The Scandal of Lady Eleanor (36 page)

“God, Woman, you have no idea how much I want you.” His mouth found hers in a moment of passion.

“It is the middle of the day,” she protested.

James sucked Ella's ear lobe, causing her to moan. “If you believe, my Love, that once we marry that I will desire you only at night, you are sadly mistaken. I will want you every minute of every day.You will suffer my lust often.” His teeth raked across her neck. “You are fully clothed, but I am as randy as a schoolboy for you. You consume me, Eleanor. I am nothing without you.”

“I have found a family at Linton Park. I never knew that so much love could exist in one place.” Ella's voice came out small and insecure.

“Sweetheart, I brought the special license with me. We can marry at any time.” He brushed the hair from Ella's face. “I want to pledge my love to you before God, and then we will begin our own family. A half dozen blond-haired beauties would make me happy.”

“I was thinking a grey-eyed, mahogany-haired master might be more to my liking.”

“In a few more days, you will be mine forever, and we can begin our family in earnest.” They both knew that, in reality, Ella already could be carrying his child, but it was important to say the words aloud. He rolled to his side to lie beside her. “You rest now; I need to check on Father and Georgina. I will see you at supper if not before.”

Ella recognized how he had set up the barriers. They would wait until the marriage vows to be intimate again. His honor demanded as much. “I love you more than life, James Kerrington.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You are a temptation, my Love.” A deep sigh signaled his withdrawal as he slid from the bed. “If I do not leave now, you will have no reputation of merit left, and Fowler will become my enemy.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Ella brought the blanket around her shoulders and closed her eyes tightly. “I will just dream.”

James stood, picked up his jacket, and walked to the door.

“Naughty dreams,” she called out without looking at him.

James snorted with amusement as he reached for the door handle. “You do not play fair, Lady Eleanor.”

“I have never had such fun
playing
before, Lord Worthing.” She raised her head from the pillow and pursed her lips in a kiss.

James groaned—her disheveled appearance making her look adorably sexy. Striding to her, he shoved her back on the bed. “I warned you, Ella, when it comes to you I have no self-control—none whatsoever.”

“Control is highly overrated,” she teased, stretching out her arms to him.

“I have created a monster.” His kisses trailed down her neck and across her chest. “A monster, indeed.”

CHAPTER 13

“I TOLD YOU I EXPECTED FULL PAYMENT when I arrived in London! Then you forced me to track you to Kent!” Aidan Kimbolt lifted Louis Levering from the floor and slammed him against the nearest wall. “I am not a man who likes to be kept waiting!”

Levering staggered to his feet, rubbing his chin where Kimbolt's fist had made contact. “I do not have the money, but I should have it soon.”

“I am tired of hearing you say
soon.
Nothing you promise ever comes about, whether it is the money or the ladies.” Kimbolt threw the decanter of port against the wall, watching it soak the tapestry. They were at Huntingborne Abbey, and the place had seen better days. Portraits no longer adorned the walls, tattered and worn rugs “graced” the floors, and candle wax filled in the woodcarvings of the mantelpiece. Evidently, the baronet had sold everything of any value to cover his debts and feed his addictions. “By the way, what has happened to Lady Eleanor? Was she there when you arrived in London?” Kerrington had instructed Kimbolt to find out if Levering suspected Eleanor Fowler's whereabouts.

“The bitch still has not shown. I called at Briar House yesterday; Miss Aldridge put me off, saying Lady Eleanor was touring the Lake District with her friend Miss Nelson. The chit has no friend by that name; I know—we made it up, but her cousin was there with a newsy letter, and it was posted from the Lakes. That is why I came to Kent—I thought she might be hiding at Thorn Hall. I
have a man there—a guy who owes me—so he will tell me when the Fowlers come and go. He says they have been in London since they left the estate eight weeks ago.” Levering edged away from the wall. “I need to find her soon; she is my money purse.”

Kimbolt made a mental note to warn Fowler of a traitor on his estate. “Is that your master plan? Marrying Lady Eleanor?”The viscount snarled in disbelief. “That is how you plan to pay me back? Obviously, Fowler's sister has no desire to marry you, Levering. She can hide out for a long time, and your debts will keep mounting.”

“I have something she wants; the lady will not stay away.”

Kimbolt walked around the room to assess the possibility of a hiding place. “You are a pompous ass if you think your charms strong enough to induce Lady Eleanor's return.”

“Lady Eleanor is too cold for my taste, but she will return. I guarantee it.” Levering moved to the nearest chair, keeping it between him and Kimbolt.

“Guarantee? What kind of guarantee?” The viscount fingered a vase on the nearest table, pretending to assess its value. “If you expect an extension, I want to see this guarantee—see where my money is going. Otherwise, you may be looking at debtor's prison. I do not see anything in this house of value—nothing to pay back the debts I hold on you.”

“You have only two thousand,” Levering insisted.

Kimbolt smiled deviously. “That is where you are wrong, Levering. I hold your scrip from several of your biggest creditors. I bought your blunt for pennies on the quid.You owe me close to twelve thousand.”

Levering staggered backwards in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”

“I play my hunches, and my instincts tell me you are on to something big. It took balls or pure stupidity to bring a lady of Eleanor Fowler's stature to that hunting box. I prefer to think it is the former, and you have some sort of plan. I want a cut of what you make in addition to the debts you owe me.”

“That is blackmail,” Sir Louis protested.

“Precisely! Something with which I suspect you are very familiar. How else could you control Lady Eleanor? I observed the woman with Viscount Worthing on more than one occasion this Season; she affects him, and it would be a good match for them both. I doubt if either family would object. Then, all at once, you announce that the woman will marry you. So, I ask myself, what does Levering have that would make Lady Eleanor turn from a future earl to you. The only answer I have is blackmail. It must be something good. Tell me I am right, Levering.” The viscount now stood menacingly over Sir Louis.

Levering tried to smile—a self-deprecating move. “And if what you say is true, what will it cost me?”

“The balance of your debt and another eight thousand.” The Realm planned to back the baronet into a corner to force him to agree to their proposal.

“That is twenty thousand. Highway robbery! I will not do it!” Louis stormed away toward the window.

Kimbolt watched their contrived manipulation masterly fall in place. “Fine. We will do it the hard way—debtor's prison for you and a twelve thousand pound lien on this property for me. I am sure someone will give me the twenty thousand I want for it. Even in the shape it is in, property is still the safest commodity.”

“Wait a minute!” Levering put out a hand to stop Kimbolt's's departure. “We can deal together.”

Lexford turned slowly, milking the moment. “I am listening.”

“Five thousand plus the debts,” Levering countered. “And you help me pull this off. Lady Eleanor liked you; she will respond to you positively.” He mopped his sweaty brow with his handkerchief.

“Let me see what you have on the lady first—see if it is worth my wait. If it is as good as I believe, I will take an even fifteen thousand and leave you to the rest.”

Levering's breathing became easier, and he tried to smile again. “Follow me.” He stepped around the viscount, picking up a candlestick as he went.

With a satisfying smile, Lord Lexford followed, taking note of the direction so he might share it with Crowden. Finally, they came to a narrow staircase leading to an attic, probably a room to dry clothing, as they were in the steepled part of the house and a room for any other purpose was unlikely. Levering demanded that Lexford wait at the bottom of the stairs. The viscount thought to follow, but heavy dust on the steps told him Levering would see the footprints. So, instead he listened, counted the number of steps, heard the scrape of metal on wood, the sound of something heavy being moved, and steps returning.

“Ah, here we are.” Levering returned from the hiding place.

Kimbolt lounged against the wall, trying to look casual. “Was it worth all this dirt?” He brushed at his sleeve.

“You tell me,” Levering smirked. He handed Kimbolt the diary; for a moment, the viscount wanted to knock out the baronet and make off with the journal, but he had to be patient—to wait—to play out the hand: to make sure there were no copies, make sure no one else knew, and make sure Levering never told another soul. It was the Realm's way to be thorough, never impulsive.

“It resembles a lady's journal.” Lexford turned the book over in his hands. “How can this bring down Thorn Hall?”

“Take a look at the December 5 entry, and you will understand.” Levering folded his arms over his chest and waited for the expected reaction. “What do you think, Collins?” he snorted with self-confidence.

The viscount read the suggested entry and then thumbed through the book, examining the other entries. He needed to tell Worthing and Fowler what the book held. Lexford whistled under his breath. On more than one occasion, Fowler had shared the horror stories of his father's sexual appetite, but here was proof of not only the duke's unusual tastes, but that of Levering's parents. Instead of being appalled by what he read, Levering planned to exploit his own family's reputation to feed his need for cards and women and drink. Kimbolt did not know who was the more debased—somehow
William Fowler moved up the rungs of the ladder. The diary went a long way toward explaining why Levering acted the way he did. The viscount realized the baronet waited for an answer. “I have to hand it to you. It is quite lascivious; is it true?”

“Who cares?” Levering took the book from Kimbolt's hands. “What is important is that Thornhill will be willing to pay to keep it quiet.”

“Is it just the one book?” Kimbolt needed to know, to tell Crowden.

Levering tucked the volume under his arm and headed down the stairs to the sleeping quarters with Lexford following close on the man's heels. “There are two books. I keep them both under lock and key; they are my bread and butter.” Reaching the main passageway, he turned to face Kimbolt. “Well, Collins, do we have a deal?”

The viscount paused, adding the needed suspense. “We have a deal, Levering. I will have my man of business draw up the papers. He will call on you later today.”The Realm planned to send Lowery to act as Lexford's solicitor. “The debt will come due one week from the day you marry Lady Fowler. I will even help fund your courtship. Roslyn really enjoyed the gowns I gave her. They earned me three straight days in the lady's bed.”

“I am happy one of us benefited from Lady Eleanor's departure. Fanny is still angry.” Kimbolt truly found that fact amusing. Departing the house, he laughed freely at the image of the neutered Sir Louis Levering kneeling at Worthing's feet and begging for mercy.

“I will go tomorrow night,” Gabriel Crowden told Fowler. They had sent word to Worthing of Kimbolt's success, and now planned to execute the next step, Crowden's removing the diary from Levering's possession.