The Earl's Secret. Terri Brisbin
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with us. We will be walking in that direction.”
It was the only practical thing to do since the line of coaches stretched several blocks away from the Simon mansion. His club was too far to walk to from this neighborhood on the edges of the more fashionable ones, but they could wait for an hour or more for his coach to approach in the lines. Once away from the crowd and the possibility of being overheard, he broached the subject with Ellerton.
“I am thinking of a short trip to our hunting box in the Cairngorms, Anthony. Would you care to join me?”
“Is Commons done its sessions?”
“I have been told we will not be called back until the first or second of October. Surely enough time to enjoy the pleasures of shooting and hunting.”
Ellerton did not respond immediately and, indeed, said nothing, even as the Dursby coach approached in the street. David gave instructions to the coachman as they climbed in and sat on opposite sides. The coach rolled down the street for a few minutes before David decided to pursue an answer.
“My father will not be there, if that’s what you’re waiting to hear. He is escorting my mother to the estate in Nottinghamshire.”
“That was a concern, Trey. The marquess does not care for my company.”
“He cares even less for mine, so we are safe for the moment.”
“Ah, not carrying the party standard high enough?”
“Why is it that you do not take this seriously?” Their families were both Tory supporters, yet Ellerton’s father did not involve himself in the power maneuvers.
“My father has long been more interested in his lands than speeches. Overseeing the latest innovations in his crops gives him great joy and fulfillment.”
David could understand the draw of other facets of life away from the morass of backroom meetings and grabbing for power of politics. Perchance Ellerton’s father had the right of it? Realizing he’d still not received an answer about the trip, he pressed again.
“I plan on leaving on Thursday morning. You can send word if you will join me.”
Anthony stared out the coach window at the passing houses and city blocks for a few moments before answering. “I have never seen you run from something before, Trey.”
He chose to deliberately misunderstand. “The season is over and only those few who have not snagged a husband are still being shown around town. After five balls, four salons and six dinners in this last fortnight, I have certainly fulfilled any possible obligations as a bachelor and target of marriage-minded mothers of the ton.”
“So this is about taking a respite from the rigors of society and not about avoiding the unpleasant topic of a certain publication?”
He could continue to dissemble to avoid the admission of his weakness, but Anthony was one of few people in the world whom he could trust.
“Actually, instead of running away, I am running to the problem.”
“At your hunting lodge?” Anthony eyed him suspiciously. Shifting on his bench, he frowned and then shook his head. “Of course, it is no coincidence that our path to your property in the mountains goes right through Edinburgh.”
“Unless the roads have changed and I have not been advised of such an occurrence.”
Anthony was not addle-pated and he immediately understood…and laughed out loud as he did.
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, eh?”
“Although I battle in the light of day, my opponent chooses to hide in anonymity. A situation I thought to change.”
“Now that’s the Trey I remember! Never one to avoid a good fight.” Anthony reached over and smacked him on the shoulder. “And I am honored that you asked me to accompany you, as your ‘second,’ so to speak.”
David smiled at him, but his words made him cringe. He had hoped to keep this a discreet visit to Edinburgh to discover more about the elusive Mr. A. J. Goodfellow. His man-of-business had been unsuccessful in his efforts to find out the man’s background or family or even his whereabouts.
Now, David would use his own connections—his school friend owned and published the Scottish Monthly Gazette and would surely be able to help him uncover this writer. Well, Nathaniel might be able, but David was certain that it would take more convincing on his part for his friend to reveal the information.
“I would consider this a quiet reconnaissance mission of sorts, if you please. My man has already made most of the inquiries, I thought only to follow up on several more promising leads.”
Anthony sat up straight and put a finger over his lips. “I can be as quiet as the grave, Trey. You can count on my discretion in this matter.”
Deciding not to discuss the arrangements or his plans further now, he nodded his acceptance and turned his face toward the windows. He had much to do in the two days before he left town.
He’d written his response to the inflammatory article and it would be delivered to the publisher on Thursday. With the publishing schedule as it was, his essay would arrive to readers while he was in Edinburgh. The best time to observe Nathaniel and his allies and their reaction to it. The best time to flush out the elusive Mr. Goodfellow.
The coach arrived at his club on St. James, and as they climbed out, David was making lists of tasks to be completed before he could leave London.
Engrossed in her review of the newest textbook she’d chosen to use to teach reading at the school, the knock surprised her. Before Anna could call out, the door of Nathaniel’s office opened and a stranger entered. She did not see his face as he turned momentarily to close the door, but his fine clothing spoke of money and his bearing of power. He was as surprised as she must have been at finding an unexpected person in place of the one they sought. She pulled some papers over the book and then rose and walked around Nathaniel’s desk to meet him.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “May I help you with something?” He eyed her extended hand and frowned. Ah, a high-stickler. Most likely from London.
“Good morning. I am seeking Mr. Hobbs-Smith,” he said with a cursory bow, but without taking her hand. His accent confirmed his origins.
“Mr. Hobbs-Smith has not arrived yet. I am Miss Fairchild. Can I be of service?”
Anna observed him as he thought on her words. Tall, taller even than Nathaniel, this stranger carried an air of anger and danger as he shook his head. When his gaze met hers, the piercing blue stare rendered her breathless. She’d never felt such a concentration of attention before and her words jumbled in her mouth, unable to right themselves. Finally, Lesher opened the door and whispered of Nathaniel’s impending arrival, breaking the spell being woven that robbed her of her wits.
“Can I offer you some refreshments? Mr….?” Anna waited for some name to attach to this man. She needed to know his identity.
“This is a business matter, Miss Fairchild. No refreshments are needed.” He tugged off his gloves, crushed them impatiently in his grasp and examined every inch of the office. Lifting the hat from his head, he tossed the gloves inside it and laid it on the desk.
Did he think her an imbecile to not know the expectations at a business discussion? She was simply trying to be polite and he was treating her as though she were a…woman.
Anna detested the imperious attitude of those of his class, which she supposed must be noble. The only working women he encountered were most likely his servants or store clerks or those who earned their money on their backs.
She gasped as her thoughts went in an inappropriate and unexpected direction. What had ever conjured up such things?
“Are you in distress, Miss Fairchild?” he asked. His gaze did not soften, but there was something resembling concern in it now.