A Stolen Season (7 page)

Sarah stared wide-eyed at her friend and felt all the blood drain from her face. She swallowed the bile that threatened. “Did anyone see the person snooping about?” It could not be true. Richard was a pro at slipping in and out of situations without detection. How could such a mistake have happened?

“No,” Anita said, her voice dejected. “But that does not signify, for someone was in there, and it’s only a matter of time before they are caught and brought to justice.” Anita stood and began pacing about the room. “I wonder who it could be? Lord Earnston said the woman he saw the night of William’s death was young and in partnership with someone else. Seems she met with a gentleman in Westerham at the local inn.”

“He knew that?” Sarah said.

Anita stopped and frowned. “What do you mean? Of course Lord Earnston knew. He’s had a Bow Street Runner on the case since Lord William’s death. The innkeeper notified the man during his investigations that the lady arrived, muddy and injured, and met the fellow upstairs.”

Shit
. Sarah nodded. “It seems Lord Earnston will catch his brother’s murderer and be able to move on with his life.” Sarah silently thanked the distraction of the footman as he brought in the tea. She fisted her hand to quell its shaking, then calmly poured two neat cups. “What did the innkeeper say the woman looked like?”

Anita sat in thought for a moment. “He believed the woman’s hair was a dark shade. Very pretty and tall by all accounts, but a light skirt nonetheless.”

Sarah choked on her tea and put down the cup. “The woman may have slept in a different chamber to this male accomplice. It is possible, Anita.”

“Perhaps you are right, but in any case the woman has a lot to answer for. Lord Earnston is determined to have justice. I almost feel sorry for her on that score.”

“Don’t,” Sarah said. Lord Earnston had every right to feel the way he did. Should her own brother die — had she had one — under such strange circumstances, Sarah wouldn’t rest until the criminal was brought to justice. “Should she ever be caught, she deserves the earl’s wrath.”

“Yes, a wrath involving a hangman’s noose. I cannot think of a more awful way of dying,” Anita said, taking a sip of tea.

A shudder ran over Sarah’s body, and she set about turning the conversation to a more menial topic. The whole time they chatted of gowns, balls, and gossip, her mind remained a whirr of discord and worry. The earl had a Bow Street Runner on the case. They would have to be meticulous from now on. Richard’s mistake could not happen again.

“Sarah?” Anita asked, touching her hand.

Sarah pulled herself from her thoughts. “Sorry, Anita, I was a mile away.”

Lady Anita looked at her quizzically, but repeated her remark. “Lord Earnston also informed me he is to ride with you tomorrow morn.” Anita slumped back on the settee and grinned. “I hope you comprehend how unpopular this will make you.”

Sarah flinched. “Why? I thought Lord Earnston was a much sought after gentleman in the ton.” Had TimeArch missed some important tidbit of information on his lordship?

“He is one of the most eligible men in England, my dear,” Lady Anita said with a laugh. “And for the first time I have known him, he has shown a marked interest in a woman. You.”

Sarah stood and rounded the settee. “I’m sure he is merely being kind to his cousin’s friend and nothing more. I promise you, by the end of the Season, his lordship’s affections will be aimed elsewhere, and I will be merely a passing acquaintance.” Although Sarah couldn’t stop wondering who Lord Earnston would eventually marry. Have a life. Love …

“Lady Patricia mentioned you in passing.” Anita stood and pulled on her gloves. “I should not tell you this as she is all but family, but I feel I should warn you.”

Sarah looked up from her intent examination of the settee’s gold silk cover. “Warn me?”

“Yes.” Anita walked over to her. “Lady Patricia will look to cut you out of Lord Earnston’s life. I doubt she’ll allow anything to stand in her way of obtaining a countess coronet.” Anita clasped her hand. “Do not look so worried, my dear. For Lord Earnston to show interest in you is enough for me. I would love to welcome you as a cousin.”

Sarah needed to put a halt to this direction of thought at once. “Anita, I’m not entering a war over Lord Earnston. Lady Patricia can have him. I will, of course, befriend him, but nothing more. Please do not try and match-make.” What a nightmare this Season would be if Sarah had to contend with people trying to marry her off.

Anita grinned and Sarah realized her friend was not listening to a word she said.

“I’m sure my cousin’s powers of persuasion will win you over eventually.”

Sarah doubted that. She smiled. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I must dash. Mama has a modiste arriving today. Next season will be upon us before we know it, and she wishes to be prepared.”

• • •

Sarah walked Anita to the door before seeking out Richard. She found him in the upstairs parlor. “You asleep?”

Richard sat up with a start and rubbed his eyes. “I’m up.”

“I hope so because you’ll never believe what I’ve been told.” Sarah flopped onto a chair. “It seems the other night when you went moseying about in Lady Cottlestone’s home, you were not as stealth as you should have been. Lady Cottlestone has informed Lord Earnston that someone has meddled in her private parlor.”

“What!” Richard stood, his face paling. “Do they know it was me?”

“No. You were lucky this time. But I also found out that Lord Earnston hired a runner to investigate his brother’s death.” She sighed. “We’ll have to be so careful from now on. If they catch either of us trying to find the mapping device … ”

Richard leaned against the mantle, his hand idly stroking the marble. “We’ll lie low for a few balls, make them believe the felon has fled.” Richard paused. “You need to get closer to his lordship and gain access to his homes and to him.”

Sarah frowned. It wasn’t easy starting a friendship with a man who filled you with guilt every time you were near him. For all his masculine charm — the long, mussed hair, his deep ocean blue eyes, and full lips — it was impossible to start a flirtation, no matter how much she lusted after his body.

“I can’t do it, Richard.” Sarah stood and joined him at the mantle. “I killed his twin. He would kill me if he ever found out. It would be wrong of me to let him believe there’s a future with me when there isn’t.”

Richard raised his eyebrows. “You will, and you know why. Because both our jobs depend on it, Sarah. It is only a little flirting, after all. How much damage can you do?” He walked away waving his arms. “What happened to the independent, intelligent twenty-first century woman I know? You made a mistake — you did not kill Lord William on purpose. And from this point on, I’ll not hear another word about you feeling guilty and full of regret.”

Sarah shushed him for fear the staff would hear. Richard growled and hugged her. How would she do the impossible? How was she to purposefully set out and deceive Lord Earnston again? “It’s just so cruel. What if his lordship forms a tendre for me?” She stepped out of Richard’s embrace. “Lady Anita is already matchmaking me to him, and Lady Patricia sees me as some sort of competition.”

Richard nodded. “I understand where you’re coming from, Sarah, but you know not to go against your father. Especially as we’ve already stuffed up more times I care to remember. If Lord Earnston forms some sort of crush on you, it’ll be short lived. Men of this era rarely married for love. You’ll see when we go home and read about what happened to his family; Lord Earnston would’ve moved on by the next season.”

“What if we went to the earl and asked for the device. If we explain where we’re from and apologize, perhaps he’ll give it to us and let us go.”

“And if he doesn’t, what then?” Richard argued. “Are we to take guns with us and threaten him should he become difficult? No, we’ll abide by your father’s orders.”

Sarah rested her forehead against the cold marble fireplace and welcomed the chill stone. “I can’t talk of this now, I need to lie down. Don’t forget we have Lord and Lady Connors’ soiree tonight.” Sarah’s feet dragged her toward the door.

“Keep your mind alert and free from guilt, Sarah, and just do the job. For all our sakes.”

Sarah met Richard’s gaze and recognized the fear in his eyes. “I won’t let us down. I don’t want to end up dead any more than you do.”

“As long as we’re both on the same page,” Richard said, lying back and closing his eyes.

Sarah walked from the room. Stay on the same page, or write a whole new book? One without a happily ever after.

• • •

Eric cooled his heels and waited for Miss Baxter to arrive at the Connors’ soiree. His need to see her again was unusual for him and yet welcome. It had been such a long time since he’d felt anything other than hate and revenge. Perhaps there were other things in life to look forward to after all.

Like the woman walking through the ballroom doors right at this moment. Eric relished the chance to admire her lithe form. The splendid gown of jade silk that he knew would accentuate the color of her eyes. Miss Baxter was a beautiful woman, and one he would like to know a lot better.

He hadn’t planned on coming to the soiree, had all but resigned himself to only see her again at their ride tomorrow morning. But it wasn’t soon enough, apparently, for here he was, his body thrumming in expectation to hear her voice.

He took a long pull of his brandy and watched as Anita whisked Sarah away from her brother. Eric noted their direction and looked back to Lord Stanley, carefully taking in the man’s features. His skin was darker than hers, as if he’d spent too many hours in the sun. But that wasn’t their only difference. The gentleman’s hair was an odd shade of auburn. Nothing like his sister’s ebony locks.

He started when a hand waved in front of him.

“Not your usual type, Eric,” Mettleston said, nodding toward Lord Stanley as he walked toward the card room.

Eric laughed. “Not my type ever. I was merely noting the difference between Miss Baxter and her brother. Odd that their hair and skin tones are so different. What say you?”

“I say, you need to drink that fine liquid in your glass and procure another. Perhaps Lord Stanley has spent more time outdoors or has the features of only one parent.” Mettleston shrugged. “Who knows and who cares? Certainly not me.”

Eric noted his friend’s foxed state. “Care for a game of cards? With your current inebriation I’m sure to win,” Eric said, trying to lighten his friend’s sour mood.

“I care not. Drunk I may be, but idiot I am not.” Mettleston gestured toward Anita and Miss Baxter. “See your cousin is here and has taken the Miss Baxter under her wing. Not two more beautiful women to be seen in society, I vow.”

Eric looked to where the two ladies stood, a bevy of beaus surrounding them, and couldn’t agree more. He watched Anita address the Marques Kentum and realized it would be only a matter of time before the man asked for her hand. Kentum was as besotted as one ought to be when in love, and not the least afraid to show it in public.

Miss Baxter, on the other hand, stood to the side, more reserved but attentive to the conversation. Eric wondered what she was thinking, wishing to be privy to her most inner thoughts.

Mettleston chuckled. “I see your aversion to being in Miss Baxter’s company has ended. Why, if you continue to stare at her in that way, you’ll create talk.”

Eric looked toward the dancers. “I was merely checking that Lady Anita is well and not suffering under all the suitors who skulk about her skirts.”

Mettleston scoffed. “Liar.”

Eric’s lips twitched. “What has you in high dungeons, my friend?”

“Nothing a few more of these will not cure,” Mettleston said, gesturing to his glass and slopping some of its contents across the floor.

Eric turned toward the sudden burst of laughter and locked gazes with Miss Baxter as she came toward him with his cousin. Eric tried to keep his gaze from devouring her form as she walked, but his eyes stole over her like a wave running over sand. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly parched. After his less than gentlemanly perusal, he expected to see a becoming blush on her checks, but alas it was not to be. And she intrigued him more when she lifted her chin and eyebrows in acknowledgement of his appreciation. Eric’s admiration for her doubled, and he smiled.

“Eric, how unexpected to see you here. I did not think you were coming tonight.”

Eric kissed Anita’s cheek, but his attention was strictly on her companion.

“You look very well this evening, Miss Baxter,” he said, keeping his attention focused on hers. She curtsied and Eric caught a whiff of her perfume smelling of jasmine.

“Good evening, Lord Earnston.” Miss Baxter looked at Lord Mettleston, and Eric realized they’d not been introduced.

“Forgive me, Miss Baxter, this is my friend, Lord Mettleston.”

She smiled at Mettleston and Eric felt suddenly ill at ease. Her smile, unlike so many gestures throughout the ton, was spontaneous and genuine and aimed at his friend.

“Miss Baxter, may I have the honor of the next dance? I believe it to be a waltz.” Eric wondered what was wrong with him. His chest felt tight, his body hot as if he were taken with a fever. Never had an answer mattered as much as this one did now. Why, he couldn’t fathom; he only knew he had to dance with this woman again.

“I would like that, my lord.”

And there was that smile again that made his breath catch and his heart thump. He took her hand, placed it on his, and led her out to the floor. Eric pulled himself to rights and made an effort to act the gentleman.

Not the easiest when all he wanted to do was sweep her out the nearest exit and kiss her senseless in an utterly un-gentleman like manner.

Sarah inwardly shook as she walked beside Lord Earnston onto the dance floor. If ever she had her chance to cement a friendship with his lordship now was the time. Yet his marked attention, indicating an interest bordering on more than friendship, was hard to push aside.

She swallowed and turned to face him. His superfine coat felt wonderful under her hands and the overwhelming urge to stroke the material almost won over her sense of decorum.