A Lady of Letters (22 page)

The Earl mounted the marble stairs as his tiger led the team to cool down. The door opened to the sound of the heavy brass knocker and he was ushered inside. To his chagrin, the elderly butler informed him in a doleful voice that Miss Hadley had gone out.

For a moment, he hesitated. "Have you any idea when she might return?"

The man gave a solemn shake of his head. "Miss Hadley does not always see fit to inform us of her intentions, my lord."

Hah! Of that he could well believe. His lips tugged downward and the ebony walking stick in his gloved hand began to tap with some force against the side of his well-polished Hessian. It looked as though there was no choice but to try again later—

"Jenkins, I wondered if you might help me with—" Marianne stopped short on catching sight of the Earl in the entrance hall.

"I beg your pardon for calling at such an early hour. I was hoping I might find your sister at home," said Sheffield, making a slight bow in her direction. With a cursory glance he took in the softly rounded curves of her petite figure, the halo of golden curls framing her delicate features and had to admit that if one favored young misses straight from the schoolroom, the girl was indeed a real beauty.

Intimidated by the rather grim scowl on the Earl's face, as well as recalling his unflattering assessment of her passed on by Augusta, Marianne's mouth opened and closed several times before any words came forth. "She is... out."

"Yes, so I have been informed," he answered dryly.

Marianne colored slightly. "Oh, now you truly think me an idiot, and this time with reason." she blurted out. "I don't usually act as bird-witted as this, but... you took me by surprise, sir."

She was not the only one to feel a flush of heat steal to the cheeks. "Forgive me for startling you, Miss Hadley." He cleared his throat. "And it appears I have a good deal more for which to offer apologies, though I must say, it was not terribly diplomatic of your sister to repeat certain unfortunate remarks. I fear I was not in the best of humors that evening and was moved to voice sentiments that were most unfair."

A bit of a twinkle came to Marianne's eyes. "I imagine you have now come to realize that diplomacy is not a trait often associated with my sister."

Sheffield repressed a twitch of his lips. Despite the difference in physical appearances, the family resemblance was quick becoming obvious. He was indeed wrong to have thought her a vapid milk and water miss. It was clear she had at least some of the same sharpness of wits as her sister "Still, she might have done better to hold her tongue."

"Oh, Gus tells me everything." There was a brief pause after which she added under her breath, "And if she doesn't, I can usually find a way to worm it out of her."

His scowl had by now been replaced by a ghost of a smile. "Did she by chance tell you when she might return?"

"She rode out with Jamison a short while ago, but did not leave any word about when she might be back." A frown came to her face. "Good Lord, she couldn't possibly be trying—" Suddenly aware of what she was saying, her words cut off sharply.

"No, I doubt even your sister would attempt anything really illegal in broad daylight."

Marianne looked a trifle relieved. "I suppose you are right, sir. She may have Jamison twisted around her little finger, but he is not entirely without sense." She paused. "And surely, if she was expecting you—"

The Earl gave a slight cough. "As to that, I merely stopped by in the hopes of borrowing a book that I know your sister recently purchased at Hatchard's. It was the last copy, you see."

"Oh." Marianne considered the matter briefly. "Well, I cannot see why she would object to that. If you wish to follow me to her study, I am sure you are welcome to take it with you now—that is, if you can locate it among all the others."

It was clear her sister didn't tell her quite everything, else she would scarcely think that the elder Miss Hadley would find anything about him welcome, least of all his presence. He hesitated a moment, reason warring with curiosity. Perhaps it would be the polite thing to return at a later time, when the lady in question could decide for herself what she wished to do. That such an action would also afford him an opportunity to converse with her was, of course, only of secondary consideration.

However, he had to admit he was intrigued by the idea of seeing her private study, and the sorts of reading material and personal things she surrounded herself with. And after all, he really needed that book. He would have all the more reason to explain his actions to her when he came to return it....

"I should be most grateful," he replied.

"Please follow me then, my lord."

He wasn't quite prepared for the sight that met his eyes when Marianne pushed the door open. The desk, nearly as large as his own, was not at all the delicate gilt creation he imagined a young lady would favor. The wide expanse of polished oak was, as Marianne had warned, stacked with a number of weighty volumes, as well as what looked to be a thick manuscript, a large inkwell and an assortment of pens. Books were also piled on the carpet by her chair and on the settee near the window.

Marianne gave a wry grimace. "I did warn you, sir. Gus is, ah, making a few notes on something that interests her."

"So it would appear."

"Perhaps if you were to tell me the title of what you are looking for I could—"

"Miss Marianne!" Her mother's maid appeared at the doorway, her thin face looked more agitated than normal. "Your Mama swears she shall fall into permanent decline if she doesn't locate the special lavender and rosemary vinaigrette she ordered from Gillen and Trout immediately. She seems to think you might have an idea where it is." The tone was more plea than question.

Marianne bit her lip.

"Do not let me keep you, Miss Hadley."

She looked around uncertainly. "Oh dear, I have no idea where to start. Perhaps it would be best if—"

"I shall just take a quick look around. If I cannot find what I am looking for, I shall come back when your sister is at home."

"You are sure you don't mind?"

" Not at all."

She flashed him a grateful smile. "I shan't be long, my lord."

Sheffield's gaze traveled slowly around the room once the younger Miss Hadley had left. The wallpaper was a pleasant cream and sage stripe, not some flowery confection, its hues picked up by the subtle patterns of the oriental carpet. The simple drapes were pulled back to allow the sunlight to wash over the carved floor to ceiling bookcases, each shelf filled to capacity with all manner of leatherbound volumes. Several watercolors hung over the mantel. They were landscapes, showing a bold use of color and unusual technique. They were interesting choices, and ones that revealed a discerning and sophisticated eye.

He turned his attention back to her desk and his mouth quirked upward. A few notes? That appeared to be a vast understatement, though why she was engaged in making such copious jottings was a bit puzzling. However, that was none of his concern, he thought, as he approached the cluttered top. He would just peruse the spines of the books and see if the one he wished to borrow was close at hand.

His fingers ran over the small gold leafed spines of first one stack, then another. Having no luck, he moved around to the other side of the desk and bent over slightly to check the titles of the third stack. He moved some of the papers aside to have a look at the bottom book and it was then that his gaze fell on a sheet of cream colored stationery lying among the larger pieces of foolscap. Though folded in half, an edge curled up, just enough to reveal several lines of the handwriting.

His handwriting.

The Earl froze in disbelief. After a moment, he gingerly lifted the paper open completely, as if to assure himself he was not hallucinating. But there was no doubt—letter for letter his words stared back at him.

It suddenly felt as if Gentleman Jackson had landed a punishing blow smack in the middle of his chest. Sucking in a deep breath, he sunk into the desk chair.

What the devil was his letter to Firebrand doing on Miss Hadley's desk? It made absolutely no sense. None whatsoever. His hand came up to rub at his temple and his eyes fell half closed, barely taking in the other papers lying face up on the ink stained blotter. It was some moments before they slowly focused on the distinctive script that covered each sheet, a script that had become nearly as familiar to him as his own hand. In some confusion, his gaze slid to the open drawer, where he spied the rest of his letters, tied in a neat bundle with a length of ribbon.

The awful truth finally hit home.

For a brief second, the room appeared to be spinning. Good Lord, he was hallucinating—no, more than that, he was going stark, raving mad! The world was turned totally on its ear, with Miss Hadley writing as a man, and he about to fall away in a dead faint, like some excitable schoolroom miss. That abominable thought helped him get hold of himself.

Then shock started to give way to anger. Why, the nerve of the outrageous chit, to attempt such a colossal masquerade as that. To pretend to such wisdom and insight! The oaths that tumbled from his lips would have scorched the ears of even the most grizzled stevedore. Just wait until he got his hands around that slender little neck of hers, he fumed, and then—

The sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway caused his head to jerk up.

"I shall be just a minute. Tell my mother I will be upstairs shortly, as soon as I straighten up some things in my study. Er, what was that, Jenkins?" The brass knob turned with some force and the door was flung open. "You will have to speak up...."

The words cut off abruptly as Augusta caught sight of the Earl seated at her desk, the telltale letter still grasped between his fingers.

Her hand came up to her throat as she closed the door behind her. "How dare you, sir!" she said in a strangled whisper. "How dare you break into my private study and paw through my things. Get out! Get out at once!"

"Not until I have some answers from you."

"I have nothing to answer for."

"No?" He rose, as did his voice, and held the piece of paper with his handwriting on it up in the air. "What of this?"

"What of it?" Her eyes dropped to the ground.

"You impudent chit! I cannot believe it! You... you tricked me."

"Oh, and how do you figure that? Did I give you false advice? Did I betray your confidences? Did I do anything but... act as a true friend?"

He had the grace to color.

"I certainly didn't know either, sir, if that is what you mean," continued Augusta. "Not until very recently." Her eyes were alight with sparks. "Good Lord, you cannot imagine I should ever have written such things if I had any idea it was... you!"

Sheffield found himself staring at the molten hazel, flecked with amber, and growing hot all over. He took a step closer to her. "Why not?"

"You just answered that yourself, sir. You said you couldn't believe it—you have made it clear that you could never accept that your learned... friend was a female."