To Love A Lord of London (Wardington Park; Raptures of Royalty) (20 page)

Jane sighed and stared at the place his hands still rested on; she felt his strong fingers wrapped around her arms. How long had it been since anyone had shared any of her secrets?

“Who hit me on the head the other night?”

She froze.

His gripped tightened. “I know you had an accomplice. You were across the room when I went down. Give me their name. Are they the one that has some hold on you?”

S
he said nothing
.

Cartridge released her, the pressure of his fingers gone in an instant. When he spoke again, the concern was gone. “You will tell me who it was that struck me the other night, or I will not only end you, but your entire family.”

Jane hardened and looked up.

The man, who only a moment ago seemed to actually care, now stared at her with emotionless eyes. There was no trace of who he’d been when he’d offered her help. Oh, how very wrong she’d been to think he’d care. “Think of the scandal your hanging would cause. The sister of a future marchioness… if Wardington would even allow the match after this.”

Catherine. She’d waited ten years to have Andrew. She’d almost lost him once. Jane couldn’t be the cause of that loss again.

Cartridge continued, “And your mother would be disgraced. Banished easily, since none of you hold a title. And Catherine would have to settle for spinsterhood or marry far beneath her. A butler or farmer perhaps. It’s a moment that mothers of the peerage all dream of—the downfall of a wealthy daughter with no title. Society has no mercy—”

“
E
nough
.” She turned away and took a few steps.

“You’ve three days, Miss Croftman. After that, I go to the papers.”

She didn’t watch him leave, but she heard his footsteps as they faded from the room. The door closed behind him, and Jane wondered what she would do.

W
illiam Lawson
, the Earl of Cartridge, walked swiftly out the door of the Croftman home and toward his waiting carriage. Pulling his hat from his head, he slipped into his seat and to his valet he said, “Have someone watch the younger Croftman girl from dawn until dusk. Alert me immediately if she leaves this house.”

T
he young servant
tipped his head, “Yes, my lord.”

They pulled from the curb and headed toward Paddington before turning on Baker Street. His destination was home. He’d have stayed and questioned the Croftman girl but had obligations that forced his hand. Hands that had been wrapped around Jane’s small arms, seconds away from shaking her.

He looked outside the window as the traffic grew worse. Not far from the Croftmans, the carriage had arrived, and he leapt out the door once it was opened. He took his stairs two at a time and heard the butler’s greeting as the man opened the door.

“
W
illiam
,” a warm voice said.

He’d just taken off his hat when he looked over and watched his mother enter the room. The Dowager Countess Abigail Cartridge and she was a vision. She was dressed in a pale green day dress. Her dark blond hair curled into an elegant style, which managed to make her already ageless face look younger. Her dark blue eyes twinkled when they caught William’s. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

He walked over, kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “You call, I come. Hasn’t it always been this way?”

She blushed, “The Good Lord did bless me with the very best son.” Two fine sons. One dead.

The unspoken words hung between them. His brother Charles was always there. Long buried, but never gone.

She waved the thought away as though it were a ghost, “Come, you’re just in time for the morning meal.”

William chuckled as he escorted his mother from the room. “I find it interesting that you always call it the morning meal even when it’s past one.”

She gasped mockingly, “Well, you can’t possibly expect me to wake up before noon, can you?”

H
e didn’t
. It was the way of high society. No one of means was up before the sun. Early mornings were for the less fortunate. And unfortunately, William had been one of them today. Last week, he’d woken up at the Wardington townhouse with a splitting headache, and the headaches were still present. He remembered that first day the most. A maid had been cleaning the room as though he wasn’t there. Undoubtedly, any staff in the service of Duke Wardington were used to strangers milling about. The man was known as a rogue who threw wicked parties for his friends. William had left with only a handful of servants around to see him exit, and after stopping at his own townhouse, he’d only had enough time to change clothes and head to Scotland.

“Lord Cartridge.” The use of formal address from a feminine voice caught his attention.

And there in his mother’s sitting room was Lady Hatcher… and her two daughters. Her two very unmarried daughters. He should have known better than to share a meal with his mother.

“Lady Hatcher, how is the Earl Hatcher?”

Julia’s smile widened, reaching her pale eyes. She, like her daughters, were all very, very pale. “Wonderful, my lord. I’ll tell him that you asked after him.”

“And Lord Windorland?” The miracle. Hugh Garrett had been Julia’s third child. And after two girls, William was sure the Earl was glad to have him.

“
H
ugh is wonderful
. He’s consulting at the rails.” Hugh was also a genius, which only added to him being a miracle. His mind was all mechanics and scientific theory. The railway was coming to England, and many people were excited, but no one more than the earl—Hugh’s father—who bragged about his son’s investments, announcing the train as the beginning of a new era.

No longer able to ignore the daughters, William turned to them, “Lady Priscilla. Lady Rebecca.”

They curtsied. “Lord Cartridge.” They were both beautiful women, though one of them wasn’t quite a woman yet. The younger, Rebecca, was just fifteen and wouldn’t enter her first season until the next year, but Priscilla he knew well. All charm she was. Her hair was almost white, her eyes that color of blue that was more gray. Priscilla threw the earl a wink, and it took everything in William’s body not to laugh.

“Lady Hatcher,” his mother began. “Have I showed you my roses?”

The countess gasped, “Why, you’ve not. Why don’t we go have a look before we eat? If you don’t mind, my Lord?” She turned to William.

W
illiam nodded
, “I do not mind. Take your time.”

“Wonderful. We’ll only be a few moments, girls,” she said as she rushed off behind the dowager, leaving her daughters behind. Priscilla was who they intended for William to marry. Rebecca was simply there to make sure nothing unsuitable happened.

Finally alone, Priscilla fell unceremoniously into a chair, though she managed to look ever the lady when she sighed and said, “Would you believe that my mother told us we were going to a perfumer?”

William chuckled and dropped into the seat opposite her. “Would you believe that my mother allowed me to believe it would be only her and me for breakfast?”

T
he sisters smiled
.

Rebecca cut in, looking directly into William’s eyes. “Did you order the book?”

“It’s in the study.”

The girl rushed off without a word.

Priscilla tsked, “I don’t understand her obsession with those ghostly stories. You really shouldn’t encourage her.”

William smiled, “Who knows, perhaps something good will come of the girl’s imagination.”

Priscilla looked away. “If you say so, my lord.” Then she changed the subject, “So, I saw that your mother’s little plan for Catherine and Andrew paid off. Very nicely done.”

He shrugged, “I’m not even sure how my mother got involved, but it was nice having something to do that wasn’t so political.”

She straightened. “And speaking on that, where were you this week?”

“On my way to India. Stopped in Scotland first.”

“For the king?”

W
illiam nodded
. His country was currently at war with the northeastern region of India. William had made profitable investments in that land a few years back, and the king had asked him to see if his contacts overseas would aid in the war efforts. William had written to them months ago, but when he hadn’t heard back, he’d planned to go himself. It was war, and he was willing to do his part to aid his country. Thankfully though, a letter had just arrived before he had gotten too far. His contacts would help and sent word of just how they’d make sure that the British would win the war. He’d never been more grateful for the letter. The thought of going anywhere near war made William’s blood run cold, but that was the way of his family line. Since the first Earl of Cartridge, they’d earned their lands and position of power from King George the I for their act of valor in the wars that founded this great land. William was the sixth Earl of Cartridge, and he didn’t take that lightly.

Priscilla smiled. “Well, aren’t you a powerful man?”

He was. Many feared him, though he’d never given anyone reason to. Still, he was respected by all. There was even talk of him one day becoming prime minister, which was another reason he didn’t understand why Jane wouldn’t trust him. Did she not understand what he could do for her? Did she not see how very much he wished to help?

I
will not
only end you but your entire family.

His words had been harsh but so had the blow to his head. He could have died! And still, she wouldn’t tell him what was going on. But he would find out. He’d given her three days to confess, but in reality, William had every intention of finding out the truth on his own. He’d have her followed, watched at every turn. If she so much as blinked too often, he would know, and he would know in whose direction her large honey brown eyes had been looking. Those eyes…

“William?”

He looked at her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Where did your mind go just then?” Ever the noisy girl. She had no clue just how very much she was like her sister. They both enjoyed a good mystery.

“
S
omeone hit
me on the head at the Wardington Ball.”

She gasped, her small hand covering her lips. “No!”

“Yes. I woke up the next morning not knowing where I was.” But once he did, he’d known he’d look for her. Jane Croftman. He wouldn’t rest until he had answers.

“Do you know who hit you?” she asked with concern.

“No.” He didn’t know who the actual attacker was. “But I have every intention of finding out.”

“
H
ow were your painting lessons
?”

J
ane turned
to stare up at her brother. He was a massive man, built like an ox, tall like a wall, a wall which currently blocked Jane’s view of the other side of their couch. The two were destined for Hyde Park at their mother’s suggestion. It was four o’clock, and as Lucy Croftman put it, every family of import would be seen here. But what she’d truly meant was that if Jane found a husband quick enough, then there would still be time to plan a double wedding. Her mother’s dream. Jane’s nightmare. But the trip would still work to her advantage in other ways.

“
J
ane
?”

“Hm?”

“How’d your talk with Lord Cartridge go? He came to me yesterday. He told me that you’d accidentally picked something up of his at the Wardington Ball, but when I spoke to Catherine, she told me that you were taking painting lessons. Which was it?”

So they had both lied. “Both.”

Joseph stared at her. In a way, all the Croftman looked similar. The brown hair and eyes, but where the females were soft, Joseph was very… masculine. His brown eyes hardened as he spoke. “And exactly what of Lord Cartridge’s did you have?”

“
A
pen
.” She hoped the earl hadn’t said something different.

“And painting?” He shook his head. “Since when did you find interest in it? I remember trying to get you to sit down and do something civil when you were ten. You always hated silent activities. Never one to stay in place for too long.”

Her brother knew her well. She wondered what her life would be like if she had been different. Less adventurous. She’d probably be out of trouble was the answer. She probably wouldn’t be going to jail.

“Jane?”

“Hm? Oh.” She thought about his assessment of her and agreed, “I wasn’t interested in it until I saw Lord Cartridge’s work. He’s rather good.”

“And where did you see this painting?”

“The study.”

He was still staring at her. “And what was the painting of?”

Jane sighed, “A woman.”

Joseph’s eyes went wide.

Jane chuckled. It was the first time she’d smiled in some time. “It wasn’t
that
kind of painting. She was wearing clothes.”

H
e sucked his teeth
, and Jane felt the speech coming. She didn’t have to wait long. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Jane. Half of the time you’re gone, and when you return… you’re… different. You haven’t been yourself in some time.”

Jane didn’t say anything but felt the tears burn the backs of her eyes.

“Sometimes, I think I should just send you away. Perhaps you’d do well in Bath.”

She gasped. She’d never heard this before. As the head of their household, if he wished to, he could. But she didn’t want to be banished to the country. She’d miss Catherine. She’d miss her mother. Even Joseph. “Joseph, please don’t.”

H
is dark eyes held hers
. “Do you not think this is hard for me as well? We’re lucky Andrew married Catherine. A marquess. Mother is thrilled, and I...”

“Have one less burden to deal with?”

Joseph looked away. “It’s not easy looking after you two. Catherine always talks out of turn, and I can never keep track of you, Little Elf.” He lifted one side of his face into a grin.

She smiled at his nickname for her and leaned her head against his arm, but there was sadness there. Joseph shouldn’t have to look after her. It hadn’t been his duty, but they had lost an elder brother in the war. Bradley, the son who’d been destined to take care of everything after their father died, had died himself not long after.

Jane could feel the weight of Joseph’s burdens but didn’t know how to lessen them. She knew, though, that she couldn’t go to Bath. There was no running from the person who controlled her.

“
T
hen tell
me what’s going on.”

She sighed, “Nothing is going on. I’m just… restless. Perhaps, the painting will help calm me.”

He seemed to like that idea and nodded his head, “Well, if you’re interested in painting, I’ll get you a real teacher. You need not bother the lord anymore about it.”

But she wasn’t bothering him. In fact, he had bothered her. From the moment he’d stepped into the small library at Wardington house. She’d been minding her own business. She’d told him she was all right. And yet, he’d still entered the room. If anything, him getting hit on the head was his own fault. The new realization gave Jane some inner strength. She’d have to remember this thought the next time she saw him.

With their carriage parked, Joseph assisted his sister out of it, and the two began to walk in silence. It was one of those rare sunny days in London. The noise of the traffic faded away as they left the street and walked further into the park, giving way to the sounds of laughter and whispers of gossip. They walked toward the Serpentine, where the sun reflected on the lake’s waters.

T
he air was warm
. A few people on horseback rode in the distance.

“Mr. Croftman.” A sugary, sweet voice from behind them drew their attention.

Joseph stilled, and Jane could almost hear his mind mentally preparing before he turned around with a smile. “Lady Haywood.”

Around June Haywood, the daughter of a Viscount, was her circle of friends—daughters of aristocracy, the kind of crowd her mother wished Jane would join. But it would never happen, not because Jane didn’t like the girls, but because the girls hated Jane. The Croftmans may be more wealthy than half the ton, but that didn’t mean they’d be so easily accepted. Catherine, they claimed, had already stolen one of the most sought after men of the peerage. A marquess. A future duke. Nevermind they’d been promised to one another since she was twelve and he fifteen. Nevermind that they’d been in love with one another for over a decade. Many simply were not happy about the influx of land gentry, yet with the need for money, all would have to deal with it.

T
he hard times
only came for the women of the Croftman family. As the head of their household, Joseph had been welcomed with open arms for years.

June batted her blue irises up at him and said, “The girls and I were just wondering who looked better in green.” All three of the girls were wearing green in various shades. “Perhaps you could be the judge?” She all but thrust her chest out as she spoke.

Jane rolled her eyes before looking toward Joseph to find a lone brow lifted on his face. It was a trap. If he didn’t judge them, they’d think he thought himself better. If he did judge them, then all would assume he fancied the winner. Perfect. This distraction would give her the time she needed to get a job done. To Joseph, she said, “I’m going to walk a few paces. I won’t go far. You have fun.” And then she turned away before Joseph could plead for her to stay.

She walked quickly, heading for the trees. She’d only been walking for a moment when she heard her contact.

“
W
hat’s your message
?”

She spun to look at the man who’d come to collect. Bruno. He was a large man. Dark with dark eyes. He had a way of staring directly into her eyes that made Jane’s blood flow cold. He’d hurt her if he had to. He’d told her that, and Jane had believed him, never testing just what kind of pain she’d suffer under his fist… or worse. Though, she’d be testing him today.

She straightened her back and spoke, “I—tell His Grace that I cannot work for him… not for awhile.”

Bruno didn’t budge, his black eyes unblinking. “You’ll work until I say you’re done. Or did you forget? At any moment His Grace could air your family’s secret out to the public.”

Jane’s heart was beating rapidly. “Please, I—”

The man grabbed her arm, jerking her forward. The steel grip was painful and would undoubtedly leave a mark. He shook her and then pulled her off her feet by that one arm. The pain shot through her arm. It was almost unbearable. She whimpered as the tears began to build in her eyes. Perhaps, he’d simply kill her now and spare her whatever humiliation the earl would befall on her family.

Bruno shook her again, “You will work. You will steal from every house in the peerage. You will bring the pieces to the drop point, and you will keep your mouth shut about it. Or you will see me again.”

Jane was crying now, “Please.” She could barely breathe. “Lord Cartridge knows.”

“Lord Cartridge knows?” Something flickered in Bruno’s eyes before he let her go, dropping her to the ground. Jane landed on her rear. Her arm barely worked, the pain torturous.
Her due.
She cried silently, her face turned away from Bruno. Bruno had been told about the night at the Wardington ball. He knew about the earl being struck.

B
runo’s
harsh voice broke into her thoughts, “How do you know he knows?”

It took Jane a moment to find her breath, her chest rising and falling, straining against the corset underneath her petticoat. She felt lightheaded.

Bruno crouched down to her, his face near hers again. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Jane cried, “He visited my house.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

Bruno looked around, “He could be following you now.”

She shook her head, but Bruno wasn’t listening. Instead, he was backing away, still looking around. “This could be a trap. You could be leading him straight to me.”

Truly? She tried to stretch out, to breathe more, but it was becoming harder. “No... he told me... I… I had three days to tell him who hit him over the head or...”

B
runo looked at her
. “Or what?”

She was getting dizzy.

Bruno looked ready to lunge at her but instead he said, “I’ll contact you in a few days. Do nothing until I do.” Then he was gone.

And when the clouds began to fall over her eyes, Jane let them.