In the Arms of a Marquess(107)

“Lady Katherine.” Lambert’s drawl interrupted her bemusement. “I present to you the Earl of Blackwood, lately returned from the East Indies. Blackwood, this is Savege’s sister.”

“Ma’am.” He nodded by way of bowing, she supposed.

Drawing her arm from his hold, she curtsied. “I do not mind the dog, my lord. But—” She gestured toward his costume. “—isn’t it rather large for chasing sheep about? I daresay wolves would suit it better.”

“Aye, maleddy. But things be no always whit thay seem.”

Now she could not help but stare. Behind the beautifully dark, hooded eyes, something glinted. A hint of steel.

Then, like a thorough barbarian, without another word he moved away.

But she must be a little drunk after all; she followed him with her gaze.

In the shadows at the edge of the ballroom, a satyr with a matted chest of hair and a hand wrapped around a half-filled goblet leered over a maid—not a costumed guest but an actual maid. A tray of glasses weighed down her narrow shoulders. The satyr pawed. The girl backed into the wall, using her dish as a shield.

Lord Blackwood stepped casually between the two.

“Weel nou, sir,” he said in a rough voice that carried above the music and conversation. “Did yer mither nae teach ye better as tae bother a lass when she’s haurd at wirk?” His brow furrowed. “Be aff wi’ ye, man, or A’ll be giving ye a lesson in manners nou.”

The satyr seemed to size him up, but the earl’s measure was clear. Shepherd’s garb could not disguise a man in the prime of his life.

“She’s going to waste working on her feet,” the satyr snarled, but he stumbled away.

“Ah,” Lambert murmured at Kitty’s shoulder. “A champion of the working class. How affecting.”

At the touch of his breath upon her cheek, her skin crawled.

Lord Blackwood spoke quietly to the maid now and Kitty could not hear him. The girl’s eyes widened and she nodded, her face filled with trust. As though she expected it, she allowed him to relieve her of the tray of glasses. Then she dipped her head and disappeared into the crowd.

Lambert’s hand came around Kitty’s elbow.

“Don’t bother, Kit.” His blue eyes glittered. “Since his wife died, Blackwood’s not the marrying type, either.” His grin was cruel.

He enjoyed imagining she was unhappy because he would not marry her. Years ago, ruining her had been entirely about insulting her brothers whom he despised. But now Kitty knew he simply liked to think she pined for him. Indeed she had pretended gorgeously, allowing him liberties to keep him close. Because she believed she needed to see him suffer as she had. First when he refused her marriage. Then when he proved to her that she was barren.

She looked back toward the man who had lost his young wife years earlier yet who still remained faithful to her. A rough-hewn man who in the middle of a society crush rescued a serving girl from abuse.

From the shadows the Earl of Blackwood met her regard. A flicker of hardness once more lit the dark warmth of his eyes.

Things were not always what they seemed.

But Kitty already knew that better than anybody.



1

London, 1816

Fellow Subjects of Britain,

How delinquent is Government if it distributes the sorely depleted Treasury of our Noble Kingdom hither and yon without recourse to prudence, justice, or reason?Gravely so.Irresponsibly so.Villainously so!As you know, I have made it my crusade to make public all such spendthrift waste. This month I offer yet another example: #14? Dover Street.What use has Society of an exclusive gentlemen’s club if no gentlemen are ever seen to pass through its door? — that white-painted panel graced with an intimidating knocker, a Bird of Prey. But the door never opens. Do the exalted members of this club ever use their fashionable clubhouse?It appears not.Information has recently come to me through perilous channels I swim solely for your benefit, Fellow Subjects. It appears that without proper debate Lords has approved by Secret Ballot an allotment to the Home Office designated for this so-called club. And yet for what purpose does the club exist but to pamper the indolent rich for whom such establishments are already Legion? There can be no good in this Rash Expenditure.I vow to uncover this concealed squandering of our kingdom’s Wealth. I will discover the names of each member of this club, and what business or play passes behind its imposing knocker. Then, dear readers, I will reveal it to you.— Lady JusticeSir,

I regretfully notify you that agents Eagle, Sea Hawk, Raven, and Sparrow have withdrawn from service, termination effective immediately. The Falcon Club, it appears, is disbanded. I of course shall remain until all outstanding cases are settled.Additionally, I draw your attention to the pamphlet of 10 December 1816, produced by Brittle & Sons, Printers, enclosed. Poor old girl is doomed to disappointment.Yours, &c.,Peregrine