Chapter Six
When he’d received the missive from the mysterious Mr. Frances Trevor, Esq.
requesting a meeting to discuss something of financial importance, Edmund had been tempted to ignore it.
But he’d been curious enough to determine the location of the solicitor’s office near Soho Square and decided to stop in one afternoon without notice.
The building was small and nondescript. The man, even more so.
Brown suit, brown hair, dull manner. A young man sat at a clerk’s desk in the front receiving room and jumped to his feet—nearly stubbing his toe on the corner of his desk in the process—when he learned Edmund’s full name.
He immediately ushered him through to Trevor’s office, a dark little room of spartan décor and drawn drapes.
“Lord Darlington,” Mr. Trevor stood stiffly and gestured to a wooden chair across from his desk. No smile flickered and not a single hair shifted from its severe middle part on the man’s head. “I’m pleased you were inclined to respond so promptly to my invitation.”
Edmund took a casual posture in the chair and gave an arched smirk. “Was it an invitation or a summons?”
The solicitor didn’t blink. “However you wish to see it, my lord. But I do have a pertinent issue of which you must be appraised.”
Curiosity piqued. “Alright. What is it, then?”
The drab little man cleared his throat, met Edmund’s gaze with a steady stare, and proceeded to blackmail him.
Mr. Trevor, Esq. explained how an anonymous interested party, his client, had paid off every one of Edmund’s debts about town.
Not just what he owed to the gambling hells but also his various credit accounts for clothing, boots, gloves and other daily accoutrements, even his accounts with the baker and butcher, it seemed.
After looking over the documentation and verifying the solicitor’s claims, Edmund was forced to acknowledge that one single person was now in possession of his entire debt totaling somewhere in the realm of twenty thousand pounds.
It was a bloody fortune by any standards. Five years ago, Edmund probably would have lost the contents of his stomach at the sound of such a sum, and he was a little shocked that he’d managed to dig so deep without realizing it.
But he’d had his quarterly visit from his own solicitor just a few weeks ago and knew exactly how much wealth he had available to him.
Not on his person, obviously. And likely it would take a little time to gather the funds for transfer, but he wasn’t overly concerned about being able to repay the debt.
He was, however, intensely curious why someone would go to so much bother to place him in such a position and asked exactly that.
Mr. Trevor Esq. smiled tightly. “The identity and motives of my client are not for you to know. All handling of this matter will be through me with a promise of the deepest discretion.”
The lack of forthrightness was irksome, and a subtle warning pricked at Edmund’s nape. With a sigh, he shifted to stand, saying, “It will take some time to acquire such a large sum, I imagine, but I can have the funds gathered and sent you.”
“You misunderstand, Lord Darlington,” the solicitor stated firmly as he reached into a drawer of his desk and withdrew a wrapped parcel sealed with wax. “My client will not accept payment in coin or notes or any other monetary method.”
Edmund’s brows arched. It was an odd declaration. Why acquire such an IOU if you did not want repayment?
He settled back in the chair, eying the other man carefully. “Your client obviously wants something from me. What is it?”
Clearing his throat again, Mr. Trevor, Esq.
folded his hands over the parcel and pinned Edmund with his odd unblinking stare.
“My client requires assistance with a very specific task of an extremely delicate nature. After much deliberation and a thorough background investigation, it was decided that you would be the perfect candidate to accomplish this task. Acquiring your debts was simply a means to an end.”
Edmund’s lips curled. “A means for blackmail, you mean.”
“A method of persuasion,” Trevor asserted, unfazed. “In truth, the task is an easy one for a man such as yourself. Once you accomplish it, your debt will be completely wiped clean.”
Tensing sharply, Edmund wondered what that statement referenced, but he didn’t ask. Staring silently back at the smaller man behind the desk, he replied, “Go on.”
Trevor lowered his chin. “There is a certain young lady of high birth and privileged wealth who is in need of ruination.”
Edmund’s brows twitched in shock. That was not anything at all that he expected to hear.
“You want me to ruin a young woman,” he clarified.
“Yes. And no. This is where the delicacy comes in. You are to seduce and compromise this lady in such a way that her family becomes aware of her ruination, but not society.” His tone hardened. “We don’t want a scandal.”
“Then I’m definitely not the man for this job,” Edmund quipped with a smirk. “Society has a rather disturbing infatuation with my exploits.”
“Rumors and whispered gossip are to be expected and will be acceptable,” Trevor clarified. “To a point. It is important you understand that there can be no outright scandal.”
“I’m not exactly known to be discreet.”
“But you can be,” the solicitor insisted sharply, “when it is necessary.”
There was an undeniably firm note of confident knowledge in his tone. As if he knew very well the things Edmund managed to hide from the world. Just how thorough had their investigation been?
“All you must do,” Trevor continued, “is ensure the young lady is forced to accept that she has no alternative but matrimony.”
When Edmund took a sharp breath to protest, the solicitor quickly clarified. “Not to you, of course. Her family will no doubt find some appropriate gentleman to marry her off to. And you will be free to go about your merry way.”
He had no reason to refuse the terms. Despite Pontifort’s efforts to instill the mores of high society, he’d never subscribed to their prudish rules and requirements, especially when it came to keeping young women cloistered from experience until they could be handed off to their husbands.
He had no moral objection to seducing a young woman when he knew he’d make it worth her time.
But the whole situation was decidedly odd.
“If I refuse?”
Trevor’s small features pinched in confusion. “Why would you? It’s a simple matter. One you could accomplish in a matter of days. And not a single coin will have to leave your hands.”
It was a good point.
He tried, but Edmund saw no reason not to accept. At the very least, it gave him some purpose to occupy his time and attention for a while. A goal to accomplish—even if it was of a licentious nature.
Unfortunately, he didn’t expect much of a challenge.
Even before he’d become a lord of wealth and nobility, there had been plenty of women eager to climb into his bed.
And he’d discovered the ladies of high society were not so different from the women he’d known before.
They craved excitement, attention, a few hours in the arms of someone who knew what they were doing and did it for the pure pleasure of it.
“Very well.” Anticipation tugged the corner of his mouth into a smirk. “To clear my debt, I shall seduce this poor innocent creature and bring her to the brink of ruin.”
Trevor nodded. “Excellent.” He slid the wrapped parcel across the desk toward Edmund.
“This contains pertinent information about the lady in question. Her full name, general aspects of her appearance so you may recognize her, places about town she tends to frequent and a listing of parties, events, and engagements she’s expected to attend over the next few weeks.
Once the matter is accomplished as specified, your debt will be cleared. ”
As soon as he’d gotten into his carriage after leaving Trevor’s office, he broke the wax seal and perused the information provided on his unsuspecting prey: Lady Lydia Balcomb, daughter of a marquess, niece to a duke, member of the illustrious Fairchild family line.
Apparently, the young woman could be a bit elusive and had a habit of making brief appearances at social events before disappearing until just before it was time to leave again.
He hadn’t thought much of that bit of information until he’d spent the last four evenings at events in which Lady Lydia was supposedly in attendance without a single glimpse of her.
For the ball tonight, he’d made a point of arriving ridiculously early to hover near the main entrance.
When her arrival was announced by the Master of Ceremonies twenty minutes later, he’d caught a quick glimpse of a young woman with hair nearly black and a subtle look of petulance on her pert face before she’d disappeared into the crowd.
It had taken nearly an hour of circling the swiftly filling ballroom to determine she was no longer in the blasted room.
Trusting she hadn’t completely left the building, he’d spent another half hour searching the mansion for the wayward woman, until he’d finally come upon her in the tiny little sewing room at the end of a narrow corridor.
It would’ve been the perfect place to initiate a serious flirtation, if the lady hadn’t proved to be less than accommodating. The stubborn woman hadn’t been the slightest bit flattered by his attention. Annoyed was the more accurate description.
And then the unfortunate interruption.
Edmund wasn’t terribly concerned, however.
There would be other opportunities to challenge her apparent lack of interest. Whether she wished to or not, Lady Lydia Balcomb would be seeing a great deal more of him.