The Daughter of an Earl (5 page)

Brett's gaze lifted to the nautical portrait over the hearth. A majestic oil painting, it depicted the
Bostonian
, the first freight carrier he and Daniel had purchased upon launching Curtis Shipping.

In painstaking detail, Drew had captured the lumbering ship with the fog-enshrouded Boston Harbor in the distance. The piece had been a gift to them both and once proudly graced their Boston office. When Daniel had settled in England, the painting's residency had alternated between the two of them numerous times with various wagers determining its ownership.

The
Bostonian
reminded Brett that he was more than an untitled American, but a man of wealth and influence in his own right. The Earl of Wentworth would learn that, should their paths cross again—which was a possibility if he escorted his sisters to social engagements in London. And accompanying his sisters would be Lady Emily Chandler. Picturing her flashing blue eyes, he forgot Wentworth and his errant cousin, and the tension gripping him eased.

For the first time that he could remember, he looked forward to attending a gathering of the ton. Lady Emily Chandler may have a hidden agenda, but so did he. He vowed to determine her motivation for extending her enigmatic invitation to him and his sisters. And of course, he had to find his wayward cousin.

But first he had a painting to win.

E
MILY
savored the cool breeze that whipped the skirts of her walking dress about her legs. She trailed Jonathan, her seven-year-old brother, his sword bobbing against his leg as he bounded over the vast acreage belonging to Tanner Stables. The sword was a gift from Brett, who had sacrificed one of his cravats to fashion a belt to secure it against her brother's hip.

Brett Curtis had a diversity of clever talents, and as they walked, she used the time to formulate a plan to win him to her cause. In approaching any worthy adversary, one had to proceed with caution. No doubt, Brett would oppose the idea of her pursuing a murder investigation and might be a tad difficult about the matter. To counter his protests, she needed to arm herself with an arsenal of facts and stay resolute in her goal.

“Hello there!”

She nearly stumbled to a stop.
Brett Curtis.
The man needed to wear a warning bell, because he had an irritating habit of sneaking up on her.

She summoned a smile and turned to greet him. Good lord, she was a fool. There was no way a woman could ever be prepared for
this
man.

His navy blue jacket hugged his broad shoulders and slim waist, while his smile was slow and easy. “I hope you do not mind my joining you. I have a few matters I wished to discuss about our trip.”

“No, of course not.” She could not avoid the man forever, particularly if she hoped for his assistance.

Jonathan withdrew his sword and pointed it down a rough-hewn dirt path. “This way. I will lead because I am armed and you are not.”

“Brave man,” Brett said, his lips twitching. “You have a formidable guardian to protect your honor. I shall have to tread carefully.”

“Very wise of you,” she said solemnly. They fell into step behind her brother's darting figure. “Jonathan has been talking nonstop about visiting this new stallion that Robbie Tanner recently acquired. He is quite wild, not unlike Daniel's Black Angel before Robbie broke him to saddle.” The Tanner family stabled the best bloodstock in the county, most of which they sold at Tattersall's in London.

She glanced askance at Brett, annoyed when he made no response. Her words did not need a comment, but to offer one was to partake in the polite ritual of social discourse. Then again, his silence should not surprise her. The man never followed the rules.

The lane ascended a hill and beyond its rise, the countryside unfolded before them in an expanse of lush green grazing meadows. Brushstrokes of black, brown, and gray horses dotted the landscape.

“It is beautiful here.”

She nodded. “Yes, it is lovely. The Tanner family has owned this land for well over a century.”

“You and your English love of exalted bloodlines, particularly as it roots you to the land.”

She raised a brow at his cynicism. “Your mother is
English, and her late brother was the Duke of Prescott. That makes you
half
English, does it not?”

“True,” he conceded. “That is the half in me that recognizes the beauty here and why the Tanners would never abandon it.” He grinned.

Intrigued, she pressed him further. “And the other half? The American half, what does it see?”

“Roots that bind.” His grin faded. “Tethers holding you to your
precious stone set in a silver sea
so you never venture beyond your shores, thus neglecting a wider world with riches to be explored, or as the businessman in me would say, to be exploited.”

She recognized the
Richard II
Shakespearean reference, and tipping her head to the side, she studied him. “So you feel no kinship with any
blessed plot
of land? Not even in America?”

“I do not.” He shrugged. “I am free to roam where my work or the new trading routes take me. Do not misunderstand me, I love my family's home in Boston, but my schooling was in England, and I spent the term's holidays at my uncle's, only traveling home for the summer recess. So my affinity to my family estate is not as entrenched as yours or Daniel's. Perhaps bridging two countries, both very different, I was never able to grow roots in either.”

“I can understand that,” Emily said, marveling that she did. While she had planted herself in the country, it was not due to an affinity for the land, but rather an escape. A sanctuary she sought due to similar feelings of displacement, or rather, of no longer belonging anywhere else, Jason's death unmooring her so.

Disturbed at this unsettling connection between them, she reminded herself that she had her family, had recently become an aunt, and had a purpose. Those ties did bind, and they were enough.

“Will you two stop squawking and dawdling!” Jonathan bellowed. “We need to get to the stallion before dark so we can see him.” He brandished his sword at them.

Annoyance flared through Emily, but Brett simply laughed.

“Aye, aye, Captain. We will posthaste dispense with our dawdling and pick up our paces.” Beneath his breath, he added. “Will he stab us if we do not comply?”

Her laughter surprised her. “Best not to risk it. As he has pointed out, he is armed and we are not.”

“Not true. I have my cravat. We could tie him up.” He winked at her.

She stared at the white muslin fashioned in a neat Gordian knot around his neck. It was a mistake, because her gaze then shifted to his lips, which were curved in a devastating half smile. Warmth flooded her, and she dismissed her concerns over Jonathan's sword. Brett Curtis carried far more dangerous weapons.

They crested another ridge to the field where the stallion was paddocked. Jonathan dashed ahead to clamber up the tall fence rail and lean over the top. “Cor, he's splendid, isn't he?”

Emily silently agreed. The horse was a sleek black beauty, tall and regal. He lifted his head, and studied Jonathan with eyes dark as coal. After emitting a disdainful snort, he cantered away from them.

“Robbie has done it again. Where does he find these prizes?” Brett said.

“They breed many, and his brothers scout for new stock. Robbie then travels to assess their finds. It is also my understanding that you let him know when purebred stock arrives at the docks.” She pulled her attention from the horse to look at Brett, whose gaze remained on the horse.

He shrugged. “It is the least I can do after he saved my life. If not for his adroit handling of the reins of the curricle, I would have suffered more than a broken arm. However, then you would not have been recruited to draft my correspondence, which might have saved me a few headaches and a lot of time,” he said.

“I think you would be facing far graver problems if you
had been shot.” She said the words lightly, but her stomach curdled at the memory of the thugs who had attacked Brett and Robbie.

A startled laugh escaped him. Clearly the reminder did not disturb him. “True again.” He glanced back at her. “Good thing I was not. Or were you hoping otherwise?”

“Oh, no. I am glad you survived. As you well know, I had need of your assistance the other day.” She drew in a deep breath, and took the first step in her dance with the devil. “In fact, I was thinking about your offer of assistance and—” She got no further.

“I knew it!” Ignoring the stallion, he strode away from Jonathan's perch.

To her annoyance, he left her no choice but to follow him.

He lowered his voice to an excited hiss. “I knew there was more to your invitation.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have an ulterior motive for wanting my sisters and myself to stay with you in London. Do not deny it. Contrary to Melody's prattle, you have no interest in escorting them to society events,” he declared, his expression triumphant.

“Do not be ridiculous. I am pleased to—”

“No, you are not. Daniel says you have been avoiding the social affairs of the ton for years, have not extended any invitations to friends, and stunned Julia with your sudden, gracious offer. So it begs the question, why?”

“Why what?” Her anger flared. Tamping it down, she cursed Daniel for his breach of confidence, and Brett for digging into wounds he could never see. He thought he knew something, but he did not.

He understood nothing of the fears she fought to keep at bay.

That her will faltered in the crush of crowds. That the murmurs sweeping the room were like a strong current threatening to drown her—again.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Do not deny it. You
need my sisters as decoys while you arrange clandestine meetings with men like Drummond and—”

“That is enough! You have no idea what you are talking about,” she cried, advancing on him. “It is not your sisters' help I need, but yours, you arrogant, obtuse man.”

His lips parted before he snapped his mouth closed. “My help?” he blurted inanely, recovering his voice.

“I hoped we could perform a mutual service for each other. I have decided to accept the assistance that you offered me the other day. In exchange for your help, I am offering you mine with your sisters.”

“Calling me obtuse when I did deduce you had an ulterior motive is rather rich.” He arched a brow.

“Fine. But arrogant still stands.”

He shrugged. “I have been called worse.”

His words reined in her own temper, and the tension gripping her eased. “I understand that while in the city, you will need time to search for your cousin. Your sisters confided your aunt's worry over his recent disappearance.”

He scowled. “My sisters are not known for their discretion, Melody in particular.”

“Neither is my brother-in-law.”

Brett made no response, but warily studied her as if he could extract her true motives. “So you wish for me to speak to my contact at the East India Company?”

She glanced over at Jonathan, who held his sword above his head as the stallion stood majestically, eyeing her brother with distrust. She and her brother faced dangerous adversaries and needed to proceed cautiously. “No, I need your assistance with a matter of a little more delicacy.”

He frowned, but did not question her. He let the silence unfold, not rushing to fill the void with speculations, as most men were wont to do. It was one more trait of his that she appreciated.

“It is about those answers that I am seeking. You see my questions, or rather, my suspicions arose when I reread some of my late fiancé's letters.” She repeated what she had told
Drummond about the discrepancy in the ledgers. “Accounts were not adding up, supplies were disappearing, and monies used for payment on items delivered were missing. He feared he had found evidence of foul play.”

Neither surprise nor interest crossed Brett's features. She needed to give him something more. “Jason's clerk and his valet accompanied Jason's casket home. During Jason's funeral, his clerk left me an address for me to contact him. He asked that I do so to discuss a matter of vital importance. He would not say what, and I . . . I did not press him at that time because I was . . . I . . .” She faltered and heat burned her cheeks. “I was . . .”

“I understand,” he intervened. “The viscount was your betrothed; you were grieving.”

She
had been
grieving. In the darkest depths of despair, but he need not know that. “Yes. Well, this past year I recalled his request, and I wrote to him at the address he had given me. He has replied and agreed to meet with me in London, and I wish to do so because I believe the matter he wished to discuss concerned Jason's death.”

“You want me to escort you to a meeting with your fiancé's former clerk?” He rubbed his neck, looking uncomfortable. “Shouldn't your father escort you? Have you asked him—?”

“No, I have not. And you must not mention any of this to my father or Julia. Please, I need your word on that.”

He frowned. “Lady Emily, he was your fiancé. You do have a right to allay whatever misgivings you have regarding his passing. I am sure your father would understand—”

“No, please. I have put them through enough the last few years; I will not put them through any more. You must give me your word that what I share with you will remain in the strictest confidence. That you will not breathe a word of it to anyone.” Desperation had her near begging.

After a prolonged stretch of silence, he nodded. “You have my word—with one caveat. Should they become cognizant of whatever it is that you wish to discuss, and ask me directly, I will be honest. I will not lie to your family or Daniel.”

“Of course not. I am not asking you to do so. But until that situation arises, I am requesting that you keep my confidence because they would not approve, particularly after all that happened to Daniel and Julia two years ago when they pursued a similar course.”

“I understand,” he said.

“Thank you.” She lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye. “I believe Jason was murdered, and I need your help in proving it.”