Realm 06 - A Touch of Love (26 page)

“Obviously, we should not raise my sister’s expectations with news of our seeking comfort in each other.” The words had been difficult to pronounce when he wished the contrary.

She blushed, and Carter was aware of the heat rushing through her veins. “Of course,” she murmured. “Lady McLauren has spoken of your need for a wife who would advance your career.”

Carter had not known how to reply and had, therefore, remained silent, which had solidified his sister’s assertions in Mrs. Warren’s mind. If he now refuted Louisa’s predictions, Mrs. Warren would likely interpret his denial as a seduction, and despite Carter’s desire to know more of Lucinda Warren’s sweetness, he was not prepared to lead the woman through a “merry dance.” When he considered all involved, he knew it best to keep his desires on the shelf.

“What would you have me do?” McLauren asked cautiously. Carter, Law, and the earl remained longer than usual over their port. So long, in fact, Louisa, Arabella, and Mrs. Warren had decided to retire early.

“I have sent word to London for the Home Office to send agents to Lincolnshire to place our shooter in custody.”

The earl pressed, “Do you suspect the man an enemy of Mrs. Warren?”

Carter noted Lawrence’s raised eyebrow, but his brother held his tongue. “I hold no reason to suspect Mrs. Warren was the man’s target.”

McLauren scowled. “Then who? I thought you said someone had threatened the lady.”

“True. There was an anonymous note, which indicated Mrs. Warren had been singled out. Previously, she has experienced a break in, a bizarre accident while crossing a busy street, and a mysterious fire,” he confided. “But I could just as easily be the target. My position creates innumerable enemies.” Carter paused for emphasis. “Or the man could have been an inept highwayman. He wore a mask.”

Law chastised, “No one would believe our culprit to be inept. His aim was quite accurate. And what respectable highwayman robs a coach in mid afternoon on a busy village road?”

Carter had simply placed the possibility of the shooter’s nefarious ways into the conversation to distract his brother and McLauren. “Then no highwayman,” he said ruefully. “But as the stranger is refusing to divulge any information, either Mrs. Warren or I could be the intended victim.”

His brother’s voice was ragged. “When Arabella and I return to Blake’s Run on Monday, I expect you and Mrs. Warren to accompany us.”

“Yours could be a dangerous move,” Carter warned. He did not like the idea of placing his family in danger. In fact, if he could discover a means of leaving Lincolnshire before Louisa’s planned supper, Carter would do so. He preferred to keep his personal life and his work separate.

A muscle ticked in Lawrence’s jaw, and Carter noted his brother’s disapproval. He said slowly and deliberately, “If you think I would turn you aside because of the complications involved in Mrs. Warren’s situation, I have greatly failed you as a brother. My God, Carter! Do you not realize how far each of your siblings would go to protect you? I may not have your training, but I will stand beside you throughout whatever danger you face. Blake’s Run is your home. If trouble arrives, we will defend it together.”

Carter felt the sting of having his integrity called into question, but he supposed he had deserved Law’s chastisement. He had always thought of himself as the family’s protector. Had not his mother labeled him as such? Not truly prepared to accept Law’s “big brother” announcement, Carter declared, “I will speak to Mrs. Warren in the morning.” He certainly would not promise his brother anything upon which he could not later deliver.

When she had made her appearance on the landing, Carter’s heart had stumbled to a halt. Arabella’s gown fit Lucinda Warren perfectly, the material accenting each of her very lush curves. The gown of dark plum accentuated the honey umber of her eyes and the brilliant highlights of her hair. Her eyes danced with an inner fire, and Carter stared in mute fascination.

Noting his distraction, the lady made a face. “Do you not approve, Sir Carter?”

Awkwardness surrounded him, but he managed to say, “On the contrary, Mrs. Warren. I approve too much.” He extended his hand in her direction. “I have waited for you so we might enter together. As you know none of Louisa’s guests, I thought it best.”

She placed her bare fingers in his gloved palm, which reminded Carter of the gift he had purchased for her. He brought the back of her hand to his lips. “You are nearly perfect,” he said with a tease. When her eyebrow rose with curiosity, he added, “But I mean for others to see you as I do.” He reached for
the box he had left upon a side table. “These mere trifles will provide you the confidence to shine.” He handed her the white gloves and the burgundy and gold ornate lace fan.

Mrs. Warren protested heatedly. “I cannot accept a gift of this caliber from a gentleman. It would be unseemly.”

Carter sighed heavily. “We are not intimates, you and I. In fact, I would term us ‘friends.’ As your friend, I wish you an evening of perfect happiness, one in which you will not fear the judgment of others. Permit me to observe a smile upon your lips.” He felt the strum of desire return, but Carter held no regret at presenting her the gloves and the fan. Nor when he thought on it, had he regretted kissing her at the inn. How could he? It was the first time he had felt alive in years.

“They are exquisite,” she said wistfully, and Carter knew he had won.

“Only if they grace your hands,” he whispered seductively.

His tone gave her pause, and she glanced up at him in disapproval, but even that gesture made Carter’s heart stutter. “No more, Sir Carter,” she said adamantly. “I shall accept these items as a symbol of our friendship, but I shall not have you think them more than that. Anything else, which has passed between us, must not happen again. Agreed?”

He smiled indulgently at her, but disappointment washed over him. “You are most astute, Mrs. Warren. I have acted as a cad, and I possess no excuse except your beauty. However, I promise on my honor as a gentleman not to treat you without respect ever again.”

Louisa’s dining hall was filled with the best of the neighborhood. “I understood Sir Carter owes his life to you, Mrs. Warren,” Mr. Whisenant said from beside her. Louisa had placed Mr. Monroe on her right and Whisenant on her left. Both men had found Mrs. Warren’s company delightful, much to Carter’s chagrin.

The lady smiled with forbearance, and Carter thought it amusing he recognized the nuances of her gestures. “I assure you, Mr. Whisenant, your sources have erred.”

“Oh, no, Mrs. Warren,” Monroe added quickly. “I had it from Sir Carter himself. Did I not, Sir?”

Carter looked up as if surprised by the content of their discussion. How could he let it be known he had eavesdropped on their exchange? “Had what, Monroe?”

The young buck meant to impress the others at the table, and Carter fought the urge to remove him by his ear. “Heard how you shoved the ladies to the coach’s floor when the attack occurred. How you returned for Lord Hellsman’s servant. How Mrs. Warren jumped from a moving coach to come to your rescue.”

Everyone at the table had gone silent.
Yes, it was time to box Monroe’s ears.
The neighborhood meant to hear the tale from the participants. Mrs. Warren paled, and Carter wished to throttle Monroe for his insensitivity. With his flippant means to bring the glory to his own doorstep, Monroe had painted the lady in a negative light. “As we are both employed by the Home Office,” he said pointedly, “it was my duty to investigate any attack on members of the aristocracy. As Lady Hellsman is my sister in marriage and Mrs. Warren is the daughter of a decorated military man who died in service to his country, I held a most honorable responsibility to act.”

Carter sipped his wine to steady his resolve. He would turn the story to the lady’s favor. “I discovered Hamby, but he was not seriously injured; however, it was necessary for me to examine the area for fear of further attacks. I was just returning to assist my brother’s servant when another shot rang out. Before I knew what had happened, our attacker had placed me in a precarious situation.” He noted Mrs. Warren’s shiver of revulsion. Had the memory of his peril affected her?

“I expected to die, but Heaven had sent Mrs. Warren to rescue me. The lady possessed the good sense to seek me out after hearing our intruder’s gunshot. Her appearance distracted the assailant long enough for the advantage to turn my way.”

“Were you not frightened?” Mrs. Peoples, the vicar’s wife, asked in awe.

Mrs. Warren discovered her voice. “Most decidedly so.”

Carter added, “I am certain Mrs. Warren recognized Fear, as is reasonable in all humankind. Yet, the lady possesses a generous heart. As I fulfilled my
responsibility as a servant of good King George, Mrs. Warren fulfilled her responsibilities as a servant of God.”

“Here, here,” several about the table said in admiration, and Carter turned his polite attention to his tablemate. Mr. Whisenant’s sister, a pretty girl of some nineteen years, but his awareness remained with his traveling companion. Yet, to his chagrin, the topic had not run its course.

“What do we know of your attacker?” Mr. Peoples asked.

“Very little,” McLauren shared. “We thought perhaps he was a wayward highwayman.” Carter knew the earl had found an opening he meant to ply.

Mr. Linton, McLauren’s closest neighbor, spoke with prejudice. “There are plenty upon the roads these days. So many from the war look for an easy means to line their pockets.”

Mrs. Warren’s gaze settled on the man. With disbelief, she said, “Do you suppose these men…these former soldiers…would not prefer to hold an honest occupation?”

The room’s atmosphere shifted, and a cold stillness sent a shiver down Carter’s spine. With a curl of his lip, Whisenant snarled his disapproval. “For all any of us know, your attacker could have been part of that Pentridge gang. Last I heard several of the leaders were still on the run.”

McLauren had explained to Carter about the uprising, but now it was Whisenant and Linton who wove a tale of greed. Although Carter theoretically worked for Lord Sidmouth, the Realm was involved in more important seditious acts than those stirred up by a few disillusioned stockingers, ironworkers, and quarry men.

“These hooligans have made a nuisance of themselves from South Wingfield to Ripley to Codnor and to Langley Mill. There are rumors that one of the leaders, Jeremiah Brandreth, killed a servant just because the man’s mistress refused to provide the rioters with weapons. Reportedly, the group even attempted to take control of the Butterley ironworks in Nottingham. Although they killed three senior managers and wrecked the place, the factory agent and a few constables sent them packing.”

Mr. Whisenant appeared quite knowledgeable of the specifics of the march. So knowledgeable Carter wondered if the gentleman was an informant for Sidmouth. There were many internal rumors regarding the Home Secretary employing spies and paid informers to root out any acts of unrest.

Whisenant continued, “The 15
^th
Regiment of Light Dragoons met the men at Giltbrook, where forty were captured. Unfortunately, the masterminds of the march escaped.”