Wanted: An Earl for Hire: Calling all Rakes Read online

  And now that her uncle, the Duke of Wiltshire, had left her, not a small fortune, but a large one, her mother wished for her to try again.

  Charlotte wasn’t a fool. She knew she’d find a husband with the sort of money she now possessed, just as she also understood that she’d been feeling a bit…hollow of late as she tried to find a direction for her life.

  But that didn’t mean she’d be silly enough to fall in love with a man who only wanted her money.

  “Perhaps you should take a trip. A grand tour. Get out of England. Meet some Frenchmen or Americans or…” Her mother was winding up, ideas flowing.

  “Mother.” Charlotte raised a hand. It wasn’t that it was a bad idea. In fact, taking her friends on a trip sounded lovely. But she’d committed to this investigation. Somehow, completing this task meant a lot for her. Who would help these lost souls if she didn’t? The men in charge of investigating certainly weren’t aware of just how frightening it was to be so powerless. Which was why she needed to do this for her future and for theirs. “Perhaps in a few months…”

  Did she want to prove to herself that her intelligence made her capable? That she could be useful without a husband? A benefit to England even. At least its female population. Princess Victoria would rule England. She was a woman, unmarried and rich. If she could be of service, why couldn’t Charlotte?

  Did she have to have a husband to be…fulfilled?

  “Why not now?” Her mother rose again, crossing over to the desk and taking Charlotte’s hands. “You’re not getting any younger and as of now, you’re still young enough that you’re not actually a spinster.”

  Charlotte huffed, pulling her hands from her mothers. “What does that matter? He, whoever he is, will be marrying me for my money anyhow, won’t he?”

  Her mother’s mouth twisted. “Don’t be like that. You’re pretty, Charlotte. Statuesque.”

  “So it will be for my looks then?”

  Her mother’s hands came back to her hips. “It’s rather annoying that I can no longer—”

  “Decree? Dictate?”

  “Guide.”

  A throat cleared from the doorway.

  Both women turned to see the butler standing in the open door, his hands calmly folded in front of him. “Forgive my interruption.”

  Her mother gave a single nod.

  “But the Earl of Westmoreland is here to see Miss Charlotte.”

  A smile instantly curved her mother’s lips.

  Charlotte wished in that moment she might be able to curse. Her uncle, having no heirs of his own, and Charlotte being his only direct niece or nephew, had left Charlotte with every penny of his considerable fortune that hadn’t been entailed.

  It officially made her the second-richest woman in England. A fact that was quietly making her mother miserable.

  “Earl of Westmoreland?” her mother asked, looking back at Charlotte. “Are you acquainted?”

  Charlotte nipped at her bottom lip. She’d informed Hughes, the butler, and her confidante on more than one occasion, that if anyone came asking for C.P. he was to bring that person to her. But with her mother here, she couldn’t ask what form of address the earl had used.

  Because it was also possible that Westmoreland had just heard about her inheritance, and he was here hunting a fortune.

  “Of course we’re acquainted,” she answered. “Why else would he be here?”

  Hughes’ brows lifted a notch, but he said nothing.

  Her mother’s smile, grew wider, beaming. “Why didn’t you just tell me from the beginning of our conversation?” And then she spun toward the door. “I’ll send Grace in to chaperone.”

  Charlotte gasped but covered it with a cough. Grace was nearly deaf and partially blind, but she’d been living with the family so long, no one had the heart to send her anywhere else. She was family after all, though why she’d never chosen to live with one of her own sons was a mystery to Charlotte.

  But with Aunt Grace’s condition, her mother was practically granting her freedom with the earl. She must be truly desperate to see Charlotte wed.

  Most advantageous.

  The butler turned to retrieve the earl as her mother left to fetch Grace.

  Charlotte sat back in her chair, her letter to Alexi forgotten. Her fingers tingled with anticipation as she considered why the earl had come and how she would ascertain his intentions.

  It took a quarter hour, but Tate was finally on his way to meet the person who’d placed the ad.

  In that time, he’d wondered over and over whom might make such a request and why. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he followed the butler.

  He’d come up with no answers, but as he moved through the well-appointed townhouse in Mayfair, he knew he was about to find out.

  The door opened in front of him, revealing a sitting room painted in a tasteful cream, a few gold accents winking in the sun.

  “Miss Charlotte.” The butler bowed. “The Earl of Westmoreland.”

  His lips parted as he halted before the door. Miss Charlotte? A woman? Correction. An unmarried woman had placed the ad? The idea of a widow looking for a lover had actually occurred to him. A man needing a powerful friend to help him out of a sticky situation had also crossed his mind. But an unmarried woman? Did she need a lord to lay favor on her to help with marriage prospects?

  If she did, that might be an interesting trade indeed.

  He could garner information about marriageable women while helping her find men. Did she have a dowry herself?

  His mind spun.

  Was he actually about to look upon the answer to the problems that had plagued him these past months?

  He entered the room, his gaze sweeping over the plush furniture and well-appointed décor. In the corner sat an elderly woman quietly knitting. Was it a scarf? The loose threads dangled from her twisted fingers.

  Was she the one who’d placed the ad? Surely an old woman did not need a lord as a companion. He swallowed a lump. Did she? What had he gotten himself into?

  “My lord?” another feminine voice called. A mezzo soprano, it had a richness that caused gooseflesh to rise on his arms.

  He turned to see a woman standing by the writing table. Tall and slender, a mass of thick brown hair was piled atop her head. Her features were classic and fine, except her lips, which were a lovely shade of pale pink that were so full and lush… Something far deeper than goose pimples settled in the pit of his stomach.

  She wore spectacles, thin wire-rimmed frames that did little to hide her beauty.

  As she moved from behind the desk, her natural grace sent his gaze sliding down her lithe figure, but he only made it to her breasts.

  Where his eyes stopped. A second and then two before he forced his gaze back up to meet her warm brown ones. “C.P.?”

  A fetching smile pulled at her lips as she kept moving toward him. “Lord Westmoreland.” That smokey voice trilled over him again. “A pleasure.”

  “Did I hear the butler refer to you as Miss Charlotte? Is that the C in C.P.?”

  “It is.” She reached out a hand to him then and he grasped hers. “Miss Charlotte Pennington.”

  “So you placed the ad?”

  She gave a quick nod, her eyes dancing. He noted that their light brown color was framed with thick dark lashes. “I did.”

  He cleared his throat, looking over at the chaperone in the corner. The circumstances were odd indeed.

  Miss Charlotte dropped his hand and leaned in, her voice dropping lower. “She’s near deaf. You must have several questions.”

  He did. If he could only remember them. Because her scent wrapped about him. Fresh like flowers in the morning, washed by dew, he inhaled deeply. “As must you.”

  “I do,” she said gesturing for him to sit. “Please.”

  He nodded and sat in a settee across from her, trying very hard not to stare. Her gaze seemed to drink him in a quick sweep that was far more discreet than his assessment of her had been. Had she n
oted the worn condition of his boots?

  The threadbare appearance of his coat?

  “Would you like to begin, or shall I?”

  He inclined his head. “Ladies first.”

  One of her brows quirked as she removed the spectacles from her face. Dear lord above and the devil below. The sassy expression coupled with the removal of her spectacles near stole his breath.

  He shook his head.

  She was a miss. Not a lady.

  Which sent his earlier questions swirling. A lady to lead him through a society? Or an heiress to fill the coffers?

  While Miss Charlotte was truly lovely, she didn’t appear to be either.

  This house, while distinguished, wasn’t overly large. It didn’t speak of great fortune, just modest wealth.

  “I am in need of…” she paused, looking up at the ceiling as though words floated up there to be plucked down and used. “A man.”

  “I understood that from your ad. In fact, you specifically requested a lord.”

  “So I did.” Her toe tapped lightly as her hands pressed together. “This is rather delicate.”

  He smiled, scooting forward in his seat. “Are you hoping for an escort? Someone who might create a frenzy of interest about town?” He didn’t tell her no one knew who he was, but his title should do the trick, all the while, getting him in front of the ton.

  A little line appeared between her brows. “Tell me, my lord. Why do you assume that I need help creating interest?”

  His mouth opened and then closed.

  Her lips pressed into a line. “Do I seem that unfortunate to you?”

  Damn. He’d stepped into trouble already. “No. As a matter of point, you are quite lovely.”

  The straight line of her mouth turned down into a frown. “Have you heard of me, besides the ad?”

  “Heard of you?” Should he have? “Miss Pennington, I have to confess that I have only recently acquired the title and am unfamiliar with anyone even remotely related to society. Which I’m assuming you are if I’m supposed to have heard of you?”

  She seemed to relax a bit, her expression softening, but he had the distinct impression they were saying a great deal while communicating very little.

  She was not the simple sort of woman who laid things out. She made him work for his information. While he appreciated her obvious intelligence, he’d very much like to gain some ground here. “I simply wish to know what it is you’re hiring for and how much you’re paying.”

  Her brows lifted even as her lush lips parted. “Of course. Let me first assure you that I do not need you to pose as a suitor. Marriage is not my aim.”

  He gave a simple nod but now his curiosity was piqued. She was young, but not in her first year. What woman wasn’t looking for a husband at her age? “Very well.”

  “I am, however, taking on a pet project.”

  Was he to be the pet? Tate did not cavort with a great number of women, and while he found this one exceedingly attractive, he wasn’t certain he liked where this was heading. “Pet project?”

  She nodded, leaning in, and dropping her voice to a whisper again. “I’ve noticed some strange stories in the paper.”

  He leaned forward too, with a look at the deaf chaperone. “Why are we whispering?”

  “My mother was extremely excited by your visit, she might be listening,” Charlotte replied with a wave of her hand.

  He cocked a brow. While marriage was not on her agenda, it was clearly on her mother’s.

  “Please, continue,” he whispered back.

  She gave a nod. “Have you noticed stories of murdered women of late?”

  Now he was completely and thoroughly confused. Not that it mattered. Now that she’d started, she kept going.

  “The papers are saying they aren’t related, but I think they’re wrong.”

  “Wrong how?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve noticed they happen every third week precisely on a Tuesday. The bodies are always found in the early morning and always stabbed in the stomach. Odd, don’t you think, for crimes that aren’t related?”

  Christ. “I suppose that it is a bit odd. I have to confess, however, that I have not been following the murders personally.”

  She gave a nod. “Understandable. You’ve had a fair bit of your own troubles, I’m certain.”

  What did she know of his troubles? He straightened up, a bit of embarrassment tightening his muscles. “My problems are my own.”

  She nodded, scooting closer still. He caught another whiff of her scent. “Of course. It must be terribly difficult to take on such responsibility with so little funds available. That’s why you’re here, correct?”

  How did she know that? He smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt as he straightened. “Does everyone know my situation?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose. Does that bother you?”

  “I suppose.”

  She winced good-naturedly. “I’m sorry. I only bring it up because I’m certain you need money. And I need…” Now she rose from the seat and crossed to his, settling next to him. Her smell wrapped about him even as her slender hip brushed his. “I need a man who can speak with the people who won’t speak to me, follow leads society will not allow me to follow, ask the questions that are ignored when a woman asks them.”

  He blinked. Once. Twice. “You want me to help you conduct an investigation?” Of all his theories, that hadn’t cracked the top twenty. Not even the top one hundred.

  “Precisely.” She let out a long breath, her shoulders relaxing. “I need an assistant and I’d like it to be you. Name your price.”

  “My…my price?” He swallowed. He needed to fix the tenement houses so that he could house the farmhands to plant this spring. But that would take more money than this woman could ever give him. It was a ridiculous idea coming here. Was she going to offer him a bit of pin money? He had responsibilities. Duties. And a fortune to find. “One thousand pounds.”

  She leaned back, looking at him. “One thousand pounds. That’s quite a bit.”

  The strange thing was that she didn’t look shocked or crestfallen. No. She was considering him. The way a hunter did its prey. Sizing him up, measuring his worth.

  Why couldn’t she have just wanted a fake suitor? “Miss Pennington?”

  “One thousand pounds it is, but for the next fortnight, you will be at my complete disposal.”

  And then without another word, she got up and made her way to the desk.

  He stared after her, reminding himself to keep him mouth closed, lest it hang open.

  Whatever he’d thought coming into this meeting, he had to confess, he’d never imagined becoming an amateur detective would be the outcome.

  Chapter Three

  Charlotte looked back, having expected Lord Westmoreland to have followed. But he still sat on the settee. Staring.

  If only his stare was not so disconcerting. Dark hair accentuated his handsome features and his penetrating green eyes seemed to see straight inside her, all her secrets exposed, under the intensity of his gaze. His jaw was lean and square, his shoulders broad, chest tapered and lean. There was an energy about him, an intensity that she found…arresting.

  The only feature to soften him were his waves of hair, careless and almost windblown, with large curls, they begged for fingers to run through them.

  Which she was not at liberty to do. Unfortunately.

  “Lord Westmoreland?”

  “You’re going to pay me a thousand pounds?”

  “Yes.”

  “For a fortnight?”

  She tapped her toe again, thinking that detail through. “Drat. You’re right. The last murder was only a few days ago. Assuming we can’t find clues from the last four murders, we’ll need to have you on retainer for the next.”

  “Next?”

  “Was I not clear? The attacks happen precisely every three weeks.”

  “And you have a thousand pounds. To give me now?”

  “No
w?” She shifted, growing a bit nervous for the first time during this interview. “I should think we might set up a payment schedule. Paying in full for services not yet rendered hardly makes sense from my perspective. An advance sounds fair, but then I will pay you weekly for the remainder of the month. Is that suitable? And now that I’m retaining your services for a month rather than a fortnight, should the sum be two thousand pounds?”

  But he still didn’t rise. “You can pay me two thousand pounds in the next month? And this isn’t part of your dowry?” His face held his obvious skepticism as he stared at her.

  She bristled at that look. She knew of the previous Earl of Westmoreland’s financial difficulties and of his death too. Nearly everyone was privy to those details. It was somewhat unfair that she kept her own circumstances to herself, but then again, the new Earl of Westmoreland might get ideas if he knew about her inheritance.

  If he didn’t know already. Was that truly why he was here?

  He was new to society, and he couldn’t have known it was her who’d placed the ad. His situation must be truly desperate that he was answering ads in the paper for work. She’d hired herself an earl…

  “No. My father is in charge of my dowry, just like any other woman of my station.”

  “And what is your station?”

  She moved back toward him, stopping just a few feet in front of him. He rose at her approach, which she regretted a touch. It would have been nice to look down on him as they had this rather awkward conversation. “Is that your concern?”

  “I suppose that it is. We’ll be together. Your mother, as you indicated, has some aspirations.”

  “My mother’s aspirations are her own and I will deal with her.” She filled her lungs. “I am the first daughter of a second son of a well-titled family.” She left out the particulars. Best not to make the trail of crumbs to her inheritance too obvious. “But I can assure you we will remain chaperoned and what’s more, my parents will not force a match.” They can’t.

  He gave her an exceedingly long look as though he were trying to decide. “And you have two thousand pounds at your disposal?”