Chapter 4
Simeon groaned in annoyance as he walked up the steps of Caddington Manor. Why had he agreed to this act of sheer folly?
I have no time in my life for an entitled debutante, he thought, as he brought his hand up to bang on the main door. No doubt Miss Pearson was still asleep at this early hour, since most ladies of the ton didn’t wake up until much later in the day.
The door was opened, and a well-groomed blond-haired butler smiled cordially at him.
“May I help you, sir?”
“I am here to see Lord Downshire,” Simeon said, extending his card to the butler. “He’s expecting me.”
The man looked down at the card before taking a moment to peruse Simeon’s plain, blue jacket with matching waistcoat, ivory shirt, and grey trousers. He opened the door wide and stood to the side.
“Please come in, Mr. Martin. I will see if Lord Downshire is available for callers.”
Whenever Simeon was on an assignment, he dressed in unobtrusive attire and rarely passed out calling cards that stated his title.
The less people knew about him, the better.
Besides, the people he usually dealt with cared little about his title and more about the money he supplied them for information.
Removing his top hat, he took a step into the entry hall, and his steps faltered at the sheer magnificence of it all.
Massive pillars supported round-topped arches, with classical statues looking down from above, painted murals ran the length of the domed ceiling, and golden sconces hung on the wall.
The clicking of the butler’s shoes on the tile alerted him to his approach. “Lord Downshire will see you, Mr. Martin.”
“Thank you,” he said, feeling a bit embarrassed that he was caught gawking.
Simeon followed the butler through a narrow hall lined with tapestries and portraits. The butler stopped outside of an open door and gestured that he should go first. Simeon walked into the room and saw Lord Downshire sitting at a large mahogany desk.
“Come in, Mr. Martin,” Lord Downshire said, pointing to a chair in front of the desk. “Thank you for coming so soon.”
Simeon walked over to the proffered chair and sat down. “Lord Lansdowne and Lord Jonathon indicated that time was of the essence.”
Picking up the calling card on his desk, Lord Downshire gave him a long, curious look. “Why are you not making use of your title, Lord Wentworth?”
“I prefer not to use my title when I am working as a Bow Street Runner.”
Lord Downshire dropped the card onto his desk. “Interesting,” he muttered. To Simeon, he said, “My brother informed me that you are trustworthy and loyal.”
He remained silent and lifted his brow. What did one say to that?
Sitting back in his chair, Lord Downshire wiped his hand over his chin in agitation. “I need someone that can keep my ward safe this Season, or at least until the threat passes.”
“I’m afraid that I am unavailable for the entire Season,” Simeon declared, rising abruptly from his seat. “I have other responsibilities.”
Lord Downshire frowned. “I will pay you double your usual fee.”
Tugging down on his waistcoat, Simeon asserted, “Money is not the issue.”
“Is it the familial connection?”
It was Simeon’s turn to frown. “No,” he stated curtly.
“I apologize. I don’t mean to imply that you harbor any residual feelings for Mrs. Martha Maddix,” Lord Downshire stated.
Simeon eyed him with frustration. “I am well aware that Mrs. Maddix is married to your wife’s cousin, but that’s not why I am turning down this assignment.”
Lord Downshire leaned forward and placed his forearms on the desk.
“My ward, Miss Emma Pearson, is being targeted by a spurned suitor from her past, Mr. Peter Lockhart,” he shared, grabbing a piece of paper from his desk and extending it towards him.
“He has made false claims, sued me for breach of contract, and has made himself an utter nuisance.”
Accepting the paper, Simeon looked down and saw the list of all the civil proceedings over the past two years. “It’s expensive to file all these court cases. Is Mr. Lockhart wealthy?”
“No, but he is a solicitor.”
“Ah,” Simeon said, nodding. “That would make sense. But for what purpose?”
Lord Downshire rose from his chair and walked over to the drink tray.
“Miss Pearson’s brother was the agent assigned to guard my wife in Scotland.
When Rachel was attacked, David gave his life to save her.
” He stopped speaking and poured two snifters of brandy.
“When we went to pay our respects to his family, we found that Emma’s father had also died, and she was left alone.
She had little food on the shelves and an overbearing suitor pressuring her to marry. ”
Lord Downshire picked up the snifters and walked one over to him. “By taking Emma in as my ward, I feel that we are honoring David’s ultimate sacrifice.”
Simeon took a sip of his drink. “That is honorable of you,” he remarked as he lowered his glass.
Waving a hand dismissively in front of him, Lord Downshire said, “Emma has become part of our family. I daresay we got the better end of the deal.” He took a sip of his drink. “I can’t forbid Emma to leave the estate, and I need someone I can trust to watch over her when she’s in town.”
“How exactly is Miss Pearson being targeted?” Simeon asked, silently cursing himself for even posing the question. He didn’t want this job, so why was he asking pertinent questions?
Placing his empty glass down on his desk, Lord Downshire explained, “Someone placed a burr under her saddle and spiked her drink with laudanum at her ball.”
“Why do you suspect Mr. Lockhart is behind this?”
Lord Downshire shrugged. “Who else could it be?” He shifted his gaze towards the opened window. “Outside of the Season, we live in Scotland. An outsider would be identified nearly immediately. Emma is a lively young woman and couldn’t possibly have any enemies.”
Swirling the liquid around in his snifter, Simeon asked, “What about you? Do you have any enemies in town?”
“None that I am aware of,” Lord Downshire answered. “I rather detest being in Town. The only reason we’re here is for Emma to have a Season.”
Simeon brought the glass up to his lips and sipped his drink. He investigated crimes, went undercover, and arrested criminals. He did not have time to sit idly by and watch a pampered young woman mingle in Society. “I’m sorry…”
His words stilled when he heard a knock at the door, and he turned towards the noise.
A young woman was standing in the doorway, dressed in a simple, white gown.
She was tall, with dark brown hair and pale skin, but it was the way her smile reached her eyes that caused him to take notice of her.
They reflected genuine happiness, something he had not known for some time.
“I apologize for the intrusion, but Munro just informed me that you wanted to see me,” she said in a kind voice.
“Emma, please come in,” Lord Downshire invited, waving her into the room. “I would like to introduce you to someone.”
Simeon placed his snifter on the desk as he watched Miss Pearson approach them.
Coming to stand next to his ward, Lord Downshire said, “I would like to introduce you to…”
“Mr. Simeon Martin,” he interjected loudly, ignoring Lord Downshire’s annoyed expression. He had no desire to inform this young woman that he held a title. It was his experience that women only were interested in conversing with him when they found out he was a viscount.
Miss Pearson curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Martin.”
“Likewise, Miss Pearson,” he replied, bowing.
Lord Downshire gestured towards him. “Mr. Martin is a Bow Street Runner and…”
She let out a gasp. “You are a Bow Street Runner?” she asked with enthusiasm.
Simeon had not expected that reaction from a Society miss. “I am.”
A bright smile came to her lips. “I would love to speak to you about your thoughts on the Corn Laws and…”
“Emma,” Luke interrupted in a warning tone, “what have we discussed before?”
Clasping her hands in front of her, she replied, “Women do not talk to gentlemen about politics, religion, philosophy, history, or anything inherently interesting.”
Simeon grinned at her exasperated tone.
“I hope I did not offend your delicate male constitution by speaking my mind, Mr. Martin,” Emma said, her eyes twinkling with merriment.
“I assure you that you did not,” he responded, finding himself entranced by her playful nature.
Lord Downshire pressed his lips together before saying, “I have hired Mr. Martin to…”
“Unfortunately, I am…” he started.
His words stopped when Luke stepped forward, and his eyes narrowed disapprovingly at his ward. “How did you get a bruise on your cheek?”
She brought her hand up to touch the bruise. “Oh, Lord Morgan was teaching me some defensive moves, and my face connected with his hands.”
Lord Downshire’s brow lifted. “Morgan hit you?”
She shook her head. “No. You misunderstood me. His arms were around me, and I dropped down low to escape his hold. But, in doing so, my face collided with his clenched fists.”
“Where was Eliza when this was happening?” Lord Downshire asked with a clenched jaw.
“At the table with Josette and Benedict.”
Taking his hand, he placed it to the bridge of his nose. “And Benedict just allowed Morgan to attack you?”
A mischievous smile came to her lips. “Benedict was still recovering. You see, I stomped on his boot and made him cry.”
Simeon chuckled. “You made Lord Lansdowne cry?”
“Not on purpose, mind you,” Emma said. “He asked me to escape a hold. The quickest way was to stomp down on his boot with the heel of mine.”
Lord Downshire stared at his ward for a long moment. “I am not completely unaware of what my sister is teaching you, but you must avoid acquiring visible bruises.”
“I understand,” she acknowledged.
“Good,” Lord Downshire declared. “Now, back to what I was saying. Mr. Martin will be assigned to guard you for the foreseeable future.”