The Dark Earl

  Thomas took her to London, found her a job as a lady’s maid, and occasionally checked on her while he was at Oxford. Solange hadn’t lasted long as a lady’s maid. Her beauty did not please the noblewoman who employed her.

  Much to Anson’s consternation, Solange took a job in a gambling hell utilizing the skills she possessed. When he realized her only alternative was prostitution, he had tempered his condemnation.

  Today she was a self-sufficient woman, who leased her own town house near Shepherd Market. The fashionably dressed, elegant blond beauty, who had an air of mystery about her, turned the heads of males when she passed, and caused females to whisper about her behind their fans.

  At Brown’s Hotel on Albemarle Street, Thomas held a chair for Solange, then took his own seat across the table.

  “We seldom dine together, m’lord. You must have an ulterior motive.”

  “I do.” He ordered Dover sole for both of them, selecting an expensive wine for her and ale for himself.

  “At Ranton, you often put money in the safe for my father. Do you happen to remember the combination, Solange?”

  “Zounds! That must be twelve or thirteen years ago. Though I have a head for numbers, they are usually on playing cards.”

  “Yes, it seems a lifetime ago. But think hard; I need the combination to his safe.”

  “How do you know it’s the same safe he had at Ranton?”

  “Knowing him as I do, the safe would have been removed long before the place went up in flames.”

  “I remember the combination consisted of five numbers. Perhaps they will come back to me, if you give me a little time.”

  “I’d like to say take all the time you need, but I cannot.”

  Solange sipped her wine. “His death is imminent, then?”

  “It is.”

  She smiled. “The curse I put on him is finally working.”

  He changed the distasteful subject. “Brown’s serves the best Dover sole in London.”

  Solange sat pondering as she ate. When she was finished, she set down her knife and fork. “I remember the first two numbers were ten and twenty, but the other three numbers completely elude me.” She shook her head. “I could sit here till doomsday and not recall them. They’ve vanished with the sands of time.”

  His brows drew together in concentration. After a few minutes of silence, he smiled a rare smile. “Thank you, Solange. I know what the other three numbers are.”

  “How on earth?”

  “I know my father’s egotistic way of thinking.”

  “Here’s some more good news. I found out that the Duke of Devonshire just acquired some statues for Chatsworth that came from the Shugborough collection.”

  “Old Devonshire is a fanatic when it comes to acquiring neoclassical sculpture. I knew sooner or later, Shugborough’s statues would end up at Chatsworth. Good work, Solange. I truly appreciate the information.”

  She pushed back her chair. “Thank you so much for dinner. Time to go back to work. There are some plump partridges to pluck tonight.”

  Will Montagu walked across the floor of the House of Commons to speak with his friend before the session opened. He was a Tory—or Conservative, as they were called these days—and Thomas was a member of the opposition Whigs, now known as Liberals. “Congratulations, Thomas.”

  “If congratulations are in order, I’m unaware of it, Will.”

  “I escorted Lady Harriet to the ballet on Saturday evening. She told me that you had made up your quarrel.”

  “Yes, I am wooing her. I have asked her to marry me, but as usual, Harry is being evasive. Unless she accepts, your congratulations may be misplaced.”

  “She may be evasive, but she made it crystal clear that you are the one she has set her heart on.”

  Thomas’s hopes suddenly soared. “Thank you for passing that along, Will. I know you wanted to engage her affection.”

  “Well, it’s no secret how I feel about her, but I am thoroughly convinced that I cannot compete with you, old man.” His expression was rueful. “No man breathing can accept a woman’s disinterest. She considers me a good friend.”

  Thomas left the session early and made his way to 61 Green Street. He rang the bell and when Hobson, the footman, answered the door, he handed him his calling card. “Lord Thomas Anson to see Lady Harriet Hamilton.”

  “Please step inside, my lord, while I see if Lady Harriet is receiving.”

  The footman did not return. Instead, Harry appeared at the top of the stairs. “Come up, Thomas.” Rather than take him to the drawing room, where their guests were usually entertained, she took him to her father’s library and closed the door.

  Before he sat down in the Regency brass-mounted armchair, he said, “These chairs came from Shugborough Hall.”

  “I didn’t know that. No wonder I love them so much.”

  “I know you love Shugborough, but do you love me, Harry?”

  “You expect me to confess my love for you, before you declare your undying love for me? Bugger and balls, you are an audacious devil, Lord Anson!”

  “I am, and I have no intention of declaring my undying love. You don’t care for my declarations, and you already informed me that words could not convince you.”

  “I also informed you that I needed proof that you loved me.”

  “Harry, you know how much Shugborough Hall means to me. By asking you to be my wife, I am offering to share it with you. I would not make that offer to any other lady. I warrant that is irrefutable proof of my love.” His eyes glittered silver. “This is the last time I will ask you to marry me.”

  Her heart began to thud. I do know how much Shugborough means to you. Offering to share it with me does prove that you love me. Her resolve wavered, then disappeared completely. “Yes, I will marry you, Thomas!” He was so darkly handsome, her knees felt like wet linen at the thought that he would be her husband.

  He did not sweep her into his arms. “There can be no delay. My father is dying.”

  If your father dies before we marry, you will be in mourning and the wedding will have to be delayed. This will be the third rushed marriage. Mother won’t be pleased. “I will speak with my parents and explain the circumstances.”

  Thomas closed the distance between them and enfolded her in his arms. He looked into her eyes and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “I will try to make you happy, Harry. I’ll make a formal call on your father tomorrow evening.”

  “Mother, may I speak with you in private?”

  The duchess had just returned from taking the younger children for a drive in the park. The weather was still lovely and warm, but she knew that by the end of September, the leaves would turn color, and by mid-October, the winds usually denuded the trees.

  “On Friday evening I was invited to dine with the Countess of Lichfield.”

  “You never mentioned it, Harry.”

  “No, I thought you might object.”

  “What made you think I would object?”

  “You once told me people gossiped about Barbara Anson being half-caste.”

  “I was only informing you what people whispered—I didn’t say I believed it.”

  “Well, I’m glad you don’t believe it. She was born in Pembrokeshire. The lady is Welsh. It is Celtic blood that accounts for her dark coloring.” I don’t give a fig if she has West Indian blood, but you might. “Lady Lichfield was quite frank with me. She knows very well the rumors that circulate about London.”

  “Ah yes, an intelligent woman usually learns what the gossips have to say. My dear sister Rachel was devastated when she heard the rumors about her birth, and I’m sure Lady Lichfield was deeply hurt over the scandalous gossip as well.”

  “I was horrified that she might think that was the reason I hadn’t accepted her son’s proposal. I’m sure she believed me when I assured her otherwise, but then she asked if it was because my parents objected.”

  “So, Harry, you are telling me that Thomas Anson as
ked you to become his wife, and you turned him down?”

  “Yes and no, Mother.”

  “Don’t be cryptic, darling.”

  “Yes, Thomas asked me to become his wife, and no, I didn’t turn him down. At first I said perhaps. I told him I wanted proof that he loved me. This afternoon he came and told me the irrefutable proof that he loved me was offering to share Shugborough with me. He swore that he would not make that offer to any other lady, and I believe him.”

  “So, you accepted his proposal?”

  “Yes, I did. The only trouble is that it will be another rushed wedding. His father is dying, and his death would mean a mourning period.”

  Lady Lu sighed with resignation. “I suppose if you prefer Thomas Anson over Will Montagu, it must mean that you are in love with him. I hope the attraction is more than physical, Harry.”

  “I cannot deny that it’s physical. But there is the added attraction of Shugborough.”

  Mother and daughter began to laugh. “You are an outrageous baggage, Harry.”

  “I warrant I take after you.”

  “Well, there’s nothing for it but Jane must marry Will Montagu. I absolutely insist that one of you get to occupy Montagu House so that I can visit regularly and descend that magnificent staircase with the dramatic flair it deserves!”

  “You too are an outrageous baggage!”

  “Thomas will ask your father for your hand?”

  “Yes, he said he would come tomorrow evening. He’s giving me a chance to break the news gently.”

  “Then I’d better send Abercorn a note to make sure he will be home.”

  “Lady Harriet has agreed to marry me,” Thomas told his mother.

  “Oh, I’m so pleased. I like her very much.”

  “I wondered when you were going to let me know you had entertained her.”

  “There’s not much that gets past you, Thomas. I don’t know if you are clairvoyant or simply shrewd.”

  “Perhaps both, but as a boy, I learned to be vigilant. I dislike surprises, and I hate to be blindsided. I’ve trained myself to be one step ahead of my enemies and my friends. But it was Norton who told me Lady Harriet Hamilton came to dinner on Friday night. I told him to be sure to pass the information on to Father.”

  “Ah, there’s method in your madness. Did you hope to put a stop to his badgering?”

  “No, I don’t expect pears of an elm tree. I simply didn’t wish to discuss Harriet with him. Did the doctor come today?”

  “Yes. He told me there is little time left. The doctor said he’d return tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow evening I shall ask Abercorn for his daughter’s hand. Until then, our betrothal isn’t official.”

  “What is Abercorn like?”

  He is everything that my father is not. He is trustworthy, moral, compassionate, noble, and his love for his wife and children is absolute. Thomas’s lips formed a half smile. “Abercorn is magnificent.”

  Thomas retired, and as he waited for midnight, when the house would be in darkness and the last servant asleep, he jotted down the combination to his father’s safe. If Solange is correct and the first two numbers are 10 and 20, I warrant they stand for October 20, the day he was born. Since the year was 1795, it follows that the next three numbers are 17, 9, and 5.

  Two hours later, he silently opened his father’s bedchamber door and went inside. The smell of camphor assailed his nostrils, and he schooled himself to stop his gorge from rising. He shuddered when he picked up the lamp. Though it was turned down low, the fear of fire was always there, lurking beneath the surface. As he carried it to the iron safe, his ears were alert for any change in his father’s labored breathing.

  He turned the safe dial right to 10, then left to 20, and heard the tumblers fall into place. He turned it right again, almost a full circle, and stopped on 17. When he heard the tumbler, he knew he had guessed the combination correctly. He deftly turned it left to 9, right to 5, and slid open the heavy iron door. He took out all the papers inside, and sure enough, his instincts had been correct. As in the Anson file at Fowler’s office, there were two wills, along with a signed affidavit declaring him bastard, and a letter stating the affidavit and the second will were to be destroyed if Thomas wed before the earl died.

  He put the original Last Will and Testament, naming him heir and bequeathing him Shugborough Hall, back in the safe, firmly closed the door, and spun the dial back to where it had been before he touched it. He picked up the papers and put the lamp back on its table. Thomas silently looked down at his father, and his heart mourned for what might have been.

  He returned to his own wing, locked the door of his bedchamber, and sat down to examine the items he had removed from the safe. He set aside the Last Will and the signed affidavit, and picked up the other papers. He was amazed to see that they were IOUs made out to his father for gambling debts incurred by some prominent men. A couple of the nobles were now deceased, but one of the two remaining was from none other than the immensely wealthy Duke of Devonshire. He concluded his father must have fallen ill before he could collect what was owed to him.

  His eyes glittered silver. It was an unwritten law that gentlemen always paid their gambling debts. He anticipated with relish Devonshire’s reaction when he presented the note for payment. Thomas locked the notes in his desk drawer.

  He dropped the will and the signed affidavit into his metal wastebasket and burned them, as he had done with the documents he had taken from Fowler’s files. When the papers turned to black ash, he felt as if the weight of an anvil had been removed from his shoulders. He strode to the window, threw it open, and took several deep breaths of clean, fresh air. He had successfully removed his father’s ruinous threat, and the feeling of freedom that surged through him was euphoric.

  Thomas reveled in the knowledge that he would inherit Shugborough along with the title Earl of Lichfield without impediment. The decision to marry would be entirely his. I am free to exercise my own will, and swear to do so for the rest of my life!

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Harriet has informed me that she wishes to become your wife, Thomas. Since her happiness is important to me, I gladly consent to the marriage.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. Has she explained the circumstances?”

  “Yes. Since you don’t want the wedding postponed because of a mourning period, you would like the ceremony to take place without delay.”

  “We will have to be married tomorrow.”

  “That’s short notice. Have you made arrangements?”

  “I took out a special license that will dispense with the banns, and I have arranged with the reverend of St. George’s to marry us. It will be in the Mayfair Chapel, rather than the church, since there will be so few of us in attendance.”

  Abercorn’s eyes twinkled. “You anticipated that I would give you my blessing.”

  “I did, Your Grace.”

  “All that’s left is the marriage contract. I’ve taken the liberty of setting down some of the details. Harriet’s dowry is five thousand pounds. I will give you a draft on the Bank of England.”

  “That is most generous, Your Grace, but I prefer that you put the money in Harriet’s name. My father drained away all the money he received when he wed my mother, and I refuse to follow in his footsteps.”

  “That is very commendable, Thomas. I will make the arrangements.”

  “Before you start praising me, you had better hear what I want in lieu of her dowry money.”

  Thomas Anson reminded Abercorn of himself. “Say on.”

  “I ask that you return everything you bought from Shugborough Hall in 1842 . . . the entire library, the paintings, and the furniture.”

  Abercorn steepled his fingers, coolly contemplating the audacious request. Silence stretched between the two men, as they took each other’s measure.

  “I am convinced it would make Harriet happy to have the things restored. Of course, it goes without saying how greatly I would benefit from s
uch generosity.”

  Finally, Abercorn assented. “With one caveat—Lady Lu is particularly fond of Rousseau’s first edition of Émile.”

  Thomas nodded. “I would not dream of depriving her of it, Your Grace.”

  Abercorn turned to the second page of the marriage contract. “If you should predecease your wife, Harriet is to receive a lump sum of ten thousand pounds, and five thousand per annum from the Shugborough estate.”

  Thomas drew his brows together. “To provide her with that kind of money may necessitate the estate being sold. I cannot agree to ever selling Shugborough. What I will agree to, in the event that I predecease her, is that on my death Shugborough will be put in Harriet’s name and held in trust for her and my heir, should I be fortunate enough to have a son.”

  Abercorn smiled. “That is even better than my proposal.” He meticulously wrote everything into the contract. “Well, all that’s left is to have Harriet in so you may both sign, and we can have my wife act as witness.”

  “There’s just one thing before they come in, Your Grace. Since you have been generous enough to give me your daughter, I would like to give you something in return.” Thomas took a paper from his pocket and placed it on Abercorn’s desk. “This is an IOU made out to my father for three thousand pounds. It is a gambling debt incurred two years ago by Arthur Hamilton-Gordon, your youngest half brother.”

  “Goddam the young devil, I can’t believe it! He was little more than a baby when my mother died. In memory of her, I created a trust fund for him, and this is how he squanders the money I provide. Thank you for confiding this to me. I will pay off his IOU immediately, Thomas.”

  “I have no intention of collecting on this, Your Grace. I give you this evidence in hope that you will confront him and stop him from ruining his life with gambling. Since his father is the prime minister, and Arthur acts as his father’s secretary, if this or other IOUs fell into the wrong hands, he could be blackmailed.”