Chapter Fourteen
ALONE IN THE early hours, after privately assuaging his own base needs , Kit spotted another flaw. Not in Lando, despite his disappointment that the man took himself off to his own bedchamber after their intimacy against the sturdy desk. In Kit’s eyes, Lando was already approaching perfection from every angle, even flushed and unguarded at the peak of his crisis, and no man ever looked his best at that pivotal moment. But a flaw in their scheme to overthrow Gartside and, specifically, the parts affecting Kit himself. An uneasiness settled over him, a ragged thread of worry just out of reach. If his lust-soaked mind wasn’t so intent on painting pictures of the earl in various stages of undress, he might be able to pinpoint it. Instead, he wrestled with the problem until dawn, which arrived misty and grey and devoid of a solution.
Breakfast distracted him further because Lando was already seated at the head of the table, sorting a mountain of correspondence into two piles whilst picking at a tiny bowl of figs. He was dressed immaculately in another beguiling robe, this one a delicate rose pink. Ye gods, the man was beautiful. Glacial until one laid one’s hands on him, but beautiful, nonetheless. Any concerns Kit harboured that Lando might regret last night’s brief interlude were banished when he greeted him with a warm smile.
“I was hoping you’d join me, Kit.” Lando gestured to the sideboard. “Help yourself.”
Holding up a gilt-edged card, he sighed. “I’ve been back amongst the ton for less than forty-eight hours and already the aspirational mamas are lining up their daughters. Unfortunately, being emotionally indisposed is not sufficient excuse to turn down a soiree at Lady Chalfont’s.”
He dropped the card onto the smaller of the two heaps. “This, here, is the regretfully attend pile.” Picking up another, he examined the writing, then cast it aside without even opening it. He motioned to the larger heap. “This pile I have labelled enthusiastically decline .”
With a grin, Kit heaped sausage and eggs onto a plate and poured coffee. “Mamas the length and breadth of Mayfair will be distraught.” After a sip of coffee, smoother than any he’d ever tasted, he set to tackling his breakfast. “You won’t consider another marriage?”
“Gadzooks, no! I have my heir and my spare, thank you very much. And my younger sister seems set on breeding her own wolfpack should disaster befall them both.” He dabbed his mouth with a lily-white square of linen. “Further efforts in that direction would be a huge waste of my energies.” He popped a fig between his plush lips. “Especially when they can be spent on much more fruitful pursuits.”
Dangling yet another item of correspondence between finger and thumb, Lando’s pale eyes regarded Kit innocently. Why did every word spilling from this man’s damned fine mouth provoke Kit’s mind to flights of fancy? Was he flirting with Kit to distract from the morning’s post, or had Kit simply lost control of his own concupiscence?
Either way, he delivered himself a sharp reminder not to make himself too comfortable. The rich coffee and the excellent breakfast were but temporary. As was their liaison. When, and if, Gartside was avenged, Kit would return to his humble lodgings and attempt to forge a more respectable lifestyle, and the earl would go back to…Kit was unsure, but harboured no illusions it would involve him.
“My sister has corresponded, by the way.” The crisp sound of paper unfolding brought Kit back to earth. “She informs me that Anne is settling in nicely.”
“Truly excellent news,” answered Kit. “I must write to her, conveying my utmost gratitude and good wishes.” Glancing at an older footman standing sentry by the breakfast room door, staring resolutely ahead, he dropped his voice. “My lor…Lando, I have a question for you. Regarding our plan.”
“Only one?” Steepling his elbows on the table, Lando’s eyes followed the direction of Kit’s. “You may speak freely. Jones has been in my family’s employ for thirty years. I have an extremely loyal household.”
Yes, Kit was aware. His bruises were yet to fade. “No, not exactly. I have…um…several, in fact. But one is perhaps concerning me more than most.”
“Ah.” The earl’s eyes glittered. “And I have a feeling I know what it might be. We should have discussed further last night. Except our evening quite ran away with itself, did it not?”
Kit cursed. There it was again. That damned fluttery, suggestive tone making coherent thought difficult. “Well, yes. The part I’m unsure about is—what happens afterwards? When I’m exposed for—” Despite Lando’s reassurance, Kit lowered his voice, “—impersonating a senior government official?”
“Why do you think you’ll be exposed?”
“Why do you think I won’t? Sir Richard and Cobham will discover the truth sooner or later. And it strikes me as a crime associated with a lengthy prison sentence. Or even worse.”
Images of sturdy iron shackles and his ankles attached to them flooded Kit’s head. They portrayed a world far removed from rich coffee, crispy bacon, and a large comfortable bed. So, why did a nagging voice inside his head hint that one might be…payment for the other?
Shoving that train of thought aside, Kit pushed on. “Let’s assume Gartside falls for it and attempts to bribe me. I agree with your assessment that he won’t blab because doing so will expose his bribe and poor form. But there would be nothing stopping Sir Richard and Cobham when they discover I’m an imposter. Even though they won’t have risked money, I’ll still have made fools of them. To all intents and purposes, unless you intend to confess to your part in the scheme, it will appear that I’ll have made fools of you and the American too.” He chewed a mouthful of tender bacon, suddenly lacking in flavour. “Which may not concern you too much, but then it won’t be your neck on the chopping block, will it?”
The chopping block ? Where had that sprung from?
With sudden shocking clarity, Kit’s niggling concerns of the night before fell into place, and he stared at his host in horror. Of course, that was it! What a fool he’d been! Confess ? Why on earth would Lando do that? The earl would pretend, along with the rest of them, that he’d been deceived by Kit too. At worst, it would prove embarrassing for him, just as it would be for Cobham and Sir Richard. But not life-threatening .
Placidly, Lando contemplated his next fig. So calm, so elegant, so controlling . Of everything and everybody, including Kit, from the moment they kissed in the carriage. The assembled dinner guests had danced to his tune like marionettes on a string. And then, after the guests departed, the earl seduced him in their delicious episode in the drawing room, granting him permission to use his name. Kit remembered his hands working the earl’s prick, gladly offering him pleasure and release.
And the act had not been reciprocated.
It was like a dreadful, third-rate operatic aria. Kit’s own words played in his head: It won’t be your neck on the chopping block, will it? But it would be somebody’s. Somebody had to pay for setting up this elaborate scheme to bring down the baronet and to avenge his sister, the estate workers, and all Gartside’s other victims. And that somebody was Kit. He was an utter fool not to have seen it before.
Nauseated, he pushed his plate away. It would serve him well to remember that his host, tranquilly sipping coffee and nibbling his damned figs, was the same ruthless person who had booted him out of his house. Twice. The same icy soul who had roughed him up against the wall of the stables.
“How terribly dramatic of you, Kit! Of course it won’t come to that.” The earl’s amused cut-glass tones sliced through his thoughts. “The chances of anyone discovering you aren’t who you purport to be are very slim.”
“‘Very slim’ isn’t very reassuring. You introduced me using my real name! I’m going to be running from the law for the remainder of my days.”
Lando sighed. “Now, you’re being ridiculous.”
“Easy for you to say! I’m only relieved Anne used our uncle’s name when she was in Gartside’s mother’s employ.”
Stabbing at his breakfast, Kit wracked his brains for a way out. One that didn’t involve Gartside escaping scot-free. He came up with nothing. Annoyingly, he liked the earl’s daring plan right up to the part that he didn’t, the last chapter. Trust me , Lando had said. And led by his bloody prick, Kit had.
Blind fury replaced his earlier panic, girding his loins. If he was going to the gallows, then it wouldn’t be without a fight. And he’d damned well take Tommy Squire, the American , with him. He’d bet his bottom teeth that the slimy actor would waste no time implicating the earl if it gave him a chance of saving his own skin. Which would leave Kit where? A peer of the realm’s word against that of a tawdry actor and a card-sharping pickpocket, already being hunted by the runners. Which meant, taking the whole thing to its logical conclusion: Lando would walk away free, and Kit and Tommy would be swinging from a rope. His stomach roiled.
“Kit,” urged Lando. “I’m eavesdropping on your thoughts, and they’re heading in an unnecessary direction.”
“Unnecessary for you, perhaps.” Kit cracked his knuckles, quelling his overwhelming urge to throw something. “How wonderful it must be to have such station in life that one is above the law.”
Lando narrowed his eyes. “Really, now you’re being absurd. I’m telling you the law won’t have anything to do with this because no one will ever find out!”
“Forgive me, my lord ,” Kit growled, “If I don’t share your faith. Everybody in that room last night will be livid when they discover the whole thing is nothing but a ruse. Fleecing Gartside will be the least of my worries.”
With a pained sigh, Lando shifted his letter piles to one side. “Right. Let’s address your concerns one at a time, shall we? Beginning with Tommy Squire. Who obviously already knows it’s a ruse.”
“He’ll talk. He’ll gossip. People can’t help themselves.”
Lando shook his head. “No, he won’t. I have no intention of divulging the exact story behind Tommy’s association with me, but I can assure you that, at knifepoint, or even with the hangman’s stool poised to be kicked out from under him, that man will never betray me.” He turned over his palm as if tapping off his fingers. “Who’s next?”
How coolly this harshly elegant man viewed him across the breakfast table. How chilly. He was once more behaving like the perfect stranger Kit first met in contrast to last night’s lover, so soft and pliant, melting in his arms. If Kit didn’t know better, he’d imagine the evening’s finale had been nothing more than a combination of wishful thinking and an excess of rich brandy.
“Now, let’s consider Gartside. We both agree he won’t spill the tale, do we not? When his bribe comes to light, he will flee and likely never show his face again in society. Given that you have little intention after this is over of joining society yourself, the chances of either of you ever clapping eyes on each other again are as remote as me wooing and bedding a second bride.”
Lando flashed a grim smile, exposing his small sharp teeth.
“What about the other two?” demanded Kit. “Their blunt may be safe, but they will lose a great deal of face. Lord Cobham is loud and brash. He has a short temper and won’t take kindly to being hoodwinked, even if the principal victim is the scoundrel who cheapened his daughter.”
Lando remained unperturbed. “Fear not, my friend. Within the last year, Lord Cobham has suffered two episodes of apoplexy, the second almost fatal. He has crippling gout, an excessive fondness for port, and a belly set to pop.” Lando cupped a hand behind his ear. “Hark, the angels are already trimming their wicks. I wager he’ll have hung up his dinner pail by the end of the year.”
After witnessing the older man trying to catch his breath while waddling to the dining table, Kit was in private agreement with the earl’s pithy assessment. Not that he would give him the satisfaction.
“When this is through,” Lando continued, “you should lay low—I suggest Rossingley would be an ideal location.” He smiled again, the seductive flirty one that had Kit so pathetically entranced despite his misgivings. “Until the poor man is sadly no more.”
Kit huffed, still wanting to throw something. Not only was Lando devilishly attractive, it seemed he also had an answer for everything. “What about Sir Richard, then? He’s in fine health, youngish too. And sharp as a rose thorn.”
This time when Lando smiled, it seemed quite genuine. “Sir Richard will hear the truth. But not until it’s all over.”
“Why ever would you do that?”
“Firstly, he’s my cousin. Blood is thicker than water and what reflects badly on me will undoubtedly reflect badly on him. Also, he detests Gartside as much as anyone—again, I am not at liberty to divulge why. Underneath that stuffy exterior, Sir Richard has a good sense of humour. In all honesty, he’ll be delighted at our cunning.” Another genuine smile. “And I am hoping to reward him in a manner that will please him, and possibly you, greatly.”
Kit huffed again. “Let me guess; you won’t divulge?”
“How well you have grown to know me,” replied Lando sweetly, “in such a short space of time.”
Damnation, the man was infuriating. And outrageously desirable, and with an answer to everything. He had a way of making Kit feel like he should trust him when it should have been obvious even to the blessed damask wallpaper, never mind the silent footman, that he shouldn’t. And if anyone else were to dismiss his concerns for his own liberty with such unflappable high-handed self-belief, then Kit would probably succumb to his physical urges and plant his fist against the man’s haughty, smug mouth. So why did he want to plant his own mouth against Lando’s instead?
“Good. Now we have that little contretemps out of the way,” said Lando, prising apart yet another wax seal with an exquisite bone-handled knife. “You still haven’t asked me how it’s really going to end.”
“With me possibly swinging from a rope—I thought I’d made that clear!”
The invitation card joined the enthusiastically decline pile, and the earl tutted. “Please don’t be overly theatrical, Kit darling. It’s far too early in the morning. What I mean is, you haven’t asked how we get to that part. How Gartside’s bribe becomes exposed without everyone discovering the entire land-selling scheme is a hoax.”
“No, I haven’t. It hadn’t occurred, what with being more concerned with keeping my head attached to my body. I assume you’re about to enlighten me?”
“Ah. Sadly not.” A frown touched Lando’s face. “You aren’t the only one of us wrestling with this. I must confess, that part of the plan has so far eluded me.” He examined another letter as if it mattered not a jot. “I daresay it will come, in time.”
“Well, that’s all right then,” grumbled Kit. “I’ll just sit around waiting until it does, shall I? Or do you have more shopping errands arranged for this morning? Or another pretty actor friend of yours, waiting to fool me and play the coquette with you and incite my…my ire? Unless you’ve tired already of jerking my puppet strings.”
His little hissy fit was met with a look of mild amusement. “Jealous of Tommy? How delightful.” Lando laid the back of a hand on his cheek. “Goodness, I’m blushing.”
A desire to scream at the top of his lungs supplanted Kit’s desire to throw something. God dammit, the man tested his patience.
“Alas, as much as I’d like to spend the day providing entertainment for you,” Lando carried on, “I have a whole list of dreadful chores—a result of having neglected visiting London for far too long. So, your time is your own.”
He waved one of the invitations at Kit. “Tonight, however, we are being seen. At Lady Chalfont’s soiree, where I’ll wager the whole ton will turn up to have a gander at me. Including Gartside, lending you an excellent opportunity to further your acquaintance. Along with my acceptance, I will send a note that I’m bringing an important houseguest.”
As Lando rose from the table, he threw Kit a final smile. “Do you dance?”
To your tune? Yes , Kit was tempted to bite back. “Not if I can help it,” he growled instead.
“Excellent. We’ll dine here beforehand and arrive late. We’ll do a couple of turns of the room then join in a card game or two, which is when you can chum up to Gartside and make him believe you are not only a customs official of the highest order but that you are also eminently corruptible.”
“You are mistaking me for one of your friend Tommy’s fellow thespian pals.”
“Some of your time today will be well spent considering the topography and magnitude of our country’s cotton industry,” Lando carried on, overlooking Kit’s gruff interjection as if he’d not spoken. “You will find my library has several excellent pamphlets and books on that exact subject. I expect my absence from your company will fly by.”