Wanted: An Earl for Hire: Calling all Rakes Page 4

  His lips parted. “I see.”

  “She has…reservations.”

  He looked over at Miss Ayers again. Her hands were clasped as she frowned. “I mean no disrespect, my lord. But my cousin is very dear to me.”

  He gave a nod. “I completely understand, Miss Ayers. Mine was as well.”

  He heard Charlotte’s quick intake of breath. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  An awkward silence filled the carriage as it began rolling down the cobblestoned street.

  “Has the adjustment been difficult? Becoming the earl?” Miss Ayers asked, her voice filled with earnest concern.

  So strange. Miss Ayers was a lovely, beautiful woman and yet… “In all honesty. Yes. For a host of reasons.”

  Both women nodded.

  Charlotte leaned forward, her eyes also tinged with sympathy. Part of him hated her pity. “What did you do before you inherited the title?”

  “I was a solicitor,” he said. “I wish that meant I had the skills to change my financial situation…”

  “You must have assets in order to manage them,” Charlotte answered for him.

  She was smart as a whip. “Quite right.”

  “And you can’t earn enough as a solicitor?” Miss Ayers asked.

  Both he and Charlotte shook their heads at the same time. “A truly wealthy client might help but…”

  Charlotte shifted in her seat. “A good match is the most likely solution to your troubles.”

  “Yes. I’ve come to that conclusion myself.”

  Miss Ayers clasped her hands in her lap. “So why take on this position then? If the solution is to marry.”

  For rising to the position of earl, this conversation was making him feel very low, indeed. Confessing his woes to two beautiful women. “I need time,” he answered.

  “Time for what?” Charlotte asked.

  “I don’t even know where to begin my search. How am I supposed to choose a bride when I’m completely unaware of the choices?”

  He could have sworn he heard her mutter “interesting” under her breath. But as the carriage weaved through a rush of other vehicles, her attention focused out the window.

  “We’re nearly there.”

  “Where is there?” he asked, studying her profile, the delicate column of her neck.

  “Number Four Whitehall Place.”

  “The New Police?” Surprise coursed through him. He thought she might be conducting the investigation the way one might study math or research a paper. Behind a desk. That she might present the news articles for him to read, and together, they could discuss and come to conclusions.

  “You’ll ask for Inspector Scully.”

  “Inspector?” Once again, his expectations of Charlotte Pennington had not prepared him for the reality. “You want me to speak to the Inspector?”

  “He won’t talk to me.” She sniffed then. “I’ve tried.”

  He did look at Miss Ayers then. Because what he was hearing could not be right.

  “You have a tendency to come on a bit strong.” Miss Ayers rubbed her cousin’s arm.

  “Don’t blame me. Priscilla got the same treatment and she’s the picture of charm.” Charlotte looked at him. “I want to know if the police think the murders are connected. Express your concern as a lord of the realm.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not in charge of anyone but my butler and not even him, really.”

  Charlotte gave him a glowing smile. “I’ve every confidence in you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Mostly because you look like the sort of man who might be in charge and the inspector will have no idea you’re new to the title.”

  “But I know.”

  “Fake it.” She waved her hand, then she leaned forward, handing him a sheet from her reticule. “Other bits of information I’m hoping to acquire. Should I send Mona in to fawn over you? Play your countess?”

  Miss Ayers gasped at the same time he made a noise deep in his throat. Why did it bother him that she wanted to send the other woman in as his wife? “Why can’t you come with me? Since you know what needs to be asked.”

  Charlotte looked up at the ceiling. “He knows me, and he won’t tell me a thing. I’ve tried.”

  “Perhaps if you’d offered the inspector the thousand pounds…” Miss Ayers suggested, raising a finger.

  “You can’t bribe an inspector, Mona. I mean sometimes you can, but I suspect that Inspector Scully would take great delight in prosecuting me for an illegal act.”

  “What did you do to the man?” he asked, barely containing a laugh. Charlotte Pennington was as interesting as she was beautiful.

  Her jaw clenched and it was Miss Ayers who answered. “She questioned his intelligence and ability to complete the investigation.”

  A hearty laugh bubbled up from his throat. It broke out sounding a bit rusty, but the act felt good all the same. When was the last time he’d laughed? “Thank you for sharing. I do believe it has set the perfect tone and I know exactly what not to say to the inspector.” He looked at Miss Ayers. “Please stay in the carriage with your cousin. I’ll conduct the interview myself.”

  And then he snapped the door open. He wasn’t sure what he’d landed himself in, but his worries had largely vanished. If nothing else, he’d get a bit of money back from this venture, and perhaps, a little zeal for life that had died with Alfred.

  Chapter Five

  The moment the door snapped shut, the inquisition began.

  Charlotte knew she should have left Mona at home.

  “You hired him?”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Mona said as she pushed the curtain back further, watching him go up the steps. “You should marry him.”

  “Mona!”

  “I mean it.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “Then your mother is right.” Mona craned her neck. “If my dowry were better, I’d offer myself. He’s a far sight better than all the men my mother has got her eye on. Humble, handsome. In need. You could be his savior.”

  “I could be his bank account.” Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “What if that is his plan? What if he’s swindling me?” Her experience with handsome lords had taught her to be leery.

  “You said you thought he didn’t know.”

  “And you keep telling me to proceed through life with more caution,” she fired back, crossing her arms.

  “A man like that…” Mona looked out the window again.

  “What?” Charlotte asked, her fists tightening against her sides.

  “He might be able to make you happy.”

  “Why?” Some little glimmer of hope flickered before she doused it.

  Mona shrugged. “He likes you. I can tell.”

  “How?”

  “Well.” Mona tapped her chin. “He watched you the entire ride here. He hardly glanced at me.”

  “I’m his employer.”

  “He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about your eccentric nature.”

  “I’m not eccentric.”

  “In fact,” Mona kept going completely ignoring Charlotte’s denial. “I think he enjoys it.”

  “If you find him so entrancing, maybe you should marry him.”

  Mona shook her head. “I already told you the truth on the matter. Besides the fact my dowry is modest at best, he doesn’t like me. Not the way he does you.”

  Charlotte opened her mouth but then shut it again. They were hardly acquainted. He didn’t actually hold any affection for her, did he? She felt a little bubble of hope rising, but she squashed it back down.

  She’d not allow another lord to make her feel special for a moment just to be rejected again. He’d only want her for her dowry and that would come to light sooner or later. She’d find her own way to be special. “I don’t need him to like me. He just has to help me solve these murders.”

  Mona sighed, slumping back into her seat.
“You’re too stubborn by half.”

  “Maybe.” She slumped too, her thoughts focusing on the meeting that was hopefully happening inside. “Do you think the inspector will talk to him?”

  “Why not? He’s extremely likable.”

  “Unlike me?” Charlotte asked, her gaze narrowing at Mona.

  Mona gave her a quick hug. “I love you like a sister.”

  “What does that mean? That you don’t like me, but you love me?”

  “You’ve got the head of a bull.” Mona shook her head, her lips pursing.

  “And you the patience of a saint,” she said dryly, smoothing the wool of her pelisse. “And I am perfectly likable. Mostly. Sometimes.”

  Mona sighed. “Of course you are. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be churlish. I just wish you would take a breath and realize you are once again running headlong into disaster and that you have a chance, right here and right now, to change your course. There is a very handsome and extremely eligible man who would certainly marry you and prove to all those other lords just how desirable you really are.”

  “Prove how desirable my inheritance is,” she corrected, her chin notching up. “A fact they likely already know. It provides me little consolation that they are kicking themselves for not putting up with my bullish nature so that they might spend my money with abandon. I’m not sorry, however, that they rejected me, and I won’t preemptively make the same mistake with the Earl of Westmoreland.”

  Mona sighed. “Have it your way. You always do.”

  She turned toward her cousin. “It hurts my feelings that you agree with them.”

  Mona turned toward her too. “You’re right. I’m not always very patient. And you are stubborn. You’re also kind, giving, vivacious, and decidedly lovely.”

  Those words melted away some of her anger. “Thank you.”

  “And you also should understand that finding the perfect mate, the man you intend to spend your life with, was always going to be difficult. You’ve never been one to settle for only acceptable or good enough. Finding the right one anything always is. That doesn’t mean you should give up. It’s not like you.”

  Charlotte pulled her chin back in surprise.

  That was an interesting point, and one she hadn’t considered. She was more discerning in many regards. Knowing the Earl of Westmoreland for a single day was not enough for her to judge if he was exactly right.

  Still, she ought not to rule him out entirely either.

  Tate sat waiting for the inspector, his thoughts completely full of the woman who waited for him in the carriage.

  Charlotte.

  What was it about a woman who knew her mind that was so damned attractive? One who took the world and bent it to her will? Would she bend him to her will too?

  A vision of her naked and on top of him, riding him, flashed through his thoughts. All that hair tumbling down her arched back, her long neck exposed as she moaned his name.

  He ground his teeth together.

  He hadn’t had such vivid carnal fantasies since his years as a teen.

  There had been a fair number of attractive women in their perfumed silk who’d made their way into Alfred’s bed.

  Lord, he’d been so jealous then.

  He remembered one young widow who had set Tate to flame. Alfred ended up with her, of course.

  But the very sight of her had sent Tate’s mind reeling.

  He clenched his fists at the memory.

  Had Alfred appreciated with way so much bounty landed effortlessly into his lap? But Tate shook the memory away. It didn’t matter now, and he’d give anything to have that lovable scamp back now. For so many reasons.

  The door to the inspector’s office opened and he rose, shaking hands with Scully.

  “A pleasure.” The middle-aged man gave him a genuine smile. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

  Tate entered and took the offered chair as the door closed behind him. “Thank you for seeing me, Inspector. I was hoping to ask you some questions about the string of recent murders.”

  Scully gave a quick nod. “Those sure are kicking up a bit of interest. The paper has been covering them, of course. And some uppity bluestocking keeps showing up to ask me questions.”

  Tate bit back a smirk. He had to be speaking of Charlotte. “A bluestocking asking about murders? How odd.”

  “That’s what I thought too,” the man grunted. “But she keeps coming back anyway.”

  “Tenacious.”

  “I was going to say annoying.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. He couldn’t keep his offending lips straight. “You don’t find any sort of appeal in a woman with that much spirit?”

  The inspector’s brows lifted. “Not when I’m trying to work.”

  Tate kept any further comment to himself. He likely shouldn’t have asked the previous question. “Speaking of your work. I know how busy you are. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

  The inspector nodded. “What is it you wish to know?”

  “Well, I was curious. I have a property near the last attack, and I wanted to know, is it safe to visit?”

  The inspector leaned his elbows on the desk. “Of course. All the victims have been women, haven’t they?”

  “And my wife?”

  The inspector waved his hand. “All lower class. Prostitutes. Destitutes. Women no one cares about, I’d say.”

  Those words didn’t sit quite right. He shifted in his seat debating if he called the inspector out. Shouldn’t he care about the women who’d lost their lives regardless of their ranking in society? But he remembered Charlotte’s trouble with the inspector. So instead, he continued with his planned questions. “Are they connected?” He knew Charlotte wished to know and it seemed the right time to slip it in.

  “We’re not sure yet. Doubtful.”

  He raised his brows. “But they happen exactly three weeks apart.” He hated giving away Charlotte’s observation, but this interview was going nowhere.

  The inspector’s eyes widened and suddenly he was up, pulling out a book and flipping through several pages. “Damn it all to hell, you’re right.”

  Surprise made him twitch even as his lips parted. Had Charlotte caught details the inspector had missed?

  He gave his head a small shake. Had she gotten lucky? He’d seen the glitter of intelligence that sparkled in her eyes. Likely not. Perhaps she had a true affinity for investigative work.

  His stomach twisted. She’d been trying to help and had been blocked at every turn when she had a real contribution to give.

  Suddenly, money or no, he wished to help her.

  Never mind that it felt good to focus on something other than his own problems. Charlotte had just made an important contribution and he’d helped.

  “Say. You haven’t noticed anything else, have you?” Inspector Scully asked.

  Him? He moved money around. And he was good at it. But Charlotte? What else did she know? “Let me think on it. If I come up with anything else, you’ll be the first one I tell.” He’d have to ask Charlotte some follow up questions to see what else she knew. Which was likely a great deal.

  Scully gave him a grateful nod. “I’d appreciate it kindly.”

  “Of course.” He had an advantage now. “Say, is there anything else you might be able to share? Something that might spark an idea for me? Anything would be helpful.”

  The inspector sat back down. “I wasn’t sure they were connected because at one of them, we found this.” He opened his drawer and pulled out a scrap of paper. On it was a bunch of lines that seemed to be cut off.

  Tate leaned closer, attempting to memorize them. “I see.”

  Inspector Scully rubbed his forehead. “I can’t afford to fail at this, you know.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “We’re so new here. And lots of people, they’re not sure about how we’ve replaced the Bow Street Runners, see. Solving this case is of the utmost importance. We must succeed.”

  Tate gav
e him a sympathetic nod. “If I think of anything, I’ll be back.”

  The inspector rose. “Thank you kindly, my lord.”

  “And you, Inspector. You’ve been very helpful.”

  He turned back to the door, making his way to Charlotte’s waiting carriage. She’d be interested in what he’d learned, and he suspected that she’d also be annoyed beyond belief with the ease that he’d garnered the information.

  He whistled to himself as he started down the steps. He liked her irritation. It was harmless, and frankly, intriguing. Arresting.

  Then he stopped several feet from the carriage. He had the feeling he’d given more information to the inspector than he’d gotten for Charlotte. What would she think of that? And what did she plan to do next?

  What other tricks did Charlotte Pennington have hiding up her ruched sleeves?

  Chapter Six

  “I hate him,” Charlotte declared, her chin rising higher with every word. “If I had told him that same information, he would have shooed me away.”

  Tate gave her a sympathetic look as the carriage rumbled away from the station. “It’s his loss, you know. For underestimating you.”

  Miss Ayers made a noise that sounded a bit like an eep as Charlotte gave him an assessing stare. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He cleared his throat. “I was able to garner the exact location of each of the murders as well.”

  Charlotte stared at him for a moment. “Sincerely?”

  He nodded. “After I’ve brought you home, I’ll visit each and see if I can learn any additional information from the crime scenes.”

  But she hardly seemed to listen. Instead, she rose from the seat, leaning toward him. For a wild moment, he wondered what she might do.

  She was above him, looking down. It was a bit…well…like his fantasy.

  But instead of placing herself in his lap, she lifted his walking stick and wrapped on the wall behind his head. “Driver,” she called out. “Take us to…” Then she looked down at him again.

  Tate stared up at her, realizing his mistake. He should have waited until he’d tucked her into her house to let that detail out about the addresses. And because she paid him, how exactly did he say no? “They are not in very good neighborhoods.”