A Dangerous Lord Page 5

“It is not what I saw, but what I did.” He clenched his jaw, and she knew that she had pressed him too much.

  Jane decided to change topics. “May I ask why you were near the docks today?”

  “I had business I needed to attend to.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “Nothing that would concern you,” he dismissed.

  They didn’t speak as they continued to walk down the street. It wasn’t until they arrived at the orphanage that Lord Evan spoke again.

  “I hope I can trust that you won’t leave the orphanage unaccompanied again, Lady Jane,” he said firmly.

  “I believe I have sufficiently learned my lesson.”

  Lord Evan eyed her closely. “That may be true, but I can’t help but notice that you didn’t answer my question.”

  Before she could reply, the door to the orphanage was flung opened and Madalene stepped out with a furious expression on her face. “Jane!” she exclaimed. “Whatever were you thinking?”

  “I will leave you to it,” Lord Evan said with a nod, the hint of a smile on his lips.

  Madalene came to stand next to Jane. “Thank you for escorting Jane back to the orphanage, Lord Evan.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

  Jane watched as Lord Evan walked down the street and disappeared into the crowd. How she envied him at this moment.

  “I intend to chastise you for your reckless behavior,” Madalene said with a hand on her hip, “but before I can do so, you must instruct the girls in their French lessons.”

  “I would be happy to,” Jane responded as she walked towards the main door.

  Chapter Four

  The sun was starting to set as Jane watched Baldwin pace in his study. He had yet to say anything, but she could see the fury in his eyes.

  Baldwin stopped pacing and turned to face her. “Are you mad?”

  “I assure you that I am not.”

  “What were you thinking, leaving the safety of the orphanage to traipse through the rookeries?”

  She frowned. “I was not traipsing through the rookeries.”

  “No?” Baldwin asked. “Pray tell, what were you doing?”

  “I had my reasons.”

  Baldwin ran a hand through his brown hair. “Yes, Madalene informed me that you were following Oliver.”

  “I was.”

  “Did Oliver see you?”

  She shook her head. “He did not.”

  “Why didn’t you make your presence known to him?”

  “I wanted to follow him, not have him escort me back to the orphanage,” she replied, giving him an exasperated look.

  Baldwin muttered something incoherent under his breath. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you if Corbyn hadn’t found you when he did?”

  Jane lowered her gaze as she procrastinated her response. She was well aware of what could have transpired at the hands of those men had Lord Evan not defended her.

  “I am aware,” she murmured.

  Baldwin sighed as he came to sit across from her in an upholstered armchair. “You must think before you act, Sister.”

  “I saw Oliver on the street in front of the orphanage, and I wanted to see where he was going.”

  “Why?”

  Bringing her gaze up, Jane said, “Because I am tired of all his secrets and lies.”

  “Everyone has secrets,” Baldwin countered.

  “Not like his.”

  Baldwin looked at her curiously. “Why do you say that?”

  “Why is Oliver going to a pub near the docks?” Jane asked. “He has a membership to White’s, and there are plenty of pubs that he could frequent in the respectable part of Town.”

  “Regardless, it is his business—”

  “That is ridiculous!” Jane exclaimed, cutting him off.

  “In what way?”

  Jane leaned forward in her chair and raised her voice slightly to emphasize her point. “Our brother could be involved in something illicit.”

  “Oliver is not involved in illegal activities,” Baldwin said, shaking his head.

  “No?”

  “I am sure of it.”

  “What if you are wrong?”

  “I’m not.”

  Jane gave her brother a pointed look. “It wouldn’t be the first time he went to jail.”

  “Those charges were dropped. It was a misunderstanding.”

  “What if it wasn’t a misunderstanding at all?” Jane pressed. “What if Oliver truly has joined a radical group, and they are meeting at The Gutted Fish?”

  Baldwin stared at her in disbelief. “Our brother is not a rebel.”

  “It might explain his behavior,” Jane rationalized.

  Baldwin glanced over at the open door, then said, “Our brother may not have a pristine reputation, but he wouldn’t do something so foolish as joining a radical group.”

  “Then why did he go into The Gutted Fish?”

  “Perhaps it is a cover for a gambling hell,” Baldwin proposed.

  Jane nodded, recognizing that he made a valid point. “You could be right, but I am tired of all the secrets.”

  “Oliver does have secrets—”

  She cut him off again, too agitated to be polite. “As do you,” she declared. “I always feel like I am being pacified.”

  “That is not true.”

  “After Father died, you disappeared for three years, without any word, and then you just arrived home to claim your seat in the House of Lords,” Jane said.

  “I believe I’ve sufficiently explained to you where I went.”

  Jane huffed. “Yes, you spent time on Jersey Island near France,” she said. “But you never adequately explained why.”

  A pained look came into his eyes. “It was because I wanted to get as far away from Father’s memory as possible.”

  “And from us.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “It felt that way, at least to me.” She started wringing her hands in her lap. “I have yet to have anyone ask how I’ve been since Father’s death,” she said. “I miss him terribly, as well.”

  “I am sorry that I have neglected you these past few years, but I am home now.” The compassion in Baldwin’s voice mollified her. “I won’t ever leave you again.”

  “I am pleased to hear that.”

  “You are my favorite sister, and I can’t risk losing you.”

  She smiled. “I am your only sister.”

  “It doesn’t make my statement any less true.” Baldwin rose, walked over to his desk, and picked up a ledger. “I was hoping that you would help me with these ledgers.”

  Jane perked up. “Are you in earnest?”

  “You did a wonderful job while I was away, and I would be a fool not to ask for your help,” Baldwin acknowledged as he returned the ledger to its spot on the desk.

  “I would love to help review the ledgers.”

  Baldwin gave her an approving smile. “I would be remiss not to comment that Father taught you well.”

  Jane bobbed her head in agreement. “I used to sneak into Father’s study while he was working, and he would sit me on his lap. As I got older, he would explain what he was doing, and he taught me a great deal about business, including how to balance ledgers.”

  “How scandalous of him,” Baldwin teased.

  “Father didn’t seem to care about that.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “That is very progressive of you, Brother.”

  Baldwin leaned back on his desk. “Are you happy, Jane?” he asked, watching her closely.

  His question caught her off guard, and she pressed her lips together. Was she happy? It took her a moment to respond, but she answered in the affirmative. “I am.”

  “You have had a rough go of it since Father died, and I want you to know that I am here for you.”

  “That is kind of you.”

  “There is nothing kind about it,” he replied. “We are family, and we look
out for one another.”

  Jane rose and smoothed out her gown. “I must pose the question, who is looking out for Oliver?”

  “I am.”

  She grinned. “If that is the case, then you are doing a terrible job.”

  Baldwin chuckled. “Oliver is more of a work in progress,” he acknowledged.

  “That he is.”

  Baldwin grew solemn. “No more wandering through the rookeries alone,” he ordered. “That is a good way to get yourself killed.”

  “I understand.”

  “I believe I have properly chastised you enough,” Baldwin said. “But I have no doubt that Mother will have a say in the matter, as well.”

  “I imagine that will be the case.”

  Baldwin straightened from his desk. “I will speak to Oliver when he returns, and I am sure he will have a perfectly rational explanation for why he was at The Gutted Fish.”

  “Thank you.” Jane walked over to the door. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

  “I will.”

  “I shall see you then.”

  Jane left the study and headed towards her bedchamber to change. As she hurried across the entry hall, she saw her mother peeking her head out of the drawing room.

  “Has Baldwin finished speaking to you?” she asked.

  Jane stopped on the marble floor and turned to face her mother. “He has,” she replied, “and the interrogation went well.”

  “I hardly believe it was an interrogation,” her mother remarked. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

  “You may.” Jane walked towards the drawing room, dread increasing with each step. She truly didn’t need another lecture, but she didn’t dare refuse her mother’s request.

  After her mother stepped into the drawing room, she closed the door. “I would prefer to keep this conversation private.”

  “What would you care to discuss?” Jane asked hesitantly.

  Her mother gestured towards the settee. “Perhaps we should sit first.”

  Jane sat obediently and waited for her mother to speak her mind.

  She began as she gracefully lowered herself onto the settee. “I fear that I have made a grievous error with you.”

  “In what way?”

  “I have indulged you for far too long, and it is time for you to do your duty and be wed.”

  Jane stared back at her mother in disbelief. “Pardon?”

  “Do not look so surprised, my dear. I have been suggesting you marry for years.”

  “That is true,” she was forced to agree.

  “You are twenty-one years old and have already had three Seasons,” her mother continued. “You have legions of admirers that no doubt would leap at the chance to court you.”

  Jane clasped her hands in her lap. “But I am not interested in matrimony at this time.”

  “You always say that.”

  “It makes it no less true.”

  Her mother gave her a knowing look. “You must think of the possibilities,” she pressed. “An advantageous marriage would secure your future.”

  “I refuse to marry for anything other than love.”

  Her mother bobbed her head in agreement. “That is what I hope for you, as well.”

  “Why now, Mother?” she asked.

  Her mother reached out and placed a hand on her sleeve. “I don’t think I was ever so frightened as when I heard you had left the safety of the orphanage and followed Oliver to the docks.”

  “It all worked out.”

  “Yes, because of Lord Evan.”

  “That may be true, but—”

  “It is entirely true,” her mother said, stopping her excuses. “A woman cannot defend herself against two ruffians.” She sighed. “I am not pleased with Oliver’s choices, either, but you can’t become reckless because of it. You must remain in control of your senses.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious where Oliver is going all the time?”

  Her mother’s face grew forlorn as she withdrew her hand. “I accepted long ago that Oliver is his own person, and he comes and goes as he pleases.”

  “But how long can he continue to disappoint Emmeline before she returns to Lockhart Manor without him?” Jane asked.

  “I cannot answer that question, but Emmeline does appear to be content at Hawthorne House.”

  “For now.”

  “Yes, for now.”

  Shifting in her seat, Jane asked, “Would you have followed Oliver, if our situations were reversed?”

  Her mother pondered her question before answering. “No. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to leave the orphanage without being accompanied.”

  “I think you would have been,” Jane said.

  “You do?”

  Jane nodded. “You are the bravest woman that I know.”

  The compliment elicited a tender smile. “That was kind of you to say, but I still insist that you begin taking the prospect of matrimony seriously.”

  “I understand,” Jane said, rising, “but I can’t promise I will find a match this Season, or even the next.”

  “It is most important that you choose wisely,” her mother encouraged. “You must find someone who will accept you for who you truly are, because you are uniquely perfect.”

  “Thank you for that, Mother.” Jane walked over to the door and opened it. “I assume this means that you expect me to attend Lady Greenan’s ball tomorrow evening.”

  “That is correct.”

  Jane let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. “I hate balls.”

  “That does not surprise me, since you have always made it abundantly clear that you hate balls, house parties, and any type of social gathering,” her mother teased.

  “At least I am consistent,” Jane joked.

  “That you are, but you are most fortunate that you never lack for dance partners at these social events.”

  “Sometimes that is a blessing and a curse,” she joked.

  As Jane departed the drawing room, she realized that she wasn’t surprised by her mother’s decree. It had been forthcoming for a while, but she truly had no desire to marry at this time. No one had ever sparked her interest except for the one person she knew she could never have.

  Lord Evan.

  But she wasn’t foolish enough to pursue her feelings. He had a commanding presence about him, and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Why would he ever be interested in someone like her?

  The sun had set long before Corbyn made his way to his whitewashed three-level townhouse on the edge of the fashionable part of Town. He hurried up the three steps and opened the door. Immediately, he was greeted by his stodgy butler, Rudd.

  “Good evening, milord,” Rudd said as he approached him. “Have you eaten yet?”

  “I have not.”

  “Very good,” he replied. “I shall request a tray to be brought to your study.”

  Corbyn nodded his approval as he extended his top hat towards the butler. “Thank you.”

  Rudd stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Lord Shipston is in your office,” he informed him.

  “My brother is here?” Corbyn attempted to hide the displeasure from his voice.

  “He is.”

  Corbyn stifled the groan that came to his lips. No good ever came from conversing with his brother. They were two vastly different people, and they never seemed to see eye to eye. Part of that was due to the fact that his family thought he held a lowly position within the Home Office. They thought it was beneath him, and their family.

  “I shall go see to my brother,” Corbyn said as he walked across the tiled entry hall.

  As he stepped into his study, he saw his brother was standing next to the window, looking out upon the modest gardens.

  “To what do I owe this great pleasure?” Corbyn asked as he closed the door behind him. He wanted his conversation to stay private.

  His tall, lanky brother turned around to face him. “I have come on Mother’s behalf.”

  “You have?” Corbyn asked as h
e walked over to the drink cart.

  “I have,” Simon replied. “She wants you to come home.”

  Corbyn picked up the decanter and removed the stopper. “I am not interested.”

  Simon’s eyes roamed the square study with its woodwork dominating most of the room, and the disgust was evident on his face. “I know your paltry income from the Home Office pays for this…” he hesitated, frowning, “townhouse, but you are the son of a duke.”

  “I am well aware of my lineage.”

  “You were destined to be so much more than what you have become.”

  Corbyn poured himself a drink. “And what is that, exactly?”

  “Come now,” Simon said, his voice dripping with disapproval, “you work at the Home Office.”

  “I know.”

  “It is not befitting the son of a duke to have a job.”

  “Pray tell, how would I make an income, then?” Corbyn asked, bringing the glass to his lips.

  His brother stiffened. “You have an allowance.”

  Corbyn chuckled dryly. “Yes,” he replied, “an allowance that is contingent on me behaving the way Father sees fit.” He shook his head. “No, thank you.”

  “Regardless, that money is being deposited into an account with your name on it every month,” Simon said. “You could access that account and stop working at the Home Office.”

  “What would I do with my time?”

  “What every other gentleman of the ton does,” Simon asserted, “live a life of leisure and excess.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  Simon walked over to stand next to him and reached for the decanter. “If you would like, you could help me oversee all of the properties and manage the duchy.”

  “Why isn’t Father doing that?”

  “You know full well that Father prefers being immersed in politics.”

  Corbyn tossed back his drink and placed the empty glass on the drink cart. “I will pass on your offer,” he said. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to even suggest that.”

  “It wouldn’t be as terrible as it sounds,” Simon attempted. “I’d even be willing to gift you one of our unentailed estates, and you can run it as you see fit.”

  “Tempting,” he muttered, “but, no.”

  Simon frowned. “You are stubborn, like Father.”

  “I am happy with my life,” Corbyn said, walking over to a blue velvet settee.