Enticing the Earl (16 page)

“Did the vicar help lay out the bodies before they were buried?” she asked now, trying to keep her tone casual.

The maid shuddered. “Oh, me lady. 'Aving been under the sea, there weren't much left of the poor buggers, you know, only bits of bones.”

“Oh, dear.” Lauryn paused, not sure how to ask the next question. “It's just that we heard, in town—”

“What? I'll 'ave you know that the good vicar did all that was proper!” Her lips pressed together, the maid fired up at once in defense of her employer.

“Oh, I'm sure he did,” Lauryn said quickly. “It's just—we heard a rumor about the captain's wounds, and we wondered if the vicar perhaps could have gotten some idea how the captain had died.”

The maid's eyes widened. “I s'ppose 'e drowned, me lady, 'ow could 'e not? Going down on a sinking ship like that, poor man. And any'ow, t'was only bones left that they brought back, ye know. But…”

She hesitated.

Lauryn tried to look sympathetic. “Yes?”

“Well…” She looked around as if expecting someone to be crouched behind the big kitchen table, listening. “If you want someone who saw the remains…”

“Oh, we do!”

“If it won't get 'im in trouble, I might could tell ye who to speak to.”

“We will not—the earl will not be be censorious, I assure you!” Lauryn told her.

“Then, if you're assured…” The maid twisted her apron in her hands and spoke very low into Lauryn's ear.

Lauryn took a shilling from her reticule to reward the maid and made her way back to the sitting room, eager to share her news. She threw the earl a meaningful look, and he stood. They offered their thanks to the servant and took their leave.

Outside, the earl turned to her.

“You look like the cat who emerges from the canary's cage, feathers dripping from his whiskers. What did you learn?”

She smiled at him. “I have found someone who viewed the bones of your unfortunate captain!”

He gave a low whistle, which made his horse toss its head. “You have all my admiration, Mrs. Smith. Who is it?”

“The vicar's cousin, James Hilber, is a medical student, and he helped arrange the bodies—well the bones—into the wooden caskets. It was necessary to straighten out just which went with what, so to speak.” Lauryn wrinkled her nose—it was a distressing thought.

The earl looked thoughtful. “I see what you mean.” He picked up his reins. “Did she tell you where can we find this gentleman?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Mrs. Smith, you are a marvel!”

Feeling warmed by his smile, she told him where they should go, and then he helped her into her saddle. Was it her imagination or did he linger for a moment with his hands on her hips?

Her blood warmed to have his hands again on her body. Why did he stay away last night? Would he join her tonight or ignore her again?

Sighing, she settled herself comfortably—or as comfortably as her bruises from yesterday allowed—back on her mount.

The earl mounted his own horse, and they turned back toward the roadway. They urged their steeds onward. Traffic was heavier now, but within the hour they found the inn that the maidservant had described. Behind the counter a tall, thin young man studied a thick book while two workmen nursed their mugs of ale and talked in low voices. When they entered, the young man looked up quickly and marked his place in the volume.

“Like a drink, gov?”

“I'd like to talk to you, Mr. Hilber,” the earl said, laying a guinea onto the well-scrubbed surface. “And I'm willing to pay for the privilege.”

The young man's jaw dropped, and he gazed at the coin. “I–I—” He turned and yelled toward the kitchen. “Holly, come out here.”

When a somewhat blowsy woman in a long apron emerged, he told her, “Watch the counter for a bit; I need to talk to this gentleman.”

“But me bread's in the oven,” she protested.

“I'll give you a half shilling for the extra work,” he promised.

Seeing that the guinea had already disappeared from the top of the counter, Lauryn bit back a grin. He had scooped it smoothly off and into his pocket.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” he asked, turning back to the earl.

“An ale, if you please,” Sutton said.

“Missus?” The young man asked.

“A cup of tea, perhaps,” Lauryn murmured.

“Holly, bring us a cuppa tea, there's a good girl,” he told the woman, who rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, you got to check your loaves, anyhow.”

He brought a tall mug of ale for the earl and emerged from behind the counter, motioning for them to follow. “There's a more private table in the corner, just there.”

They sat at the scarred, slightly sticky table, and the young man slid into the chair across from them. He stared at them in the dim light. “How'd you know my name, and what is it that you want?”

“We've been to the rectory, and the servant there told us where to find you. I understand that you're a medical student?” the earl asked, his tone polite.

“Oh.” The young man flushed. “When I get enough funds laid by to go back to school, I shall be, again,” he told them. “I completed my first year of studies, but my money ran out. I have to make my own way. My parents died when I was young, and my father was only a poor cleric with little money of his own, so…”

He shrugged, and Lauryn felt a wave of sympathy for him. She knew well enough how difficult it was when money was scarce.

“We were also told that you saw the remains of the men who were found on the sunken ship, the
Brave Lassie
.” The earl paused. “I am Lord Sutton, and that was my ship. I am understandably interested in the men who worked on my behalf, and in what led to their deaths.”

The young man hesitated a moment, then he rose and went back to the bar, going behind it and bending to disappear from view for a moment. Holly came out of the kitchen with a cup of steaming tea just as he straightened. He took the tea and came back toward them, but he also had something tucked beneath one arm.

Putting the teacup in front of Lauryn, he sat down again on the other side of the table. He also put down a drawing tablet and opened it to a page that showed several sketches. Lauryn looked down at the pencil sketches and recognized several different views of what must be a human skull.

“This is one of the men, or his remains, found on the ship.”

“We went to the graveyard,” the earl interrupted. “There are not enough men buried there to account for all the crew.”

“No, my lord.” James Hilber sounded earnest as he met the earl's gaze. “I assume that the rest of the crew's remains may have drifted off or been swept away by the storm or the sea's currents. We buried what was found. This man had two fingers with joints missing from an old shipboard accident, which the Harbor Master said marked him as the captain; it was a man the Harbor Master knew. He was found belowdecks, the skeleton intact. I made sketches of his injury just as practice, since I get little chance to study, just now.”

“I see,” the earl said, looking over the drawings once again. “And if you had seen this skull in a class at university, what would you say had caused this injury?”

“If I had seen this at school,” James said, hesitating for a moment, “I would have said he died from a blow to the head, my lord, from a thief in a dark alley seeking to steal his purse, perhaps. But I suppose, given the circumstance, that it must have been some kind of blow from a falling mast, or such like. I'm not a sailor, you understand, but I'm sure given a terrible storm, that some such could have happened.”

Lauryn spoke up for the first time. “Were there other bodies around him?”

They both looked at her. “No, just the one,” the young man said. “I'was said they found most of the others, what there were, closer to the upper decks.”

“Just so,” the earl muttered, staring at the drawing of the cracked skull, which James had so well depicted. “Was there anything else that stood out from these remains, anything else that seemed unusual?”

The young man shook his head. “No, my lord. They showed the kind of marking we would expect from their time in the seawater. That's all.”

“I see.” Sutton's tone was controlled. “Thank you for sharing your expertise.” He put his hand inside his coat and removed several more coins, which changed hands.

James Hiber's expression brightened. His savings would be considerably enriched by this unexpected encounter, Lauryn thought as she sipped the mahogany-colored tea.

When the door to the tavern closed behind them, the earl handed a coin to the man who had held their horses, but they lingered for a moment before remounting, and Lauryn looked at the earl. “A mast cannot come down inside the ship, can it?”

He shook his head. “If so, we would have found evidence, and the whole ship might have broken up, which it did not.”

“Why do you think the captain was found there?”

He frowned. “I can think of many places a captain might be during a hard gale, but the bottom of the ship is not one of them.”

“If he had been injured from a flying piece of broken wood, he might have been taken below, with other wounded men, I suppose. But he was not.” He looked at her with admiration, and she felt her cheeks warm. “That is why you asked if other bodies were found there. If he alone had been hurt, he would more likely have been taken to his cabin, so more mysteries here. Did someone wish the captain out of the way?”

She waited, as it seemed he had more to say, and sure enough, he continued, his expression grim. “We had a warning that something was wrong on the
Brave Lassie
even before the ship disappeared.”

Lauryn knew her eyes had widened. “You did? From whom?”

“I don't know. But a letter came just after the ship had sailed. And two different ship's officers died in apparent accidents—at the time, it seemed trivial enough, but looking back…”

She nodded when he paused.

“Do you have any idea?”

“Speculations, but nothing that I can put solid evidence to. And I wish something tangible before I accuse anyone of serious crimes…”

His expression serious, he motioned to the horses. “Let us get started on the ride back to the shooting box; the sun is dropping in the sky.”

She nodded and the earl was helping her remount when he suddenly stiffened.

“What is it?” Lauryn asked, keeping her tone low and trying to make out what had caught his attention.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Sutton muttered.

H
e quickly gained the saddle of his own horse,
tightened his hold on the reins, and moved forward, motioning to her to follow. Just as she caught a glimpse of two familiar faces and knew whom he had recognized, she turned her own away and urged her mount after him.

It was Carter, the earl's half brother, and the contessa, a parasol held over her head as they strolled along the pavement on the other side of the street. What were they doing in this small coastal town?

Fortunately, a high perch phaeton rolled past, blocking the newcomers' view. Lauryn and the earl had moved away by the time the carriage had passed them. Hopefully, the pair had not glimpsed them.

What were Carter and the contessa doing here? Were they searching for Sutton? The next time she was able to move her horse up parallel to the earl, Lauryn asked the question aloud.

“I don't know, but if he plans to move into the shooting box along with us, he is mightily mistaken,” Sutton told her, frowning. “It is a small residence, and we came here to leave Carter's house parties behind! I have no desire for more unwanted guests.”

Lauryn bit her lip, aware that she was gratified by the earl's emphasis. Perhaps he was not yet totally tired of her company, after all. Perhaps she could hope for more shared evenings, then, before they parted.

Despite his indications of his desire for her company, the earl decided to stop and check on his newly acquired guards at the warehouse that held the recovered cargo.

This time two men stood where they should be, and they surprised no illicit visitors within the big building. The earl spoke briefly to the men on duty, and as it was becoming too dark inside to take a closer look at the cargo, told them that he would be back another day.

As Lauryn waited, she caught a movement at the corner of the building. A man on foot appeared briefly, then stepped back out of sight.

Was it because he saw someone at the door of the warehouse?

Probably it was nothing, she told herself, perhaps it had nothing to do with the guards or the fact that she and the earl were there. But although she'd had only the briefest glance—there had been something, something not right…

When Sutton returned, she decided she should mention it, even if she were being overly cautious.

He seemed to read her face. “What?”

“I saw a person come out of the alley,” she told him. “It was a man on foot, and I had only an instant to glimpse him before he turned back into the shadows, but–but his face was not just as usual. I don't know how to explain—I did not have enough time to get a good look—but something about him was different, somehow.”

About to mount his steed, the earl paused.

“Perhaps I only imagined it,” Lauryn said, afraid she might be making too much of her perplexed moment. “And he might not have turned because we were here, but—”

“But perhaps he did, and perhaps you are not,” the earl said. “Let me check out the alley. Wait for me here.”

He swiftly gained his seat on his horse and nudged the beast forward. Lauryn bit her lip and watched him trot around the corner and turn into the dark alley. She waited impatiently until he reappeared, shaking his head.

“I see no sign of him, but he likely ran out the other side and disappeared down one of the back streets,” he told her. “I doubt we can locate him now, however. We may as well call it a day.”

They headed out of town, side by side, and continued to talk.

“I want to take a closer look at some of the crates of cargo,” he told Lauryn as they rode away. “But it would be a waste of time this afternoon; the light is too far gone.”

“Do you have more questions about what was found on the ship?” she asked.

“I am wondering if someone could have substituted fake Ming vases for the real thing,” he told her. “It has to be something truly valuable to be worth killing for.”

“You think that was why the captain died? Did he discover what the plot was?”

“Perhaps, if he was not part of it. Or if he was, he wanted a bigger share, or—there are numerous possibilities. We may never know the answer.” The earl shook his head in frustration.

They turned toward the outskirts of town, and once the traffic on the road had lightened, were able to make better time. Lauryn was glad when they could urge their horses to more than a sedate trot and leave the town behind; it made the pressures of the earl's mystery seem less insistent.

Twilight fell as they rode back to the hunting lodge, and birds twittered in the trees around them, and insects sang. On the last part of the ride, they were alone on the road, and it heightened her feelings of intimacy. It was as if they rode through a golden garden, the light was so luminous, glinting on the growing grain as birdsong provided a lyrical accompaniment to their easy ride.

She could forget the sad puzzle of the sunken ship and the crew's death—it seemed far away, after all, and hardly touching them. They would return to the lovely hunting lodge, enjoy another delicious dinner prepared by the earl's servants, and tonight—tonight, hopefully, he would not be too tired or too preoccupied with his concerns over the ship and its cargo to wish to take her into his arms. They would share the kind of magnificent lovemaking that they had already created together several times. Just the thought made her smile.

They turned into the drive leading up to the hunting box, and the horses tossed their heads, recognizing that they were home. Stalls with oats and warm rubdowns awaited them in the stable behind the house. Flambeaux had been lit outside the front door, illuminating circles of light amid the growing darkness so Lauryn and the earl could more easily see as they reined in their horses.

As she pulled back on her reins and waited for the earl to dismount and come to catch her as she slipped out of her saddle, Lauryn felt the same spark of anticipation—already this lovely little house seemed like home.

The earl, too, smiled up at her as he helped her down. “It's been a long day,” he said. “We've barely time to change for dinner. You must be hungry.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice low and husky. And as she looked up at him, she saw something in his eyes that acknowledged what he saw in her own—that she hungered for more than mere food.

Don't shut me out again
, she thought. And she hoped she saw understanding there.

But he said only, “We should go in.”

So for the moment, she had to be content with that.

A groom appeared to take the horses around to the stables, and they turned to enter the house. But when the door opened, Lauryn felt her heart drop.

An unfamiliar hat and gloves sat on the hall table, and she heard voices in the sitting room and a tinkle of melody.

“Oh, bloody hell,” the earl swore briskly.

He exchanged glances with her, and then, his expression stern, turned to face his obviously unwelcome guests.

They must have gotten ahead of them while she and the earl had gone to check the warehouse, Lauryn thought.
Oh, damn, damn.
And the hunting box did not have that many bedchambers. Where would they put them all? And it was a dark, moonless night—the carriage could not even travel this late, so the earl could not very well throw them out at this time of night, even if he wished it. They were stuck with them.

On this uncharitable thought, she took the earl's offered arm and they went into the sitting room.

Sure enough, Carter was leaning over the side of the pianoforte as the contessa ran her bejeweled fingers along the keys, producing a merry tune.

“Hello, brother,” Carter said breezily. “We thought you might be in need of company.”

“Did you?” the earl said, his tone dry. “How considerate of you.”

The footman appeared in the doorway. “Shall we put off dinner, my lord?”

Raising his brows, Sutton turned to Lauryn.

She looked at the two unwelcome guests, who at least were already changed for dinner. “I can be ready in fifteen minutes,” she promised the earl, hoping it were true.

“Very well.” He turned back to the servant. “Tell the cook fifteen minutes, if you will.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“We shall see you shortly,” he told his brother. “Contessa, your servant.” With a short bow to the newcomers, he offered Lauryn his arm again, and they left the room and headed for the stairwell.

“I do apologize, Mrs. Smith,” he told her, keeping his voice low. “But I will not be able to send them away tonight. And I fear I will have to give them your room, just for tonight.”

Having already worked this out, she nodded. “I understand.”

There was no time to discuss the arrangements further, and anyhow, they had no choice. She hurried down to her bedchamber, which already had the contessa's baggage inside. At least a maid was waiting to help Lauryn change out of her riding outfit and into a dinner gown, which she did in record time.

She didn't have enough leisure to comb out her hair. All she could do was have the maid brush out the worst of the tangles and pin up the tendrils that had escaped her braided coil.

She only went over her estimated time by five minutes or so, Lauryn figured. She pulled a clean handkerchief out of her bag to slip into her sleeve. Then she headed back down the stairs, to find the earl at the bottom, waiting to escort her into the dining room.

Carter and the contessa were still in the sitting room, but the footman announced dinner, and they came to join them. Lauryn was privately pleased to see that she still held the hostess's seat at the small table.

The food was as well prepared as ever, although the cook could not have had much notice that the number of diners for tonight had doubled. But then, they usually had such an abundance of dishes that it was simple enough to think that all would be easily fed.

As they ate, the contessa kept up a flow of small talk and anecdotes, mostly about acquaintances of the earl that Lauryn, of course, did not know. Lauryn simply smiled and gave no indication how annoying she found this. Carter, on her side, seemed rather quiet.

“Did the house party at the earl's estate come to an end?” she asked him politely when it seemed that he had nothing that he wished to contribute to the conversation.

“Since he ordered me to end it, yes,” he told her.

“Oh, I see,” she said, thinking it a good time to dip her fork into the broiled asparagus and change the topic of conversation. “The cook is very skillful, don't you think?”

“Yes, all my brother's cooks are good; he will not put up with anything less. As you may have noted, he doesn't settle for anyone except the best.”

Lauryn wasn't sure if this was a veiled comment on her own skills or not, but she decided not to remark on it. She took another bite from her plate, not sure if Carter were antagonistic towards her—why?—but deciding to be cautious.

“I don't know why he's so all fired up about this missing ship,” Carter said now, his voice lowered as he threw a searching glance toward his brother at the end of the table. “I mean, I thought he'd be happy about getting back such valuable cargo. But he seems put out about it. Doesn't make sense, does it?”

She murmured something indistinguishable, not about to tell Carter anything that his brother had said. If the earl wanted to share any facts or even opinions about the
Brave Lassie
or its cargo, he would tell his sibling himself. She would certainly not pass on any comments the earl had shared with her.

Carter gave her a shrewd look now, as if she might have said her thought aloud. “Not very forthcoming, are you?”

“What makes you think I should know anything?” she asked, keeping her tone pleasant.

He shrugged. “He's certainly not talking to me. He must have shared his thoughts with someone…”

She took another bite of her roasted potatoes and didn't answer.

Carter rolled his eyes and cut his roast beef with a bit too much vigor, almost overturning his glass of wine.

The contessa was laughing at a jest of her own, to which the earl gave a token smile. He seemed to be only in the barest good humor, which Lauryn was sorry to admit made her mood lighten. Despite the good food, the dinner seemed longer tonight than usual. At last, the courses ended, and she could finally catch the contessa's eye, even though she would have sworn the other woman tried to evade her glance as long as possible. But tonight the ladies would leave the table to the menfolk and retire to the sitting room as protocol demanded.

Marcus watched them go, glad to get the contessa out of his hair for a few minutes. God, how that woman could chatter on—he had almost forgotten. When the door was safely shut behind them, and the servants had cleared away the dishes and poured them more port, he turned to regard his brother.

“Now then, Carter,” he said, his voice deep with annoyance. “What the bloody hell are you playing at?”