The Danger in Tempting an Earl (12 page)

No, she hadn’t the courage to undress in front of any man. Not anymore.

Taking one last sip of her tea, she considered her current dilemma—getting rid of Lucien so she could deal with the fact that she was holding a lady hostage in her cellar. Deciding that there was nothing for it but to get on with the matter at hand, she got up from the table and headed for the parlor.

“Good morning, Kate,” Lucien said the moment she entered. “Ready for a dash across the English countryside? The weather’s perfect for that race we’ve been discussing, and since neither Mr. Goodard nor Lady Julie appear to be joining us, I thought you might be up to it.”

“About that . . . I fear something unexpected has happened.”

“Oh? Nothing serious I hope.” With a frown, he stepped toward her and peered at her face. “Now that I think of it, you do look rather pale. Are you ill?”

“No, I’m actually perfectly fine,” she said, willing him to drop the subject and be on his way, but that was of course too much to ask of Lucien.

“And I’m the king of Russia,” he said.

“Russia doesn’t have a king,” Katherine told him carefully. “They have an emperor.”

“Precisely! Now, are you going to tell me what’s really going on, or am I going to have to lure it out of you? I have special techniques specifically designed for such a thing, and I’m really quite eager to employ them.”

Katherine sighed, and Lucien’s frown deepened when his joke failed to elicit the slightest bit of laughter from her. “Good God,” he said. “Something’s really troubling you. Just tell me what it is and I’ll do whatever I can to help.” When she hesitated, he placed his hand on her arm and looked into her eyes. “I mean it, Kate.”

She hadn’t planned to share last night’s incident with him—or with anyone else, for that matter—until she knew more about the break-in and the reason behind it. From the looks of it, one of the windows had been unlatched. But Katherine had to admit that there was something very comforting about having Lucien there with her, so she found herself nodding and saying, “Very well. If you were serious about those techniques of yours, then by all means, follow me.”

W
hatever Lucien thought Katherine might show him, he was not prepared to find a woman tied and gagged in her cellar—least of all the Countess of Trapleigh.

Holy bloody hell!

He looked at Katherine, who was standing very still at his side. “I’m guessing there’s a good explanation for this?” he said.

She nodded, then related the details of what had happened, while Lucien did his best to maintain a calm demeanor. “My butler has made the occasional effort to get her to talk, but his attempts have been unsuccessful so far. Each time he removed the gag, she started screaming. Eventually he thought it best to keep it in place so she wouldn’t distress the other servants.”

Lucien turned his attention to Lady Trapleigh. The shapely figure he recalled from when he’d last seen her had been concealed beneath layers of men’s clothing. What surprised him, was how young she still looked. What a pity she hadn’t been sensible enough to avoid attaching herself to scandal. She might have remarried then, but now . . . well, there wasn’t a gentleman in all of England who’d marry a woman who had done what she just had.

A thought struck Lucien, and he stepped toward Lady Trapleigh. “Do you mind if I remove her gag?” he asked Katherine, though he did not look in her direction, his entire focus riveted upon the woman who’d attempted to kill the love of his life.

“Of course not,” Katherine said. She shifted her feet. “I know this isn’t quite de rigueur, but given her position, I thought she deserved the opportunity to offer an explanation before I called the constable.”

Flexing his fingers, Lucien pulled up a chair, then tugged away the length of fabric that had been bound around Lady Trapleigh’s head. He took his seat in front of her.

“Lord Roxberry,” Lady Trapleigh purred. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Lucien didn’t think there was anything pleasant about it in the least—especially not when Katherine said, “You are acquainted with each other, then?”

“Intimately,” Lady Trapleigh said, batting her eyelashes as she smiled at Katherine.

Lucien winced. As much as he longed to deny that Lady Trapleigh had ever tended to his needs, he could not. The fact was that he was no better than any of the other countless lovers she’d had—a man so desperate with desire that he’d imagined it might be quenched if he’d only lose himself in any woman other than the one he really longed for. He’d been wrong, and now Katherine was here to bear witness to his weakness.

Casting aside his embarrassment, he chose not to look at the woman he loved, narrowing his gaze on Lady Trapleigh instead. “What in God’s name are you playing at?” he growled.

“You think that you will be able to convince me to say more than Lady Crossby’s butler was capable of?” Lady Trapleigh asked, the edge of her lips curling with defiance. She snorted and tossed her head to one side. “As if you have anything of greater value than what I’ve already been offered.”

Lucien stared back at her. “As far as I know, you’ve never committed a crime before.” He narrowed his eyes. “Someone gave you an incentive. But to do what, exactly?”

Lady Trapleigh gave a little shrug—a gesture of such indifference that Lucien had to stop himself from placing his hands about her neck.

“I had a pistol, my lord. Surely you can draw your own conclusion.”

From behind him, Lucien heard Katherine gasp. He’d known she’d probably suspected the same, but suspicion was one thing—
knowing
was something else entirely. “You have very little with which to commend yourself, my lady, yet in spite of it all, I’ve never thought you cold enough to commit murder.”

“Hmpf!”

“Was it also you at the ball? The shot that struck Lady Rebecca?”

Finally, a hint of emotion—regret—appeared in Lady Trapleigh’s eyes. “That was a mistake,” she whispered. “One I meant to rectify last night.”

So, the widow wasn’t completely devoid of a conscience. She was sorry to have struck down Lady Rebecca. “Tell me,” Lucien said. “Who asked you to do this?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You are not some simpering debutante, Lady Trapleigh, but a woman of experience—a strong woman. What could anyone possibly do to make you kill an innocent woman?”

There was a beat, during which the tension in the room grew palpable. Lady Trapleigh stared back at him with burning intensity. “My son,” she finally confessed. “He’ll have him killed if I don’t meet his demands.”

Lucien blinked. Of all the damnable things he’d thought Lady Trapleigh might say, this was the most unexpected. It wasn’t possible though. Everyone knew that the widow had no children. “You’re lying,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

The words were the first she’d spoken that actually rang true. “If you need proof,” Lady Trapleigh continued, “you need only look at the miniature inside my jacket pocket. I never go anywhere without it.”

Reaching forward, Lucien dipped his hand into her pocket until he felt something soft against his fingers. Scooping it out, he discovered a small parcel of linen, held together by a silk ribbon. Lucien placed it in the palm of his hand and unwrapped it, revealing an oval piece of enamel-sealed ivory with Lady Trapleigh’s likeness painted upon it. In her arms, she held an infant. Lucien stared at it for a moment, then expelled a deep breath. “You need to tell me what you know,” he said. “And in return, I promise that I will do everything in my power to return your son to you.”

“Don’t you understand?” Her composure finally snapped, and her eyes welled with tears. “I was given one week in which to see it through, and that was three days ago. If news of Lady Crossby’s death doesn’t reach London by Thursday, Tobias will die.”

“Well, he’s as good as dead unless you start talking,” Lucien clipped, “because I’ll never let you harm as much as a hair on Lady Crossby’s head. That leaves you with only one chance at saving your son—by trusting in my ability to help you and telling me everything you know about the man who’s behind this.”

Rising, Lucien walked over to Katherine, who was standing in the doorway precisely where he’d left her. He turned toward Lady Trapleigh. “We’ll give you a moment in which to make your decision.”

Something shrewd swirled behind the widow’s eyes. She smiled slowly. “I believe you know what it’s like to feel as though your heart is not your own, Lord Roxberry.”

Every muscle in Lucien’s body tightened. He glared back at the countess, willing her to keep quiet. The last thing he needed right now was for her to offer Katherine any reason to suspect his true feelings for her, since doing so would likely ruin everything. Katherine was vulnerable, so although she might be warming to the idea of taking their relationship to a new level, she wasn’t ready to make the leap just yet. For now, Lucien would have to continue on his path of seduction with subtlety, or he would likely frighten her away. “You know nothing of me,” he muttered.

“Oh, but I do,” she purred as her gaze swept over him. Leaning back in her seat, she chuckled briefly before turning serious once again. “That aside, I have no reason to trust you—no assurance that you’ll help me save my son.”

“I am a gentleman, Lady Trapleigh. My word is my honor.”

She nodded. “Just be aware that if I choose to help you and you decide to throw me over, Lady Crossby will be as good as dead. The man blackmailing me is not to be trifled with. He will only send others in my stead, and Lady Crossby will have no choice but to live the rest of her life looking over her shoulder in anticipation of another attack—an attack which, I assure you, will come, sooner or later.”

Lucien didn’t reply this time but stepped out into the hallway with Katherine. He closed the door to the pantry behind him. “She’s right,” he said as soon as it was just the two of them. “If she was hired by someone to kill you, that person will only send another assassin as soon as he discovers that Lady Trapleigh has failed. Additionally, her son’s life has just become our responsibility. We must discover the person behind this in order to save you both.”

Katherine nodded. “Yes, of course.” Averting her gaze, she swallowed hard. The evidence of last night’s ordeal was prevalent in her features.

“Can you think of any reason why anyone would wish to harm you?” he asked.

Her eyes snapped toward his. “No,” she said with a slight shake of her head.

Her eyes began to glisten, but she held back the tears that threatened to fall. God, how he hated seeing her like this. Unable to help himself, he reached out and pulled her toward him, his arms coming around her in a tight embrace. “I promise you, Kate, that we will find whoever’s behind this,” he whispered against the top of her head as his lips brushed her soft chestnut curls.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Her words, spoken against his chest, heated his skin, and all he could think of in that instant was how good she felt in his arms and how desperately he longed to kiss her. Now was not the right time, however, for she was overset and only seeking comfort. No, when he eventually kissed Katherine, he wanted her to want it because of
him,
not because it might offer a moment’s escape from her troubles. So when she leaned back a little and gazed up at him with a look of keen expectancy, he reined in the temptation to lower his lips against hers and took a step back, placing a decent amount of distance between them. “I believe we’re in agreement, then,” he said. “I shall go and inquire if she is willing to accept my offer.”

“W
ell?” Lucien asked as he returned to the pantry.

Eyeing him with a great deal of wariness as he seated himself in the chair opposite her, Lady Trapleigh did not look the least bit eager to assist. She clenched her jaw. Lucien waited. Her choices were limited, and he knew that she’d been weighing them while he’d spoken to Katherine.

“If I refuse to help, you won’t find the man you seek and Lady Crossby will remain in danger. My son, however, will be as good as dead, for I will have failed to do what was asked of me.” Drawing her lips into a thin line, she nodded. “I will tell you what I know, but you must swear to me that you will hurry to London immediately in case word gets back that my attempt on Lady Crossby’s life was unsuccessful.” Her eyes filled with emotion and she whispered, “Tobias is only two years old—you must save him.”

“Then tell me the name of the man who is threatening your son so that I may hunt him down and make him pay for his crimes.”

The edge of Lady Trapleigh’s lips rose slowly to form a crooked smile. “The man you seek is called Donovan. He runs a large crime organization in the City that’s mostly involved in art forgeries, fixing races for a few desperate members of the
ton
and assuming their debt whenever it suits his own interest.”

Lucien nodded. “I’ve heard of the man,” he said, recalling an acquaintance of his who’d fallen on hard times once. The poor fellow had sought Donovan’s help, but the burden of being indebted to Donovan had been too great, and the man had eventually taken his own life.

“Lord Bath recently lost one of his country homes to Donovan when he couldn’t pay back his loan,” Lady Trapleigh continued. “I’m sure his lordship regrets not selling the place to pay off his gambling debts sooner, when he had the chance to do so, but then again, desperate men are often rash and stupid.”

“I agree with you there, but that doesn’t explain why this Donovan fellow would want to harm Lady Crossby.”

Lady Trapleigh’s eyes shifted to a spot behind Lucien. “Have you no idea why I was asked to come here?”

“None at all,” Katherine said.

Lady Trapleigh frowned, as if she found that very hard to believe. “It’s because of your business dealings, Lady Crossby. They are a threat to Donovan, and nobody crosses a man like him without paying the price.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Katherine asked with a trembling voice.

“I don’t know the specifics,” the countess confessed, “only that he considers you an obstacle and that he hopes to eliminate you as soon as possible.”