To Con a Gentleman: A Regency Romance (Dalton Family Book 1) Page 3

  “Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you? I was already planning on attending the ball, but if you need me to travel with you I can cancel my hunting trip.”

  Carver chuckled, hoping that if he seemed light-hearted and unaffected, Oliver would drop the subject. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ve already hired a nursemaid to hold my hand in your absence.”

  Oliver’s green eyes narrowed, clearly unimpressed—as well as undeterred—by Carver’s attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s your first time home in three years, Kenny. It’s okay to be a little unnerved by it.”

  Carver dismissed his valet, not wishing for his servant to overhear such a private conversation. Because if he knew Oliver, he would not drop the subject before they had explored every part of it.

  “I’m not unnerved, Oliver. I’m completely fine.” Completely fine. He was, wasn’t he? He had gotten on with his life.

  “Completely fine?” Oliver tipped a taunting brow and crossed his arms. “Then say her name.”

  That was too far. Carver’s jaws clenched and his nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. “Drop it, Oliver. If you push this topic, I’ll hit you. And you know it.”

  “See. You’re not fine.” Oliver’s brows pulled together. “It’s time to move on and get some closure, Kenny. Maybe if you finally visit her grave while you’re—,”

  “I have moved on,” Carver snapped through his teeth while curling his toes into his boots to keep himself from crossing the room and throwing his fist into Oliver’s nose.

  “Really? Then why is it you haven’t come up to scratch with one of the dozens of ladies that want to marry you?”

  “Not that itchy?”

  “Stop,” Oliver said, adjusting in his seat. “You’re the biggest catch on the marriage mart. Too good looking for your own good. Titled. Wealthy. And could marry almost any woman you wanted in London. And yet, you will hardly even look at another woman since—”

  “Don’t,” Carver said, deciding it was the last warning he would give his friend.

  “You need to be able to say her name.”

  “What I need is for you to drop it or get out of my bedchamber.” The skin on his knuckles stung as he tightened his hands into fists.

  For a moment Oliver looked like he was going to press the subject further. Unfortunately, Oliver was never afraid of coming to cuffs with him. But then Oliver let out a deep sigh of relent and looked away.

  “Fine. I’ll drop it. But think about what I said.” And then the entire atmosphere of the room lightened as Oliver’s face shifted into a lopsided grin. “After all, I know what I’m talking about. I’m very wise and almost a married man.”

  Carver shook his head and walked to open his bedchamber door, eager to be done with the conversation and on with his day. “Don’t forget to tell Jeffers how much you need on the way out.”

  “Thanks. I’ll pay you back,” said Oliver standing from his chair and walking toward the open door.

  Carver just waved him off and smirked. “Don’t bother. Consider it a wedding gift.”

  Even though in that moment he ached to fight the man, he was happy to be able to help him in any way he could. Even if it was for such a stupid reason as giving his money to a woman he barely knew and would likely never see again.

  “Try not to miss me too much,” Oliver said with a grin while walking through the door.

  “My pillow will be soaked through with tears until we are reunited.” He heard Oliver laugh on his way to the stairs.

  An hour later, after Carver had finished his breakfast and was on the way to his study, he heard three raps at the front door. He stopped and waited for Jeffers to attend to the knock, but after a glance around the foyer, he realized that none of his staff had been present to hear it—most likely because everyone was in a frenzy trying to close up the house and pack for his trip home. He rolled his shoulders and quickly adjusted the cuffs of his jacket before going to open the door himself.

  Chapter 3

  Rose contemplated placing a fourth knock on the door, but before she had a chance, it flew open. Startled, she took a step back. She hadn’t anticipated the door opening so quickly or finding a gigantic handsome gentleman on the other side. Although she ought to have expected it since she knew that Lord Newburry was widely considered to cut an attractive figure. Rakes were very rarely ugly.

  She was, however, most taken by surprise that the door was answered not by a butler, but instead by his lordship himself. She blinked at the mountainous earl and realized an absurd amount of time had passed while she stood there gaping at the man. Realizing she was, in fact, the one who had called upon him, she wished she could summon one word to speak, but none came. She had, quite frankly, forgotten why she was there in the first place. Had she ever been so terrible at a job so quickly before?

  Lord Newburry’s cool grey eyes swept over and then behind her before speaking, reminding Rose of her purpose there.

  “And to what do I owe the honor?” he said, one dark brow lifted making him look haughty and pretentious.

  The sound of his deep voice jolted her back to the present. She shook her head—instantly wished she hadn’t—and then dropped a curtsy.

  Get yourself together, you ninny!

  “I beg your pardon, my lord. I was hoping for a private audience with your lordship.”

  He hesitated a moment but then stepped aside, emphasizing just how much his shoulders had filled the doorway before, and gestured for her to come in.

  She forced her mind to focus before flashing him the meek smile of a nervous maid and then stepped across the massive threshold into a lavish foyer and noted the four-tiered crystal chandelier, porcelain vases, and decadent tapestries on the walls. The room practically dripped with money. Maybe she should try to squeeze a little more out of him.

  She re-focused her attention on the earl several steps away. But goodness he was big. He had the broad shoulders of an athlete and she imagined that there was not a single man in all of London that could approach his height.

  Based on the gossip, Rose had always assumed Lord Newburry to be more of a dandified tulip rather than the sporting corinthian that he appeared to be. Just looking at him made her feel like her throat was closing and she needed to clear it for air.

  But he was a cad, and she needed to get herself together.

  She clasped her hands together just below her fake belly bump, allowing the shape to show through her skirts. The next step was to introduce herself and try to recall to his memory to an event that had not actually taken place—at least, not with her. She was hoping he wouldn’t remember that. In truth, she was sure he wouldn’t.

  His steely eyes slid from hers to the small fake belly bump. His brows pulled together, and he smirked. “Why do I have the devilish suspicion that you have not visited to remark on the state of the weather?”

  “No, my lord,” she looked coyly down to her stomach. “I have not. In fact, Lord Newburry, I have—,”

  But he cut her off. “Pardon?” he said, tilting his head toward her as if to hear her better. Was the man hard of hearing or just rude?

  She took a cleansing breath and re-adjusted on her feet to start again. “I was only agreeing that, no, I have not come to remark on the weather.” She breathed. “In truth, my lord, this visit is of a more sensitive nature.”

  She could see him open his mouth to argue, but she did not allow him to interrupt again. He had already set her off balance once that day and she could not let it happen again. It was important that she remained in control.

  “I don’t believe I need to remind you of the…attentions you paid me a few months ago at Lord Grantham’s estate.” She continued to look at her stomach as she was sure Daphney Bellows would. Maids very rarely made eye contact with those they were serving, or anyone above their rank.

  “Actually, I do need for you to remind me.”

  She glanced up and saw that he had the audacity to look amused. He shook his h
ead slightly and shrugged his shoulders with the slightest of confused smiles. “Who are you and what attentions have I paid you?”

  Her eyes widened in fake shock. Inwardly, she was pleased he didn’t remember. Pleased and revolted. It was a tedious business she was in.

  “I was a chambermaid at Lord Grantham’s house when you came to stay. And you…well…you—” He continued to look just as amused as before with his eyebrows pulled together and a teasing grin on his mouth. She wanted to slap him. “Good heavens, must I really say it out loud, my lord?” She forced a tremble into her voice.

  “I wish you would,” he said.

  “You…” her eyes bounced back and forth from the green rug to his grey eyes, “You made love to me, my lord!” she finally said, willing a blush into her cheeks.

  His brows shot up. “Did I, now?” Blast the man! He looked as if he were witnessing an amusing scene from a play rather than listening to a scared maid he had compromised.

  Well…the face of a woman who was impersonating the maid he had compromised.

  “Y-yes.” She shot her eyes back down. “Surely you remember me?” Be pitiful. She peeked up from under her lashes.

  He laughed. Actually laughed. “No. But you remember me of course?”

  “Of course, I do! I would never be able to forget you or the attentions you wrongly paid me.”

  “Is that so?” he was still smiling.

  Rose balled her hands into fists at her sides. So help her, she was going to slap that smug look right off his face.

  “Yes,” she said with a little too much force in her tone. Rose took a slow breath in through her nose. “As you can see, my lord, I am now increasing and unfortunately out of the job, thanks to you.” Too much again. Why was she having such a difficult time staying in character with this man?

  “And I—,” he placed his hand on his chest, “Lord Newburry—am the lucky father?”

  “I know you are, my lord. There simply isn’t—,” Rose was interrupted yet again, but this time by several footmen who began marching through the foyer carrying trunks and boxes.

  Lord Newburry lifted his chin to look at her over the parade of boxes and luggage. “Continue, my dear.”

  Rose flexed the muscles in her legs and tried to speak over the noise without actually yelling. “I was saying, that there simply is no one else that could be the f-father, my lord. Without a doubt, the situation I find myself in came about because of my unfortunate encounter with you.” She tried to be firm and yet meek, balancing her own backbone with Daphney’s fragile sensibilities.

  The steady stream of footmen and maids continued their work of carrying luggage through the foyer and out the door. A footman removed the knocker from the door, and two maids began covering furniture in the little parlor across the hall. Were they closing up the house? Rose tried to catch a glimpse of the earl in between the line of servants. This was not going well at all.

  The earl spoke loudly and without shame across the foyer. “I see! So, to make sure I have this straight, I am the man who has stolen your virtue?”

  Goodness! She wouldn’t have to try hard to feign embarrassment that time. Did the man have no scruples about speaking of such sensitive matters in a remarkably busy room? And even worse—he was not cowering or showing the least bit of remorse.

  “You’re certain it wasn’t anyone else?” he said.

  “I am quite certain it was you, my lord!” Rose’s voice raised to an octave that made even her cringe. Servants continued to bustle about, completing their tasks. She felt discomposed by the commotion, and more importantly, the earl seemed to be distracted by it as well. She could feel what little power she had slipping. “My lord, might there be a more private place we can talk?”

  “Darling, you needn’t worry over the discretion of my staff. I assure you they have far more important things to care about than the loss of your virtue.”

  Ardent hatred began to take root. At least other gentlemen that she had scammed similarly had had the good grace to be fearful, sometimes even remorseful, and were always eager to pay what duty owed.

  This man, however, didn’t give a dash.

  “Even so—I would feel more comfortable speaking with you in private.”

  “Would you?” There was that amused tone again. “Well, I am afraid that you’ve caught me as I’m going out. Ah, Jeffers!” he said, turning away from her to address the butler who had just entered the room. “Please see that my mother’s crystal vase is safely packed. The woman will have my neck if it arrives in pieces.”

  Was that it? Had he dismissed her so quickly? Her pride prickled. Rose had never been so patently unsuccessful before. Clearly, she was going to need to display a bit more of her backbone.

  She waited—unable to keep her foot from tapping beneath her dress—as the earl addressed a maid, the housekeeper, and two footmen before he turned on his heels and walked right out of the house without excuse or apology. Rose’s foot stilled as she blinked at the front door.

  Had he really just left? Had he forgotten she was there? Never before had she been treated as such an afterthought. A nuisance, yes. Hated, absolutely. Ogled, often. Completely ignored, never.

  Rose lifted her chin in the air, tightened her bonnet’s strings under her chin and marched after him. She had never failed at a job, and she did not intend for this to be the first.

  Chapter 4

  “My lord!” Rose called out while taking the outside stairs in quick succession. He paused, one boot perched on the bottom stair of the enclosed carriage, and turned his eyes to her. “I’m afraid that I must demand a private audience with you!”

  He smirked. “Are you still here? I thought you had left.”

  Her jaw and fists tightened in unison. “You were the one who left, my lord! You may think that because you are titled and wealthy, you are not held to the same morals as everyone else, but believe me when I tell you that I will not be fobbed off no matter your station.”

  A bit too much. But at least it changed the expression on his face from one that was amused and unfeeling to one that seemed as if he were really looking at her for the first time. His eyes roamed her face as if searching for something. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes that she could not name. Before she had time to figure out what it was, it was gone, and he smiled, almost mischievously. She didn’t trust it.

  “Very well, get in,” he said, extending his hand to assist her up into his waiting carriage.

  Rose looked from the empty carriage back to the earl who was easily twice her size, and now that she could observe his face more closely, in possession of a menacing-looking cut above his right eyebrow. “In… your carriage, my lord?”

  “Yes, where else would we talk? I told you I was—”

  “Going out. Yes, you need not repeat yourself.”

  He smirked and extended his large, calloused hand once again.

  She didn’t love the idea of getting into an enclosed carriage alone with such a notorious rake, but seeing as it was the only way to have a private conversation with him, she took his hand and stepped into the carriage. She swallowed against a lump forming in her throat and placed her valise on the seat beside her. Everything would be fine. And if he did not behave, there was a pistol on her thigh reminding her that she could take control of the situation at any moment.

  Although she had never actually been forced to shoot anyone, Rose knew she was a fine shot. Along with the lessons of pick-pocketing and conning, Uncle Felix had insisted from her first day under his tutelage that she learn how to handle a pistol. And thanks to his thorough instruction, Rose could shoot a playing card out of a man’s hand from twenty-five paces away without so much as grazing a single finger.

  Lord Newburry stepped into the carriage, making the whole thing shift from his weight, and sat on the bench facing her. His legs were so long that even without intention their knees were almost brushing. She shifted a little closer to the door.

  A footman shut the door,
allowing Rose to experience firsthand what it felt like to be a bird shut inside a cage with a hungry cat. No matter. She could handle herself. And at least it was a very well sprung cage. The warm brick at her feet, a luxury she would have, at other times appreciated, only added to the perspiration pooling in her palms.

  She looked up and was startled to find him staring at her with a soft smile and lifted brow. “Alright, my dear. You have my attention.” Why did those words make her want to squirm? And why did she have to find the horrible man so blasted attractive? It was inconvenient and getting in the way. She would do well to picture him with long nose hairs and awful brown teeth.

  Blast.

  It didn’t work. Her rebellious mind instead took the time set aside for imaging the man as an ogre to notice instead that he had a very strong jawline and maybe even a dimple if he smiled fully. All of these observations only served to make the carriage feel smaller. Maybe the air beside the door would feel a little cooler. Rose scooted an inch to the right and then stopped short when her seat made an uncomfortable sort of noise. One that sounded far too much like a bodily function.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  Her eyes widened and flashed to the obnoxious earl who was clearly trying to school his amusement, his smile breaking through pursed lips.

  She flushed for real this time. “Surely I do not need to tell you, my lord, that it was the seat that created that unfortunate noise?”

  “Oh, certainly.” But he cleared his throat into his hand to cover up his chuckling.

  She narrowed her eyes. “It was the seat,” she said enunciating every syllable and sounding more like a defensive child than a grown woman.

  “Mmhmm.” The overblown look of agreement that he gave her made Rose want to dissolve into the carriage bench.

  He didn’t believe her. Or was he simply teasing her? She crossed her hands over her torso and tipped a brow. “It was the seat. And I will make the noise again to prove my innocence.” Oh, no. Had she really just offered to recreate the sound of flatulence to remove his suspicions that she was an idiot? And why—oh, why?!—would the seat not make the sound again? How many times could she scoot back and forth on that seat before he thought her a madwoman and had her shipped off to bedlam?