To Love A Lord of London (Wardington Park; Raptures of Royalty) (19 page)

O
ne Week Later

J
ane stared
at herself in the mirror of her room. She sat at her dressing table, her fingers wrapped around the handle of her hairbrush—a hairbrush that still lay on the table. She didn’t look at it. She looked at herself. She simply stared, taking in all that she was, and wondering how her family would react once she was dead.

B
ecause that would be
the penalty of what she’d done. She had killed an earl. Well, she wasn’t sure if he was dead or not, but even if he wasn’t, she’d still hang. She hadn’t meant for anyone to catch her. Not now. Not when she was so close to her goal.

And yet, she should have known this life she led wouldn’t last. If she was lucky, maybe they’d simply send her to Australia to serve out her life… where she truly would die… if she didn’t die on the boat there. Being shipped away would be better than forcing her mother to watch her hang in public. Jane couldn’t bear the thought.

The note sat on her dresser.

I
know
.

I
t was
the only thing it said, and yet, it had been enough to plague Jane with anxiety for the entire week!

A knock on her door made her jump.

Her lady’s maid, Sophie, stuck her head in, “Your visitor is here, miss.”

The constable?
She’d almost been ready to ask. But she didn’t. Still, her heart leapt as though it were so. She lifted her hairbrush and began to push it through her hair—one last time. She styled her hair as beautifully as she could and then stood. She’d also chosen her best day dress. A yellow dress that everyone had always told her made her look enchanting. If she were to be carried away in chains, she might as well look good doing it. No further embarrassment need fall on her family.

Walking toward the door, her hands shook before she opened it. She felt dizzy, and her vision blurred a few times as she followed the maid down the hall. Her breathing came quickly then. She could hear chattering from another room as they went down a single flight of stairs, but they stopped in front of another receiving room, which held only silence behind it.

“
M
iss
?” a man servant asked, holding the door open for her. Where had her maid gone? No matter. She walked in, ready to face her end, knowing she deserved it.

He stood by the window, so darkly beautiful as he blocked the sun from pouring into the room. The Earl of Cartridge. His blond hair became a halo in the sunlight. He was a tan man. Tall. Wide shoulders. Broad chest. And did she mention how very tall he was? Though, with her lack of stature, everyone was tall.

A flicker of movement caused her to turn and find her sister, Catherine, sitting on the settee along with her future husband, the Marquess of Clariant, who had stood when she’d entered the room. Ever the gentleman was he.

Catherine narrowed her eyes as she studied her. “Jane, the earl says you’ve some sort of…. arrangement?”

Yes, Jane thought. An arrangement with death. No other word fit the man’s dark aura better. His dark blue eyes hadn’t left her, but she had to turn away. Staring at him was like staring into a starless sky—endless.

I
t took
her a moment to realize he’d begun to speak, and when he did, his voice matched his eyes. Dark. “Miss Croftman.” He was talking to her. “I’ve tried to explain to Lord Clariant and your sister that they need not be here for this meeting. But, alas, they do not believe me.” She wouldn’t believe him either. No man so beautiful should be left alone in a room with an impressionable young woman. And Jane was very impressionable, if she did say so herself. Oh, what influences could befall the woman who stayed in the presence of this man, not that he wanted to influence Jane in any way. He was going to jail her. She knew it. There was no need for privacy for that. The world would know her truths soon enough… and the secrets she kept for others.

His eyes narrowed at her, as if seeing her inner turmoil. Then he gave a quick grin. There one minute, gone the next, appearing only on the side of his mouth that was hidden from her sister and the marquess. The smile had been for her benefit, and it let her know that there would be no mercy underneath his hand.

T
hen Andrew spoke
, “Would someone like to tell us what is going on?”

The earl sighed and then gave her an impatient look. It was her decision.

Jane stared at him. Was there truly an option before her? Would he honestly not tell her family of her crimes? Would he not report her to the magistrate? She turned to Catherine and Andrew, “There’s truly no need for you to be here. I do have an... arrangement with the earl.”

“Jane?” Andrew warned. His scowl grew by the minute. The marquess had known Jane since birth. That he was now taking a very brotherly role in this situation didn’t surprise her. “What sort of an arrangement?”

Not the kind that he had with her sister. That was for sure. “Oh, I am to help him with.. a painting.”

Catherine frowned, “A painting?”

She looked to the earl whose brow had risen. Then she turned back to Catherine. “Yes. I mean… He is to help me. With… painting in the general sense.” She was calm once the words were out. She hated lying, but she’d done it so much in the last few years that it was becoming second nature.

E
veryone turned
to look at the earl, but Cartridge only had eyes for Jane.

Andrew looked amazed. “I didn’t know you were gifted with a brush.”

Neither had William, he thought, as he stared at the woman who’d almost taken his life. She was a gifted liar. He’d play along for now. “At my mother’s party, Jane saw a painting I did, so I offered her a few lessons.”

Andrew looked intrigued.

J
ane looked amazed
. No doubt she wondered what his game was… little did she know, so did he. He’d come angry. Having to put this meeting off for an entire week because of business for the king, he’d grown even more angered at the thought that he was letting her get away with her crime. So, he’d sent the note, letting her know that he knew. He remembered. The object that he’d been struck with hadn’t taken his memory. He’d written the note, letting her know he would come for her. And now, he had. He’d prepared himself by hardening his heart to the pleas of mercy, which would surely come when he told her just what plans he had for her future. Not only was he an earl, but he was the most powerful earl in Europe; he had the ear of the king and a reputation so very unstained that no one would even question his lack of evidence or the fact that it had been a week since the event. He could ruin her life with a single word and had been ready to do so…

Until she’d walked into the room.

And curse her for looking so bewitching! The girl had done herself up in a way that was part angelic and part temptress. Her bronze locks had been swept away from her face with a few strategic curls left out. Her yellow dress added warmth to her milky skin tone. Her lips… he’d never noticed it before, but the pink petals were always slightly parted in a way that gave the illusion that she might say something—something to entice. Something dark and heated that would set his blood ablaze. And then she looked up at him with her shoulders back, her chin up, her topaz eyes staring at him as though he were her fate in more than one way.

M
en
all over Europe had thought Catherine one of the most enchanting women in London, dismissing Jane for her lack of height. But William saw her, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her.

He’d wanted them alone then… but not for what he’d come do to. Not to ruin her… no… definitely to ruin her. Yes, he’d…

“The dowager’s party?” Andrew was speaking again, waking William from his thoughts.

Catherine leaned back in her chair, a relaxed position. She was falling for it. “Oh, the dowager’s party was weeks ago.” And what a party it had been. A scavenger hunt. His mother never disappointed.

William lifted a massive shoulder. “Well, as you might recall, I was busy with other matters until last week.”

Heat touched Catherine’s cheek, and he knew she remembered. William had been pursuing Catherine; at least, that’s what they’d led the ton to believe. In reality, it had all been so Andrew would finally see what he would be losing if he didn’t marry Catherine.

A
ndrew rested
a hand on Catherine’s, possessively. If only he knew who William truly wanted in the room. “And these arrangements have been cleared with her brother?”

William nodded, “I spoke with him this morning. He knows I am here to see Miss Croftman.” But not for the reasons he’d told him. He’d told Joseph Croftman that it was a matter of William dropping something at the Wardington Ball and Jane retrieving it for him.

Andrew stood. “Very well.” Then he extended his hand to Catherine and helped her up.

Catherine looked around and then to Andrew, “Are we seriously going to leave them alone?”

Andrew nodded, “The door will remain open.” No one challenged him. Even in another man’s home, the marquess held power. Ushering Catherine out, they left the room, leaving the door wide open. Drat.

J
ane watched
her sister and Andrew leave then turned back to the earl to find that he hadn’t moved from his spot by the window.

“Come closer,” he bid, his dark blue eyes holding hers. “Unless you wish for every servant on staff to hear our words.”

She didn’t.

She put one foot in front of the other and crossed the room. They both now stood by the window, looking down at the London midday traffic, standing five feet apart.

“I’ve had all week to think about what I saw the other night.”

“What took you so long to come for me?” she asked. Had he simply wanted her to go mad with waiting?

He watched her closely. “I had other business.”

“Outside of London?” Where were these questions coming from? Perhaps she was just desperate for a distraction.

“I didn’t come here to chat, Miss Croftman.” He narrowed his eyes, ignoring the question. “Nod your head when I say something that is true.”

J
ane looked away
.

“Miss Croftman.” He waited for her to meet his eyes again. “You will nod your head when I say something that is true. Do you understand?” She was looking into the face of power.

She gave a quick nod and then turned away.

“You’re a thief.”

She nodded.

“You stole that candleholder the other night.”

She nodded again.

“You stole the candleholder from the family in which your sister is to marry into. Andrew’s father. Your sister’s future father-in-law.”

If he was trying to make her guilt worse, he was succeeding. She nodded.

“You stole from the Duke of Wardington—one of the most powerful men in London. Do you have any idea what could have been done to you if you’d been caught?”

B
ut she had been caught
, hadn’t she? She turned to stare at him.

He was still studying her, his eyes in slits, but not in anger. Confusion. Curiosity. “Your family’s money rivals most of the peerage. Yet, you steal. Why?”

She looked away.

He moved closer to her and leaned toward her ear, “You will tell me.”

“You said I only had to nod when you spoke the truth.”

His face drew closer. Close enough for her to fully make out the planes of his glorious face. She’d touched that face that night, had run her fingers over the soft skin laying over hard bone. She’d done it to make sure he was all right, but a part of her had simply wanted to… touch him. The Earl of Cartridge, William, as some of the other girls called him, whispering his name under their breath as though they knew him intimately. And maybe they did. She’d even touched his lips. The lips that were not moving. “Well, I’m changing the rules, Miss Croftman. Answer the question. Why do you steal?”

If only it were that easy. “Are you going to turn me over to the courts?”

He was taken aback by her bluntness, his power questioned. If only she knew who truly held all the cards. He took a step away and crossed his arms “I should. I should have a servant fetch them as we speak.”

“Then do so, and quickly. For telling you why will only bring about my death either way.”

He narrowed his eyes again, studying her again. “You’re working for someone.”

She turned away.

“Blackmail?”

H
e was getting too close
.

Cartridge sighed, “You need to tell your brother.”

“No!” The plea was out quickly, made even more urgent by the hand she placed on his arm. She looked down at her gloved hand, small and white against his black coat. She could feel the hard muscle underneath. She turned to look up into his eyes again. “Please, you must not tell Joseph.” Her brother could never know for his own good. “Please, just turn me in. I’m guilty. You’ve caught me, but leave my family out of this.”

H
e looked astonished
, and then his own gloved hands were on her, holding her arms “Jane, this is beginning to worry me. If someone is threatening you, then you must—”

“Lord Cartridge, please.” She was desperate now. “Let us simply go to the magistrate now.”

The frown lines disappeared from around his eyes. “Jane,” he whispered, “let me help you.”

She closed her eyes, thinking of all the times she’d wished someone would have stepped in to help her. But now it was too late. She was in too deep. “You can’t.”

“I can. I’m the Earl of Cartridge.” He hadn’t said it to be arrogant. He was an earl, a very wealthy and powerful one. There weren’t many who had a bad thing to say about the man who’d been a second son—a second son forced into his new role at the death of his elder brother who was taken by war.