A Lady of Letters (17 page)

"Yes, well, everyone seems to have taken a notion to do that lately. I wonder why that is?"

"Perhaps it is because you tend to be so serious all the time. There's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself once in a while Gus. Like when you are dancing with an attractive gentleman."

Augusta tried to banish all thoughts of the Earl's long fingers pressed at the small of her back, the breadth of his shoulders and the flash of his intriguing eyes. "I have a lot to be serious about," she said in a low voice. "There are still three missing children, and more likely to suffer unless we can learn for sure who is to blame."

".... So that is what I think of the Earl of Sheffield's latest speech. I should like to hear your opinion, though I fear that for some reason, you still look at his efforts in a harsh light. Perhaps you have been listening to rumors rather than his actual words...." He paused, realizing he was in danger of revealing too much, and after a moment's reflection, quickly finished off that train of thought..... My experience, especially lately, has been that outer appearance may fool you. But enough on that. Though you have cried off on our correspondence for a time, I am hoping that you might choose to confide in me a bit more concerning your investigation. I have made some further discoveries on my own, but it is  difficult to judge their significance until I know the whole." He paused again, pen hovering above the thick vellum. "Even if you choose not to trust me, I am hoping you might consent to dashing off a quick note just to let me know you are well. You know, with your sage advice, gentle criticism and quiet encouragement, you have become the truest friend I have. Quite simply, my dear Firebrand, I miss our comfortable talks and hope they may resume soon."

A simple signature was scrawled across the bottom of the page, then the letter was set aside on a silver tray. The writer continued to stare at it, lost in deep thought, until the gilt clock on the mantel began to chime the hour. Jarred out of his reverie, Sheffield took several other sheets of folded paper from his desk drawer and tucked them into the pocket of his bottle green evening coat. After sending word for his coach, he rose and left from the room.

The Flaversham ball was, as might be expected, a great crush, given the family's wealth and position in Society. That Lady Flaversham was also known for her imaginative decorations and sumptuous suppers only made it more difficult than usual to negotiate the crowd seeking to make its way up the circular marble staircase. The Earl was tempted to turn and retreat to the quiet of his club, for this was just the sort of evening he had come to consider tedious in the extreme. But he had promised he would be there.

His eyes began to scan the perimeter of the room, knowing he would be likely to find her seated with the aging mamas and retiring chaperones. Or hidden behind some damn pot of greenery. Somehow the thought of that caused a faint twitch of his lips. Miss Hadley was certainly a most unusual young lady, with a knack of turning up in the most unexpected places.

A flash of teal caught his eye. The willowy shape moved in a quick graceful arc past his nose, but not before he recognized the shape of the cheek, the wheaten color of the hair.

Damnation! The chit said she never danced. What was she doing out there?

He watched her circle the floor with her partner, his mood growing darker by the moment even as he was forced to admit that her movements were a pleasure to watch. In fact, he couldn't seem to pry his gaze away from her long neck and creamy shoulders, bared by yet another lovely gown that took every inch of advantage of her magnificent body. And neither could he ignore the firm hand cupping her slender fingers or the well-formed chest leaning in much too close to her breasts.

"Good Lord, Sheff, what was that you just said?"

"Nothing," he growled, turning to face his friend.

Hobart stifled a grin. "Best remember we're not in some gaming hell or other establishment. Here the females would faint dead away at hearing such language."

"Hah," he remarked under his breath, his eyes for a moment stealing back to sight of Augusta in the arms of her partner.

"What has you in such a pucker? Some encroaching Mama try to corner you with her young innocent?" He shook his head. "Though I can't imagine any of them would have the nerve to try that on you."

The Earl didn't answer.

"Come, what say we roll that black look off your face with an evening of dice at the tables, followed by a visit to a new place I've discovered off St. James's." He lowered his voice to a discreet whisper. "The ladies are as skilled as they are lovely—it will not be your face that is growing longer by the second once we get there."

"I have some matters to attend to here."

Hobart pursed his lips. "You know, Sheff, forgive me for saying so but you've been acting deucedly strange of late. What has happened to your sense of adventure, your devil may care attitude? Why, we used to always be able to count on you to come up with some crazy scheme or other."

"Have no fear," he muttered. "I am not only still crazy, I think I may be insane." The music had come to an end. Leaving his friend looking thoroughly perplexed, the Earl walked off toward a quite nook near the card room.

"What were you doing out there?"

Augusta lifted her eyes. "Since I know you are not a complete imbecile I shall refrain from answering that I was dancing."

"You said you never dance."

"I danced with you." She paused a fraction, as if considering the matter. "Ah, but of course that was different...."

He looked as if to speak.

"You forced me. The other gentleman did not."

His brows drew together in an ominous line. "Miss Hadley—"

"I am teasing you, Lord Sheffield. Does no one dare tease you, or are you the only one allowed to indulge in such behavior?"

"I am not in the mood tonight," he snapped. Nor, it seemed, was he in the mood to picture some gentleman's hand at the small of her back, or his artfully arranged curls bent close to hers.

"Oh? Bit of a headache? Knee throbbing? Ribs feeling a touch sore?" she inquired with feigned innocence.

"It is my patience that is frayed. Dangerously so. I should like to get down to business," he said in a scathing tone. "That is, if you are not too busy having a good time."

She folded her hands primly in her lap. "Then pray, do go on, sir."

"I think I am in need of a glass of champagne first. May I fetch you something as well?"

"Yes, thank you. I shall spend the time that you are gone thinking of something creative to do with it." She ran an appraising eye the length of his person. "Let me see, burgundy and forest green—no, a splash will never show to best advantage on your waistcoat. But the cravat has possibilities. Could not you have tied it in a Waterfall for tonight?"

The Earl had to choke down a bark of laughter.

Augusta smiled on seeing his scowl disappear. "That's better, sir. It is much too intimidating trying to converse with you when you are wearing such a menacing expression."

"Why is it I have a feeling precious little intimidates you, Miss Hadley," he murmured. "Most especially not my phiz, menacing or otherwise?" He signaled to a passing footman and returned in a moment with two glasses of champagne.

"Now that you have been coaxed out of your sullens, may I ask what it was that had you looking as if you wanted to plant someone a facer?"

He took a long swallow from his glass. "I suppose I was a tad out of sorts because I was thinking of someone I have not heard from in some time." On seeing the look on her face, he made a wry grimace. "It is not that sort of acquaintance. It is merely a good friend, someone I trust and whose wise counsel and insight I miss."

Augusta's face became rather pensive. "I too—that is, I think I understand what you mean, sir. It is so rare that we may be honest and forthright with our feelings that to find someone with whom we can share our thoughts, with no fear of censure or ridicule, is special indeed."

The Earl stared at her, suddenly wondering just what sort of thoughts were hidden behind those intriguing hazel eyes. To his surprise, he also felt a slight stab of jealousy at the fellow lucky with whom she might chose to share them.

The intensity of his gaze caused her to drop her head in some confusion. "I... I hope that all is well with your friend and that you hear from him soon." For a moment she studied the tiny bubbles in her glass as if wondering what odd chemistry produced such effervescence between the two elements. "I take it you have had a chance to read the papers I gave you. What do you make of them?" she asked abruptly.

He moved closer to her chair and turned his back to the line of dancers capering through a lively country dance. "I assume you are referring to the columns listing transfers, dates and amounts."

She nodded.

"Well, he seems to be talking of wheat, corn and rye."

"Yes, but his estate raises only sheep!" she said with a note of barely contained triumph. "Those headings could be a code for something else. I have read of such things in... a book."

One dark brow arched up. "The Dark Lord of Trieste. Yes, I've read that one too. Really, Miss Hadley, so you do prowl the aisle with the horrid novels."

"I never said I didn't read them," she muttered.

He gave a slight chuckle. "Well, in this case I am afraid that wheat means wheat. You see, Dunham has just entered into a partnership with a Cit to trade with the Americas, though he'd cut off his right hand before he would ever admit it to his friends. You saw the condition of his garden, hidden away from the public eye. His father drained the family coffers and though he's been struggling to keep up appearances, he's in desperate need to replenish them. So, by teaming his connections with certain people in Boston with the merchant's money, the two of them have a decent chance of being successful."

"How did you find out about it?"

Sheffield paused. "Gentlemen may not reveal certain things to their friends, but they tend to talk rather freely with their ladybirds, especially at the end of the evening's activities."

Augusta's lips compressed. "Just as I thought. Men get to have all the fun—"

He nearly choked on his champagne.

"What I meant was... investigating interesting things."

His look of unholy amusement only increased.

She made a sound suspiciously like a snort. "Oh, do stop that, sir. This is no laughing matter." Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. "It seems that if you are sure we may rule out Dunham, then I will have to figure out how to proceed with the others."

All traces of humor were quickly wiped from the Earl's face. "What others?"

Her jaw clamped shut.

"I trust that does not mean you are contemplating another late night burglary."

"Well, since some other types of inquiry seem out of the question for me, it does seem the most effective way of discovering secrets."