To Catch a Coronet

Chapter Nine

MURIEL CERTAINLY HAD LITTLE WISH to pay a morning call to Elena Whelan after yesterday’s long journey home, but as they had gone through what Lady Ingram dubbed “the great ordeal” together, it couldn’t be avoided. And since Lady Ingram had a call to pay a few doors down in the same square as the Whelans’ current Berkeley residence, the task fell to Muriel alone.

She pulled the bell and waited, folding her gloved hands before her pretty primrose skirts as her lace-trimmed ethereal cloak fluttered in the wind. When the butler pulled open the door, she presented her card to him without waiting for his greeting. He accepted it with a nod and showed her to the lavish drawing room with a decorated plaster ceiling and paneled walls painted a delicate rose that invited guests in despite the ornate gilded sconces and gold-leaf looking glasses. Elena reclined on a mint brocade chaise lounge, her foot propped up on a matching pillow trimmed with gold tassels, her nose buried in a book until the butler cleared his throat.

“Miss Whelan—”

“Muriel!” She dropped her book atop her lap and reached out both her hands in greeting, her smile bright. “I told the butler to show you in directly should you come today, and here you are. How lovely of you to call on me!”

Is she actually being nice to me, or did the apothecary mix her some heavy medicine to induce such behavior?She cautiously returned the smile and tentatively grasped Elena’s hands.

Elena swung her foot down, tossed aside the pillow, and patted the seat beside her. “I hear I have you to thank for sending the dashing Viscount Sullivan to my aid yesterday, transforming what had been an unmitigated disaster into a turn of fate.” She gestured to the flowers atop the mahogany side table. “He has been most attentive, sending me all sorts of confections and flowers and this novel.” She lifted it to Muriel, displaying the rich leather cover with a gold scrolling revealing it to be one of Vivienne’s most popular titles. “I thought he didn’t even notice me at the garden party, and when he burst through the woods and into the ruins of the abbey with rain dripping down his dark locks and greatcoat, he looked quite gallant. It was as if I had been transported back in time and my medieval knight was coming to my rescue.”

“Which is why he selected a copy of A Knight and His Lady?”

“Mayhap it is a secret message of his intentions.” Elena’s cheeks heated as she leaned forward and whispered, “After all, he even took a moment to examine my bare ankle for any breaks.”

“He what?” Muriel gasped.

“He was a naval doctor before he was given a title for services rendered to the Crown and took over his father’s merchant business. To have such a famed surgeon attend me, who is now a viscount and wealthy merchant?” She reached for her silk fan beside her on the chaise and flapped it wildly. “It was all so romantical, and I have you to thank for being the architect behind it all, my dear, dear Muriel.”

Muriel smiled, vigilant yet that the hullabaloo was a trap. “Well, while I was at the dessert table, I noticed you were speaking to him and seemed most interested, though I assure you no one else would know such a thing,” she rushed to soothe Elena, lest her sweet mood turn sour. “I only did because I know you.”

“A fact that is all-too shocking, especially after the way I’ve treated you for the entirety of our acquaintance.” She dipped her head, her cheeks warming. “I’m ashamed of bringing up your proposal to my cousin with the earl. Though, I suppose it is better he discovered that bit of your sordid past from you rather than any gossip. One could almost say I did you a favor.”

It was rather a convoluted apology, but it was the closest Elena had ever come. Muriel patted her arm. “At least the worst is over. He knows of my baking and of my proposal, so I suppose you did do me a favor.” If by “favor,” one means ripping off the bandage before the wound has a chance to heal, then yes.

“Mother is most pleased with you.”

“Truly?” Muriel was unable to mask her surprise. The Widow Whelan had held a grudge against her and her mother for years after Mother’s marriage to the most eligible bachelor in the village.

Elena nodded, running her fingers about the rim of the book before clutching it to her chest. “And because of your kindness, I’ve quite decided we need not let the past dictate our future. We needn’t be on opposite sides. We are both heiresses. We should aid one another in our search for a husband.”

Muriel blinked. This was all too sudden, wasn’t it? Though she had seen love soften even the hardest of hearts, the last time she had taken Elena’s so-called offer of friendship, no matter how short, she had ended up proposing to Baron Deverell on the dance floor. But to refuse and make Elena an enemy? She suppressed a shiver, remembering poor Miss Jennings. After Elena’s sharp tongue shredded her reputation over an innocent moonlight garden stroll with the gentleman of Elena’s flighty attention, the woman had been forced to leave not only Kent but the country, setting sail to the Americas. “I would enjoy that.” Muriel was pleasantly surprised her voice did not betray her hesitancy.

Elena’s eyes sparkled. “Wonderful. Now, at the Merrions’ party tonight, anyone who is anyone will be there, and I was thinking—”

“Party? But won’t your ankle keep you at home?”

She stood, strolling about the room without a limp. “The viscount said it should be all but healed as it was more than likely a light twist and nothing more. However, he commanded me to keep my foot elevated until the party.” She bent and sniffed one of the delightful orchids he had sent to remind her of him. “If you mention my extensive dowry to the viscount, I’ll be most grateful. The hostess requested I sing tonight, so with my talent and his knowledge of my dowry, he will be unable to resist my hand.”

“Of course.” Who could refuse Elena when one knew what she was capable of?

She clutched Muriel’s hands. “You are such a dear. Now, let us converse over the list of gentlemen you have already met so I can formulate a plan that sees both of us happily wed by the end of the season.” She lifted the silver bell on the side table and rang it until the butler appeared. “Please send in the tea cart and pastries from Gunter’s.”

“You have pastries from Gunter’s?”

Elena smiled. “I know how fond you are of their shop, so I had the footman retrieve a basket for when you called as Lady Ingram promised you would. I ordered a veritable feast of sugar, so I insist you take home whatever we don’t eat for your taste-testing baking.”

After a half hour of the most confusing conversation she had ever had with a Whelan, Muriel was grateful to step outside. She lifted her face to the sun and drew three deep breaths, an act Mother had taught her long ago to clear and focus her mind. The rattle of wheels broke her concentration, and she found the tiger hopping down from Lady Ingram’s carriage to hold open the door to the barouche.

“That was a much longer call than I anticipated. I would have wagered you’d rush out at the civil quarter-hour mark. I have been kept waiting in the hot sun and had to instruct the coachman to turn about the square several times to simply endure the tedium.”

“My apologies.” She settled herself beside Lady Ingram as the barouche pulled toward Grosvenor Square and set the basket from Gunter’s on her lap. “Might we stop at the shops? I sorely need new trimmings for my bonnets.”

“I didn’t know you enjoyed trimming.” She blinked.

Muriel shrugged. “I don’t. Elena will be joining us tomorrow in the parlor to pass the time, and she thinks I could learn a few things from her.”

Lady Ingram pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I do not understand you young ladies. First you state that you cannot stand to call upon her, and now you are having her over to trim bonnets as if you were cater-cousins.”

“It is difficult to explain. I suppose the great ordeal did indeed bond us in a fashion. Would you care to join me in shopping, Lady Ingram?”

“I’m afraid I have a meeting today. But if you wish to go shopping, you need a companion as well as a footman to carry your packages.”

“I’ve never required a companion before. I do not wish to put anyone out.”

“And now you are living with me,” Lady Ingram chided gently as the carriage rolled the short distance to their townhouse. “Your maid shall attend you.”

“Charlotte?”

“Yes, take her.”

“I’m not certain if she is available.”

“It is not her choice, my dear. Your stepfather pays her a fair wage to attend you.” She grasped the groomsman’s hand and descended as the butler opened the door for them, two footmen filing out to see to any needs.

Muriel disliked putting out her maid but called up the steps. “Clayton, would you mind asking Charlotte to fetch a silk shawl from my room, along with her own hat?”

The butler bowed and sent a footman away to do her bidding.

“Be certain to return before the afternoon ride I arranged for you.” Lady Ingram lowered her voice so as not to have the servants overhear. “You’ve kept Lord Traneford waiting longer than I like. He’s an old family friend, and I would not like him, or his mother, to think you were giving them the cut indirect.”

“I fear I’ve never been much of a horsewoman.” Muriel detested sounding so petulant, but truly, spending the afternoon with a fellow who had attempted to publicly embarrass her was not her idea of an entertaining pastime. But he did ask for forgiveness, and you agreed to give him a second chance.

“The groom and I will look after you. Enjoy your shopping, dear.” Lady Ingram pecked her on the cheek and slipped inside as Charlotte ducked out, shutting the door behind her.

“Miss Beau?” Charlotte held up the shawl and gripped her bonnet in her other hand.

“I hope you are willing to do a bit of shopping?” Muriel motioned her inside the barouche and handed the emerald silk shawl back to Charlotte. “This will brighten your ensemble, and we shall appear as two ladies about the shops.”

“I couldn’t, miss.” Charlotte shook her head, folding the shawl as if to set it aside. “In the country, where we are tucked away, it’s fine to converse as we do behind closed doors. If all of London sees you treating me as a companion …” She shook her head again in rapid succession, as if the very thought was too wicked to whisper. “They will soon catch wind of your habit of disregarding etiquette.”

“Nonsense. Shopping by oneself is half as enjoyable as doing so with a friend.” She rested her hand on her maid’s arm. “Please, do say you will oblige me? You know I do not have a friend as of yet in the City.”

“Besides the handsome captain?” Charlotte wiggled her brows, referring to their countless conversations about the earl while dressing Muriel’s hair.

“Yes, though I doubt he’d find ribbons and lace as fascinating as you do.” She giggled as they alighted the carriage at the shops on Oxford Street. “Besides, what other chance are we going to have to explore such marvelous shops as there are offered here in London?”

“I thought you were attempting to find a husband here and thereby secure free access to these shops?” Charlotte teased and drew the shawl over her severe uniform, the emerald piece and its brilliant golden embroidery bringing a new radiance to her eyes.

“Yes, well, that has yet to be determined. But, hopefully, with the plethora of invitations awaiting me on the foyer table, I will find a gentleman willing to overlook my background.”

Charlotte shook her head. “You always speak as if your upbringing was a fault, miss, when I think a gentleman of true character would admire you for it.”

Muriel swiveled to her friend. “That bit of nonsense sounds as if you have been reading Vivienne’s latest work, Hearts of Gold.”

Charlotte giggled. “You know that I cannot resist reading whatever you leave on your bedside table. It’s your own fault for being away for most hours of the day and possessing so many gowns that I don’t have to remake them every day.”

After shopping for an hour and gathering a stack of bits and bobs to restyle a remarkably hideous bonnet that Muriel had found for a mere sixpence, she was at last feeling the tension leave her shoulders as they strolled down Oxford Street. Finding herself before her stepfather’s original tea shop, she paused. “I know we have tea aplenty at the Ingrams’. Nonetheless, we cannot possibly leave the shops on Oxford Street without visiting Father’s tea shop. It will be interesting to see his shop after all these years. He mentioned several times that I should visit it before I depart London.”

Pushing the door open, she breathed in deeply, the scent of teas filling her being. The clerk smiled and greeted them before turning back to the short line of customers waiting to place their order.

Muriel took care to keep her elbows at her sides, as the tea shop was filled with displays of the finest tea sets. Along the walls were tins upon tins of the exquisite tea that had set her stepfather apart from his competitors and resulted in the need for more shops to open in Brighton, Bath, Chilham, and Dover. With each new shop, his name grew, along with his wealth. This shop was tidy, albeit overcrowded with tea sets. The shop would do better to cull the selection. She would mention it in her letter to Father.

Her gaze fell on a pretty blue pattern that looked familiar. Where had she seen it before? She traced the gold rim, a memory surfacing. She had caught sight of it through the window of Baron Deverell’s inherited cottage by the sea. He had mentioned wishing to begin supplying Father with fine china as well as tea. Surely this was one of Baron Deverell’s selections for her father’s shop. She waited for the familiar pang to fill her heart—to steal her breath. But it did not come.

“How lovely. Are you considering this for Lady Ingram?” Charlotte asked. “I know you mentioned purchasing her something nice for her troubles.” Her stomach growled, and she pressed her hand to her stays.

Muriel turned away from the set. “Charlotte, please tell me I did not interrupt your repast?”

Charlotte’s cheeks tinted. “I neglected breaking my fast because I became lost in Miss Poppy’s novel after I readied you. There is no need to rush. I can wait until we return to the Ingrams’.”

Muriel regarded the now even longer line. The tea set for Lady Ingram would have to wait. She grasped Charlotte’s hand and steered her out of the shop and back to the carriage. “There is no need to wait. I have a basket from Gunter’s.” She climbed inside without waiting for the groomsman and flipped open the hamper to the wealth of delights inside.

Charlotte grinned. “I knew when you said shopping, we would no doubt end up with confectionaries.”

“Then aren’t you glad you accompanied me?” Muriel winked and held up two filled pastries.

“Why do you think I was ready so quickly?” Charlotte teased and bit into one, closing her eyes against the loveliness.

After consuming their sweets and enjoying one more shopping excursion, Muriel begrudgingly returned home to change for her ride in the park. She quickly concluded she should not have consumed so many sweets, especially with the stays under her new riding habit having to be tugged even tighter to fit properly. Apparently, the seamstress had thought Muriel’s bust a good three inches smaller. She felt near to bursting perched atop a flighty horse as she and Lady Ingram rode into Hyde Park for her meeting with Lord Traneford.

“Normally, I would not attend such a meeting, as you would have arranged it ‘by chance’ without my knowledge. However, as you have yet to learn the ways of London, I thought it best to attend to protect your reputation.” Lady Ingram flicked her reins, encouraging her mount around a puddle as the groomsman followed a dutiful distance behind them.

“Arranged by chance?” Muriel swiveled in her saddle as she took in the sights of the park with its graceful lawns, manicured gardens, and vast, curving lake with ducks and swans swimming about. The whole tableau lent a peaceful air to the otherwise hectic city.

“I had many such chance meetings near the Serpentine when Sir Alexander was courting me.” Lady Ingram smiled to herself. “As a mere sailor, he was below my other suitors’ stations and therefore not as desirable a match for me. But we were in love, and love finds a way of convincing even the severest of fathers to part with their daughters. Soon my father relented and came to love Ingram. Father even passed Ingram his ship.” Something flashed in her eyes … a memory perhaps. It did not seem a happy one. However, at the sight of Viscount Traneford on his dappled gray, her expression melted into a smile as they reined in their mounts and waited for the striking lord’s approach.

“Now, I know he was rather a cad at your first meeting,” Lady Ingram whispered. “But I knew him as a boy. While not the most amiable of fellows, he can be pleasant enough when he makes his mind up, and I do believe he has determined to be quite kind to you. Keep in mind he is a viscount, and it doesn’t hurt that he is roguishly handsome. Your oldest son would retain the title while the rest would be deemed only as ‘honorables.’ It is a travesty to be sure, but his title would more than redeem your little country indiscretion.”

“It’s the ‘roguish’ part I have trouble with.” Muriel fumbled in her seat as her mount danced to the side. As Traneford approached in a well-tailored riding jacket, her father’s warning about seeking character above a title flitted through her heart. Well, Traneford has asked for a second chance, and isn’t that exactly why I am here? For another chance at a good match? He deserves the same courtesy, and it does show strength of character to admit erroneous behavior. She smiled, playing along with the odd, unspoken London rule of clandestine non-meetings.

“Lady Ingram and Miss Beau, what a pleasure to happen upon you both.” Lord Traneford greeted them loudly enough for a passing couple on horseback to overhear. “May I join you ladies in your outing?”

At Lady Ingram’s nod, Muriel shifted her horse to the front of the group and sent it into a trot. The groomsman followed suit, allowing the viscount to join Muriel’s side.

“Miss Beau, you are quite the picture of an accomplished horsewoman.”

“I thank you, my lord.” At least she appeared the part in her new crimson riding habit. When it came to horses, she preferred to be in a curricle, coach, or anything that did not require her to handle the beast alone. Following her stepfather’s instruction, she kept her back as straight as possible and maintained her weight on her right leg that was wrapped about the horn. Lord, please do not let me fall. Squeezing her left leg to the horse’s side as she pressed her riding crop to its right side, she clicked her tongue and managed to get the beast to maintain its steady walk. “So tell me what first drew you to entomology, Lord Traneford.”

During their ride, she found Traneford pleasant enough. While she feared building trust would prove a difficult task, she wasn’t bored in his company, nor so exhausted from his chosen topic of conversation that it turned her cross-eyed like some of the country gentry candidates she had endured in the past. Still something felt off. Why would a viscount be so concerned with my bruised feelings? And such a handsome viscount at that? Certainly, his title alone is enough to attract eligible heiresses throughout the country. Why is he interested in me?

“What say you, Miss Beau?”

She gritted her teeth. Once again, her mind had wandered too far. “Pardon?”

“Would you allow me the honor of escorting you with the Ingrams to Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow evening? I haven’t been in years. It was most diverting last I attended. There are apt to be several musicians playing throughout the gardens.”

“I have heard wonderful things as well—” Her stomach tumbled over itself in a familiar, terrible way. She paled. Was that extra-sweet raspberry pastry in Elena’s basket in actuality … strawberry? If so, she had very little time.

Erik directed his horse through the park, tugging on his hat as the wind picked up. Returning to London to attend the gentlemen’s fencing club this morning to converse with the local merchant gentlemen had been a colossal waste of time. As per the doctor’s orders after the strain of being caught in the rain and Miss Whelan’s fall, Erik still wore the sling and would do so for yet another week. Unable to practice fencing himself, he had been forced to make the excuse that he wished to study the art. Consequently, he had been shunted to the retired gentlemen of the grocers’ guild, who were there more to observe the sport than to pick up a rapier. It was their merchant sons he needed to be questioning, but they were too busy on the piste to converse.

He was finding nothing. After nearly ten days landbound with naught to show for his efforts, he was growing desperate … a trait that would do him less than any good. But he supposed it took time to gather information without resources from the Crown, and Requin was not a mastermind for being careless. Running down enemy ships on known trade routes was child’s play compared to this.

Erik sighed, praying his meeting with Sir Alexander would prove more favorable than the last one. Though, with his lack of new information, he doubted the captain would recant in his determination to set Erik aside in favor of his second-in-command, Adams. If only Ingram would allow Erik to use his contacts about London. With those, he might have a chance to gather enough information to lead to the capture of the criminal who had put his career in jeopardy.

At the sight of a brilliantly dressed woman atop a fine mount, his heart skipped. Muriel. He nudged his horse toward hers. “Good afternoon, Miss Beau.”

“Lord Draycott.” She gave him a strained smile, her cheeks pale as she reined in her mount. “What a surprise.”

Is she not pleased to see me?He filtered through their farewell at his party, recalling nothing that would broach such a reaction. “I was on my way to see Sir Alexander.”

“Is it really a surprise?” Traneford mumbled half under his breath as his horse shifted beneath him, pawing the ground. “How many gentlemen did you expect to have an unexpected encounter with today, Miss Beau? In the future you might wish to keep a diary to spare us embarrassment.”

She twisted in her saddle to scowl at him. “I am not like the London ladies, Viscount Traneford. I am not playing coy.”

“Not yet, at least.” He pressed his lips into a firm line.

“Miss Beau would be happy to accept your invitation, Viscount,” Lady Ingram said as she inserted her mare into their circle. “Erik? How fortuitous. We were planning a trip to the Vauxhall Gardens, and I remember how much you enjoyed them as a boy. You simply must attend with us to see if they are still as delightful as they once were.”

“I’m afraid I must return home,” Muriel interjected, her voice sharp.

Lady Ingram scowled. “But you’ve only just happened upon Lord Traneford, and it is such a lovely day.”

She pressed her hand to her waist for only a moment, which was all it took for Erik to understand the situation.

“I fear Miss Beau is not well.”

Her widened eyes expressed shock at being found out. She slowly nodded. “I feel rather lightheaded.”

“Oh dear. That will not do.” Lady Ingram peered closely at Muriel’s face. “You do look pale, my dear. You cannot possibly make it to our appointment with Lady Sutton on the other end of Hyde Park in your condition. Only, she will be most offended if I do not appear for our appointment.”

“There is no need for you to miss your call, Lady Ingram,” Erik said. “I shall escort Miss Beau, as I was traveling to your home to see Sir Alexander. The groomsman may follow us while Lord Traneford escorts you. Once we are at your home, I’ll send the groomsman to the Suttons’ to follow you home.”

“That would be most agreeable. Thank you.” She eyed Muriel. “If you feel the least bit faint, dismount. I do not wish to write your family about a mishap involving your plunging headlong off one of my horses.”

Bidding all farewell, Erik’s pulse quickened. He was nearly as alone with Muriel as he had been the morning they met. His draw to her was undeniable, but he must remember his calling. The Lord had set him to be a captain not only to end the violence of Warrick’s reign, but to save the lives of men on both sides. By reducing the gunpowder being smuggled to France, Erik could give England the advantage it needed. Just because Sir Alexander was attempting to remove him from his position was no reason to surrender the fight now. As much as he wished to pursue the lovely Miss Beau, he had no right to when he was otherwise engaged in service to the Crown and God.

“I’m afraid we may need to make a dash for it, Erik.” She pressed her hand to her mouth.

At her calling him by his name, he sat up straighter and drew his mount nearer. “Are you about to faint?”

“No. I’m afraid a lady does not speak of these things … but I fear I have no choice in the matter. Excuse me.” She jerked the reins of her horse to guide him behind a group of trees. The sounds of retching prevented Erik from following.

He backed his horse away to afford her some privacy … or at least the semblance of privacy.

When she reappeared, her cheeks were as crimson as her gown. “And now, I fear I have lost all mystery.” She chuckled, keeping her mount away from him.

He handed her his handkerchief, casting about for something to discharge her discomfiture, but could think of nothing to say.

She wiped her lips, then tucked the cloth up her sleeve. “I’m afraid that makes two handkerchiefs I owe you.”

“I’d rather payment in scones.”

She laughed. “Then you are in luck, as I made a fresh batch last night after a particularly trying drive.”

“A trying drive from my castle? But it is merely two hours from your residence.”

“During which time I was lectured by Lady Ingram. She disliked my being with you and Elena in the abbey instead of paying attention to a certain eligible viscount, which led her to press me to visit Elena this morning and the plan for Vauxhall with Lord Traneford.”

“My condolences.”

She patted her horse’s mane. “It might surprise you to know that Elena has embraced me as her friend and wishes to see me wed by the end of the season.”

His jaw dropped, not only from Elena’s abrupt change of mind, but Muriel’s admission of wishing to marry so quickly. No lady would ever say such a thing to a man she thought was interested in her. But, if even Lady Ingram was encouraging Muriel to seek the attentions of others to secure a match this season, why would Muriel think he was free? He snapped his mouth closed. After all, she mayhap did not even have the time to wait to marry him even if he were open to courtship. Why did he care? Lady Ingram was correct in assuming that his heart was at sea.

“I’m afraid that if we are to remain friends, there is something else you should know about me.”

“Yes?” he asked hesitantly. “You’ve already admitted to jilting two gentlemen, though for good reason, and proposing to a baron. Please tell me it is not as shocking as all that.”

“Almost, as witnessed just now. I am averse to strawberries. Thankfully, I did not ingest a crippling dose. Usually I can tell when something tastes off, but this time I was in such a hurry I mistook some of the filling in a pastry from Gunter’s for extra sweetened jammed raspberries. In my defense, I have hardly ever eaten strawberries due to my reaction to them as a child.”

“Well, I daresay that is as shocking as the rest.” He winked, at once realizing his mistake, but she didn’t seem to notice. He reached into his pocket and withdrew another handkerchief, unfolding it to display peppermint drops. “I’ve found peppermint is quite useful in settling one’s stomach.”

She popped a candy in her mouth. “I’m glad this did not ruin our friendship.”

Friendship.He frowned as he halted his horse before the Ingrams’ residence and dismounted. Did she see past his elegant title to the man beneath and find him lacking in the traits she desired in a match? There was a reason he kept his privateer life a secret, as the occupation had certain connotations. He reached for Muriel, his good hand wrapping about her petite waist as she placed her hand on his shoulder and slid from the saddle, stumbling into his chest.

Her long lashes lifted as she met his gaze for half a moment in which the busy square faded from view before she pushed herself upright and preceded him up the steps to the stucco-covered brick building. The butler opened the door and narrowed his eyes at Erik as if he had witnessed their moment from the sidelights.

She handed her riding crop and hat to the butler and paused with Erik in the marble foyer. “I wish I might visit, but I need to take some ginger tea and rest.”

He bowed to her. “Your secrets are safe with me, my lady. I have been aboard many a vessel with a seasick sailor and still respected him by the end of it.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Very good, my lord. I thank you.” She hurried up the stairs, waving to him at the first-floor landing before continuing to the second floor where the bedrooms were.

The butler escorted him through the hall to the library with French doors that opened out to the small courtyard garden. Sir Alexander reclined in a wingback chair reading the news sheets before the crackling fire. The fireplace boasted two caryatids holding up the marble mantel, which had a decorative plaque in the center depicting a Roman chariot drawn by two horses.

“Lord Draycott. What kept you?” He folded his copy of The Morning Post and called to the butler in the doorway. “Clayton, fetch us a tray of new refreshments.”

“I apologize for my tardiness. I came across Lady Ingram in the park.”

“Ah, yes. That would explain your quarter of an hour delay.” He motioned Erik to take a seat on the upholstered settee opposite his chair. “Forgive me for not rising, Erik. My leg is acting up again. Let’s hope your wound will heal fully and not forever warn you of impending weather.”

Erik waited for the butler to close the door. “Have you heard any news?”

“If I had, I would be telling your second-in-command, as Adams is currently in charge of the Twilight Treader. It was quite the bold move asking me to approve another contract at a ball where anyone might have overheard us.” Ingram pressed his lips into a firm line.

“We were alone. Besides, my request matches my narrative—a captain returning from an extended campaign. They simply do not know that I am serving them as a privateer. And I believe it was you who brought up the name Warrick.”

Ingram huffed. “Next time, send an encoded message to my residence and wait for my answer. Do not break protocol again, Draycott.”

“Yes, Capt—Sir Alexander.” Erik ground out as the door opened. He rose to admire the gardens as he waited for Clayton to set the service neatly on the side table and exit before continuing. “Have you given any more thought to my request?”

Ingram snatched up a plate of sandwiches. “The Prince Regent and his advisors, including myself, believe that with Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow in October, the war is turning in our favor and should be ending this year. Therefore, I am reluctant to renew the contracts of privateers.”

“Even of the famed Captain Warrick, terror of the seas? Surely, your reluctance does not extend to your own ship.”

“As I said before, I did not bequeath my title to you for you to weaken my legacy.” Ingram reached for the pot of chocolate and poured himself a cup. “While I did not condone unnecessary violence in my time as Warrick, I did set an example of my prowess by burning a ship or two a year, leaving the captain to fend for himself on the wreckage. The sharks did the rest for me.”

Which is, by definition, unnecessary violence.“I promised you when I took over the title I would keep the legacy alive. To this day, sailors across the seas still fear Captain Warrick, as I secure four prizes per annum when the average is—”

“Have you not listened to anything I have said? Everything you have accomplished is done without violence except that one time on your last voyage when you boarded Requin’s very ship and still allowed him to get away because he knew you would not fight him to the death.”

“Requin needs to be charged for his crimes and pressed for any information. He is too important to simply kill—”

“You have gained a reputation for becoming soft in your thirst for more prize money. He took advantage of your weakness.”

“Perhaps. Less violence means less damage to the ship and goods and therefore, higher prize money for me and you and subsequently taxes for the Crown,” he retorted, selecting a sandwich from the tray. “A fact of which you are well aware, Captain Warrick. The act of burning a ship for instilling fear alone …” He shook his head. “It seems wasteful.”

“Indeed, it is wasteful.” Sir Alexander leaned forward and swept a few iced cakes onto his plate. “Nonetheless, if the name is to continue to bear the full weight of my legacy, a ship must be sunk on occasion. For posterity of the name of Warrick if nothing else.” At Erik’s stalwart silence, Ingram popped a cake into his mouth, his jowls jiggling with each chew as he smacked his lips over the icing on his fingers. “Now, what can I help you with today, as I am not renewing your contract?”

Erik swallowed back his retorts regarding the cruelty of unnecessarily sacrificing captains’ lives for the sake of a reputation. While he had been captain of the Twilight Treader, no deaths had occurred, and he took great pride in the fact. “I still have almost two months as a privateer before my contract is complete. Since I am without a ship and unable to track smugglers leaving or arriving at port, I will chase the smugglers on land. However, as I am without a crew of men at my call, I need your contacts in London.”

“I refuse your contract, and you still wish to aid the Crown?” Ingram chuckled. “You are an earl, boy. Enjoy it. Do you know how difficult it has been for me to get in with this crowd? People have often wondered how I, a sailor not even from the gentry set, landed in their high-society world. Imagine if they knew how I earned my knighthood? You do not know how fortunate you have it.”

Erik shrugged. “I took the risk of Warrick’s mantle as well. You will recall I did not always know I would be given an earldom.”

“You knew at sixteen—well before I offered you the title of Warrick.”

“I do not regret my choices to fight for king and country. It is because I am a lord that it is my duty to serve the Crown in any way that I can. As Warrick, I can make a much greater difference than as Lord Draycott.”

Ingram chuckled again. “So righteous. Be that as it may, my contacts have all but disappeared as of late.” He frowned as he gazed out to the courtyard, where the gardener was pruning a tree that was draping over the brick wall. “If you keep nosing around, it is only a matter of time until Requin discovers your identity. Best you retire Captain Warrick to Adams and throw Requin off the trail. Become the man you were always meant to be—the Earl of Draycott. Perhaps, even take a wife? My wife and I are attending Vauxhall Gardens on the morrow. You should join our party. Surely, there will be a pretty lady there to catch your eye. Might I suggest our little baker from Chilham? Lady Ingram did not enjoy the idea of you two courting for some reason, and was most intent on inviting Lord Traneford, but Miss Beau’s dowry is too substantial to ignore.”

“There is too much left to accomplish before marrying. And Adams is barely one and twenty! I only appointed him to the position after Mayfield’s retirement to show my deference to your opinion in the first place.” He should have refused. He should have known Ingram was positioning to replace Erik after ignoring Ingram’s first demand he burn a perfectly good prize ship. Such hubris to think Ingram would allow me to appoint the next Warrick.

“And I stand by that decision. The lad showed promise at nineteen, and he has proven himself fearless. I heard how he defended your life after Requin winged you. It was providential that he was there. I was not so fortunate.” Something akin to fear flashed in the man’s eyes.

“I am not afraid of Requin,” Erik scoffed.

“After the gruesome fates he left my friends to endure”—Ingram shook his head—“you should be.”