England's Perfect Hero (36 page)

Lucinda didn't sleep much at all. Her mind refused to relinquish the riddle of whether Geoffrey had acted out of jealousy, or something far more nefarious. As soon as the sun rose, so did she, going straight to her writing desk. She had her note to Robert half written, and was just beginning to wonder how in the world she was going to get it to him, when a missive arrived from Evelyn.

" 'Lucinda,'" she read, " 'Saint and I would very much appreciate if you and Lord Geoffrey would accompany us to the horse auctions at Tattersall's this morning, though it would be better if you could contact Geoffrey yourself and mention your desire to attend in his company.'"

Something was afoot. And apparently Robert had taken her mention of Geoffrey in the note she'd sent as a concession that she would be willing to help, after all. Thank goodness for that. She went on, reading the time and designated meeting place, but Evie didn't mention a reason for the rendezvous. Perhaps, though, that was better, in case her father had happened to intercept the note.

Lucinda frowned. Now not only was her father excluded, he wasn't to be trusted. It couldn't go on like this. Her heart wouldn't be able to stand it. She dashed off a note to Evie, accepting the invitation, and then went about composing one to Geoffrey that would convince him to join her.

"Lucinda?" her father's voice came, while he knocked at her bedchamber door.

Drat
. "Come in, Papa," she called, sliding the notes to and from Evie under her appointment book. "What is it?"

"I have a meeting this morning," he said, glancing at her writing desk. "Before I leave, I want to make certain that… nothing untoward will happen while I'm gone."

" 'Untoward?'" she repeated, indignant. "Do you mean will I elope with a fishmonger or something? I assure you that I won't." She drew a slow breath. "In fact, I was just writing Geoffrey a note, asking if he'd allow me to accompany him to Tattersall's today. He was going to look at a new hunter, and, well, I may have been a little sharp with him yesterday."

"In what way?"

"He… he asked me to marry him."

Both the general's eyebrows lifted. "He did? Why didn't you tell me? How—what did you say to him?"

"I told him I wished to wait until this mess with Robert is resolved," she answered, relieved to be able to tell the truth, however poorly it sufficed. Things were so complicated. "I think he may have taken that as a refusal, and I want to assure him that is not so."

"I can't fault you for your loyalty or your compassion," her father said, "though I could wish you had better taste in friends." Nodding, he backed out of the doorway. "Please tell Geoffrey I said hello, and ask him if he's finished the chapter." "I will, Papa."

Robert and Bradshaw arrived at Tattersall's a few minutes before Saint and Evelyn. Thankfully, a large crowd was already gathering at the corrals and beneath the open tents of the market, so remaining unseen wouldn't be too much of a challenge. Overhearing conversation would be a much stickier proposition, but Robert was nothing if not determined.

"Where do you want me?" Shaw asked, as they left Tolley and Zeus in the care of a pair of likely-looking urchins.

"Up high, if you can," he answered. "You'll have to make certain that if Geoffrey leaves here, you'll be able to get to his lodgings before he does. Otherwise I may not be the only one in trouble."

Shaw nodded. "
If
he says something incriminating, and
if you
decide it's enough to break into his home and look for those papers. Because you won't do it otherwise, right?"

Robert looked at his older brother. "I may dislike Geoffrey, but I dislike the thought of being arrested even more."

"Good enough." Shaw cuffed him on the shoulder. "I'll be about, then. And you?"

"I'll be here. Hopefully, out of sight and within earshot." He turned away, but Bradshaw caught his arm before he could vanish into the crowd.

"And please tell me," his brother said, a slight grin on his face, "where you found those clothes."

"In the back corner of the stable. I didn't want to be recognized."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

His goal had been to look like one of the men working the stables at Tattersall's. To that end, aside from the battered hat pulled low over his eyes and the dirty clothes, he'd borrowed a pair of John the groom's mud and manure-covered work boots. Thankfully, they fit well enough that he wouldn't cripple himself any further wearing them. Now, as long as no one recognized him, he'd be able to wander fairly freely about the grounds, virtually unnoticed. And not smelling particularly inviting, either, but if anything, that helped his disguise.

Once he emerged onto the crowded grounds he hung along the fringes, waiting for Saint and Evie to arrive. Belatedly it occurred to him that with the combination of the hordes of milling people and the tension running through him, he should be on the verge of a blind panic. It stayed at bay, though, back in the dark recesses of his mind that he simply didn't have time to contemplate at the moment.

He spotted Shaw almost immediately, up on a nearby balcony and chatting happily with a pretty young lady there. Robert grinned. That figured. Somehow Bradshaw always knew how to make the best of a situation.

As he finished a circuit of the grounds, he saw Lord and Lady St. Aubyn arrive. He still couldn't believe they were willing to do this for him. Apparently he had better friends than he knew—or deserved.

Saint looked perfectly at ease, but he was more used to subterfuge than his wife. Evie kept peeking over her shoulder, gazing into the crowd, obviously looking for him or Bradshaw. He started to approach, to let them know that everything was in place, but the crowd didn't move aside for a horse handler. It took a few moments, and some apologies, before he reached them.

"Good morning, milord, milady," he drawled, tipping his hat at them.

Evelyn covered her mouth. "Wh—For heaven's sake! You startled me."

Saint, though, grinned. "You smell," he noted.

"It's part of the plan. Shaw's up over my shoulder." He focused on Evie. "Try not to notice either of us. We're not here, remember?"

She drew a breath. "I remember. Lucinda sent a note that she would try to persuade Lord Geoffrey to accompany her here, but I haven't heard anything since. I'm certain she'll manage it."

"So am I."

Lucinda meant to help them, meant to help him. He tried not to grin like an idiot as he faded back into the crowd, but he wanted to smile, and sing, and dance. She'd made her decision. Of course in truth it only meant she didn't trust everything about Lord Geoffrey, not that she'd chosen
him
above Society's golden boy. She'd be a fool to do so.

If she did suspect Geoffrey, though, she was also being foolish to put herself in his company. For that, Robert blamed himself. If it looked as though Geoffrey suspected anything, he would end the charade himself—even if it meant having to flee England. He wouldn't let Lucinda be hurt. Not for him, not for anyone.

He sensed her arrival before he saw her. Warmth ran soft along his skin, like an unseen breeze, and when he turned around, she was there. With
him
.

She'd worn a low-cut, close-fitting muslin that clung to her figure and drew his attention to the soft, creamy curve of her breasts. His mouth went dry. No wonder Geoffrey seemed so attentive, and no wonder Robert wanted to smash the man's face into a pulp—whether he'd turned traitor or not.

As Evie beckoned to the two of them, he worked his own way closer. Everyone shook hands and exchanged hugs, as friendly as if they were just out for a day at the horse auctions. Robert found himself studying Geoffrey, looking for some external sign that he could possibly have done what they now suspected. Amiable and handsome, he looked the embodiment of the perfect English gentleman.

Perhaps if Robert had looked—had behaved—more like one himself, the
ton
wouldn't have been so quick to believe the rumors. He glanced at his rough, smelly clothing. No one would have any trouble believing the worst of him at the moment. All he could do was hope no one recognized him.

"… make a purchase for the general's birthday, but you know how particular he is," Lucinda was saying, her hand around Geoffrey's arm.

"It's always good to know who's producing the quality animals," Geoffrey returned, "whether you buy one today or not."

"I don't know about that." Saint took Evie's arm and led the way through the crowd toward the front of the bidders. "One good horse from a breeder doesn't necessarily mean the rest will be of the same quality. If you see one you like, you should purchase it. You can always sell it again later, if your father doesn't approve. Don't you think so, Lord Geoffrey?"

"Just Geoffrey, please. And while I admire the sentiment, I tend to be a little more cautious in my purchases."

"That's right, you're the fourth son, aren't you?" Saint said, striking just the right tone between commiseration and insult. "I don't know Fenley well at all, but the rumor is that his grip can be rather—how shall I put it—tight."

Geoffrey chuckled. "Yes, it can be. It's always been his philosophy that the 'extra' sons make their own way."

"That's rather severe." Lucinda gave him a sympathetic look. "I hope he's proud that you've done so well."

Robert wanted to kiss her. She was playing the game. From what he knew and what he was learning, Geoffrey wanted a promotion, and the choice of assignment the rank would gain him. If he couldn't get it through marriage, a war would be his next most likely opportunity. Of course if he married he would have to have someone else take the blame for the thefts—which was probably where Robert and the rumors had come in extremely handy.

Flashing his famous smile, Geoffrey lifted Lucinda's hand to kiss her knuckles. "He'll be even more proud to see me settled and with a tenable career."

"Which career would that be?" Saint asked. "You're still in the Army, aren't you?"

"I am. And there are still opportunities there. I intend to take one, and make it my own." He smiled again at Lucinda. "As I intend to make Lucinda my own."

Bastard
. If he wasn't guilty, Robert was going to have to seriously consider several methods of getting rid of him anyway. He edged closer, leaning against a wagon wheel and lowering his hat brim past his eyes.

"I'll wager the Carroways wish that Robert hadn't chosen a career with the Army," Saint drawled.

Evie flushed. "Saint! Georgiana's my friend. That's a terrible thing to say."

"It's also true," he returned.

"I… have to admit, this whole thing's made more than enough problems for the general," Lucinda said slowly.

Robert looked up. She gazed straight at him, and for a moment his heart stopped. Then she deliberately faced Geoffrey again. "Robert is my friend, and I won't forget that, but it would be nonsense to say that we're all happy this happened."

"They're almost finished with the teams," Saint announced.

Lucinda looked startled. "So soon?" Facing Geoffrey, she extricated her hand. "Will you excuse me for just a moment?"

"Of course. You shouldn't go anywhere alone, though. Shall I fetch your maid from the carriage?"

"I'll go with you, Luce," Evie said. "I could use a bit of refreshment myself."

Thinking fast, Robert pushed away from the wagon, leading the way toward the nearest building. The alley behind was empty, and he turned into it. Lucinda and Evie followed a moment later. He couldn't help smiling as Luce appeared. "How in the world did you know I was—"

She grabbed his lapels, leaned up, and kissed him. Robert wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, but even as he remembered how filthy he was, he heard Evelyn gasp.

"Lucinda," he managed as he backed away, kissing her once more because he simply couldn't help himself. "Careful. Someone will see."

"I saw," Evie noted, her eyes still wide. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't think we have time for that right now," Lucinda returned, her gaze still on him.

What he saw in her clear hazel eyes filled him with more hope and more terror than anything he'd faced in the past five years. He stroked his fingers along her cheek. "I'm sorry to put you through this. I know you didn't want to be involv—"