LOST: The Love of a Lord Read online

  Ralph shook his head as he turned to leave, paper in hand. His gaze drifted to the drawer that had the rest of his dangled future. Was that offer of an earldom like a worm on a hook? Was there an actual possibility he’d really become an earl?

  Today had been an odd day. But if he could see this through, he’d be able to finally prosecute the real criminals of the realm. The men in charge.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The carriage rumbled along the road as Clara attempted not to fidget. She’d learned the necessary lessons of a lady, but today, she struggled to remember them. She was going to see the new Earl of Kinross in just a few short days.

  She tried to remain still, but she had no idea if she was elated by the idea of seeing him or if she were dreading it. Would her old feelings return? Even if they did, he’d never made a formal promise to her. Would he actually wish to secure a future?

  She looked over at her newly married friend, the Viscountess of Ware. Priscilla had graciously agreed to chaperone Clara for this trip and she was well aware of Clara’s mother’s condition and Clara’s feelings of urgency. She’d like to be settled in time for her mother to witness the blessed event.

  Priscilla sat to Clara’s left in the forward-facing seat, attempting to sleep while her husband, the Viscount Ware, lounged across from his wife with his hat pulled low over his eyes.

  Next to him was Viscount Ware’s…well, Clara wasn’t entirely certain what Mr. Fitzroy was to the viscount. Friend? Associate? Protector?

  They’d met some months ago when he’d been introduced as the viscount’s valet, but if that were the case, he’d be in the carriage behind them with the other servants. Why did he ride with them? Was he here for their protection as they traveled?

  She took in his sheer size as her hands pressed together in her lap. Mr. Fitzroy was large. Impressively so.

  Not overly fat, quite the opposite. He had the barrel chest of a heavily muscled man. But where Kinross was athletically lithe, Mr. Fitzroy’s muscles added a great deal of bulk to his frame. In fact, he looked like he hardly fit into his neatly tailored tweed coat. Coupled with his bowler hat, he looked like a valet.

  His dark hair was rather unruly and his brown eyes a sort of warm shade that reminded Clara of melted chocolate, but the skin about them pulled into taut lines as though he grimaced often.

  And the set of his mouth…he perpetually frowned.

  She shifted again, wondering what he found so fascinating out the window. She flicked open her curtain to see another rolling field, which looked exactly the same as the one they’d passed the last time she’d glanced out the window. She let out a long sigh.

  “In a hurry?” Mr. Fitzroy asked with a low rumble of disapproval.

  That was another thing. Servants rarely spoke with open disapproval. She was certain they felt the emotion, they just kept it to themselves.

  Her nose wrinkled as she looked back at him. “Traveling is the worst part of any journey.”

  He cocked a brow, giving her sideways look as clear as if he’d just said the words foolish girl. “Traveling is the journey.”

  A frown pulled at one side of her mouth. He wasn’t wrong. “I much prefer the part when we’ve reached the destination.”

  “You’re anxious to arrive at a funeral?”

  Gads. He was annoyingly right again. “I’m anxious to see my brother and other guests I haven’t seen in quite some time.”

  He grunted some noise that sounded a bit like agreement. How irritating. She pushed back the curtain again to stare out at the field for no other reason than to end this ridiculous conversation.

  But after a minute, Mr. Fitzroy saw fit to start talking again. “I’ve never liked funerals. For any reason.”

  “Then why attend this one?” she asked, allowing the lace to slip through her gloved fingers. She glanced back at him as she waited for his answer because…well…she was curious. Would he say it was his job as valet?

  He shrugged. “I’ve made a habit of going where Wyatt goes.”

  Wyatt was Viscount Ware, Priscilla’s new husband. They were glowingly happy in a way that made Clara almost uncomfortable. How likely was it she’d receive that sort of future? “Why?”

  Mr. Fitzroy grimaced as though the question pained him. And then he leaned back against the seat and commenced looking out the window as though he hadn’t just ignored a direct question.

  She huffed a breath, wondering why the man insisted on being so rude.

  It was Viscount Ware who finally answered. “Ralph and I are childhood friends.”

  She smiled at the viscount in thanks, noting his return grin and how it pulled on the scar on his left cheek. Priscilla had told her he’d received the scar when he’d been attacked by thieves. Perhaps that was the reason Mr. Fitzroy felt the viscount needed protection.

  Though Wyatt seemed to be in excellent shape himself.

  Priscilla sat up too, patting her dark curls and adjusting her skirts. “Ralph is a former boxer,” she volunteered, as though that explained why he’d be attending a funeral. Clara did not point out that it gave little pertinent information, unless of course, he really was here to help keep them safe.

  “Have there been increased robberies on the roads of England?” she asked, looking at the various occupants. To her complete annoyance, they all laughed, as though she’d said something hilariously funny. She scowled. “You’re the one who mentioned he was a boxer.”

  “You’re right,” Priscilla said, covering up her small giggle. “But I only meant that Wyatt and Ralph are training partners and they work out together daily.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why a viscount would need to spar daily while at a funeral, but she decided to abandon the attempt to learn more. She’d been filling the time mostly, and it seemed as though no matter how many questions she asked, she didn’t get any closer to an actual answer that made actual sense.

  And so the carriage rumbled on, silence falling once again. The afternoon passed with agonizing silence until they finally stopped for the evening.

  The inn was quaint enough, with a bright red door and clean, multipaned windows. The fence about the front gardens was freshly painted a bright white, and perfumed flowers bloomed in the well-tended beds. Clara breathed a sigh of relief to exit the carriage. First, she was tired of riding, and second, the three-day trip was a third of the way complete.

  As they made their way inside, Mr. Fitzroy and Viscount Ware enquired about a private dining room and accommodations, while she and Priscilla stood to the side out of the fray.

  “So many travelers,” Priscilla murmured. “Do you wonder what their stories might be?”

  Clara cocked a brow. “I’m still puzzling over the fourth member of our party. I don’t have room to wonder about other travelers.”

  Priscilla blushed a bit. “I wish I could tell you more.”

  “Tell me what?” Now her interest truly was piqued. What and why were their secrets about Mr. Fitzroy?

  “I’ll tell you all of it when we return to London,” Priscilla whispered before Lord Ware made his way back over to them, Mr. Fitzroy just behind.

  “We’ve secured rooms,” Viscount Ware announced as he stopped in front of his wife. “I’ll have our trunks brought upstairs.”

  Mr. Fitzroy gave a single nod of acknowledgement before he walked past their party and down the hall that led to the tavern.

  Her brows shot up. “Your valet isn’t going to get the bags for you?”

  Ware cleared his throat. “He’s never been a particularly good valet.”

  No. Indeed he was not. Though to be fair to him, Clara seriously doubted he was a valet at all.

  Ralph sat sipping his ale as he enjoyed a brief moment of peace.

  This trip was turning out even worse than he’d imagined and that was saying something. He’d expected this errand for the queen to be painful at best and dangerous at worst, but added to the annoyance of being forced to spy, he’d been saddled with the mo
st… He searched for the proper word for Clara Melby.

  Troublesome? She hadn’t actually caused any.

  Snooty? Her huffs and sighs certainly indicated as much, but she’d not actually insulted him that he could recall.

  Vexing…that was the word he searched for.

  She fidgeted constantly, she asked a ridiculous number of questions, and she looked like she belonged in one of those renaissance paintings depicting heaven.

  He fully realized most wouldn’t think that last point was a flaw. But her blonde hair and light green eyes bordered on distracting. And then there was the perfect symmetry of her delicate features and the flowing swish of her hands.

  Add a nice bosom to all of that…

  Strictly speaking, he didn’t know if bosoms were angelic. He’d never studied art and he hardly paid attention in church, but if a bosom could be perfect, hers was. Not overly large but not small, either. Just right.

  His mood soured further as he realized he sat alone in a tavern considering her chest. What the bloody bollocks was wrong with him?

  She was everything he didn’t like: rich, impatient, likely elitist. Though the last one he didn’t know for certain. But the traits often went together.

  Why was he thinking of her at all? He ought to be thinking about how he’d learn anything of value from or about the new Earl of Kinross. Besides, a woman like her would never agree with his plan to expose society once he became earl.

  As a large man, sneaking wasn’t exactly his strength, so shadowed spying was a limited option. Wyatt would likely help on that front. But Wyatt should be involved in this as little as possible now that he was married and had a family to protect.

  Ralph could inquire in the village near the Earl of Kinross’s home. He’d listen to the servants too. He could search rooms, he supposed. But what we he even looking for? There wasn’t likely to be a document that stated I killed my father. He was a complete git.

  He sighed into his ale and then took another long swig.

  “Either pretend to be my valet or don’t,” Wyatt said behind him. “But your half measures have done nothing but pique Clara’s interest.”

  “Tell her to mind it, then,” he muttered into his mug. He should have known this lecture was coming.

  “She’s every right to wonder about my impertinent valet.”

  He gave Wyatt his fiercest scowl. Most men would have trembled in fear but Wyatt knew him far too well to be the least bit frightened. “I’m many things, most of them bad, but a valet isn’t one of them.”

  “On this trip, you are,” Wyatt growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “The new earl will not take kindly to impostors gracing his father’s funeral. For your own safety, be convincing.”

  Fair point.

  “And try to be nicer to Clara. Her brother and the earl are best friends. What’s more, Kinross and Clara—” Wyatt stopped speaking, his mouth twitching down into a frown.

  But Ralph set down his mug, turning to look at Wyatt. If he was going to get this investigation over with as quickly as possible and start toward his future, he’d need a way to find out information about Kinross. “Kinross and Clara are what? Why did you hesitate?”

  “Well, Clara hasn’t confirmed this, but it’s rumored that Kinross has laid a fair bit of favor on Clara. There’s been talk of the two being tied.”

  Ralph’s jaw clenched. “You’re just telling me this now?”

  Wyatt’s gaze narrowed in response. “I know an earldom hangs in the balance, but you’re not to put Clara in any—and I mean any—compromising situations. Is that clear?”

  “Who said anything about compromising?” He tapped his thick finger on the bar, a plan beginning to form. Clara might be able to help him. If he could get this investigation wrapped up quickly, then he could start deciding what it meant to be part of the peerage. Was it even a position he wanted? His father hadn’t made it look all that appealing.

  Not that his future had any clear path prior. Far from it. Beyond keeping Wyatt safe, he had no plan at all.

  “Ralph…”

  He scratched his chin. “You’re right. I should be nicer. I’m rather out of sorts since that meeting at the palace.”

  “Really? You seem like your normal surly self to me.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m not jesting. You’re always this grumpy. What’s more, I’m not jesting about Clara, either. You’re not to involve her in any of your investigative attempts.”

  Ralph turned back to his ale.

  He didn’t outright disagree with Wyatt, but he didn’t agree, either. At the very least, Clara would make an excellent source of information that he’d begin collecting tomorrow.

  CHAPTER THREE

  If yesterday’s carriage ride had been a bore, Clara reflected, today’s was…odd.

  They sat in the same places, with Mr. Fitzroy across from her once again. But rather than stare out the window, he fixed his gaze on her.

  If she’d shifted about in her impatience yesterday, she sat still as a statue now, thinking that if she were dull enough, he’d turn his attention elsewhere. He didn’t.

  Finally, when they stopped to stretch their legs, Priscilla and her new husband started a stroll down the lane as the horses were tended. Though servants milled about, she had a moment of relative privacy to turn to Mr. Fitzroy and give him a baffled expression as she asked, “Mister Fitzroy, pray tell me what I’ve done to capture your attention today.”

  By way of answer, he held out his arm as though to escort her…somewhere. Which confused her all the more. She did not accept his offered arm, frowning at his bulging biceps instead.

  He gave her a long look in return. “I thought we might follow Wyatt and Priscilla in order to stretch our legs.”

  He was concerned about her legs? “Mister Fitzroy?”

  He cleared his throat. “And we can talk.”

  Talk? About what? Her head cocked to the side as she studied him. He hardly seemed the type for niceties. Interest piqued, she gave a tentative nod, and then, after another hesitation because for some reason touching him seemed dangerous, she slipped her fingers into his elbow.

  The oddest sensation tingled across her skin at the touch. She pulled as far from him as she could, confused, as they started walking along the grass side of the lane.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” he said as they started off. “A bit windy.”

  “It’s England. It’s always windy,” she answered, impatient to know what he actually wished to discuss, her nerves suddenly even jumpier than usual.

  “Not much for idle conversation, are you?”

  That was very true and she gave him an apologetic wince. “Sorry. No. It drives my father mad that I’m not more skilled at disguising my impatience.”

  He chuckled at that. “You know, I don’t mind that so much. Spending time with the elite often feels as though we could talk for hours and say nothing.”

  She knew what he meant. “The rules are endless. Adhering to them all takes an excessively long time in polite conversation and in every other aspect of life too.” She drew in a deep breath, seizing the opportunity to address her questions about him from yesterday. “Something as a valet I’m sure you understand.”

  He gave her a long look. “I think you might have guessed that I’m not strictly a valet.”

  She stopped, her eyes widening in excitement. Yesterday, everyone had been so hush hush. Why the sudden change? But she set that question aside as she focused on satisfying her curiosity as to his role in Viscount Ware’s life. “It was rather obvious when you didn’t bring up the luggage.”

  “Right,” he answered with a hint of a smile. He looked so much nicer when he smiled. While he could never look soft, he looked warmer. “That’s because I’m actually a relation of Wyatt’s and not really a trained valet at all.”

  Several questions tumbled into her thoughts at once. Why would he pose as a valet? What did he hope to gain? Why was he telling her this now?


  But she quelled them all and decided to just listen. “Relation?”

  “I’m his bastard brother.”

  She held in her gasp. It wasn’t shocking that Wyatt had an illegitimate sibling, but that Mr. Fitzroy had been so upfront about it did surprise her. They started moving again, Priscilla and Ware far enough ahead not to hear. “I posed as his valet after he was attacked and received that scar on his cheek. My role is more to help keep him safe than anything else.”

  So it had been safety! “The former boxer turned valet is with him at all times in case any issues should arise.”

  “That’s right. I’m here should he need me. Protecting my family is my main concern.”

  “That’s rather noble.”

  “Thank you.” He looked down the road then, tension pulling at his eyes and mouth. “Wyatt is the only family I have. So when I realized there might be a threat on this trip…”

  Fear seized her muscles as her hand tightened on his arm and she instinctually moved closer. Odd that when she thought danger was near, she was more than happy to be close to Mr. Fitzroy. “What kind of threat?”

  “Nothing that need concern you,” he answered, his voice dropping into a soothing tone. “It’s all very political and it has to do with lords and—”

  Her sharp inhale stopped him midsentence. Clara hated the idea that Wyatt was in danger, but Priscilla might be in danger with him. She pressed her fingers to her lips as she allowed his words to sink in. Then she dropped them again, her thoughts racing. “What do you mean by political? Does this have to do with the recent discussions in Parliament over age and gender restrictions on the workers within coal mines? I know that Lord Ware argued for the bill and my family supports it too, even though we own a mine ourselves. To think of children being allowed to work in such conditions… Who opposed the motion? Do you know? Are they behind the threat?”

  Mr. Fitzroy winced. “No. Nothing like that.”

  “Mister Fitzroy, please feel free to be specific. I’m reasonably well read and knowledgeable on a fair number of topics. I’ll understand whatever you say. I don’t like idleness, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and if I can help in any way—”