An Earl to Enchant (23 page)

“Hello, Morgan, fancy seeing you here. Mrs. Pepperfield, how are you this evening? And who is this lovely young lady standing between the two of you? I know I haven’t met her because, even at my age, I would have remembered her.”

Morgan turned and faced Gibby, taking a moment to collect himself as he made perfunctory introductions. He was so smitten with Arianna that he’d forgotten about Gibby and the twins who were rumored to look just like him.

“Miss Sweet, I hear a hint of an eastern accent. Have you been in the Orient?”

She smiled at Gibby and said, “Until very recently, Sir Randolph, I was in Bombay.”

Gibby’s eyes brightened. “I was there once many years ago. Fascinating city and culture. And how are you this evening, Morgan? I trust you have seen everyone you came to see?”

Morgan glanced at Arianna and then back to Gibby and said, “Yes and no.”

Gibby smiled and said, “I think I understand that.”

Morgan was certain he did.

“Excuse me, Miss Sweet, but I believe this is the dance you promised to me.”

Morgan turned to see who had spoken to Arianna, and he felt like a big, meaty fist landed in his stomach, taking his breath away. The man smiling at Arianna was the spitting image of Gibby—tall, broad-shouldered, handsome. They had the same eyes, the same smile, and the same nose. Morgan watched the man walk away with Arianna and was absolutely speechless.

Realizing he had a glass of wine in his hand, Morgan took a long drink before looking at Gibby and saying, “Did you see him?”

Gibby looked at Morgan as if he’d lost his mind. “The man who left with Miss Sweet?”

Morgan wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and nodded.

“I saw him,” Gibby said.

“He looked just like you.”

“You think so?”

Gibby looked as serious as a clergyman on Easter Sunday. Morgan glanced at Constance, who promptly excused herself and walked away.

“I know so,” Morgan said, turning back to the old man. “Gib, what the hell happened thirty years ago?”

“Surely after all your grandmother’s teachings, you remember Lord Chesterfield’s words about that.”

“No, Gib, I’m happy to say that I don’t.”

“A gentleman never gossips about a lady.” He patted Morgan a couple of times on his shoulder and walked off.

Seventeen

My Dearest Grandson Lucas,

Read the following from Lord Chesterfield. It’s one of the things that made him such a master of decorum. “Wit is so shining a quality, that everybody admires it, most people aim at it, all people fear it, and few love it unless in themselves. A man must have a good share of wit himself to endure it in others. The more wit you have the more good nature and politeness you must show, to induce people to pardon your superiority, for that is no easy matter.”

Your loving Grandmother,

Lady Elder

Arianna sat at her makeshift desk, diligently reading through her father’s writings. Occasionally she would find a formula and copy it into her notebook, but more often than not, she would have to, at times, stop and allow sadness to consume her. Reading his writings proved more difficult than she had imagined. Her father had a habit of writing personal comments to himself in the middle of his documentation. Sometimes his words seemed angry, and he would lash out at himself if he expected a formula to work and it hadn’t. There were times his words sounded poignant, and at other times hopeful. Every once in a while she would read something that was humorous. And then there were times she would laugh out loud at his wit, and that was when she missed him most of all.

She realized that having these days alone to go over his private papers and journals was a way for her to enjoy being with him once again. It was a way to tell him good-bye and bring closure to his death in a way she hadn’t been able to in India.

But other thoughts had occasionally invaded her mind as well through the long days she’d worked in the music room. Despite her best efforts at denial, every once in a while she would stop reading, lay her head on the makeshift desk, and allow Morgan to fill her mind. She remembered their laughter when he held the crab and chased her on the beach. She remembered the warmth of his body and the strength of his chest when they rode Redmond together. But most of all, she remembered his showing her how, by the gentlest of touching in just the right places, to open up a whole new world of passion she had never dreamed existed. Thoughts of Morgan always revived her, lifted her, and gave her the energy to keep going on her father’s work until late at night.

She hadn’t seen Morgan since Lady Windham’s party a few nights ago. He had been so handsome in his cutaway evening coat that fit perfectly over his broad shoulders. He’d seemed angry at her, and she supposed it was because of her parting words to him when he’d come to her house that afternoon and given her Lord Chesterfield’s book. She had spoken in haste, and those words were borne out of frustration.

They hadn’t said more than a dozen words to each other at the party, but often throughout the evening she had caught him staring at her from across a crowded room. And there were times he had caught her watching him.

He had danced with lovely young ladies, and she had danced with handsome gentlemen, but they hadn’t danced with each other. That had been several days ago now, and she hadn’t heard from him. But she had thought of him often.

Arianna felt close to Morgan late at night when she finally stopped poring over her father’s notes and went up to bed. It was then that she picked up the book on Lord Chesterfield’s letters. She was thoroughly enjoying the man’s writings. He had great insight to the inner workings of a titled man’s mind. But she could easily understand why Morgan hated the fact that his grandmother always sent him quotes from Lord Chesterfield each month. Arianna had never read anything from so arrogant a man as Lord Chesterfield.

“Miss Sweet?”

Arianna laid down her quill and turned to see Mrs. Hartford standing in the doorway of the music room. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but a Mr. Warburton is here to see you.”

Arianna’s stomach lurched, and she rose from her chair. Why had he come? It had been almost two weeks since she had gone to see him. “Show him into the drawing room, and tell him I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, miss.”

“No, wait,” she said impulsively, untying her apron. “I don’t know why he is here, but it probably has something to do with my father’s work, so maybe it’s best you show him in here. And would you please see to tea and maybe some of those fig tarts we had earlier today?”

“Yes, miss,” the housekeeper said but continued to stand in the doorway.

“What is it, Mrs. Hartford?” Arianna said, laying her apron on the back of her chair.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Sweet, but where will the gentleman sit, and where will I place the tea tray?”

Arianna glanced around the room and smiled. She had forgotten for a moment that she’d had all the furniture in the room removed except for her chair and makeshift desk.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hartford. You are right, of course. There is no place to entertain in here. I’m not usually so flustered. Show him to the drawing room, and tell him I will be right there.”

Mrs. Hartford smiled, nodded, and left.

Arianna picked up her apron and tried to wipe the ink stains from her hands. She didn’t want to wonder why Mr. Warburton had come to see her. It could be as simple as he wanted to check on her and see how she was doing. She wouldn’t allow herself the luxury of thinking that he came to offer help. She had been disappointed by him once, and that was enough.

After removing the dried ink as best she could, she walked into the drawing room with a cheerful countenance and said, “Mr. Warburton, how good of you to stop by.”

“Miss Sweet,” he said, rising from the settee. “You’re looking lovely today.”

“Thank you. Please, sit back down,” she said, taking a side chair to the left of the settee. “I’ve asked Mrs. Hartford to bring us some tea.”

“That’s so kind of you, dear girl, but I can’t stay long enough for tea today.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a stab of regret. “I understand. I know you are very busy with your work.”

“I am. But I haven’t been able to get your request off my mind, though often I’ve tried these past few days since you’ve been to see me. I’ve studied over what you asked of me, and I’ve reconsidered.”

Her heartbeat started racing, and she felt as if she could hear Redmond’s hooves pounding in her ears. “In what way, exactly?”

“I’ve come to the conclusion that I must help you with your father’s work.”

Arianna scooted to the edge of her chair. “Do you mean that, Mr. Warburton?”

“Of course, I mean it. I didn’t come here just to tease you with the possibility of my input.” He chuckled, and his eyes glistened.

“I would be so grateful to have your expertise. I’m carefully going over every note, every journal, and every scrap of paper that my father had ever written on, but it’s difficult to know what might be important. I’ve found lists and notes of various formulas, but so far nothing that I’ve thought might be the stolen formula.”

“That is what I suspected. It would be difficult for you to identify a particular formula, even though you helped him on occasion with his writings. I’m certain many of his research formulas have much of the same basis of ingredients.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that.”

“Why don’t you tell me exactly what it was that your father told you about the formula?”

A bittersweet calm settled over Arianna. That afternoon was one of her favorite memories of her father. It was the happiest she had ever seen him, and she welcomed the opportunity to share it.

“I remember he came home late in the day, extremely excited, laughing. He picked me up and hugged me, swinging me around and saying, ‘I’ve found a cure for consumption. I’ve found a cure, Arianna. Start packing. At last, we’re going home to England.’”

“So he was very confident that his latest formula worked.”

“Yes,” she said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “After he settled down, he told me he had tried the mixture he’d created on five different people, and all of them had had miraculous recoveries.”

“That’s extraordinary,” he said.

“I know. He knew. He said he wanted to get his discovery to the Academy so that they could begin their own testing of his formula and see what they had to say about the accuracy of his experiments.”

“So what happened after that?”

“Within a few days, we started packing our things and getting ready for our journey. Most of the papers I’m looking at now were shipped to London well before our departure date. I brought some of his journals with me on the journey from India, and I’ve read through all of them now and made notes.”

“I see,” he said and rubbed his chin. “Tell me about the journal that was stolen and where you think the formula is now.”

“Papa told me he had the formula written in the journal he always carried with him. He said he would keep it with him on the ship, but he realized accidents happened on long voyages, and that the book might get wet or torn or destroyed in some way, so he had also written it down elsewhere.”

“And you didn’t ask him to tell you specifically where?”

Arianna shook her head. “No, at the time I had no reason to think someone might want to kill him for the formula. He simply said that if I needed to find it, with a little searching, I could.”

“Hmm. You know, by even telling you there was another copy, he might have had some forewarning of danger. Finding something as extraordinary as a cure for consumption would be quite a breakthrough for our world. Your father’s name would live forever in the Apothecary Society.”

“I know,” she said, leaning toward him with eagerness. “That is why I must find it and present it to the Academy. Naturally, when I saw Mr. Rajaratnum quickly shove the journal in his coat before he fled, I knew that he had killed Papa to get the formula to sell to someone. But it’s been so long now since Papa died, I’m surprised no one has come forward to present the cure.”

“Well, that intrigue is probably best left to the authorities, and until the man is caught, you can’t know what he had in mind. Perhaps he’s not found anyone willing to pay his price. Even if Mr. Rajaratnum had a buyer when he stole it from your father, whomever he sold it to would want to test the formula to make sure it was legitimate before making any claims. That sort of thing takes time.”

“I do realize that, and I know time is running out for me to find the formula.”

Mr. Warburton clapped his hands against his thighs. “That, my dear girl, is why I’ve decided I must help you. If the formula proves true, no one deserves the notoriety but your father, and the world deserves the cure; so let’s find it.”

Sudden tears welled in her eyes. She had needed this man’s help. “Thank you, Mr. Warburton.”

“Now, now, child, don’t cry.”

“No, I promise I won’t,” she said, wiping at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hands. “Please excuse me, but I’m suddenly overcome with joy. For days, I’ve been reading every word my father has ever written, and sometimes I feel I’ve made very little progress.”

“Why don’t you get everything together, as you said, every scrap of paper, even what you have already been over? You never know when you might have missed something. Have it delivered to my residence this afternoon, and I’ll get started on it right away.”

Arianna smiled gratefully. “I’ll see that you get it before night falls.”

***

Beabe rushed Arianna through the front door and slammed it shut. She dropped her packages to the floor and threw the latch.

“
Bapre,
Beabe!” Arianna said, almost stumbling over her skirts. “You don’t have reason to be so frightened.”

“Yes, I do, Miss Ari,” her maid said, leaning against the door, her eyes wild with panic. “It was him. I tell you it was him.”

“All right, Beabe, settle down.”

“I know you didn’t see him, but I’m certain it was that man who killed your father.”

“But we are now safely locked in our house with several servants to help protect us if need be. Now, why don’t we go into the drawing room?”

Beabe started to pick up the packages. “No, leave them,” Arianna said. “We’ll get them later. Come sit down with me, and let’s talk sensibly about this.”

They walked into the drawing room. Beabe rushed over to the nearest window and untied the tassels, letting the velvet panels fall together, covering the window.