bowed to her, of course, and led her in to the dining room, but somehow he had resumed a formality that brought back the gulf between them.

What had happened to their easy interplay?

She wished intently for the return of their more natural, more easygoing manners of the day. Oh, where were Mr. and Mrs. Smith, who had eaten a simple meal at a small, second-rate inn while the landlord lingered to gossip?

Now they had returned to being the Earl of Sutton and his hired courtesan, no matter how civilly he might treat her—and it made her heart ache.

So the delicious sauces were as sawdust on her tongue, and she found she could eat little of the thin-sliced venison with raspberry glaze or the foie gras on toast.

Her spirit wanted sustenance, too, and the earl had somehow retreated from her—what had she done to be shut out like this?