The Earl's Secret

Any man who smiled at her or offered her a kind word.

Most especially any man who offered her some bauble or a few shillings for her time and attention.

In essence, Anna’s first and only attempt to rehabilitate a…a… Anna had difficulty thinking of her as a prostitute for it seemed such a harsh word, but Gladys was a light skirt and her presence here had been an unmitigated failure. Gladys slipped away only two nights before, giving only a quiet farewell nod to Becky, who’d befriended her during her short stay.

A growing maudlin feeling grew within her and Anna wiped at the gathering tears. In the last three years since opening this home and school, she’d watched dozens come and go. At first, she’d lost herself in each one—learning about their lives, the details, even their hopes and dreams. But as she found her heart broken for each one, Anna learned to hold back and keep a distance between herself and the young women. Doing that hurt her in some ways, for it seemed to be her nature to open herself to these unfortunates. She knew what they faced, for her own experiences demonstrated all too clearly how much they were at the mercy of those who had no mercy to give. In order to be effective in her work, Anna needed to separate herself a bit.

Anna walked to the desk near the door and organized her papers and books. Not truly a schoolroom like the one in which she’d been educated, this large chamber had served as a drawing room in the better days of the house. Usually, poorhouses and those for unfortunate women like the ones she sponsored here were large, uncomfortable and more than unpleasant places. But then, most did not agree with her notions and methods of helping the poor, choosing instead to throw them together in filthy places no better than warehouses with no attention to anything except the meanest level of survival.

With the backing of several extremely wealthy patrons who asked little and preferred to be known for their charity rather than to be involved with it, Anna had been able to buy this house, furnish it, staff it and provide a modest living to the women who called it home for those few months before their bairns were born. That time was a time away from the harsh life they’d lived and a time to learn new skills that would, hopefully, give them a better opportunity for employment. Confirmed bluestocking that she was, Anna knew that education was the way out of poverty.

Sitting in the high-back chair at the desk, she reviewed her schedule of the next few days. Alternating mornings and afternoons here and at the Gazette, and overseeing her aunt’s household and her sister’s education and upbringing left her little time for anything else. With the promising returns on her investment in the publication, she hoped to buy a second house and to expand her work. But that would take more money than she had. And more time than she could spare right now.

If only His Majesty’s government in England and here in Edinburgh would do more. If only more of those who benefited from wealth would contribute to those less fortunate. If only…

Anna shook herself from such a path of hopeless consideration. Between her work here and her efforts through the Gazette, she was doing as much as was humanly possible. Certainly more than many, including the arrogant Lord Treybourne, who not only held to his lofty opinions but also preached them to others and undermined her work as surely as a crack in a building’s foundation would.

Piling the books one on top of the other before her, she felt a shiver of anticipation as she realized that his response to the last Goodfellow essay would be published in just a few days. All of Edinburgh, indeed all of England and Scotland, would be aflutter with discussions of it. Last month, a brawl had broken out at a pub frequented by the literati of Edinburgh over the opinions stated in Lord Treybourne’s essay. Goodfellow had defenders of his own who stood up with their voices and their fists and more than one ended up in the arms of the law due to the violence.

Anna had hoped for educated discourse, not crude brutality, but if it brought more attention to the plight of those she tried to help, it served a purpose. Hopefully, this month’s exchanges would raise the level from coarse to thought-provoking once more.

She placed her bonnet on her head and tied the ribbons. Gathering her books and reticule into the basket she used for such things, she carried her well-worn spencer over her arm, not knowing yet if the temperature would necessitate its wearing. The sun’s rays that invaded the room through the front windows and threw dappled shadows on the floor promised not, but Anna knew better. Pulling open the door, she was greeted by a rush of fresh, warm air. Tugging it closed behind her, Anna stepped down onto the walk and glanced up the street.

There, not fifty yards away, stood Mr. Archer! This was the third time this week that she’d found him along the path to the Gazette’s office, but this was the first time he was so obvious in his intent to intercept her on her way there. Impeccably dressed, looking quite dashing for midday, he spoke with the coachman who held his horse’s reins in the street. He noticed her almost as soon as she saw him.

“Miss Fairchild! Good day,” he said as he walked toward her. “If you are going to New Town, may I offer you a ride?” He tipped his hat and waited on her response.

“Have you been waiting for me, Mr. Archer? This is the third day in a row that our paths have crossed.”

Riding with a gentleman of short acquaintance was most likely on the edge of prudent behavior, but the carriage was open and would discourage any untoward behavior. Not that she thought him planning such things, but, as her aunt had warned her countless times, a lady must be cognizant of such possibilities at all times.

He glanced over her head, seeming to take note of exactly which building she’d exited from. Ah, so he’d positioned himself close to where he thought she was and then waited on her appearance from one of the houses. Now she knew without a doubt that he was following her, but for what reason? Before she could ask, he lifted the basket from her arm and held out his arm to her.

“Although the rooms that I am renting during my stay necessitate this route to get to the New Town, I do confess to a nefarious purpose, Miss Fairchild,” he said, his arm steady beneath hers in spite of such an admission. Only the wicked glimmer in his eyes predicted a less-than-serious matter. “I have noted that you keep yourself to a very busy schedule, but I had hoped to entice you into a bit of leisure.”

“Leisure? I am afraid that I have commitments to honor, sir.” She stopped and lifted her hand from his. “I am expected at the…”

He raised his hand, with one finger pointed in front of her face, and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her mouth. Anna stopped, shocked by the thought that he would do such a thing and by the sudden craving within her for him to do it. Mr. Archer seemed surprised by the pause and stood frozen for just a moment. Then he smiled, the wicked one that curved his lips into something forbidden, the smile filled with all sorts of meaning. The one that made her stomach quiver and her cheeks flush.

The dangerous one.

“I would never presume to interrupt your day or your plans without some notice. That would be unforgivably impolite.” He walked once more toward the carriage and nodded to the driver, who opened the door. “I have procured an open carriage, Miss Fairchild, so that you would have no fear of allowing this familiarity in public.”

“Familiarity, sir?” She found it difficult to take a breath at the thought of any such a breach of behavior with this man. For a brief moment, she admitted to herself that this man could tempt Gladys to share her favors without payment. He could not mean such a thing?

“Riding alone with a man who is neither family nor friend, Miss Fairchild. I have come to realize in my short time here that, although some rules of polite behavior seem to be more relaxed here than in London, some conventions must be observed.”

“Just so, sir.” His consideration was startling. And well-planned. What were his motives? “I would certainly be less than polite to refuse then.”

He stepped up into the carriage and helped her in. Once she was seated, he placed her basket securely between them on the seat and told the driver they were ready. Anna sat back and enjoyed the luxury she did not partake of very often. Hiring a hackney or sedan chair for traveling about town was too costly when every pence and shilling needed to be watched. Instead Anna chose to invest in some sturdy walking shoes and the largest umbrella she could manage by herself for those days when the weather was, well, typical Edinburgh weather.

“Do you have students there?” he asked as they pulled away from the curb and into the moving lines of carriages and horses.

“Pardon?”

“I know that, in addition to assisting Nathaniel at the Gazette office, you are a teacher. I simply wondered if that is where some of your students live?”

Anna knew that there was nothing on the building to identify as something other than a private home. She did not want to discuss the girls and their situations with Mr. Archer.

“Yes, Mr. Archer, some of my students do live there. How did you know I taught?”

He glanced down then and ran his fingers over the books in her basket. She watched as they glided over the surface of the one on top and wondered how it would feel to have those long fingers and tanned, strong hands glide over her…! She coughed, trying to regain her composure.

Aunt Euphemia must be correct in her criticism that spending too much time with those in the lower class and those women of certain reputations was spilling into her own sensibilities! She’d warned Anna that exposure to those who lived a different life with different standards of conduct would impair her own moral judgment. Now, from the strange inklings she had any time she saw this man, Anna was beginning to think Aunt Euphemia was accurate in her assessment of such dangers to a young woman of good upbringing.

“Firstly, I noticed your selection of textbooks and your attention to them when we met at the office. Then I asked Nate.”

“Nate? I’ve not heard him called that in some years. Have you known him a long time then?” It was time to get answers to her questions if he were seeking answers to his.

“Yes, our paths first crossed when we were only boys.”

“I had no idea, Mr. Archer. Nathaniel has said very little about you.”

His laughter rang out at her words and she watched his face become even more attractive than when it was stern. The carriage rolled along and he quickly regained control of his levity. “I would imagine you have not made that easy for him, Miss Fairchild. Your curiosity fairly leaps from you and I am certain Nate has been doing his utmost to keep quiet around you.”

He had not meant his words as an insult, but from the frown that now marred her forehead and the question in her deep brown gaze, she’d taken them as such.

“I meant no insult, Miss Fairchild. Your dissatisfaction with my introduction at our first meeting was apparent even to me. You wanted to know more and neither I nor Nate have provided you with substantive answers.”

“My aunt would warn me that such curiosity is unseemly. I hope you will forgive such a gauche display.”

“If I was being honest, I would tell you that I find such candid curiosity a refreshing change.”

His stomach tightened at the expression on her face now—her eyes alight and a smile that made her full lips curve delightfully. Dimples, unseen when she was not smiling, appeared and tempted him even more. The urge to lean over and taste those lips nearly overwhelmed him and his body tightened in other places.

“Nathaniel has obviously not had time to warn you about how relentless I can be when pursuing matters of interest, sir. Refreshing is not a word he would associate with such pursuit.”

The carriage clattered over the cobblestoned street and came to a stop before the office on the corner. Disappointed that they had not had time for more conversation and realizing that he had not yet extended his invitation, he waved the driver aside with a the tilt of his head.

“Miss Fairchild, would you be able to spare a small amount of time tomorrow morning to accompany me to see the Honours of Scotland?”

“Tomorrow morning?” He could see her candid interest in such an outing. They need, it seemed to him, only work out the details.

“All of London knows the story of their recent discovery and I have been told that they are most impressive. I thought to see them while here, but I understand, of course, if you would find such a visit boring since you have seen them already?”

He could see her considering the invitation and wondered what held her back from accepting it. Ah, the conventions of polite behavior once more? He did not want her to decline and he found that he was willing to make whatever concessions were necessary to gain her company.

Bloody hell! What was happening to him?

“I could ask Nathaniel to accompany us if it would put you at ease. Or perhaps your aunt could be convinced to act as chaperone?”

“I fear that Aunt Euphemia would never be able to endure the strenuous walk up to the Castle’s treasure room.” She paused for a moment, drawing her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it, and he lost the ability to think as he watched her mouth. “I know just the right person to join us.”

“Very well, shall I pick you up then at your home? If you would give me your directions, I will bring a carriage at ten in the morning. If that is not too early or too late?”

Miss Fairchild shook her head, sending a few loosened tendrils bouncing on her shoulder. The urge to wrap the hair around his finger and test its softness surged through him. “The time would be perfect, but would you mind meeting me here instead? I have some errands to finish before that time.”

David stepped around her and out onto the sidewalk, reaching back in for her basket and then her hand. Once she was standing next to him, he told the driver to wait and escorted her to the door. “I look forward to the morning then, Miss Fairchild.”

She opened the door and turned back to him, expecting, he was certain, him to leave. He did not. “Good day, Mr. Archer,” she replied.

Miss Fairchild startled when Nathaniel appeared in the doorway. She looked from one to the other and then in a surprising move, she took a position between them as though expecting some sort of altercation to erupt between them.

David wanted to laugh, for if he decided there was cause for it and it was time to do bodily injury to Nate, her slight form, lovely as it may be, would never stop him. Instead, he took note of the sincerity on her face, the slight frown of concern in her forehead, and stepped back.

“Nathaniel,” he said, nodding his head. “I have a carriage at the ready.”

Miss Fairchild glanced at Nate, the question clear in her expression. Again, her deep brown eyes narrowed and David could almost read her list of questions there. The air around them fairly crackled as she exerted a steely control over her urge to ask them. Nate waited for her to pass and then walked outside.

“Until tomorrow, Miss Fairchild.”

David tipped his hat and then followed Nate back to the carriage. He’d already instructed the driver, so, without delay, they were on their way into the gnarled lanes of traffic that continuously filled the thoroughfares of the growing city.

“Trey…”

David interrupted him with a glance before he could say any more. “Mr. Archer, there really is nothing to discuss,” Nate argued.

He shook his head. “Two acquaintances surely have many things to catch up on after such an absence.” David did not wish to conduct his true business in a hackney in the middle of the thoroughfare. Keeping his identity a secret was difficult enough without jeopardizing any gained success in that regard. “Tell me of Clarinda.”

Although Nate had spoken frequently of his sister, David had never met her. From their exploits as children, he wondered over how she had managed to overcome her rough edges and catch a… “Whom did she marry?”

“Lord MacLerie.”

“His father is the Marquess of—”

“Duran. Just so.” From his curt answers, David knew that he was going to have to pull every bit of information from his friend piece by infinitesimal piece. He let out a frustrated breath. Nate’s glare grew stronger.

“I thought this was to be about our issue of mutual concern, not a time to catch up on family ties.”

“I have not seen you in what…seven years? I simply wish to be polite and set the standard for our behavior in this exchange.”

Nate did not answer then, instead he turned his head and watched as they passed by a number of new buildings under construction along George Street. According to all reports, the New Town would continue to grow for at least several years to come. Nate had been quite canny in his choice of location for his enterprise. The carriage rambled on back over the North and South Bridges and away from both parts of Edinburgh toward Nicolson Road.

“Is your father still in the country?” David paused and waited for a reply. “If I might ask?”

Nate gave up his resistance to talk of such matters and nodded. “Yes. He prefers it during August when the city seems to wilt under the heat or be battered by storms.” David looked over when Nate finished and met the glaring gaze in his old friend’s eyes. “You already know this. Why play this game of cat and mouse with me when we both know that you, or perhaps your father, have had someone looking into my affairs for the last month? Give over and do not pretend that this is of no importance to you?”

They reached their destination—the house he was renting—and he led the way out of the carriage and to the door. Aggrieved but efficient Harley opened it as they approached.

“Good day, my lord. Mr. Hobbs-Smith, it is a pleasure to see you, sir.” Harley took their hats and gloves and led them to the small study. “Would you care for tea or some other stronger refreshments, my lord?”

David smiled as they entered the chamber and Harley simply retrieved glasses and a decanter from the cabinet and filled them with a strong local whisky. Three fingers deep in each glass told him that his valet knew the subject was serious. A moment later, they were alone. He watched as Nate took one mouthful of the liquor and swallowed deeply. His first foray was not long in coming.

“So, why is the Earl of Treybourne hiding his identity and staying in a shabbier part of town instead of the duke’s new acquisition on Charlotte Square?”

“Cutting right to the heart of it, then?” David drank a healthy portion from his glass and set it down before him on the desk. “I am not accustomed to fighting unknown enemies. When my man of business—” he paused and nodded an acknowledgment of Nate’s correct assessment of his attempts to uncover Mr. Goodfellow from afar “—could not discover anything about the interesting Mr. Goodfellow from London, I decided it was time to investigate myself.”

“Trey, Goodfellow sends in the essays each month, timed so that they arrive within the week after yours is published in London.”

“You do not know his whereabouts?” he asked, watching for signs of subterfuge in the response.

“I do not know where he is.” Nate stood now and dragged his hand through his hair. Then, after a moment, he seemed much more confident. “You should know that I support the position behind the essays.”

“I am not completely surprised by that. You always did have a leaning to the liberal side of the aisle.”

Nate stared at him. “As did you, if I remember correctly. When did you accept your father’s politics?”

About the time I began accepting his money, David was ready to admit, but he held the words inside. No need to give the man who was placing his own strategies in danger too much ammunition for the battles to come. David just lifted his head and met Nate’s gaze, conveying the message nonetheless.

“Politics aside, it is the manner in which you’ve pursued your aims that most alarms me. After all, I identified myself from the first word to the latest. Remember also, your Mr. Goodfellow attacked first.”

David watched as Nate drank the rest of his whisky in one gulp. Was he hiding something or simply uncomfortable with his part in embarrassing an old friend?

“Goodfellow fights for a good and worthwhile cause, Trey. I will not force his efforts from the forefront of discussion.”

David stood and walked to the window, peering along the drive leading to the house. Being on the outskirts of Edinburgh, the separate house afforded him a measure of privacy that staying closer would not. Finishing his own whisky, he shook his head. “I am not asking for that, Nate. I do not mind a fight.” He smiled. “As a matter of fact, I relish the challenge of pitting oneself against a worthy adversary. But the methods of this Mr. Goodfellow are what have me riled.”

Since he privately supported the same causes that his opponent advocated, David hoped the discussion could continue. But the tone of the latest had brought out the worst in his father’s circle and that would mean trouble—for him if he did not win the argument and for the ones behind the attacks. The Marquess of Dursby would not endure having his heir’s reputation and his family’s name embarrassed on an ongoing basis. Hell, his father did not allow it for a single incidence, hence the secrecy of his own actions and causes.

“I can no more stop Mr. Goodfellow than I could stop the tides, Trey.” Nate stood as well and shrugged. “I will attempt to argue for a lessening of hostilities, if that will suffice?”

David thought to argue, but hesitated. Staring out the window, he considered the offer, for it sounded sincere and well-meaning. Crossing his arms over his chest, he let the draperies drop back into place and turned to face Nathaniel.

David certainly understood the business situation at work here—the Gazette was more popular now that the feud had begun than before. As its publisher, Nate would face financial difficulties, if not ruin, if he pulled the essays. A more civil battle would be a step. He had no doubt that he could prevail as long as a certain level of decorum was maintained. If the strength of his arguments did not sway many, the weight of his position in society and the wealth behind it would. Knowing the realities of the world, he did not doubt it for a moment.

There was only one thing that stopped his immediate agreement with the terms offered. His essay would most likely arrive in Edinburgh by the day after tomorrow and he suspected that it would not calm the rough waters. Indeed, now that he thought on the tone and wording of his piece, he knew it would stir up more of a response. He’d risen to the insults and issued his own.

“Communicate with Mr. Goodfellow through whatever means you employ to do so and let your ghostly contributor know that Lord Treybourne agrees.”

Part of him tensed inside, readily acknowledging the stretching of the truth in his words. There would be time to explain that his essay had already been submitted and in print before this discussion. He admitted in that moment that he would have to allow one more contentious exchange before they stopped.

“So, do you return to London now?” Nate asked. The unasked but clearly heard rest of the question was before anyone realizes you are here under an assumed name.

David’s efforts at remaining undetected and unrecognized had been a success, but the longer he stayed and the more he went about in public, the more the chance that he would be exposed. Still, there was nothing ignoble about discreetly searching out one’s foe to assess their strengths and weaknesses. Truly not.

“Actually, Ellerton is waiting for my arrival at our hunting box. I had thought a short holiday would be in order since there is time before Parliament is called to session in October.”