Promise Me (6 page)

The door jerked open, sending the secretary stumbling backward into a portly but well-dressed man.

“
What goes on here, Davenport?”

“
I’m sorry, Mister Turnbull, but this gentleman insists on seeing you.”

The editor studied Nicolas. “Well, Chase, since we cannot be rid of you, you’d better come in.”

Nicolas edged past the secretary, and the office door closed behind him. He turned to the man who’d kept him waiting. “How do you know who I am?”

“
It’s my business to know.”

“
Then I’ll get straight to the point of this visit.”

“
Let me guess.” Turnbull strolled around his desk and pulled out a chair. He sat but didn’t extend the offer to Nicolas. “You, like most of the nobility, are outraged at Irma Crandle’s gossip column.”

“
Indeed I am, but I’m willing to listen to what she has to say before I bring charges of slander against her.”

“
That’s rather generous of you. I’ll relay the message. Now, if there’s nothing more...”

“
I’d like this paper to cease any mention of my family. Especially rumors regarding my dead brother.”

“
I run a newspaper, your Grace, and gossip goes along with the territory. If I bow to everyone’s opinion, the
Standard
would fold like a thin deck of cards.”

“
That’s not my concern, Turnbull. I want those rumors to stop. Immediately.”

“
I’m sorry, but that is out of the question. You must realize Miss Crandle depends on the money I allot her.”

“
Then I’ll pay the woman whatever she wants.”

“
That would be unethical.”

“
Unethical appears to be your calling card.” Nicolas changed his approach. “You know, Turnbull, if I was of a mind to purchase a newspaper and run my own gossip column, I’d be forced to research the business. And by research, I mean digging into the qualifications and background of those who already have a nose for the business. In other words, you and Miss Crandle.”

In the ensuing silence, an interior door cracked open.

Turnbull cleared his throat. “We’ve nothing more to discuss.”

“
No? Then perhaps I should speak to the person cowering behind that door.”

It widened, and a woman emerged dressed in a yellow button-up shirt with red embroidery down the front, brown breeches and black boots. The only things missing from her western attire were an oversized Stetson and two pistols resting on her wide hips.

“
So, this is Bartholomew’s grandson.”

Nicolas frowned. “You knew my grandfather?”

“
Course I did. Didn’t everyone?” Flashing an impish grin, she extended her hand, her flowery perfume at odds with the way she’d dressed. “Irma Crandle, your Grace.”

Nicolas bowed over her hand, her skin as rough as her voice. She had to be sixty, or older, yet the thick braid of dark hair at her waist showed only a few narrow streaks of gray.

“
Miss Crandle, I strongly object to this,” Turnbull argued.

She shrugged. “This one doesn’t beg or whine like the others.”

“
Yes, but the Duke of Chase isn’t the sort of gentleman who would engage in idle chit chat.”

“
Oh, I think he would.” She opened an elaborately carved box on his desk. “Chase is a clever man with plenty of coin, and I’ve no doubt he’d use that coin just as he implied. You may be fine where you’re sitting, Turnbull, but I’ve no wish to spend my last years constantly looking over my shoulder.” She withdrew a cigar and flashed Nicolas a grin. “Care for a smoke?”

“
No, thank you.” He reached inside his pocket, withdrew a match, then struck it on the side of the desk.

Miss Crandle placed the tip of her cigar over the flame, drew several puffs, and glanced up, her brown eyes amused. “Shall we compromise?”

“
I’m listening.”

She paced toward the other end of the room. “You keep my identity a secret, and I’ll write nothing further regarding your deceased brother.”

“
Or his fiancée.”

She shook her head. “Miss Sheridan’s a different bird.”

“
Why?”

“
There’s something strange going on with that girl.” She pointed to her long nose. “I can smell it.” She nodded at Turnbull.

He stood. “Miss Crandle, need I remind you that Chase is from the upper crust of the nobility and that he cannot be trusted?”

“
No, you do not.”

He glared at Nicolas but nevertheless stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind him.

“
Forgive the man’s ill manners.” She took the chair the editor had vacated. “Running the
Standard
is no easy task.”

“
Printing lies doesn’t seem to bother him.”

“
Lies?” She shrugged. “Gossip is merely an opinion.”

“
A one-sided opinion.” Nicolas chose the chair opposite her. “Most people in Kent feel your opinions are better off unwritten.”

“
I’ll just bet they do,” she said with a chuckle. “You and I have a great deal in common, Chase.”

“
I cannot imagine what, madam.”

“
You speak your mind. I admire that in a man.” She blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. “My second husband did the same.” Her expression softened. “I followed that man for twenty years, and we pulled up stake every six months until we came to a little watering hole in Nevada now known as Carson City. Lord, what an uncivilized and barbaric place, but one I loved dearly.”

“
Then why leave?”

“
My husband died...unexpectedly.” She blew another puff of smoke toward the ceiling. “But enough about me. Let’s get back to Miss Sheridan. Seems you’re rather fond of the lady.”

“
I’m not sure I’d agree.”

“
Come now, Chase. I saw the light enter your black eyes the moment I spoke her name. You’re fiercely protective of the girl.”

“
If I’m protective, it’s because I do not care to see an innocent person become the victim of malicious scandal.”

“
Innocent, is she? Well, if you say so.”

“
What does that mean?”

“
Are you aware that Miss Sheridan visits Cambridge Town often? Especially the little jewelry shop off Trenton Street?”

“
Purchasing jewelry is not a crime, and Leah Sheridan isn’t the first lady to soothe a broken heart with expensive gems.”

“
No, but she’s been acting rather strange this past year.” She opened a drawer. “Mister Turnbull entertained a visitor this morning. A woman who claimed she was Lord Adrian’s mistress.”

Nicolas feigned indifference. “You know the habits of the nobility.”

“
Transgressions would be a better word. And yes, I know the nobility better than they know themselves. Turnbull said the woman had an accent. Spanish, he believed. Gave him this.” She tossed a stack of letters tied together by a brown string onto the desk. “Most are from your brother, but there are several from Miss Sheridan. Go ahead. They’re yours.”

Nicolas reached for the letters. “Did this woman leave her name?”

Miss Crandle shook her head.

“
Did Turnbull recognize her?”

“
No. She’d covered her face with a black mourning veil.”

“
And he didn’t think to have her followed?”

Amusement flickered in her eyes. “Sent his best man to trail her, but the harlot must’ve caught on because she rounded a corner of the Imperial Inn and disappeared.” Irma Crandle leaned forward. “Are you aware Miss Sheridan bore your brother a son?”

Appalled, Nicolas jumped to his feet. “Is that the sort of perverse filth you’ve been writing in your column?”

“
While I earn a tidy living penning a few innuendos here and there, I prefer to print the truth. So far I’ve only written of Miss Sheridan’s numerous visits to Cambridge Town and hinted at a tryst here and there.”

“
Surely you realize that innuendos have ruined many an innocent lady’s reputation.”

“
There’s that word again. Innocent or not, her visits intrigued me. At first I thought she’d taken a lover to ease the pain. When I could find no gentleman friend, I came to the conclusion that she was a frightened woman desperate to hide an illegitimate child.”

“
A foolish deduction, because you’re clearly mistaken.”

“
Read the letters yourself. The boy was left with his father’s mistress for a tidy sum, and Miss Sheridan visits monthly to fulfill her monetary, if not motherly, duties.”

Had his grandmother misunderstood?

“
Why would my brother’s mistress choose to deliver this sensitive information to a newspaper editor instead of the child’s family?”

“
Turnbull asked that same question. She stressed the fact that your family might not believe her.”

“
Where is the child now?”

“
You’ll have to ask Miss Sheridan.”

Nicolas shoved the letters into a pocket of his coat. “I appreciate what you’ve told me, Miss Crandle. I realize you were under no obligation to do so.”

“
Just a minute, Chase. There’s the matter of a little gossip column I write.”

Bloody hell! She intended to publish those letters! And he had no idea how damaging the contents were or how to stop her.

“
As I said before,” she added. “I’m after the truth. If you can persuade Miss Sheridan to speak with me--”

“
Absolutely not!”

She raised a brow. “You cannot protect the lady indefinitely.”

Nicolas leaned across the desk. “How much?”

“
What’s that?”

“
How much coin will it take for you to forget what you’ve learned…to forget these letters ever existed?”

“
You’re offering money for my silence?” She chuckled. “Contrary to what Turnbull implied earlier, I’m not a helpless female without means of support.”

“
But you wish to keep your identity a secret, do you not?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been run out of town before.”

“
And you’ll soon be on your way out again unless we come to an agreement.”

Irma Crandle almost smiled. “All right, Chase. I’ll give you a bit of latitude on this one. But only because I like you.” She blew one last puff of smoke before burying the tip of her cigar into a decorative ash tin. “You have one week.”

Nicolas frowned. “What the devil do you mean by that?”

“
One week to find the child and get to the truth. If you discover that Miss Sheridan isn’t a selfish, lying female with little concern for anyone other than herself, I’ll let the matter go. If, however, she’s exactly what I suspect…” Miss Crandle grinned, her teeth yellow from years of tobacco use. “Well, you’ll simply have to wait for my next gossip column.”

Chapter Four

Leah stood over the doctor’s shoulder as he placed a stethoscope to Edwin’s chest. After listening for several seconds, he set the instrument aside and gently pried open one of Edwin’s eyes. The child did not struggle nor did he wake.

“
Is he very ill?” she inquired.

“
His lungs are congested, and he’s taken a fever.”

“
It’s not consumption, is it?” Anne inquired.

“
No, nothing quite that serious,” the doctor replied. “Of course any sickness in a small child could turn fatal if not treated properly.” He smoothed the hair from Edwin’s brow and turned to Leah. “What medicines have you given him?”

“
Medicines?”

“
The lad has clearly been dosed with laudanum.”

“
Laudanum?” Anne echoed. “Doctor, we’ve given this child nothing at all. His retched mother left him in the charge of a wet nurse, and the poor girl had no money to pay for your services. It was only after we arrived that we noticed his condition and immediately sent for you.”

“
Where is the boy’s mother?”

“
We’ve no idea,” Leah replied.

“
He was abandoned,” Anne declared.

“
I see.” He sighed. “I’ll inform the proper authorities in the morning.”

“
No,” Leah cried. “You cannot.”

“
I’m afraid I must. Unless you know for certain Edwin’s mother will return for him or who his father is--”

“
Oh, but we, and I can assure you that Edwin will be looked after properly from now on.”

He hesitated before his attention shifted to the bed. “The lad’s too thin. When he wakes, see if he’ll keep a watery broth down. Tomorrow you might add bread to his diet.” He reached for his black bag. “There’s no further need for a wet nurse. Edwin has several teeth, and it’s high time he used them.”

“
What about his cough?”

The doctor opened his bag and withdrew a snuff-sized tin. “Rub a small amount of this on his chest twice daily. Keep him warm and away from drafts. He should recover within a day or two, but he’ll likely be irritable for a while. A cool cloth to his brow will relieve the fever somewhat but wait until the end of the week before bathing him in a tub. Oh, and no more laudanum.”

Leah paid the man’s fee and accompanied him to the door. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”